The Ragged

by Brett Schumacher

  THE RAGGED

  Copyright © 2021 Brett Schumacher

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of Fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by atrtinkcovers.com

  Formatting by DelaJea Press

  THE RAGGED

  Brett Schumacher

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Also By Brett Schumacher

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Also By Brett Schumacher

  Also By Brett Schumacher

  S79 The Horror In The Swamp

  Leash and Other Short Horror Stories

  Narrated Shorts by Brett Schumacher and Many Other Authors

  www.youtube.com/Creepyghoststories

  Acknowledgments

  For Dad Always…

  I am grateful for the encouragement and support, past and present, to my family and patrons.

  Thank you to my patrons for the never-ending support. Candice W, PA Nightmares, Kathi Jo, Matt T, Riyfina, Shane B, Valiant Warrior, and many others.

  My dear friend Dakota for the endless chats about conspiracy theories, strange phenomena, and horrific scenarios that oftentimes contribute to my short stories on Youtube.

  My “publicist”, Arlene, for telling everyone about my books.

  Finally, I would like to acknowledge my family for their never-ending love and support – my parents, Denise and John; my brothers, Bruce, Brad, Bryan, and my incredible wife, Candace. They taught me how to persist and persevere, and nothing would have been possible without them.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Andrew put the car in park and took a deep breath in before slowly exhaling. He adjusted his tie in the rear-view mirror and slumped back in his seat. A small, gentle hand found its way onto his, and he remembered his wife sitting next to him. Soothed by her soft and cool fingers, Andrew felt himself relax as he turned to look Celeste in the eye.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” he whispered.

  “No one ever is,” she replied softly, placing her hand on his cheek to wipe away a tear. “But that’s why you have me. I’m the parachute, here to soften your fall.”

  “What if I don’t pull the ripcord, though?” he asked, before cracking a small, wry smile. “Then you’re just an over-sized backpack”

  She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess I’ll just wait in the car. Only an idiot wouldn’t pull the cord.”

  Celeste leaned over and gave Andrew a small kiss on the forehead, then they both got out of the car and headed across the parking lot to the funeral home.

  The funeral home looked and felt like every other funeral home in existence. Dim, yellow chandeliers hung limply from the ceiling, illuminating the dark carpet, overly cushy chairs, and fake flower pots. There was a lamp in every corner, and even at 11 in the morning, the building felt eternally trapped in twilight. The funeral director stood in the center of the tiled foyer and welcomed them in that way that only funeral directors could manage, with a blend of genuine warmth and heartfelt condolences.

  The director, a tall, plump, and friendly man named ‘Randall Gibbons, but you can call me Randy,’ gently walked Andrew and Celeste through the plans for the day, stopping regularly to make sure that the two of them were following along. Andrew wasn’t. He couldn’t focus. His eyes kept darting around the room, looking at every floral arrangement, furniture pattern, and lamp, but taking in none of it.

  He couldn’t quit thinking that it was all too much. Nothing about the funeral home felt right for Corvus. His grandfather never cared much for formality or fanciness, and Andrew couldn’t help but feel guilty for allowing his memorial service to be both. He also knew that Corvus’s body, if Andrew could even get up the nerve to see it, wouldn’t look like the man he once knew.

  “Does that sound good to you, Mister Wilson?” Randy asked, yanking Andrew back into reality.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Are you ready to see your grandfather?”

  Andrew mumbled ‘sure’ and was led into the chapel by Celeste, who held his hand as she followed the funeral director. Randy told them to take their time before heading back to the lobby to wait for the minister to arrive. Celeste asked him if he wanted to do this with her or without her. Andrew couldn’t remember responding, but Celeste squeezed his hand and stepped out of the room as well, leaving him alone in the chapel.

  The center aisle of the room seemed to stretch out ahead of Andrew as he tried to work up the will to move forward. He felt himself start walking, his legs wobbling with each step. Andrew had lost more than his fair share of loved ones in his life, but this time felt different. Corvus had been one of Andrew’s only positive influences growing up, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to see his grandfather’s body.

  Still, despite his reservations, Andrew found himself carried across the room to the open casket. The body looked picture perfect. It was wearing a crisp, black suit with a red tie fastened in a perfect double windsor knot. The wispy halo of hair around the head was combed without a single hair out of place, and there was a small, serene smile immortalized on his lips.

  It looked perfect, but it just wasn’t Corvus. A stranger would’ve thought that the body lying peacefully in repose looked excellent, but anyone who knew Corvus could spot everything wrong from a mile away. His grandfather didn’t even wear a suit on his own wedding day. Andrew had lived with the man for two years and had never seen him wearing anything other than overalls and a flannel, and he had only seen the man smile a small handful of times. Corvus wasn’t a mean man, but he wasn’t a warm man either. And he definitely didn’t care for anything as showy as this funeral service.

