by Jan Tilley
Startled at the outburst, he replied, “Yeah, absolutely. Thank you.” He turned the rotary dial pad, number after number, until all the digits were in place and looked over at Malachi. “This thing’s a dinosaur. It’s pretty cool.”
“Cool as a cucumber.”
The young man grinned, which made Malachi smile a bit, too. Finally, he hung up the phone and declared, “No answer.”
Malachi looked at him, and said, “What now, brown cow?”
The kid shook his head and laughed. “Wow, you’re just full of ‘em aren’t you?”
Malachi nodded. “I’m full of something, that’s for sure.”
He shook Malachi’s hand and said, “Thank you, sir. I appreciate you letting me use your phone.” Then he pulled his hooded sweatshirt over his head and turned to leave.
Malachi followed him. “Where are you going, young man?”
“Mom must still be at work. It’s cool, I’m used to walking.”
“It’s chilly out there at night in the hollow.” He looked off into the woods. “And really dark and creepy.”
The kid turned back to Malachi. “Tell me about it!”
He could see each breath in the cool night air and knew it was the right thing to do. He raised his voice, “Dagnabbit, hang on. I can give you a ride.”
The kid kept walking. “No, thanks. I’ve bothered you enough for one night.”
His chivalry caught Malachi off guard. After a momentary pause, he shook his head and said, “I’ll not take ‘no’ for an answer, young man. Now march yourself right back in here and give me a moment to find my Wolverines.”
Even though the kid wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, he knew it was a long walk in the dark. He would gladly accept a ride home. “Thank you, sir. That’s really nice of you.”
Malachi snapped back, “And quit calling me, sir. The name’s Malachi.”
The young man came back inside the warm building and shook Malachi’s hand again. “I’m Travis. Nice to meet you.”
Malachi gathered his keys and they headed out the back door to Rosie. As soon as Travis saw the truck his eyes lit up. “Wow, a ’65 step-side. I saw her earlier when you drove past us on the bridge. She’s a classic.”
As short as Malachi’s temper had gotten with Travis, he did appreciate that the kid had good taste. “She’s a real beaut. I bought her new, straight off the showroom floor when I was twenty-two years old. Had her ever since. She’s only got 52,000 original miles on her.”
Travis paced up and down beside her, running his hand gently down her sides. “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”
“No, they don’t, son. Her name’s Rosie.”
Travis nodded. “Perfect name for her.”
Malachi was having a difficult time finding fault with this kid. They climbed into the truck, closed the heavy metal doors and cautiously meandered down the dark hollow back roads. After a few moments of awkward silence, Malachi noticed the kid was nervously shaking his leg. He tried to overlook it, but the repetitive twitching made Malachi uncomfortable. He thought if he initiated a conversation it might help calm the kid down. “So, what brought you guys out here tonight?”
“We were looking for a scare.” Travis paused, and then continued, “Have you ever seen anything out here?”
Malachi raised his eyebrows. “Have I ever seen anything? You should ask me, what haven’t I seen? I’ve seen and heard it all.”
Travis’s voice became animated, “Seriously? You really believe it’s haunted?”
Malachi lingered for a moment, to build suspense and replied, “Without a doubt, one hundred percent, I know it’s haunted.”
Travis shook his head and laughed. “Man, I thought all that was just talk. You’ve seen stuff, for real?”
“If you kids would turn your music down for five minutes, you might hear something too. I heard the baby at the bridge today when you guys were out there. You probably didn’t hear it because your M&M’s were so loud.”
Travis wrinkled his face and paused in confusion. Then he burst out, “Oh, do you mean Eminem? The rap singer?”
“That’s what I just said. I keep up. I know my pop culture, even though I don’t agree with it. Or understand it. Or even like it for that matter.”
“Ok, I get it. Did you seriously hear the baby today?”
“Absolutely. You could have too, if you’d just listen for a change. Now tell me where I need to go.”
