by Aiden James
But this was a time to rejoice—not fret about past injuries. The man long removed from this life, not all of his descendents took after him. Her beloved nephew, David Hobbs, was nothing like his great-grandfather, and his sons, Tyler and Chris took after their father, thank the Lord. And to think she’d be spending the Christmas holidays with them—she pinched herself earlier while waiting in Chattanooga’s airport for her flight, just to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
She especially looked forward to visiting with Miriam, David’s lovely wife, and her grand niece, Jillian. It would be so much fun to take everyone shopping for something special this Christmas instead of mailing gifts, as always done in the past. A great surprise awaited David and Miriam, in addition to the four precious jewels. She carried trust papers, entitling him and his heirs to a large inheritance first mentioned this past October, when he came to Tennessee on a business trip. Her only regret, the gems remained an incomplete set, as she’d misplaced a quarter-sized ruby. Unlike the other stones, the ruby was circular in shape, and thinner in width. She hoped to look for it again when she returned home in early January.
Satisfied for now, she wrapped up everything and placed the box back inside her carry-on bag and locked it. She then returned her attention to the view through her window. The plane veered further to the west, following its predestined approach to DIA. The landscape below her completely white, the city and surrounding areas had been blanketed by several snowstorms during the past week.
Landing soon, she started to smile. But an uneasy feeling washed over her. It wasn’t the first time this had happened lately, and the feeling always came with the same thought. Something was strangely mysterious about David when she last saw him in October. She recalled his abhorred reaction to what they discussed briefly from her past…about a family ghost.
Ruth snickered slightly and shrugged her shoulders, pushing the worrisome thought from her mind. The snow-covered roads and houses becoming more clearly defined, the plane began its final descent.
Chapter Three
“Get a move on it, kids!”
David Hobbs stood waiting at the foot of the stairs near the foyer of his family’s spacious home in Littleton, Colorado, dressed in a blue turtleneck sweater and his favorite pair of Wranglers. As was his habit, he absently stroked his close-cropped blond beard. Strong and handsome, with warm eyes that morphed between hazel and bright green depending on his mood, he cleared his throat in preparation for a more urgent command to get his children’s attention. Excited about having their great aunt come to Denver that afternoon to spend the Christmas holidays with them, they were busy chasing one another across the upstairs landing.
“Kids!”
“We’re coming, Daddy!”
Jillian Hobbs, David’s twelve-year-old daughter limped around the corner of the landing, nearly tripping on her way downstairs. Dressed in jeans and a Denver Broncos sweatshirt, she was already a tall, slender beauty with the same blond hair and green eyes as her father. She smiled warmly at her dad while heading down the stairs, despite her hips’ stiffness due to a painful flare-up from her chronic SCFE
He felt a momentary tug on his heart that went beyond empathy for her present discomfort, realizing in just a couple of years she’d likely start dating. Luckily, her older brother, Tyler, was even more protective than David. He and the youngest Hobbs, Christopher, were dressed in similar winter attire and followed close behind her. Tyler, fourteen, favored his mother, whose thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes made him quite popular with many of the girls at Goddard Middle School, while the strong physical stature and cynical humor he inherited from David kept him well-liked by the guys.
“Ty’s letting me play with his PSP, Daddy!” said Christopher, excited.
Closely resembling his older sister at nine years, with the same colored hair, eyes, and impish smile, he raised the device in the air and pointed at it, nearly running over his sister on the way downstairs. He heeded his dad’s warnings to slow down and not pull on the evergreen garland hung just a few days earlier.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” said David, his bright eyes softening now that he had their collective attention. “Where’s your mom?”
“Right here,” said Miriam, her snow boots clicking against the dining room’s oak floor as she moved toward the foyer where the rest of her family gathered. Dressed casual like everyone else, her flowing, shoulder-length jet-black hair and radiant complexion seemed to set the air around her aglow—or maybe it was the luminance in her sky-blue eyes that sparkled with the same excitement as her kids.
David wished he could whisk her upstairs to ravish right then. But already running late to pick up his aunt he ushered everyone outside, pausing to make sure Sadie, the family’s Yorkshire terrier, had enough food and water to last until their return home later that afternoon. He set the security alarm in the foyer and joined his family as they piled into their minivan idling in the driveway.
***
“Sadie’s acting strange again,” whispered Miriam, once they headed north on I-25, the main thoroughfare connecting the southern portion of the metro sprawl to the rest of the Denver area. Determined to keep her voice low, she glanced behind the front passenger seat toward the kids, preoccupied with either their game systems or IPods in the back seats. “Didn’t you notice how she went right under the couch once she realized we were leaving?”
“Yeah, I noticed,” David agreed. “She’s been real skittish. She won’t even go outside without someone right beside her, and I see she’s been sleeping at night with Jill again.”
“She’s been like this since last Saturday, when we returned home after picking up the Christmas tree.”
