“Grandpa spoke to me that time. It was out of nowhere, and I didn’t know who was talkin’, but eventually I figured it out. Now I can even see them. Their bodies glisten like they’re covered in dewdrops. Is that how you see them?”
I shook my head. “I can’t see them, Jamie. Never could. I can hear them, but normally only if it’s part of a vision.”
He gave me a considering look and stared at the approaching house fire. I followed his gaze. A collection of flashing lights in red, white, and blue were spinning in frantic circles, casting wide arcs of color across the tree line, gravel road, and grass. “That’s how I knew about Mr. Easely and Sandy.”
“Sandy?” Hector asked.
“Sandy Easely, Shelley’s mother,” Jamie supplied. “Andrew Easely wanted to talk to his wife, to explain and show her what Shelley had done, the pain she was causing. Mrs. Easely’s probably having a hard time coping right now. I don’t think she could see past Shelley to what she was doing. Mrs. Easely needed to know.”
“She already knew, though,” Paige complained. “She was protecting Liz. She may have even helped kill all those people.”
“Yeah, but knowing in retrospect is different than experiencing it from a different perspective while it’s happening,” I added, thinking back on the hundreds of visions I’d had over the years. “Sometimes parents can excuse anything.”
Jamie nodded and stared into the distance.
Nineteen
Troubled Thoughts
September 21, 2011
I walked past the graveyard where my father was buried and up the stone steps of the church. Stepping out of the gray, cloudy day and inside the old building was a little strange considering it wasn’t an Orthodox church. The atmosphere even seemed odd after missing the last few weeks of Sunday attendance. The mayor was riding us hard, like every year. Then, a comfortable hand settled onto the shoulder of my new black overcoat, gaining my attention. A glance to my left, injured shoulder told me that no one was there. Ghost? I wondered. Shaking my head, I took a seat a few pews inside in the left row and sat both bouquets down to the left with my bandaged hands. One of the bouquets was orchids, my father’s favorite, and the other spring flowers. A casket sat in the front of the church, below the dais and elegantly carved podium. It was closed. The thought of who lay inside sent a chill down my spine.
The rest of the pews were filled with people scattered throughout. A few were people I knew from school and the community. They purposefully glanced away when they caught sight of me. People just don’t understand the unexplainable, nor do they want to.
The minister walked out and began his homily/eulogy. I watched the people around me, keeping a spot open next to the aisle, more focused on the late arrivals than anything the preacher had to say. Thankfully, a pair of belted, black slacks stepped up to my right. I’d been afraid he wouldn’t make it. The doctors had thrown a fit about his coming after flatlining and then only taking a few days of bed rest, but I knew what it would mean to Jessie.
He slid into the spot I’d left vacant without a word wearing a burgundy dress shirt, the same color as Liz’s sweater. Liz probably bought him that thing. His brown hair was trimmed and combed, and he twirled a single rose in his hands, back and forth, mimicking the decision I was sure he’d been juggling until now.
I’m glad you could make it,” I whispered.
He nodded with a frown. Shaking his head, he said, “I just—No matter what she did, I loved her, Alex.”
I patted his shoulder. “I understand. It’ll be alright. You doin’ okay?”
He nodded and stared at the priest at the podium. I turned back to the front, and we both watched the remainder of the ceremony in silence. Partway through, Jessie clenched his jaw and tears began streaming down his cheeks.
At the end, we both filed through the line, each person paying their respects in their own way. Women stumbled out in tears, leaning on their husbands’ arms, and various other members of the community said a few words, but some spat on her coffin. The priest stood watching, but did nothing.
Mr. Lee and his distraught wife were ahead of us. “Why’d you have to take our boy,” Mrs. Lee pleaded, barely remaining upright with her husband’s assistance. “What’d he ever do to you?” She waited for a response that would not come until Mr. Lee ushered her past and up the aisle, out the church doors.
I laid the spring bouquet in front of her coffin, but said nothing, leaving Jessie to lower himself onto his knees and prop his forehead against the dark-stained wood, the rose still clutched in his hands. “Why?” he whispered. “All of this, and why?” He sat silent for a few minutes, saying his goodbyes. He set the flower on her coffin as he stood and turned to leave.
When we made our way slowly through the pews, following the other attendees, Jessie asked, “How do you do it? How do you go to these funerals when the woman tried to kill Paige and Jamie?”
“How can I not?”
Jessie quirked an eyebrow and waited for a better response.
“She was a tortured soul. I could have come out just as twisted as she did.”
“But you didn’t,” Jessie replied. “You didn’t kill over a dozen people. You didn’t do all those horrible things. You’re stronger than her. You go out of your way to help people.”
I shrugged. “I could have, though. Liz and I each had a very troubled past. We lost our families. If not for the friendship and support I got early on, I could have wound up just like her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying what she did was right. I hate her for it and had a real hard time stepping foot in here, but I can’t ignore the similarities. It comes down to decisions. Any one decision I made in my past, or she made, could have changed who we became in the future. I could have turned out just as screwed up as she was.”
Jessie shook his head. “I… I know why I came, but I’m not sure I could’ve done it if I were you.”