  Andrew jumped when he felt something touch his back, pulling him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Celeste looking up at him with a look of concern.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes already knowing the answer.

  “We should’ve just buried him behind the farmhouse. He’d have a cow if he saw what I did for his funeral.”

  “You still can if you want to,” a voice rang out from behind the couple. Andrew turned to see a familiar face. “I could distract Randy while you sneak the old dude out the back.”

  Jackson Crawley hadn’t changed a bit in the twenty-four years since he and Andrew had last seen each other. He stood just a few feet up the aisle with that same stupid grin he had always had after making a terrible joke. Andrew forgot his grief for just a moment at the sight of his old friend.

  “Jax!” He called out in a mix of surprise and joy as he stepped forward to hug the man. “You’re here!”

  “Don’t act so surprised, man. I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he said as they broke their hug and he placed his hands firmly on Andrew’s shoulders. “You could’ve told me you were coming back.”

  “I’m sorry, man. It’s all been such a whirlwind that I forgot. His death really took me by surprise.”

  “I get that,” Jax replied before a new stupid grin washed over his face as he looked over Andrew’s
shoulder. “Now the real surprise here is that you landed such a fox! And who might you be?”

  Celeste introduced herself and reached out a hand, which Jax summarily ignored as he moved in for a hug. He had never met a stranger. He turned to face Andrew with his arm still around Celeste’s shoulder and gave an exaggerated thumbs up of approval. All three of them smiled and laughed a little, and Andrew was thankful for that small moment of levity on such a hard day.

  It didn't last long.

  Randy came back a few minutes later with the priest in tow. If Randall Gibbons was a mountain of a man, then Father Davis was a molehill. The small, mousy priest wore thick glasses with circular rims that made his eyes nearly double in size. The two of them approached Andrew’s group and introductions were made all around.

  They all made uncomfortable small talk until it was time to start the service, all the while Andrew noticed that Randy and Father Davis were subtly looking around the room, definitely wondering where the other guests were. Andrew wasn’t at all surprised that no one else had shown up. Corvus was already somewhat of a hermit back when Andrew lived with him, so he could imagine that his grandfather had only become more reclusive since then. But that didn’t take away the sting of a nearly unattended funeral.

  It was finally time to get started, so Andrew, Celeste, and Jax took their seats on the front row as Father Davis made his way up to the podium. Randy took a seat a few rows behind them, and the service began.

  The funeral took an eternity, and Andrew felt himself regretting the decision to have a service at all. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on what the small man was saying about his grandfather, just like he couldn’t bring himself to look back at the open casket just a few feet away. None of it was what Corvus would’ve wanted. None of it was what Andrew wanted.

  “Andrew,” Father Davis called down from the podium. “Would you like to say anything before we close out the service?”

  He wanted to say no. To get up, storm out, and just drive home. He wanted to be petulant and hateful. But instead, he nodded quietly and stood up to give a half hearted eulogy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Celeste pulled her jacket tighter around herself and leaned further into Andrew’s side as a cool October breeze swept across the cemetery. She stood next to the grave with her arm wrapped around Andrew’s arm and watched as they lowered his grandfather into the ground. It truly would’ve been a beautiful service if anyone had bothered to show up.

  Celeste had quietly decided during the funeral that that day was easily one of the most awkward days of her life. Dealing with death is hard for a number of reasons, but she had learned earlier that day that being the only one in the room not dealing with death is its own kind of strange. She was doing her best to comfort Andrew, but it was clear that what he needed more than anything was for the day to be over.

  She didn’t blame him for feeling like that; she wanted the day to end too. She was used to being capable and helpful and strong, but ever since they had gotten out of the car to enter the funeral home, Celeste just didn’t know what to do with herself. She knew that just being there with him was more than enough, but it didn’t feel like enough.

  All of those thoughts swirled in Celeste’s head as she picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the hole. She knew almost nothing about Andrew’s grandfather, or the rest of his family for that matter, but she did know that he was one of the only good influences Andrew had growing up, and that made him okay in her book.

  Shortly after the ceremonial dirt had been dropped, the priest and the funeral director said their goodbyes and left, undoubtedly commiserating over how awkward the day’s events had been. Celeste watched them walk away, partly wishing that she could leave with them. Jax put his arm around Andrew, and Celeste took the opportunity to slip away.

  “I’ll give you two a minute,” she whispered before stepping back. It seemed like he and Jax needed some time to mourn together, which was fine with her. She needed to take a breather. As much as Celeste loved Andrew, being his rock was really taxing her that day. Grief made Andrew act in strange ways, and it was getting harder for her to separate his pain from his personality.

