by H. T. Night
“Did you notice the markings on all of the trees?” He asked, when he returned to where she stood in the middle of the ravine.
A multitude of scrawled names covered the tree trunks. Carved hearts enclosed most of them. It sort of reminded him of a guestbook, like a giant version of the one they signed when they picked up the keys for their rented chalet in Gatlinburg last night. Ned told him this ravine was the spot most frequented by the area’s young lovers during the late 1800s and on into the early1900s.
“This is really something,” marveled Miriam. She scanned the list of names surrounding her. “Didn’t you say there’s supposed to be like a thousand names here?”
...Mary Ellen + Joshua, Milton + Anna, Shannon + Edmond...
“That’s what Ned told me,” he said, while studying those cut into the tree nearest him. “He called it the home of Cades Cove’s star-crossed lovers…apparently his ancestors once lived around here, before everyone moved out in the 1930s.”
...Johnny Lee + Pauline, Samuel + Bertha, Thelma Lyn + Adam...
“Well, that’s interesting…. Here’s one with a date,” she said, pointing to one of the more faint inscriptions. Walter Smith + Marylee Oliver, June 13, 1908. “I wonder if there are any more like it.”
David glanced around the ravine until a yellow poplar caught his attention. Harold Potts + Samantha Pope, September 14, 1932.
“I’ll bet we could find some older names back in there,” he said, motioning past the former streambed to a heavily wooded area.
“Maybe later,” she replied. “My stomach’s growling, and I’m starting to feel a little weak.”
“I guess it can wait,” he said. He noticed now that her smile had faded. It continued to die, morphing into a worried frown. It was like the place suddenly creeped her out. He gently grasped her hand to lead her back across the ravine. “In the meantime, I’ve got something special planned for lunch.”
Determined to see his amorous plan through to its completion, David offered an assuring smile once they reached the shade of the large oak. So far, Ned was right about this place, thank God. This secluded ravine from years past seemed like the perfect spot to rekindle their passion. Their marriage of fifteen years stood on solid ground, but over the past few years intimacy had waned. For him, the shortage of steady sex finally opened his eyes to what she really needed: Truer affection, where daily emotional and physical contact didn’t always mean intercourse lingered on the horizon.
He began removing the contents of his backpack, laying out a large picnic blanket next to the oak tree’s base. He noticed her surprise when he produced two elegant place settings. Cold fried chicken from a local deli was the main entrée for their lunch, since it seemed easy for him to pack and serve. But to ensure she appreciated his romantic intent, he brought a bowled candle to light along with two crystal wineglasses and a bottle of expensive Chardonnay, her preference for special occasions. With everything arranged to his pleasure, he asked her to join him on the blanket.
“Well, this is really nice!” she enthused, smiling as she sat down, obviously touched by his effort.
“To our fifteenth fantastic year together, my love!” he said, pouring the wine and handing one of the glasses to her. They tapped their glasses together, and the pitch resounded throughout the ravine. A gentle breeze suddenly moved among the trees.
“Well, how about that?” Her smile widened as she watched the wind’s spreading caress enfold the ravine. “Maybe it’s a good sign, like the next fifteen years will be even better.”
“Maybe so. I’d love that,” he agreed, liking her mood. He lifted his glass towards hers again and they clinked softer this time.
Afterward, they snuggled close, lying on the blanket. As they discussed how to spend the rest of their afternoon, David noticed something faint carved upon the oak’s trunk and got up to investigate. Unlike the other carved names they’d seen, this solitary inscription was cruder—like whoever made it did so in haste.
“What does it say?” she asked, coming up next to him for a closer look.
The bark had curled around the edges of the wound inflicted long ago, forming an imperfect heart shape. Carved inside, the name ‘Allie’, and below it either a ‘+’ or a ‘T’—difficult to say which. They both mouthed the name, glancing at one another before looking at it again.
“‘Looks like someone got stood up,” he observed, dryly.
“Or, maybe she changed her mind before it was too late…and so she didn’t let the boy carve his name inside the heart,” said Miriam, her tone sad. David snickered. “Oh, I’m sure it’s just wishful thinking that she wasn’t spurned by whoever her beau was,” she added, chuckling for a moment.
As David looked past the oak to the ravine’s streambed, an idea occurred to him, and he moved over to his backpack.
“What are you looking for, hon?”
“This is such a great spot…the perfect location for my new zoom lens,” he told her. He pulled his Nikon camera out from its case. “I need you to move back down to where we were earlier so I can take your picture.”
At first she protested, but she agreed to pose where the wildflowers grew most abundant. He stepped under the ledge at the mouth of the ravine and kneeled down, positioning the camera to also catch the treetops. He prepared to snap the picture, and then hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Miriam asked.
“It’s not the right angle—hang on a moment.” He climbed onto the ledge and aimed the camera, but wavered again. This time he frowned.
“I guess I’m too ugly, huh?” she deadpanned. “I’d hate to break your precious lens.”
“Very funny.”
He scanned the area, his gaze drawn to the oak again, seemingly bigger as it loomed above the picnic blanket. He smiled and ran over to the tree, nearly sliding back down the embankment when he reached it.
