Just before sunrise, she’d hiked to Beechy Gap and visited the site of the cabin where she’d seen the strange little carved figures. The cabin was gone, a small pile of ash marking its passage. The figures must have exited, too, wended toward the heavens in smoke and fire. Free at last.
Anna sorted through the fallen barn timbers for a saddle and bridle. She lifted a shattered board and saw Ransom’s blank face, a trickle of crusted blood at one corner of his mouth. The scrap of cloth from his charm was clenched in one rigid hand. She covered him before Mason noticed.
The dead deserved her respect. Death wasn’t romantic or glamorous. She was through worrying about their motives, their hopes, their endless dreams. Her fascination had faded. She had no desire to ever see another ghost, especially her own.
Even Rachel’s, though the two of them had shared an intimate bond that ran far deeper than mere mother and child.
Maybe this was how Anna was destined to belong. Those were her people, her connection, kindred spirits, however briefly. In an odd way, maybe they lingered inside her, invisible, in her blood, in the tainted, cancerous cells that corrupted her organs and pushed her inevitably toward the final darkness. She was as much a ghost as she was a mortal. A stranger in two strange lands.
But they all were. Every organic thing that had ever caught the spark of life. The dying begins with the birth.
So what?
Did she really expect that, by becoming a ghost, she would understand what being a ghost meant? She’d been alive for twenty-six years and had come no closer to the meaning of life in all that time. Why should death be any less of a mystery to those experiencing it?
As for today, the air was fresh and the pain inside was somewhere down around six, an arc and trick, or maybe a five, a broken wing. A hell of a long way from zero. She could live for those who had gone before, and those yet to come. Weeks or months, it was all a precious and fleeting gift.
Anna saw a flash of dull silver in the broken lumber, moved some timbers, and found a bridle, then a saddle and blanket. She pulled them from the rubble. Mason watched with interest as she harnessed one of the Morgans.
Some of the smoke that had collected in her lungs had started to rise. She cleared her throat and spat loudly. “Is that how they do it in Sawyer Creek?”
Mason smiled at her. It wasn’t such a bad smile, though it was surrounded by a face gray from smoke, ash, and weariness. She carried the blanket to him and covered him up.
“Better keep you warm, just in case,” she said.
“Go out frost?”
“That’s not funny.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 82
Spence grabbed at a piece of black ash as it wafted to the ground.
No. It wasn’t the Word.
He grabbed another, then another.
The Word would endure. Mere fire couldn’t destroy it. He coughed. The ashes had stuck to his tears, making his cheeks feel thick and clotted. He coughed again, his stomach quivering.
“Why don’t you come away from there? That smoke’s no good for you.”
He turned. The Muse?
No. Bridget, Ms. Georgia Peach, the latest corruption.
“You stupid blowhard,” Bridget said. “Be glad that stuff got burned. Maybe someday you can write a real story, something that’s not possum vomit.”
Real? How dare she criticize—
“And you can leave me out of it.” She walked away, then turned and stood with her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. But I can sure see you now.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I believe you said this was always your favorite part. The End. Well, it sounds good to me, too.”
Spence watched her go. She didn’t matter. She was just another prop, another character sketch. One of the little people. He stood under the snowfall of gray and black, waiting for the Word to come from on high.
Maybe if he could remember the story, bring it back to life, it would lead him again to the Word.
Something about the night? He touched the crumpled page he’d tucked inside his jacket. Maybe later, after years had passed, he would be able to read it. And maybe it would contain some hint of the night’s long spell.
But the night was leaving, retreating over the far steel-blue hills, going on to other writers, other vessels. It would spread its loving cloak on another part of the world, shower its gifts elsewhere, whisper its secret sentences. And Spence was again alone, with nothing but himself and words.
The ashes rained on.
CHAPTER 83
Mason tried to curl the fingers of his scorched right hand. A strip of electric pain jolted up his arm, pausing only briefly at the cut in his shoulder to gather momentum before reaching his brain. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out.
