Retribution Road (Round 1, Group 43)

So I started the Short Story Challenge for NYC Midnight on 16 January. I received confirmation that the story was accepted, so I'm finally posting it here. I'm a bit embarrassed by this particular story, as I only had my husband beta read it, and sometimes he isn't very good at picking up pacing issues, etc. I haven't even read it since submitting it, because I feel so badly about it. Anyway! Here it is!

Group: 43
Genre: Ghost Story
Subject: A Road Trip
Character: A School Teacher
Synopsis: Eva is running from her recent past. She’s on her way to Mexico, but something sinister has found her along the way. Can she really escape the ghosts of her past?

Retribution Road

The landscape was changing at every bend of the road. Eva felt as if the closer she got to her destination, the more foreign everything felt. She had crossed the Texas border sometime around 5pm, and she had assumed then that the rest of the way would be as smooth a ride. It hadn’t been smooth, so she was 4 hours in with 3 more left to go.

“Eva, can you please organize for new lab equipment?” Eva remembered Mr. Matthews requesting two weeks ago. “School board should approve it.”

Indeed the science lab was in need of some new equipment, but after a bit of unnecessary spending, Eva wasn’t certain how the school could pay for it. After all, they couldn’t even afford a full-time treasurer. She had been delegated the role alongside her other math teaching duties.

But now she skirted all that responsibility. Eva had to escape.

The highway was dark with the moon hardly visible. And since she was trying to conserve fuel, she had rolled down her windows, so the cool breeze of the night could linger through her car. But instead she was only met with a humid stillness. The only wind she felt was from her car speeding down the street.

The radio was playing, and it was really the only thing keeping her awake now. 13 hours of changing channels and listening to the same-sounding DJs. Mostly, though, she regretted the decision to leave I-35 back in Dallas, as now she had to pay extra attention to her exits and the speed limits, as they frequently changed.

“Kansas City police are looking for the whereabouts of a mathematics teacher and school treasurer –“

Her gaze drifted for a moment away from the road as she changed the channel. Eva blinked and yawned. Only a few more hours to go, she thought to herself.

The first light in miles glowed around the bend in the road ahead. For a brief moment, she saw a flicker of movement and heard a screech. Suddenly wide awake, she tried to find the source as she sped around the bend. Panicked, she thought she had seen a person run across the road, but when she slowed and looked in her rearview mirror she saw nothing.

Eva shook her head in disbelief. She was half asleep, and it was likely just hallucinations.

A few more light posts lined the road, and Eva breathed a sigh of relief. At least she must be nearing another town again. Bored of the station again, Eva pressed to scan for another station.

“Here’s something a little new! I love this song already. I hope you do too,” the DJ said. “From Phil Collins, this is called ‘Don’t Lose My Number.’”

“Archived footage?” Eva asked herself as she tried to scan for another station.

“Billy, Billy, don’t you lose my number,” Phil crooned from within the radio.

Looking down again, she scanned for the next station.

“Billy, don’t you-“

Another scan.

“Billy, Billy.”

Frustratingly she looked down to scan again. She looked up and jumped, stunned to see someone in the middle of the road. She swerved to miss him and looked back.

No one was there to berate.

Her heart raced, and the lights ahead started to dim. A blanket of fog approached the car and, with it, a sudden change of temperature. Signs on the road as she drove on told her she was at the city limits of Tombstone, TX. She pondered on the name choice. She had already driven through Paris, Rome and thought she had seen a sign for Bogata. Texans sure were unoriginal.

But as she drove further in, the fog grew thicker. Goosebumps spread across her arms, and her heart continued to pound. Eva rolled up her windows. She could barely see the road now. The fog was so dense that condensation oddly settled onto her windows. Focused on the road, she ignored Phil singing, “Oh Billy, you better, you better, you better run for your life.”

The fog lightened up slightly to reveal a gas station on the right hand side of the road. Eva half smiled. A coffee would go a long way. And she could finally check her map.