“Now where are you going?”
“Up here.” He started climbing the tree. “I’ve found what I’m looking for, but you’ll need to back up just a bit.”
“David, don’t do it.” Her smiled disappeared as she stepped toward him. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this!”
“It’ll be all right.”
Fifteen feet above the embankment he stopped climbing and straddled two large branches. He started to bring the camera up, but still wasn’t satisfied. Tentative, he ventured onto a smaller branch above the ravine’s basin.
“David, you’re really scaring me! Just leave it alone! I’m scared to death you’re going to fall and break your neck!!” Her voice cracked.
“I’ll be okay—honest!” The branch creaked beneath his weight. “I’ve got to get this shot, and I’m almost there.”
He leaned toward her and positioned the camera to his eye. A perfect shot. If only she didn’t look so damned worried.
“Smile, baby!”
A sudden strong gust distracted him, and he placed more weight on the branch. It cracked loudly and then splintered.
“David!”
The branch gave way, taking him with it. Desperate to avoid a free fall to the ground, he threw his arms around the tree’s trunk, surprised when something unseen shoved him up against it. Sliding to the ground, his sweatshirt ripped, and the oak’s sharp bark scraped his arms and hands.
“Oh, baby, are you all right?” Miriam scrambled up the embankment and gently helped him back to his feet. His initial grimace turned to a sheepish grin as he brushed himself off. “You’re hurt!”
“Well, at least I got the picture, huh?”
He retrieved his ball cap and surprisingly unbroken camera. His prized lens received a mere scratch on its black casing. Curious to find out what had pushed him up against the tree, he gazed up at the spot he’d vacated. The broken branch was next to the thickest on the tree, with no evidence anyone else had been up there. He squinted, wishing he’d brought his prescription-tinted eyeglasses with him, instead of the cheap sunglasses he purchased that morning in Gatlinburg. He didn�
�t see anything, but sensed unseen eyes glaring back at him. He shivered.
Get a grip, man… It’s just an empty old tree.
“I can’t believe you did that!” she scolded, following his gaze before attending to his injuries.
The scrapes on his arms bled, and his hands ached. Miriam guided him back over to the blanket and opened her backpack, pulling out a small first-aid kit. A dozen years as a successful pediatrician came in handy at a time like this. She helped him remove his sweatshirt and then dressed his wounds. The injuries largely superficial, their painful sting said otherwise.
“You stubborn, stupid man,” she said, kissing his hands. “You could’ve been killed just now, do you realize that?” She looked up, her eyes soft and misty.
Another breeze blew through the trees, much cooler this time, raising the gooseflesh on his bare back and chest. His wife’s kisses moved up his arms. Soon, she kissed his neck and then his mouth with fervor. Powerfully aroused, he saw urgent longing in her eyes. He pulled her down onto the blanket, where they made passionate love.
***
Miriam awoke in a panic, and immediately looked at her wristwatch.
“Oh shit!”
“Huh?” In the middle of a dark, fragmented dream, David looked around him. Disoriented. “What in the hell happened?”
Long shadows crept into the ravine. The sun had almost finished its journey across the autumn sky, and a cool crispness filled the air.
“It’s almost five o’clock. That’s what happened!” she announced, sharply. She grabbed her clothes to dress. “We must’ve fallen asleep.”
He stood up and moved to his pile of clothes at the end of the blanket, where chilled air embraced his naked body. He turned to face his wife, who scrambled to fix her bra and pull on her panties. The sight of her vulnerability aroused him, and he thought about taking her in his arms once more. But the waning sunlight told him it wouldn’t be prudent, not to mention she looked distressed. His well-toned body and powerful erection would have little influence now. It didn’t help matters that the opportunity to do anything else in the park was now lost on account of their scheduled flight back to Denver from Knoxville tomorrow morning.
“Are you going to just stand there and admire yourself, or do you think you can be dressed by the time I’m finished here?”
She smiled, but he knew better than to test her current mood. He dressed, wincing from his earlier wounds as he pulled on his sweatshirt. He finished before she packed the remaining wine and glasses in his backpack.
Miriam motioned for him to step off the blanket so she could fold it. Something metallic jingled…an object fell onto the ground near where his clothes had been. A golden glint caught David’s eye and he reached down to pick it up, his wristwatch.
“This is really strange.” He shrugged his shoulders and pulled the watch over his wrist, snapping the band shut. “You know I almost never take this off, only in the shower. I can’t recall removing it from my wrist.”
Still puzzled, he looked down again at the spot where it had fallen.
“What the hell’s this?”
A small cloth bag with a leather drawstring lay nestled in the grass. He picked it up. Near the top, “Allie Mae’s Treasures” was cross-stitched on one side in light blue thread.
“Let me see that,” said Miriam. Setting the blanket down, she walked over to him.
David frowned, looked over at the tree, then back at the bag. He shook his head.
“It’s got to be some sort of prank.” He handed the bag to her. “The name stitched on it is almost identical to the one on the tree.”
“That’s pretty weird,” she agreed, peering at the bag. Wary, she looked around. She examined the bag more closely, holding it up by the knot at the end of its leather drawstring. Another metallic jingle resounded from within the bag. “I wonder what’s inside?”