“Well, I spoke with Mrs. Easely the other day. She explained a lot of things. I had my suspicions, but the extent of Liz’s delusions is easier to understand now. She sacrificed seven people for her mother and seven for her brother to help them get into the Duat… the ancient Egyptian’s afterlife.”
“Yeah, but how did her brother die?”
“You might say he was victim zero. He started it all by accidentally setting himself on fire.”
“The first vision you had,” Jessie offered quickly.
“Yep, that drove Liz over the edge. She must’ve come across her mother’s files or taken an interest in her mother’s work, and all of a sudden the idea came to her as a way to save her family. From then on she sacrificed one person per year on the same date her mother died.”
We passed through the church’s double doors and down the stone steps. “Why not the day her brother died?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“So, the brands the football team got…?”
“That was her mark… marking you as a golden bull.”
“You mean, marking us for death,” Jessie mumbled. “Do you think she really loved me, or was I gonna be another victim?”
“Jess, seven is a special number in ancient Egypt. She was done. I think you were her chance at a future. Unfortunately, you can’t run away from your past.”
We crossed the street and entered the graveyard. After passing the large cement fountain with the angel perched in the center near the front of the cemetery, we eventually came to my father’s row. Jessie stopped and motioned for me to go ahead. “I’ll wait in the car. Seems you have enough company.”
I nodded and strode down the row of tombstones, approaching the old pine tree with wide, drooping limbs. Jamie sat beneath it in my reserved spot, his back against the smooth side of the trunk and a diamond-shaped Band-Aid covering the four-inch brand on his head. He wore a black t-shirt and blue jeans. Paige also stood at the foot of my father’s grave staring down in silence. Her black dress and bowed head reminded me of a weeping widow, and a shiver ran down my
spine. I’d asked them to come with me, but they both refused to come inside for the service. Instead, they waited here in the crisp morning air.
Shaking it off, I stepped between them. “Hey, you two. Everything alright?”
Paige nodded and gave me a slight smile. Her gaze then returned to my father’s grave, and she was silent for a time. Her folded hands were bandaged like mine. Taking a deep breath, she looked up. “I’ll leave you two to chat.” Crossing her arms against the chill morning, she went to join Jessie in the black Lincoln where it was warm.
“So, is he here?” I mumbled, brief excitement bubbling inside me.
Jamie nodded, and then tilted his head back against the trunk once more as though exhausted. “He wants me to tell you something. He said it might answer a few questions.”
I looked from the grave to my son and back again. Finally I returned my gaze to him. “Go on.”
“I think I told you before, but he’s proud of you, Dad.”
I smiled. “Yeah, you did tell me that. It meant a lot.”
“Well, he really is. You’re doin’ it right, a lot better than he ever could.”
I was a bit confused. “What do you mean?”
“Grandpa had an ability like ours, too, but it wasn’t the same. He was trying to reach a guy who’d sped off the road and was dying. That’s why he went out that night.”
“Wait, so he saw visions of people when they were dying?”
“Yeah,” Jamie said with a nod. “Kind of cool, huh?”
“Then how—”
“Grandpa could function in both realities,” answered Jamie before I could finish. “Unfortunately, that didn’t make him invincible. He never made it to the guy to save him. They both wound up dying when that truck driver hit him.”
I was floored and awkwardly fell to the ground at the foot of Dad’s grave, settling onto the damp grass Indian-style.
“But he’s proud of you. You’re doing so many things and helping so many people. I want to help. I can do more than you—well, a little different I guess. I don’t see visions like you and Grandpa. I can just talk to them and see them.”
I tried to breathe normally and maintain control. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Jamie’s dark eyes watched me for a minute longer. “Alright. Let me know.” Rising from under the tree, he said, “I’ll leave you to say a few things to Grandpa, like usual.” He headed toward where Paige and Jessie stood waiting.
I moved over to take my old spot, which Jamie had vacated. It was a bit more cramped than it used to be. The limbs seemed closer now, and it was more confining. I looked at Dad’s headstone, and the words ‘In memory of a loving father taken too soon. We miss you, Terry, but will see you when we get home,’ stuck out in my mind.
“Dad, I never knew. I wish I had, it would have made all these years easier to understand.” He didn’t reply, but I knew he was with me. “I hate what happened with Liz. She murdered so many people and almost took my family and a good friend with her, but I’m trying to keep things in mind. It can’t always be personal, but it’s difficult to do. She was crazy, and it could just as easily have been me.”
I bit my lip, considering what else to say. “Maybe things are better where you’re at, Dad. Can you look after her… try and make sure she finds her mother?”
I waited for an answer I knew wouldn’t come, but I held out hope. If Jamie could, maybe I could too. A cool breeze stirred the colorful leaves on the tree limbs at the edge of the graveyard and whispered through the pine boughs overhead.
I sighed and rose to my feet. Setting the bouquet of orchids at the base of his headstone, I said, “Thanks for listening, Pops. Although I can’t hear you, I want you to know you mean the world to me.” Kissing my fingertips, I touched the stone and walked over to join my family.