She pulled up to the pump, and a station attendant came out. Folding up her map, she grabbed her handbag.

“Do you take card?” she called out as she closed her car door.

“Cash only,” the attendant said as he lifted the pump. “Filled?”

Eva was surprised as he started to fill her tank for her, but she nodded all the same.

“Wow. Not many full service gas stations around anymore,” she said. “Do you serve coffee at all?”

The attendant looked at her blankly and continued to fill her tank.

“Oh….kay?” she said and walked towards the service station.

She couldn’t find any coffee within, but she figured a coke would keep her awake. So she grabbed one and carried it to the counter. The clerk turned to her; his face had an angry scar covering the whole left side.

“Can you help me?” Eva asked, as she pulled open the map. “I think I might be lost. I’ve never seen this much fog at night.”

“You better run for your life,” the clerk muttered.

“What?” Eva said, both uncertain of the words he said and concerned by the menace in his voice.

“Run. Run… I ran. What good it do me?” he said, his voice rising slightly.

His head turned to her car.

“You don’t know yet,” he laughed. “You won’t know.”

Eva turned to look at her car. Fuel was flowing out of the pump, down the side of her car. No attendant was there.

“Nobody ever does,” she heard beside her. His laugh echoed in the station. “You’re doomed.”

Eva grabbed her handbag and bolted back to her car.

Tears flooded her eyes, as terror and memories all flooded her thoughts at once. She pulled the pump out, and stumbled back into her car.

Her whole body shook as she tried to put the key in. The voice echoing in her mind, “You’re doomed (doomed) ((doomed)).”

Sobbing, Eva turned the key in the ignition.

“RUN AWAY!” she heard.

Looking in her rear view mirror, she jumped. The eyes of the clerk filled her mirror. Shrieking, she put her foot down and raced out. The gas station exploded just as she was out of sight.

Eva drove as fast as she ever had before. Her mind would not settle.

“Mr. Matthews was the only one wearing protective gear,” she recalled hearing yesterday, the words spoken through snivels from a fellow teacher.

The words had echoed in her mind all through the night and early morning hours.

“You were their teacher!” she had screamed at herself. “You had a duty of care!”

But how was she to know?

A new start would fix it all. She would just run away from it all. She would get to Mexico tonight. She had to.

The fog slowly dissipated, and she slowly regained some composure.

“Don’t you forget about me,” she heard the radio suddenly spring back to life.

Eva tried to turn it off, but the power button didn’t work. She cried inwardly, but accepted defeat. The radio was less important than getting safely to Mexico.

Eva recalled the first time she got away with it. It had been something so small and insignificant. Her husband had just left her, and for the first time in her life, she had to take care of menial tasks. Eva didn't know how to mow the lawn. She was short on money, so she hired a landscaper and paid with school funds.

She justified the act and continued it. She hadn’t been caught yet.

Hail dropped on her car, waking her up from her musing. A heavy deluge of rain and ice battered her car and the road. Seconds later her car scratched the pavement from a large pothole that she hadn't even seen it coming. Worried, she started to think about other accidents she could have on this stretch of road. She had not seen a single car on the road, but it would only take one pair of lights coming towards her to make her swerve. Not to mention the unfamiliarity of the road.

Just as she thought about stopping, lights appeared just ahead. The signs were flashing, and though she could not make out what they said, she was happy to see them nonetheless. She slowed her car down, and pulled into the parking lot. There was a steep hill up, and as the "Tombstone Cinema" sign came into view, so too did the bright flashing lights of the entrance.

Eva pulled her car into a space, grabbed her handbag and sprinted up to the box office.

Squinting, she tried to read the movie titles, but the words were blurred and indecipherable. The box office clerk grinned at her widely, "Which'll it be?"

"Whatever is starting now," she answered hastily.

"Ah, Brazil. Here you go, miss," he said as he handed her the ticket. His hand was like ice as it scraped her skin.

"How much?" she asked.

"Nothing. It's already been paid for," he smiled.