Miriam kept her attention straight ahead, as if fixed on the road before them, and didn’t look over at David until he responded. Yes, he noticed something amiss since last Saturday, though subtle at first. It had indeed started after they came home from picking out this year’s Christmas tree that afternoon. The house felt different somehow when they returned in the evening, like an intruder snuck in during their brief absence. David thought the dog’s reaction had something to do with the tree, since Sadie often barked when a new piece of furniture or an appliance was brought home. This year’s Douglas fir, an eight-foot beauty, could’ve looked like some bristly monster to a color-blind animal with limited depth perception.
“Maybe we should take her to the vet again.”
His response nonchalant, he hoped to draw her other observations first.
“Perhaps we should,” she said tersely, as if aware of his tactic. “But the dining room has felt like an icebox since then too.”
She looked over at him when he didn’t immediately respond. He offered a warm smile, hoping she’d take this as the compassion he intended and not condescendence.
“Don’t act like you haven’t noticed anything different. I’ve seen you look over your shoulder the past few days and shake your head when you didn’t see anything,” she continued, glancing toward the back seats again as if worried her accusatory tone might’ve perked someone else’s attention. The kids remained lost in their cyber-worlds.
“Yeah, okay…so maybe I’ve sensed a few odd things this past week,” he admitted, glancing at her while keeping his focus on the road. “The chill in the dining room is a little creepy. But if it wasn’t for the warmth that’s everywhere else on the main floor, I’d just assume the problem has something to do with the severe weather we’ve experienced during the past couple of weeks.”
This could make sense, since most of Colorado and the Midwest had been blanketed with heavy snows and near-arctic temperatures during much of December so far. But the space heater he added a few days ago to the dining room did little to warm it. Obviously, something else kept the room so cold.
To make matters worse, it seemed like the icy ‘feeling’ periodically moved throughout the main floor, as if some large unfriendly presence would take a tour of the house every so often. He
witnessed this while getting something to eat from the kitchen and again while adding another log to the fireplace in the living room. The small hairs on his neck and arm perked up once he felt the coldness invade the warmth.
If not for an earlier terrifying experience in October, where his family survived a violent haunting brought on by the angry spirit of a raped and murdered teenage girl who followed him and Miriam home to Colorado from Tennessee, David would’ve thought most, if not all, of what happened this past week rationally explainable. That earlier experience changed the way he viewed the world around him forever.
When the haunting ended, after David returned to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee to resolve his ancestors’ sins and bring peace to the tormented spirit of Allie Mae McCormick, a feeling of serenity followed him home. One that lasted until it suddenly ebbed away this past week.
“Don’t worry darlin’. I seriously doubt it’s her.” He smiled confident. Miriam shot him an imploring look that begged him to be right.
“I just want things to be peaceful...at least through Christmas,” she sighed, and then turned the radio up, signaling she was done talking about the issue for now.
Late afternoon snow flurries intensified their assault on the minivan. Watching the swirling stream of snowflakes while listening to holiday melodies served as a soothing distraction—at least until they reached the airport exit ramps on I-70. She picked up the conversation again.
“Did you happen to mention anything about Allie Mae’s ghost to Ruth when you visited her in Chattanooga?” Miriam sounded more worried, which let him know what she’d been thinking about for much of the past half hour.
“No, I didn’t,” he replied, reflecting back to the parting conversation he had with his aunt back in October, when they met for lunch at a steakhouse just outside the Chattanooga airport.
At the time, she mentioned a ghostly encounter, and not him. A ghost from her childhood, it involved her great uncle—David’s great, great uncle—Zachariah Hobbs. He realized from what the mysterious entity foretold to his aunt as a child, about Zachariah’s impending death, that the very same entity came back sixty years later to wage war with David and his family. He only hoped Aunt Ruth didn’t notice how the encounter she described chilled him—other than spraying his iced tea through his nose when she related the entity’s promise of revenge upon ‘Uncle Zach’ for his part in her murder.
“I just hope Ruth has a good time while she’s here with us,” said Miriam, letting out a slow deep breath before looking out her window at the swirling snow again. “I want it to be so…so special.”
“Everything will be fine, babe,” he assured her, reaching over to gently pat her thigh just above the knee. “Auntie’s going to have a great time. A really great time—I promise!”
If they started his aunt’s visit on the right foot, he reasoned it could buy him some time to figure out what to do about the situation at home. She nodded her head and began to relax, until Christopher spoke up behind them.
“Where’s Auntie Ruth going to sleep?” he asked.
They both whirled their heads in his direction, fearful of what he might’ve overheard. He had his headphones pulled down and the PSP resting in his lap, turned off.
“Is she going to sleep on the sofa in the living room, or in one of the guestrooms upstairs?”
“Honey, she’ll be staying in the guestroom next to your bedroom and Jill’s,” said Miriam. “I’ve already prepared the room for her since she told me at Thanksgiving that she wanted the one closest to you kids.”
Christopher nodded, thoughtful, casting a cautious glance toward Jillian, who sat in the seat to his left. She, like Tyler sprawled out in the bench seat behind her, jammed to the music in her Ipod. Christopher leaned closer to his mom.