“Aqueduct Village on Heritage Drive.”
Canal Fulton was a quaint little burg about twenty minutes from Rogue’s Hollow. At one time it was a bustling canal boat town. Now, like many small towns in America these days, it struggled to keep families living there.
Malachi turned down Heritage Drive and almost missed the Aqueduct Village sign. It was in as bad of shape as the old mill. His eyes slowly scanned the complex. Several of the apartment doors were hanging ajar. The sound of a couple arguing filtered through the air. A few drunks loitered outside, huddled around a small fire pit, smoking and laughing loudly. Malachi tried not to act shocked. “Is this it?”
“Yup, home sweet home,” Travis said with a smile. “I really appreciate you giving me a ride, Malachi. Thanks.” He shook his hand again and opened the truck door.
“It’s all good. It was nice to meet you, Travis. You be safe now.”
Travis nodded. “Will do.” He closed the door and made his way past the obnoxious crew in the yard. He pulled his hood up and hung his head as he passed them, avoiding eye contact. They tried to verbally harass him, but it appeared that he was accustomed to it and knew how to handle them. He walked fast and kept his head down, trying to draw the least amount of attention to himself.
Malachi watched as he walked up a narrow staircase and entered a doorway on the second floor. He drove away slowly, wondering what life was like behind that closed door.
Three
Malachi cruised around Canal Fulton before he headed on home. The town had changed quite a bit since he had been there last. Or, maybe it was just a different environment at night. He’d read in the paper that the unemployment rate in the area had sky-rocketed. Several local factories had closed down which forced families to move closer to the bigger cities to find sustainable work.
He was an insatiable reader and tried to read the local newspaper every day. His grandma had instilled a love of reading in him from the time he was a young boy. A proud lifelong subscriber to National Geographic Society magazine, he had a room in his basement piled high with past issues. The photography was breathtaking and he just couldn’t bring himself to throw any of the old magazines away.
Although he knew that he’d probably never get to visit any of the beautiful places in the pictures, he still dreamt about them. Sometimes the dreams were so vivid that he wondered if he’d left his body and actually gone there during the night. Then he’d laugh at himself in the morning light for even thinking of something so preposterous. Those magazines, plus his array of newspapers and books had gotten him through a lifetime of lonely times.
Heading home, he drove past Cry Baby Bridge. He was shocked to see all the beer cans and graffiti spray-painted there. Even though it was dark, he could see that it was a total mess. Those kids really did a number on it. Malachi shook his head in disgust, understanding now why Roberta had become such a crabby woman when it came to outsiders.
His old bones creaked as he crawled into his warm bed. This had been an unusually exciting day for Malachi and he was exhausted. Although physically fit, he was still sixty-six years old and life had taken its toll on his body.
Malachi kept the ‘Closed’ sign turned a little longer than usual the next day. He’d decided to be neighborly and headed over to the bridge, armed with trash bags and paint remover. Roberta was already there cleaning up the mess when he arrived. The moment he slid out of the driver’s seat, she began ranting. “Malachi Chidester, do you see what I mean?”
“Good morning to you too, Roberta.” Just abou
t then, Baxter came up from the creek to greet him. “Well, hello there, my furry friend.” Baxter shook his soggy coat and showered them both with creek water. He backed away to avoid the spray and laughed at the dog. Malachi allowed him time to finish shaking and then continued patting him on the head and telling him what a good dog he was.
Finally, his attention turned back to Roberta who stood idly by with her arms folded across her chest in a huff.
“I understand your anger, Roberta. I am here to assist you.” Extending his arm, he continued, “Here, I brought you a hot tea. Now, what would you like me to start with, the trash or the paint?”
Roberta looked surprised as she reached for the cup. “Seriously? You’re actually going to help me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Where would you like me to begin?”
She shook her head in disbelief and looked around. “Well, can you pick up some of these cans? I’ll get working on the spray paint.”