"Oh? Uh... well, thanks for that," she said returning the smile.

Eva walked into the theatre and was immediately met by another man dressed in an old fashioned usher uniform.

"Ticket please," the usher said. She had never experienced this type of service before at a theatre. She was both impressed and perplexed by it.

She handed him the ticket, and he asked her to follow him.

"It's only just started, ma'am," the usher said as they reached the theater. He opened the door and the sounds of the movie echoed through the foyer. She nodded her thanks and entered the room. The small hallway leading into the theatre was dark and a curtain acted as a door to the auditorium. The door closed behind her, and she pulled open the curtain.

"Welcome home!" a terribly dark and scarred face was standing directly in front of her.

Eva screamed and fell backwards. She had only blinked, but the person was gone. And now the entire setting had changed. A hallway stretched out in front of her. Lockers were on either side of her, and doors to classrooms were all closed.

Eva panicked. She turned her head, but she did not see theatre walls at all. She was in the hallway of her school.

“Run. Run… I ran. What good it do me?" she recalled as she rose and sprinted down the hallway.

She passed the lockers, and immediately the doors to the classrooms opened. The sound of chalk on boards and chatter filled the air. Teenagers walked past her, transparent, void. Eva shook her head in disbelief.

"How much has she stolen?" she heard a familiar voice ask. She turned to look and saw both Mrs. Stewart and Mr. Welsh talking in the faculty lounge. She gasped as their heads turned to her, faces melting, exposing only their skulls.

"But they're alive!" her voice echoed through the hall.

Eva continued to cry as she ran. The halls stretched as she closed in on the exit.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed.

Eva slapped herself in the hopes that she was asleep, but nothing changed. It was not a dream.

The school bell chimed, and students started flooding the hall. Some were the same as they had always been, but others were terribly disfigured or burned.

A hand touched her arm, and she was swung around. Eva had been grabbed by her prize pupil, Kyle. Rage in his eyes, he squeezed her arm harshly. She sobbed, "I'm sorry."

He suddenly erupted into flames. Agony on his face, he pushed her down and screamed.

"How could you?!" she heard behind her.

Before she could even see who said it, she was jerked by the arm and dragged.

Eva kicked about, narrowly missing the students beside her. The whole school watched from the sides of the hallway. Faces of hate, pain, and anguish stared at her as she tried desperately to escape. She was helpless.

Her oppressor stopped pulling after they entered a room. The words on the door read, "Chem Lab."

Eva screamed as student after student came into the room.

"Don't come in here!" she cried. "Just run. Run!"

But all of them kept walking.

"Oh! New equipment?" one of the students said.

"No! Don't! Don't come any closer!" Eva pleaded, her free arm reaching out to them.

Suddenly her oppressor let her go and walked to the head of the class.

The chemistry teacher, Mr. Matthews, stood in front of the class in his protective gear.

"Today I'm going to show you a bit about combustion," he said. "Everyone will need to go to the back of the class. Wouldn't want you to get burned."

Eva cried as she tried to pull at least one of the students out of the room.

"You're doomed," she heard.

Fearing what came next, Eva left them all behind, and just as Mr. Matthews started to squeeze the striker, Eva ran out of the room, seeing the explosion only as it had started. The alarm went off, but the sprinklers never triggered. Teen after teen poured out of the classroom doors covered in flames. They all rushed towards her.

Eva fainted.

"Wake up," she heard.

Eva lazily opened her eyes. It had been a dream. She was in her car again, parked outside the movie cinema. The man in an old usher uniform was tapping on her window.

"Miss, you alright?" he called out.

"I....I must have fallen asleep. I'm sorry," she mumbled back.

"Well, you best be on your way then," he said, turning back towards the cinema entrance.

Eva turned the key to the ignition, but the car wouldn’t turn on. She tried again and again, but nothing happened.

"You better run," she heard again.

Eva looked in her rear view mirror and saw Kyle in the backseat.