Maybe this was what suffering was all about. The art of sacrifice. It wasn’t about enduring starvation, struggling for recognition, fighting the fear of failure. Maybe it was about finishing, letting go. And realizing that the dreams you bring to life sometimes have no place in the world, and are best left as dreams.
The toughest critics weren’t in New York or Paris. They weren’t in the art schools. They didn’t wear berets and sport tiny mustaches and drink espresso. Sometimes they lived in your mirror.
“How are you holding up?” Anna asked, tightening the cinch around the horse’s girth. She had strong hands.
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be doing much sculpting for a while.” Mason thought of his tools, buried somewhere under the heap of ashes and bones in the basement. He had no desire to see them again.
Anna nodded at him and adjusted the saddle, then stroked the horse’s ears. The Morgan snorted with pleasure.
He had to ask. “What was it like . . . you know?”
“To be dead?” Anna’s cyan eyes fixed on a faraway point somewhere beyond the range of sight.
“Uh-huh.”
“Somebody who loves me said it’s the same as being alive, only worse.”
Mason looked up at the thin pillar of smoke. The wind was carrying it away, and he caught the odor of apples. Now that the sun was out, the sky was a shade of winter-born blue.
December would come with its soft snows, then the nights would get shorter and spring would arrive. Grass would grow over the ruins, locust and blackberry vines would spring up from the burned-out spot. The granite would sleep under its skin of dirt. The sun would rise and fall, the seasons would turn, the clock’s restless hands would spin in only one direction.
Forward.
“What are you going to do later?” Mason asked.
“I don’t know. I think I’m cured of metaphysics, though. Let the dead rest. They’ve earned it.” She put a foot in the stirrup and swung astride the horse. It was a natural fit. “What about you?”
“Depends. As soon as I get back to Sawyer Creek, I’m going to tell Mama that dreams aren’t the only thing we got in this world.”
“Really. What else have we got?”
“Pain.”
“Dreams and pain. Well, that’s a lovely mix. Maybe you can add ‘faith’ to that list.”
The kind of mix that maybe love was made of. Mason wondered if one day he might find out. He looked down at the ground and saw a bit of color amid a pile of loose hay. He kicked at the hay, and then saw the flowers. A bouquet of bluets, flame azalea, daisies, baby’s breath, painted trillium. Spring mountain flowers, fresh-cut and sweet, the stems wrapped in clean lace. He carried them to Anna. “Somebody must have left these for you.”
She took the bouquet and held it to her nose, eyes moist. “Dead stay dead,” she whispered. “And rest in peace.”
Anna tucked the bouquet into the bridle, eased back on the reins, and the Morgan raised its head.
“See you soon, Mason. Take care of yourself.”
She twitched the reins and the horse started down the dirt road.
“Hey, Anna,” he yelled after her. “Did you mean what you said
up on the widow’s walk?”
She didn’t stop, but turned in the saddle and looked back. She shouted over the steady clop of the horse’s hooves: “About trusting you? Maybe.”
Anna gave him a half smile and left him to wonder which half of it she meant.
THE END
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ABOUT SCOTT NICHOLSON:
I believe we build valuable ideas together, some of them inside a book, and some outside a book. I am honored that you shared my ideas and brought them to life in your imagination. I invite you to write a brief review or tell your friends about these ideas we have shared and the places we have gone.
I’m author of more than 30 books, including Liquid Fear, Chronic Fear, The Harvest, Disintegration, and As I Die Lying. I collaborated with bestselling author J.R. Rain on Cursed, The Vampire Club, Bad Blood, and Ghost College. I’ve also written the children’s books If I Were Your Monster, Too Many Witches, Ida Claire, and Duncan the Punkin, and created the graphic novels Dirt and Grave Conditions. Connect with me on Facebook, Goodreads, LibraryThing, Twitter, my blog, or my website. I am really an organic gardener, but don’t tell anyone, because they think I am a writer.