Malachi nodded and grabbed a trash bag out of his truck. “I’m all over that task.”
She stood silent for a moment, sipping her tea, and then said, “Thank you, Malachi.”
He gave her a little wink with his piercing blue eyes, and replied, “It’s all good, my friend.”
Most people in the area didn’t take very kindly to Roberta. She’d become a bitter woman who complained a lot. Most folks scattered in the opposite direction when they saw her coming. But, Malachi understood her in some strange way. He knew how easy anger and bitterness could take root in your soul if you allowed it access. When he looked at her, all he could see was the kind Roberta hidden deep away behind that wall she’d built up. Even when she tried to argue with him, he wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t stay mad at him, and he overlooked her faults. The pair had been friends since childhood and had been through a lot together. Malachi refused to let anything stand between them.
It took about an hour to finish and get the bridge back to normal. Roberta and Malachi stood side by side inspecting their work, while Baxter lay at their feet, exhausted from exploring the creek. Although she tried to keep a straight face, she couldn’t help but smile. “Nice job. I truly appreciate your help.”
“Think nothing of it, neighbor,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“Do you want to head back to my place for some fresh tea?”
“I’d love to, Roberta, but I need to get the doors open. Weekends are my money makers, and I sure could use the funds. Gotta build up the resources for my fancy retirement,” he said with a wink. “Another rain check maybe?”
She nodded at him with a crooked smile. “Sure thing, you old coot.”
“Takes one to know one.” Malachi gathered up his things and said good-bye to his friend, Baxter.
As he turned down the cobblestone lane leading to the mill, he was followed by a spiffy city car. He parked Rosie out front, as not to be rude, and greeted the young couple.
“Morning, folks. How we doing today?”
“Just fine, thanks. Is this Rogue’s Hollow?”
“That it is, my friends. Let me unlock the store and you’re welcome to come on in and have a look around.” As Malachi forced the heavy wooden door open, he was keenly aware of the musty smell in the room. The odor from the dank cellar rooms drifted up the staircase and attacked the nasal passages. He flipped the lights on and watched their faces as they took in all the oddities of the store. “Take your time and look around, folks. There’s a history room off to the left there, if you’re so inclined.”
Malachi had made it a point to stock the store with strange, old-time goods that you just don’t see on the shelf anymore. That’s what made his store unique. Some folks would come back year after year for jugs of Malachi’s home-made maple syrup. He had a small sugar camp on Silver Creek Ridge, next to an old brick pottery kiln.
His family had owned most of the land surrounding the old mill for centuries. The sugar camp was one of his havens. He loved the smell of the wood fire and watching the watery syrup thicken and take shape. He’d boiled it down every year for decades, just as his grandfather before him had done.
He lit a small candle on the counter to help combat the musty smell, then put on a pot of strong coffee. It’d been a long, productive morning already and it had just begun. Malachi knew that he would need to pace himself.
The young couple discovered armfuls of goods that they couldn’t live without and made their way to the front counter. Malachi was able to talk them into an amulet and a Book of Legends. There was no cash register at the general store. Malachi was old school and added up all the figures himself with a notebook and pencil.
The couple elbowed each other and grinned as they watched him tally up their treasurers. Malachi was accustomed to being the butt of a joke. He was set in his ways and did things exactly as he wished and it worked for him. There was no one he had to please or answer to and that was just fine. The couple took their goodies and left with big smiles on their manicured, beautiful faces.
It was easy for the days to run together at the general store. Some days, he wouldn’t see a single person. Most folks waited for the weekends to venture out to Rogue’s Hollow. But, every now and then a tourist, just passing by, would stop, mostly out of curiosity, to see if the place really existed.
A group of amateur ghost hunters stopped by several years ago. They said that they’d heard the baby’s fretful cries, and saw the train conductor’s ghost on the old abandoned railroad tracks just outside of town. That group of young men posted pictures and videotaped footage of their accounts all over the internet. Many tourists had come to the area due to the online reports from that night.