Her scream was immediately muffled with his cold hand; he pressed her hard against the seat as handprints covered the car windows. The faces of all the dead faded into view. Their eyes bore into her soul, and they started chanting, "Let go. Let go.”

Eva slumped in her seat, defeated. She had no cries left, no more screams. She released the handbrake and let go. Her car crept forward at first, and then dove into the street below, crashing into the truck speeding down the road.

The truck driver tried to save her, but her body had flown out of the windscreen. As she let the life go out of her, she mumbled something about the cinema and the nice usher.

"Usher?" the driver said. "But that cinema's been closed since 1985. After a string of arsons."

An Ocean of Memories (Round 3, FFC)

So I made it to Round 3 of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge. I was not so lucky with my assignment this time and received a genre I have dreaded.

Group: 5
Genre: Romance
Location: A Tugboat
Object: A Map
Synopsis: Captain Shane Roberts’s last moments aboard the tugboat he captained for forty years have some bittersweet memories. Was it the love of the ocean or the love of another that kept him going for so long?

An Ocean of Memories

Captain Roberts pulled on the upholstery of the tired leather chair. The cracks had turned into rips long ago, and he had mentioned numerous times that a replacement was needed.

Nightfall on the open water was pure magic. The moon glowed across the water, and there were tiny sparkles that sprinkled the surface of the ocean. His vessel rose and fell with the gentle sway of the tide.

His mind went back to his tenth year as captain aboard this offshore tugboat - the year he met Mandy. Even now he still remembered how she looked, smelled, and tasted.

“It’s hard to tell where the sky ends and the water begins,” Captain Roberts heard.

He turned and caught the smile on Mandy’s face.

Her crew uniform hid her form well, but he remembered every curve.

He smiled back at her and then set his gaze back onto the ocean.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” the captain said.

“Ah, Shane. What makes you think that would stop me?” Mandy jested.

Her hand reached over the top of the chair and rustled his hair. Her touch was so delicate, despite her strength. Shane grabbed her hand, and pulled her beside him. There was hardly any space between the chair and the controls, but she still managed to get in. Mandy bent over and kissed him on the cheek. As he pulled away, he chastised her.

“There’s nothing out there for miles, chief. A few minutes won’t hurt,” she said with a smile.

Shane slowed down the tugboat, and as the engines quieted slightly, he turned to kiss her. The taste on her lips reminded him of the ocean, but somehow, her scent did not – that was 100% Mandy.

Then as quickly as she was there, she was gone.

Captain Roberts ripped out all of the upholstery in the chair arm, letting the leather just hang along the sides and exposing the metal underneath it. He heard the loud footsteps of his first mate coming up the bridge ladder and turned the chair to meet him.

“Skip, what are you doing up here?” Ronnie asked.

“Saying good-bye,” Shane answered. “She’s been my home for 40 years.”

“Reminiscing, old man?” Ronnie smiled.

“Old men don’t reminisce,” he scowled.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “I’m going home now… It… it was a pleasure working alongside you these 15 years, skipper.”

“Yeah… You too,” Shane said. “You were a good crew.”

They shook hands and said their goodbyes.

Shane looked across the bridge; his eyes catching sight of the map he had used for years. He smiled as he saw the big red heart on it marking Mandy’s not-so-secret rendezvous point. Turning, he left the bridge.

Mandy was standing at the handrails, staring out into the ocean.

“Tell me something, Shane,” she said. “If you had to choose between me and the ocean, who would win?”

Shane looked at her confused and concerned. Finally he stood up straight, and answered the way a good captain should, “The Ocean.”

Mandy smiled, “I knew that was the answer. I just wanted to see you squirm.”

She giggled, and the world felt complete.

He wanted to tell her that she was the love of his life, and that she would always come first. But he didn’t.

His goodbye walk took him down to his quarters. The light within was still on.

Mandy’s muscular body beckoned him in. Sweat and oil made her body shimmer in the dull light. Her hair was down, and she lay on her side, her curves featuring prominently.