My cell phone vibrated, and I grabbed it. Glancing at the display, my shoulders slumped as I read ‘Dispatch’. Just another day in the neighborhood, I thought with a sigh. The phone buzzed again, urging me to pick up. Flipping it open, I said, “What ya need?”
Taylor’s youthful voice replied, “You won’t believe this, but I think we may have a copycat. We need you down at the mortuary.”
I stopped, my feet feeling as though they were sinking into the dew-covered grass. Sirens echoed in the distance, and clouds swirled with ominous procession overhead. I stared at my waiting family. Guess crime never takes a break.
“Alex, you there?” asked Taylor, her voice now tinged with concern.
“On my way,” I mumbled and shoved the phone back into my pocket, deep down where it might be harder to find.
About the Author
Creative writing has always been a passion for Weston Kincade. He’s helped invest in future writers for years while teaching high school English. In his spare time he writes poetry, short stories, and is working on the sequel to his debut novel, Invisible Dawn: Book One of Altered Realities and edits novels for authors and publishers at Wake Editing. As the wordsmithing process continues, Weston enjoys finding great ideas in the oddities of mundane life and loves stretching the boundaries of human understanding.
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Available from
Books of the Dead Press:
Duncan McGeary - Led to the Slaughter
Trapped in the Sierra Nevada without food, The Donner Party are led to the slaughter. After being manipulated into a string of bad decisions, the travelers, frozen and abandoned, are preyed upon by werewolves in their midst––the very people they thought were friends.
TS Alan - The Romero Strain
A group of New Yorkers are chased underground by a zombie horde. They gather survivors while traveling to Grand Central Terminal, where they believe help will be found. Their hopes end when they discover the area overrun with the undead, and come face to face with an adversary born from a lab deep below the city.
John F.D. Taff – Kill/Off
When David Benning is blackmailed he’s thrust into a world of guns, payoffs and killing ordinary people. As he becomes more enmeshed, he begins to grasp the true motives, and secrets––secrets that must never be revealed. David can trust no one… not even the one person he has grown to love.
J.C. Michael - Discoredia
As the year draws to a close a mysterious stranger makes a proposition to club owner: a deal involving a drug called Pandemonium. The good news: the drug is free. The bad news: it comes at a heavy price, promising much but delivering far more. Euphoria and ecstasy. Death and depravity. All come together, at Discoredia.
James Roy Daley – Authors & Publishers Must Die!
From the mouth of author/publisher James Roy Daley comes Authors and Publishers Must Die! No punches are pulled in this non-fiction title, which is filled to the rim with straightforward, practical advice for writers, while exploring what it’s like to be on the other side of the desk. A must read for every author.
Weston Kincade – A Life of Death 1 - 4
Homicide detective Alex Drummond is confronted with the past through his son’s innocent question. Alex’s tale of his troubled senior year unfolds revealing loss, drunken abuse, and mysterious visions of murder and demonic children.
Weston Kincade – A Life of Death 5 - 8
Alcohol claims another life close to home. Alex and Paige set out to discover the truth, but who would believe a troubled teenager who claims to have visions?
Weston Kincade – A Life of Death 9 - 12
Struggling to hold onto his suspicions of Irene Harris, Alex heads to the DC Metropolitan Police Department. There, his suspicions are finally put to rest, and Alex is forced to start his search again.
Julie Hutchings - Running Home
Death hovers around Ellie Morgan like the friend nobody wants. She doesn’t be-long in snow-swept New Hampshire, at a black tie party––but that’s where she is, and where he is: Nicholas French, the man who mystifies her with a feeling of home she’s been missing and the impossible knowledge of her troubled soul.
John F.D. Taff – The Bell Witch
A historical horror novel/ghost story based on what is perhaps the most well documented poltergeist case to occur in the United States. The Bell Witch is, at once, a historical novel, a ghost story, a horror story and a love story all rolled into one.
Justin Robinson - Everyman
Ian Covey is a doppelganger. A mimic. A shapeshifter. He can replace anyone he wants by becoming a perfect copy; taking the victim’s face, his home, his family. His life. No longer a man, but a hungry void, Ian Covey is a monster. Virtue has a veil, a mask, and evil has a thousand faces.
Mark Matthews - On the Lips of Children
Meet Macon. Tattoo artist. Athlete. Family man. He's planning to run a marathon, but the event becomes something terrible. Macon falls prey to a bizarre man and his wife who dwell in an underground drug-smuggling tunnel. They raise their twin children in a way Macon couldn't imagine: skinning victims for food and money. And Macon, and his family, are next.
Bracken MacLeod - Mountain Home
Lyn works at an isolated roadside diner. When a retired combat veteran stages an assault there her world is turned upside down. Surviving the sniper’s bullets is only the beginning of Lyn's nightmare. Navigating hostilities, she establishes herself as the disputed leader of a diverse group that are at odds with the situation. Will she - or anyone else - survive the attack?
Gary Brandner - The Howling
Karyn and her husband Roy had come to the peaceful California village of Drago to escape the savagery of the city. On the surface Drago appeared to be like most small rural towns. But it was not. The village had a most unsavory history. Unexplained disappearances, sudden deaths. People just vanished, never to be found…
A Life of Death: Episodes 9 - 12 Page 16