Malachi remembered the night well. The group of maybe four or five young men, mostly in their late teens or early twenties, showed up at the general store. They devoured the history room and took in all the information. He gave them pointers on the best places to see some activity. The group was too proud to purchase amulets. They were ghost hunters, for goodness sake. They were fearless, or so they thought.
He still laughed when he thought back on that night. The young men set up their fancy equipment and cameras at Cry Baby Bridge and were ready for some action. Malachi was more than prepared to give them a fright.
As a crescent moon rose high in the night sky, there was a chill in the air. The wind moaned through the old trees, causing fallen leaves to rustle. It amazed Malachi how the hollow cooperated with him sometimes. A lone coyote cried out to the night sky causing the boys to look continuously over their shoulders.
The hollow had set the stage and now it was Malachi’s turn to put on a show. One by one they began to think that they’d actually heard a baby crying. They were too tough to be shaken by a simple noise, until the cries grew louder. The hollow had a great way of echoing sounds off the ravines making it seem like voices were all around you.
Malachi was around the river bend and could hear how nervous they became. One of the young men broke down immediately and went to the car, locking himself in. Malachi turned it up a notch and the cries became louder. Then he started another tape recording that he’d brought along of whispering voices. When the area dogs’ keen ears picked up the sounds, in addition to the kids’ voices, they began to bark and howl. The rest of the shaken ghost hunters tried to tough it out, but eventually they all joined their friend, seeking safety and shelter from behind the locked car doors.
One of them stood outside with a video camera long enough to hear the faint cries, the voices and the ominous howling in the darkness. It was barely audible over the young man’s own voice constantly repeating, “Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”
After the bridge, they mustered up strength and made their way to the train tracks. Once again, they carefully set up their gear in preparation.
Malachi patiently waited about a mile up the tracks, just out of sight. This was one of Malachi’s favorite haunts when he was a youngster. It was the site of a horrendous train accident in the 1950’s. A group of teenagers were trying to scare
the train conductor so they parked their car at a railroad crossing late one summer night. As the train approached, the conductor began to blow his horn, but the car didn’t move. He slammed on the brakes, desperately trying to avoid a collision. The teenage boys sat in their car, laughing. When the train got closer they were prepared to start up the car and peel away, resulting in a few more gray hairs for the conductor and a good laugh for themselves. But, the car engine was flooded and the ignition refused to turn over.
Panic filled the car as the boys realized that they were running out of time. When there was no other option, the boys in the front seats flung open the doors and bolted out, narrowly missing the collision. One boy was trapped in the backseat of the two-door car who couldn’t get out in time. The car exploded like a bomb and sent shrapnel hundreds of feet into the air. It also caused the train to derail. The conductor and the teenager were killed instantly on impact.
Legend has it that the Rogue’s Hollow conductor still walks these old tracks, watching for any disturbances. He gets especially riled up by teenage horseplay and has made it his paranormal mission to keep his railway safe.
Malachi was ready for the rookie ghost hunters. He waited until the anticipation had built to a crescendo, then lit his old conductor’s lantern and began walking slowly toward them down the tracks. Dressed all in black, he kept the lantern hung low, so it illuminated only his legs and feet. Moving ever so slowly, swinging the lantern, he inched closer and closer.
As soon as one of the teenagers spotted the light coming down the tracks, they began to panic. They tried to remain tough, but the closer Malachi got to them, the more animated their voices became. By the time he got about a half a mile away, they were truly terrified. They’d never had a real encounter with a ghost before and as with most people, they weren’t prepared for their own reactions.
Malachi pursed his lips and began to whistle Amazing Grace as he fought the strong urge to laugh. He whistled slowly and drug out each note. He heard one of them loudly say, “Holy shit, it’s coming right at us guys, and it’s not stopping. I’m outta here!” He scared the others and they once again hastily gathered up their gear and peeled out.