He locked his cabin door and turned off the light. He was overwhelmed by her aroma. Somehow she always smelled like a mixture of lavender and vanilla, despite the amount of sea time she had.

Their passion consumed them. They did not have the luxury of foreplay on the boat, and so their love was harsh and fast.

Tears rolled down Shane’s cheeks, as he opened the drawer to his desk. Inside was a note that was tattered and nearly illegible. He didn’t even need to read it anymore, having inadvertently memorised the words years ago.

My Dearest Shane,

I know this won’t reach you until you’re back on your beloved tugboat. I want you to know that I regret absolutely nothing. I know as well as you that you’re married to the ocean, and our marriage is secondary to that. That’s why I risked myself so I could spend every day I could with you. So when I’m gone, please stay married to your first love. Don’t let the memory of me tarnish it.

Yours Forever,

Mandy

Mandy had passed away years ago. Shane remembered screaming at the doctor that it wasn’t possible. But her heart had not been strong. She had spent all those years on the boat and never once complained of it, yet the doctor said she had a known condition. That she had been warned of the threat to her life, but she remained on the boat.

Shane was filled with regret. 40 years on this boat and for ten amazing years, he was married to Mandy. If she had just told him, she may still be with him today for his last day as a captain.

But now he was alone.

Shane left the boat, taking the note with him. As he walked down the docks, he felt cold and pain. He stumbled along the planks as he clutched at his chest.

At the furthest end of the dock, he could see her. Mandy was in a long, white summer dress. Her hair was down, flowing in the wind. She seemed so radiant that everything else around her was dark.

Shane stretched his hand out to reach her, and as the darkness consumed him, her light grew stronger. Taking his hand, Mandy helped him up. They walked, hands entwined, along the docks.

“I love you more than the ocean,” Shane finally admitted.

Mandy laughed, “I know, chief. I’ve always known.”

8-Bit Folly (Round 2 FFC)

Round 2 - NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge

As before, I had 48 hours to write a maximum of 1,000 words in the given prompts below. :)

Group: 11
Genre: Ghost Story
Location: Video Arcade
Object: Chocolate Bar
Summary: Three minors enter the charred remains of a video arcade in hopes of relieving it of a large quantity of small change, but what they find instead is a malevolent force. Can they make it out alive or will the ghosts have the last say?

8-Bit Folly

Rachel’s stomach churned as the acrid stench filled her lungs. Tossing what remained of her chocolate bar aside, she steeled herself forward through the recently opened door, blinking regularly to reduce the stinging in her eyes. Coughing, she tried to expel the ash and dust from her throat as the air cleared inside. Faintly, she thought she could hear hissing resounding through the room, but she immediately dismissed it. 

It was well past midnight and well past her bedtime too. Her big brother, Vinnie, had coerced her to tag along with temptations of wholesome fun. So far she had learned his version of excitement was breaking curfew, trespassing, and smoking.

For the first time in her life, she was intruding on private property, with her brother and his best friend, Prince. Tonight’s adventure was going to the abandoned video arcade that had been condemned no more than 2 weeks ago and now was set for demolition.

Vinnie had regaled her with a story of woe within the walls of the arcade. There had been a time when it was the place to be for local kids and adults alike. Poor safety standards plagued the building, and it had twice succumbed to fire. The first fire broke out during the busiest night of the week, and many people met their untimely demise in it. Fortunately with the second fire, only the owner and his daughter were there and managed to escape.

The owner decided to not open it again, stating only that he was too old to start over, but his daughter wove tales of whispers and laughter the night it burned. Her words echoed throughout the town and soon no one entered the property, not even to remove what lies within its walls.

“This is amazing!” Prince said as he pushed his way through.

“Doesn’t look like anyone has had our idea,” Vinnie snickered. “Rach, throw me the bag.”

Across her back was a backpack with a bag of tools that she had somehow been roped into carrying. One of the boys would have to carry it home, though. There was no way she could carry all those coins. Rachel tossed him the backpack.