Feel free to drop me a line anytime at [email protected], or visit my Author Central page at Amazon to ask a question or see my other books. Thanks for sharing your valuable time with me.
Other Books By Scott Nicholson
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Try these other thrillers because they are good:
DISINTEGRATION
By Scott Nicholson
Careful what you wish for.
When a mysterious fire destroys his home and kills his young daughter, Jacob Wells is pulled into a downward spiral that draws him ever closer to the past he thought was dead and buried.
Now his twin brother Joshua is back in town, seeking to settle old scores and claim his half of the Wells birthright. Jacob’s wife Renee is struggling with her own guilt, because the couple lost an infant daughter several years before.
As Jacob and Joshua return to the twisted roles they adopted at the hands of cruel, demanding parents, they wage a war of pride, wealth, and passion. They share the poisonous love of a woman who would gladly ruin them both: Carlita, a provocative and manipulative Hispanic whose immigrant family helped build the Wells fortune.
If only Jacob can figure out which of them to blame. But the lines of identity are blurred, because Joshua and Jacob share much more than blood. And the childhood games have become deadly serious.
Learn more about the psychological thriller Disintegration or view it at Amazon or Amazon UK
THE SKULL RING
By Scott Nicholson
Julia Stone will remember, even if it kills her.
With the help of a therapist, Julia is piecing together childhood memories of the night her father vanished. When Julia finds a silver ring that bears the name "Judas Stone," the past comes creeping back. Someone is leaving strange messages inside her house, even though the door is locked. The local handyman offers help, but he has his own shadowy past. And the cop who investigated her father's disappearance has followed her to the small mountain town of Elkwood.
Now Julia has a head full of memories, but she doesn't know which are real. Julia's therapist is playing games. The handyman is trying to save her, in more ways than one. And a sinister cult is closing in, claiming ownership of Julia's body and soul . . . .
Learn more about The Skull Ring and False Recovered Memory Syndrome or view it at Amazon or Amazon UK
Do you like movies? View the screenplay adaptation at Amazon US or Amazon UK
AS I DIE LYING
By Scott Nicholson
Richard Coldiron’s first and last novel follows his metafictional journey through a troubled childhood, where he meets his invisible friend, his other invisible friend...and then some who aren’t so friendly.
There’s Mister Milktoast, the protective punster; Little Hitler, who leers from the shadows; Loverboy, the lusty bastard; and Bookworm, who is thoughtful, introspective, and determined to solve the riddle of Richard’s disintegration into either madness or genius, and of course only makes things worse.
Richard keeps his cool despite the voices in his head, but he’s about to get a new tenant: the Insider, a malevolent soul-hopping spirit that may or may not be born from Richard’s nightmares and demands a co-writing credit and a little bit of foot-kissing dark worship.
Now Richard doesn’t know which voice to trust. The book’s been rejected 117 times. The people he loves keep turning up dead. And here comes the woman of his dreams.
Learn more about As I Die Lying and the six people in Richard Coldiron’s head or view it at Amazon or Amazon UK
LIQUID FEAR
By Scott Nicholson
When Roland Doyle wakes up with a dead woman in his motel room, the only clue is a mysterious vial of pills bearing the label “Take one every 4 hrs or else.”
Ten years before, six people were involved in a secret pharmaceutical trial that left one of them murdered and five unable to remember what happened. Now the experiment is continuing, as Dr. Sebastian Briggs wants to finish his research into fear response and post-traumatic stress disorder. He’s backed by a major drug company and an ambitious U.S. Senator, but he also has a personal stake in the outcome.
Only by taking the mysterious pills can the survivors stave off the creeping phobias and madness that threaten to consume them. But the pills have an unexpected side effect—the survivors start remembering the terrible acts they perpetrated a decade ago. They are lured back to the Monkey House, the remote facility where the original trials took place, and Briggs has prepared it for their arrival.