  He was normally bright, warm, and more than a little sarcastic. He always knew how to make her laugh, even if she was rolling her eyes while she did. But ever since he had heard the news about his grandfather passing, his jokes had been fewer and his smiles were smaller. His sarcasm had taken on more of a bite, and she found him to be almost mean on occasion. Celeste knew it was just part of the mourning process, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to live with.

  She watched Jax and Andrew for a minute, two old friends coming back together in the worst of circumstances, and smiled a bit. Celeste had never heard of Jax before that morning, but Andrew seemed to find himself again when he arrived, and that was all that mattered to her. She watched them grieve together, kneeling down at the graveside, Jax holding Andrew close with an arm around the shoulder, and their heads leaning against each other in the middle. It was too intimate and personal for Celeste to keep staring at, so she started looking around the graveyard.

  It was a standard, small town Southern cemetery. Tiny, unassuming headstones dotted the plot of land, most of them holding the remains of people who were born, lived, and died all in the same place. Celeste had never understood how someone could live like that. It seemed too small a life to never leave your hometown, which was exactly why she left for school in Massachusetts the first chance she got. She always thought that the world had to be so much bigger than she could ever know, but she wanted to try and see it all anyway.

  Celeste was lost in thought scanning the headstones when she noticed a vehicle at the edge of the cemetery, idling on one of the roads near the entrance. It was a beat up blue truck that looked like it must have been on its last leg a decade ago. The afternoon sun was shining too brightly in her eyes for her to get a good look at the driver, so she raised her hand and shaded her eyes to try and get a better look. The truck shifted gears and slowly drove away, seemingly after the driver realized that Celeste was looking at them. She watched the vehicle slowly drive to the entrance of the cemetery before turning left onto the main road and speeding away.

  Despite reason telling her that it was a public graveyard that anyone could visit, Celeste felt a cold chill roll across the back of her neck. She suddenly felt too out in the open, too naked. She took a few steps closer to Andrew and Jax, but the men stood up before she could get to them. They turned around and, seeing the look of concern on her face, both grew concerned too.

  “Is everything alright?” Andrew asked, reaching his hand out to her.

  “I’m fine,” Celeste said after a short moment of hesitation. It was just nerves, and she didn’t want to make things about her. “I’m just worried about you is all.”

  “I’ll be okay,” he replied. “But let’s get out of here. I don’t want to spend all day in a graveyard.”

  The three of them walked quietly to their cars, all seemingly unsure of what to say. Celeste thought about the myriad effects of grief and counted herself thankful that not wanting to talk much tended to be high on the list. She never knew what to say in moments like that. Being there for someone and knowing what to say to someone were very different skills indeed.

  “Give me a sec before you guys get going,” Jax said before walking over to his car. Celeste did a quick scan of the cemetery while he was rooting around in his back seat. She knew the truck was long gone, but the feeling of being watched still hadn’t subsided. Jax came back with a bottle of whiskey held delicately in his hands. “I got you this. I figured what you guys would need more than anything is a good drink.”

  “Thank you, Jax, but I’m afraid this gift is just for Andrew,” Celeste said, feeling sheepish.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jax asked, looking puzzled.

  “I don’t really drink.”

  He looked taken aback for the briefest of moments befor
e recovering and replying, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a tee-totaler. That just means there’s more for our boy here.”

  Jax held the bottle out and Andrew took it, reading the label as he did. “You really spared no expense,” Andrew said with a chuckle and a wry smile. “Fifteen bucks man, I hope you didn’t break the bank.”

  “I never claimed to be a rich man,” Jax laughed it off. “Running a small town pharmacy ain’t as lucrative as you’d think.”

  “You’re a pharmacist?” she asked. “That’s perfect! I actually just finished my inhaler last night.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right man,” Jax said, looking pleased. “Why don’t you guys come on over to the store this afternoon and I can get you hooked up?”

  Celeste felt Andrew’s hand tighten a little bit on hers. She knew him well enough to know what that likely meant. He just didn’t have it in him to do anything else that day, and that squeeze was him asking her not to accept the invitation. He was pulling the ripcord.

  “That’s alright,” she said, laying it on a bit too thick. “I’ll just come by tomorrow.”

  “Are you sure?” Jax pressed. “I’d hate for you to have an asthma attack tonight.”

  Every excuse she could think of tumbled out of her mouth before she could pick just one. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s really not that severe. I can make it for one night. Plus, we need to get the cat to the house and let her out. She’s been in the car all day.”

  Lying was not her strong suit.

  “Well okay then,” he relented before adding, “If you’re sure.”

  The three of them said some quick goodbyes and declared that they would all have to make plans to spend some time together and catch up and get to know each other. Andrew opened Celeste’s door for her before going around to his own. Even in grief, he was always the gentleman. They drove to the edge of the cemetery and Andrew turned left while Jax turned right. He held out his hand and Celeste took it as they drove down the road toward the house they had just inherited.