The temperature was dropping inside, but Rachel tried to ignore it. Her nerves were already frayed. This was not her idea of fun.

The video arcade was a shell of its former self. The pinball machines and arcade games still stood, but there was not much left to them. The marquees, sides and bezels were either blackened or destroyed.

The perimeter of the room was lined with varying pinball machines while the middle had three rows of arcade machines backs facing each other – six deep. There were more than 30 arcade games here.

Rachel started her walk around the arcade to try and settle down. She had barely made it past the second row of machines, when she thought she saw movement around the furthest end of the row. With a start, she glanced around to see if anyone else had seen it.

Prince and Vinnie were pulling out screwdrivers from the bag. She sighed anxiously and walked down the row, heart in her throat, but nothing was there. Just as she was getting ready to walk back, she saw it again heading towards Vinnie and Prince.

Rachel attempted to cry out, but suddenly she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Her vision blurred, and she felt instantly cold.

A light breath touched her ear, with words whispered, “You should not be here!”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and her terror intensified. With an internal cry, Rachel ran over to warn the others. Just as she did, the arcade sprung to life. 8-bit sounds echoed throughout, and the machines flashed shades of green, blue, red, and yellow.

Vinnie stood over the first pinball machine in the arcade, playing instead of thieving.

“Vinnie!” she yelled at him, but he just ignored her.

Rachel caught just a glimpse of Prince walking mechanically into the second row of machines. She rushed over to him to try and bring him back.

“We have to leave!” she screamed, but his hands dropped to the joystick of the Centipede arcade game.

She pulled at him, but he didn’t budge. His skin was ice cold. Rachel screamed, shaking her head in disbelief. She pinched herself and rubbed her eyes to make sure it was real. All around her the arcade games were playing themselves. The sounds of the buttons being pressed and sticks being moved up, down, left and right overwhelmed her senses.

Panicked, she quickly ran back to Vinnie. His game of pinball had racked up quite the score, and he was high fiving the air. She rushed forward to pull at him, but before she could even reach him, she was pushed backwards. She blinks; a group of kids are surrounding her brother. Their heads turned toward her with toothy grins and villainous eyes.

Startled, she stepped back, her hand inadvertently touching the closest machine. She felt a sudden, unnatural jolt resonate through her body.

“Play,” she heard.

Pulling away, she called out to Vinnie. His eyes caught hers, but she was met with a soulless gaze.

“Play,” he said.

Her mind felt foggy and her chest tight. Her fingers touched the machine, and all she could feel was a cold invitation.

“Join us,” the voices echoed.

Mesmerised, she turned her gaze toward the game of Karate Champ. She faltered for only a second as her hands unconsciously moved onto the joysticks.

“You’re mine,” a single voice whispered.

She felt it as it happened - something pulled on her soul. The embrace was cold at first, but whatever resistance she had in her was gone. She let go, and death enveloped her as flames erupted all around.

The door slammed shut, but no one seemed to care. She didn’t care. She belonged here. She had a game to play.

Cryptic Intent (NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge 2014 Round 1)

I'm currently participating in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge, and decided it was high time I at least publish my stories on a blog somewhere. Later on today, the second round begins, but my first story Cryptic Intent was placed on the forums only in a word document style, which felt a little unprofessional. So it's about month late, now, but this is the unpolished submitted edition of that story. This particular story placed 5th in my group (11) for this round, and as this is the first time I've attempted anything like this, I am pretty chuffed about it.

Genre: Mystery
Location: A Mausoleum
Object: Thermometer
Synopsis: Today marks the third day in a row that someone has defaced the mausoleum at Shady Hill Cemetery. Investigators are stumped about what is motivating the vandal and must enlist the help of a classics expert, Jillian, to get the answers they seek.

  Cryptic Intent 

The sun was breaking through the trees as Jillian arrived to the scene. The thermometer in the car read a sizzling 101°F. The sound of singing in the church swelled in the dense air, and the last remaining stragglers at the scene were walking towards the church. Jillian couldn’t remember a time she had seen this many cars in one place. Fear was a funny thing.