Now they are trapped, they each have only one pill left, and cracks are forming in their civilized veneer.
After the pills are gone, there’s only one option. “Or else.”
Read about it at Haunted Computer or view it at Amazon US or Amazon UK
CHRONIC FEAR
By Scott Nicholson
Chronic Fear is the second installment of the chilling Fear series, which began with the harrowing Liquid Fear. The story picks up one year after the notorious Monkey House trials, from which the tiny handful of survivors have scattered in the wind. For while the unwitting human guinea pigs are still alive, the experimental drugs to which they were subjected continue to wreak havoc on their emotional stability. World-renowned neurobiologist Dr. Alexis Morgan knows first-hand the horrors of the sadistic experiment: her husband, Mark, was one its victims. As a result, he is plagued by unpredictable bouts of rage and paranoia. Dr. Morgan’s research into the drug leads her to suspect presidential candidate and U. S. Senator Daniel Burchfield of plotting to gain control of the drug for his own purposes, a power play that is sure to result in countless casualties unless she and three Monkey House survivors can outwit the shadowy figures behind the conspiracy—if they don’t lose their own sanity first.
Read the first chapter at Haunted Computer or view it at Amazon US or Amazon UK
OCTOBER GIRLS
By Scott Nicholson
Five days until Halloween and all hell is about to break loose.
And it’s all Crystal’s fault.
Momma warned her not to consort with the dead and tried to teach her the magic spells that would close the portal to the afterlife. But Crystal doesn’t want to be a trailer-trash witch like Momma. Her best friend Bone is only too happy to escape the afterlife and help Crystal break the rules. Bone died too young, and she’ll do whatever it takes to remain among the living.
Then a young movie maker comes to Parson’s Ford, and he has a very special project in mind: a horror movie starring a real ghost. The movie is rolling, the creatures are stirring, and the brainwashed teenagers are ready to welcome a new star from the other side of the grave.
Crystal and Bone must overcome drama queens, coffin cuties, and mangled magic if they want to remain best frien
ds forever—but at this rate, forever may not last much longer.
Learn more about the paranormal romance series October Girls or view it for Kindle at Amazon or Amazon UK
CURSED
By J.R. Rain and Scott Nicholson
Albert Shipway is an ordinary guy, an insurance negotiator who likes booze and women and never having to say he’s sorry.
And he thinks this is just another day, another lunch, another order of kung pao chicken. Little does he know that he’s about to meet a little old lady who knows his greatest fear. A little old lady who knows what’s hiding in his heart.
In just a matter of minutes, Albert’s life turns upside down and he enters a world where magic and evil lurk beneath the fabric of Southern California. And all his choices have brewed a perfect storm of broken hearts, broken promises, shattered families, and a couple of tiny problems. Namely, killer mice and a baby.
Albert Shipway is finally getting a chance to right some wrongs. That is, if it's not too late.
Learn more about the urban fantasy Cursed or view it for Kindle at Amazon or Amazon UK
GHOST COLLEGE
By Scott Nicholson & J.R. Rain
First in a new series featuring paranormal investigators Ellen and Monty Drew. Ellen claims to possess a sixth sense but Monty, a former P.I., only believes what he can see. She views their work as a sacred mission while Monty just wants a happy wife and a paycheck.
Then the Drews are summoned to a Southern California bible college after workers report hearing mysterious voices at night. When they encounter the unhappy ghost of a young girl, Monty's skepticism is shaken, but he resolves to help his wife free the trapped spirit. Their search uncovers the Latin phrase "Non omnis moriar"—not all of me shall die—and they learn more about the site’s history as a Catholic school destroyed by an earthquake. But a mysterious presence has plans of its own for the young ghost, and Monty and Ellen must go head to head with a Dark Master that’s had more than a century of practice in demonic deeds.
Ghost Box: Six Supernatural Thrillers Page 126