She loosened the drawstring and opened the bag. A musty earthen scent arose from it. Gingerly, she poured the contents into one hand and sifted through them with the other. Four items rested in her palm: a steel sleigh bell, a broken solid gold locket attached to a chain made from a lesser grade of plated gold, a blue silk hair ribbon, and a folded letter.
The bell and hair ribbon looked ordinary enough, though the ribbon’s quality was very fine. The locket appeared torn at the hinges, and may have contained a picture or some other keepsake at one time.
“I wonder what this is about.” Miriam opened the letter. She ran her fingers over the paper, admiring its texture.
“Do you think it’s such a good idea to be prying into someone’s personal business like this?” It made him uncom-fortable watching her casually skim over the letter’s contents.
“It can’t be too private since it was left on the blanket while you and I were sleeping—in the nude, no less.” Her eyes flashed with annoyance, enough to make him drop the issue. She spent the next few minutes silently reading the letter while he looked on. Finished, she refolded it and stood mute.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“Well, it’s definitely a love letter,” she confirmed, after another moment’s hesitation. “The penmanship is so graceful, as if from another era altogether, which sort of contradicts the occasional misspellings. And look at the ink. It has definite stops and starts as though an old-fashioned fountain pen was used. Part of the letter is unclear, like this girl named Allie must’ve read it over and over so that some of the writing faded over time.”
She opened the bag and placed the items back inside, the letter being the last thing in before she closed the drawstring.
“It’s from a boy or man named Seth,” she continued, handing the bag back to him to hold. She finished folding the blanket and placed it inside her backpack. “It seems he was on his way to some war. The words are too dim for me to make out which one it was. It doesn’t seem possible that the bag could belong to the same girl whose name is on the tree, since the carving was obviously made a long time ago….”
“The chances for that are probably less than winning the lottery,” he said, when she didn’t go on. This crazy scene made no sense whatsoever. As much as he prided himself on being straight minded and very practical, a CPA by trade, Miriam was even more so. Meanwhile, she busily searched the immediate area.
“You’re not thinking it’s the same person, are you?” he asked, after she took the bag from him and moved over to the tree. “You do realize how crazy that sounds—especially if the carving on the tree is as old as it looks.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed, while taking a closer look at the crude inscription and comparing it to the bag. “Of course, we both know a lot of things these days can be made to look a certain way with the right props and equipment. But who in the hell would go to such trouble?”
She sighed, and then looked back toward the tree’s carved image again.
“I guess seeing how lonely the name looks on the tree and the letter from the bag pulled on my heart a little bit,” she admitted. “It’s made me feel really sad. I hope this girl’s heart wasn’t broken too badly.”
“I’m sure it’s just some prankster trying to yank our chain,” said David. He moved over and wrapped his arms around her. “Who better to pull one over on than a pair of unsuspecting tourists like us?”
He looked around the ravine again, scanning for clues as to where a hoax perpetrator could have come and gone from. Only the broken grass and weeds from when he and Miriam had moved through the area earlier met his gaze. He thought again about the unseen force that pushed him up against the tree.
“We probably should be on our way, darlin’.” Definitely time to go. Time to get far, far away from this frigging creepy place.
“Yeah…. Is there anything else near where you found this?” she asked.
He glanced at her, ready to say ‘no’. But an imploring look flickered in her eyes. He knelt down and groped through the grass. The cool blades brushed against the scratches on his palms, eliciti
ng a brief tingle. He patted around and then touched something—a small nut or pebble? Ready to leave the object in the depths of the grass roots, it turned over in his grasp, and a sharp, jagged edge lashed at his fingers. Grasping the item, he lifted it out of the grass.
“Holy shit!” he whispered in surprise.
A broken bicuspid lay in his palm. Dried, crusted blood covered one side.
Miriam walked over and looked at the tooth. “There’s something really wrong here. We need to take this stuff over to the visitors’ center and have someone look at it. We’d better tell them about the tree too.”
Also available at your favorite ebookseller:
DEADLY NIGHT
A Ghost Hunters 101 Novel
by
Aiden James
(read on for an excerpt)
Chapter One
I’d never seen a fresh corpse before. At least not human.
Blood dripped below her face, spreading across the chipped linoleum kitchen floor of our host, Johnny Rush. Candi Starr stared back at me, a red grotesque halo framing her tussled golden hair, still wrapped in foil strips. Her stone gaze facing us all as we stood in shocked silence.
Her head barely attached at the neck, a deep jagged wound traversed from ear to ear beneath her chin. Sprawled upon the floor, the expression in Candi’s lifeless steel blue eyes was one of sudden surprise.
Johnny sat at the kitchen table, across from Brenda Wright. Rope-bound to a pair of high back vinyl chairs, one olive green, and the other merlot. Both wore matching black t-shirts and jeans. Intense terror visible in their eyes, both mouths lay open, slack-jawed, and emotionless in contradiction. Their single fatal shots to the forehead announced assassination. Not intended victims, but here just the same. In all likelihood the pair not only witnessed the murder of their famous companion, but also had plenty of time to anticipate their own demise.