“I’m glad Auntie Ruth won’t be sleeping on the sofa, Mommy.” The look on his face confirmed his relief. “I don’t think the old tree man would like it if someone slept in the living room.” He lowered his tone to emphasize his seriousness.
“Old tree man? What are you talking about, Chris?” asked David, playful, though the solemn look on his youngest son’s face worried him a little.
“The man in our house,” replied Christopher. As if realizing he might be in trouble for not sharing this information sooner, he began to fidget, casting his eyes downward to avoid his mother’s stunned look and his father’s probing gaze in the rearview mirror.
“What man in our house??”
Miriam’s alarm drew a curious look from Jillian, who might’ve removed her headphones if not for her dad’s mouthed assurance that everything was okay. She looked over at Christopher and then searched her mom’s face for confirmation of what her dad said. Miriam forced a warm smile and repeated David’s assurance, and Jillian again grooved to the Beyonce tune in her Ipod.
“Can you describe the man you’re talking about, son?” David posed the question tenderly, keeping his eyes on the road while studying his son through the mirror.
“Yes,” said Christopher, hesitating until he received another assuring look from his mom. “He’s a thin, really old man, and a lot taller than you, Daddy. He has lots of deep lines in his face and body that look like the bark on scary trees in Halloween pictures. He’s got no clothes. His hair is gray and real long, with black feathers stuck in it. His fingernails and toenails are real, real long, too, with the tips curled in. Oh, and his eyes are yellow, like the Patterson’s tiger cat Sonya…. I’ve only seen him a few times.”
“Where did you see him, honey?” asked Miriam, her voice soothing, though David could tell she barely restrained her fear.
“Only in the living room,” said Christopher. “Most of the time he just sits in the sofa staring straight ahead, like he’s daydreaming. But, the other night I watched him follow Daddy from the kitchen over to the fireplace. The night you made me sit at the table until I finished my peas and cauliflower, Mommy.”
The minivan had just reached the entrance to the short-term parking area nearest the baggage claim where Ruth’s flight was scheduled to arrive. Anxious to ask more questions, David focused instead on finding a parking space.
“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier, like that night?” Miriam kneaded her knuckles, but her tone remained calm.
“I wanted to,” he told her, after another hesitation. “The man looked like he might hurt Daddy.”
David shot a concerned look at Miriam, who gasped, but muted her reaction when Christopher gazed down at his lap again.
“Then he looked at me and smiled a little, and acted like he wanted to tell Daddy he was sorry, right before he disappeared. Didn’t you see him? You looked right at him, Daddy. More than once that night….”
His voice trailed off and his eyes turned misty. Miriam reached back to give him a hug. When he started bawling in her arms, Jillian and Tyler turned off their IPods. David assured them everything would be all right. If only he believed it.... Instead, he pictured the chilled presence in the living room, leering at him as some grotesque ancient man.
How in the hell is this even possible...another haunting just two months after the first one??
It wasn’t going to be easy to keep this shit away from Auntie’s awareness.
“Merry friggin’ Christmas, everyone,” he muttered, cynical, after pulling into a vacant parking spot not far from where Aunt Ruth’s luggage would be waiting.
Chapter Four
John Running Deer gazed through the large picture window in his upstairs loft, studying the shadowed, snow-covered treetops on either side of his secluded Smoky Mountain cabin. Twilight drew near, chasing the setting sun that had broken through the cloud cover, only to now rapidly disappear behind the hills to the west of his home. Light snow flurries continued to twist and fall through the air, like tiny diamonds floating within the security lights’ glare beneath the cabin’s eaves.
For the moment John frowned, his deep brown eyes squinted in an effort to discern some unseen menace camouflaged wit
hin the approaching darkness. The wind, which had shrieked and howled for much of the day while pushing drifts of powdered snow up to the cabin’s front door, was now silent—as if listening, waiting for what would come next.
Just before he turned away from the window, a soft whistling sound drew his attention in the distance, growing louder as it approached the cabin from the north.
The anisgina comes again!
He closed the window’s heavy curtains and hurried down the narrow staircase to the main level, where Shawn, his snow-white Siberian husky, awaited him. The dog whined as he followed John, watching him close the remaining open curtains and make sure both the front and back entrances to the cabin were securely locked with the deadbolts set. By the time John finished this exercise the sound became a near-deafening roar, announcing the arrival of a restless spirit whose anger had been repeatedly directed toward him, its physical remains unearthed from its ancient resting place in a sacred Cades Cove ravine.
The terrible attacks he endured these past few weeks always started with the same distant whistle, one that he first mistook as the wind rustling through tall white pines, oaks, and maples in the surrounding forest. But when it reached his property, the sound always grew deeper and much more intense, resembling an enormous swarm of angry hornets.
Each time it sent debilitating chills through his entire being—his knowledge of ancient Cherokee spells rendered useless. Even the privileged training he received in his youth when next in line to become a revered shaman didn’t help. The colorful dream catchers and spirit chasers that covered every wall of the cabin swayed in symphony with one another, as if lifted by some unseen hand that moved along the inside perimeter of his home.