Jillian called out to Rupert. The detective had called her down to help with the investigation. She could hardly figure out why they would need a classical literature major at a crime scene, but she had known Rupert since they were children and could hardly say no.

“Jill!” Rupert called out.

He walked quickly and carefully, passing the remaining evidence markers to get to the police tape surrounding the crime scene.

“Welcome to Shady Hill Cemetery,” he smiled as he lifted the tape to let her in.

There was nothing shady or hilly about this particular cemetery, Jillian mused. There were no trees within the perimeter, and aside from the gravestones, the only shadow that was significantly cast was that of the large, white mausoleum in the centre. All walking paths met there - making it the crossroads of the graveyard.

The crypt was notable only in its decadence in an otherwise plain town. Concrete slabs were its foundation, but the remaining building - shaped like an old Roman house with an entryway surrounded by two columns – was ivory and marble. At a time, it likely shone brightly, but decades had diminished it to a lacklustre grey. The top was adorned with a dome and a frieze below that depicted both roman numerals and the story of man’s fall from grace.

“Thank you,” Jillian said, gawking at the beautiful ivory columns in front of her.

“I’ve brought the case file with me. It’s just inside,” Rupert said, as he widened his stride over the stone steps into the crypt. “Please be careful here.”

As Jillian looked down, she saw glistening red on the grass and steps. Blood, she gagged. That was when she could smell it - the stench of death and faeces. The colour left her face and she tried to keep her caramel latte down, as she widened her step to avoid touching the remains of the carnage.

When she got into the mausoleum, she closed the door and steadied herself. Lights on all four ends of the structure were set up and angled onto the large, rectangular stone coffin in the middle. The file and its contents were sitting atop the coffin.

“Sorry about that,” Rupert said. “I had forgotten you probably don’t see much in the way of blood.”

“Yeah, not really… Is there anything else like that in your evidence?” she asked, scared to hear the answer.

“No,” he said.

Jillian breathed a sigh of relief.

“I suppose you want to know why I brought you here,” Rupert began, as he motioned her to the middle.

“You could say that,” she smiled, regaining her composure.

“This is the third morning in a row that the church minister has called. On the first day, we found writing on the ivory columns. Yesterday, a scarecrow hanging from the door, and today… a dog had been brutalised,” he scowled in disgust. “Until today, we just thought it was a prankster.”

“But not now,” Jillian said.

“We set up a hidden camera yesterday. We have video evidence from this morning’s attack, but because we have no other physical evidence for the past two days, we need to get a confession. I need to understand motive… You know Hebrew, don’t you?”

Jillian smiled, “I certainly do.”

“The first day the writing on the columns was in Hebrew. Care to decipher?”

Jillian nodded and leaned in to look at all of the pictures. She found all of the images of the columns and separated them as if they were puzzle pieces. With the 14 images there, she had reconstructed the image of the columns and front door as it appeared outside. One by one, she looked at the words on the images, ignoring all else.

They were scrawled in flowing symbols with red marker. The words were written in large letters so as to make it noticeable from a great distance. A majority were illegible, but the ones she could find had strong meaning. They were in no particular order. She took a step back and took in the overall image before her. The red writing contrasted the white columns, but they nearly hid the most distinct thing. There was red along the frame of the door.

“That’s not there when I entered,” Jillian said pointing at the red.

“We had to take it down. There are a lot of fanatics here, and they immediately assumed a plague was going to consume the town… What do the words say, Jill?”

“Just utter nonsense, mostly, but the words love, loathe, lost and hope were in there,” she said.

“Okay. What does that mean?”

“I don’t think it means anything. I think it was the door…  Where are the scarecrow images?”

“Here,” Rupert said, pointing to them. Sorting through she found nothing remarkable – just a scarecrow on a wooden post. Finally, she found a photo taken of a man encased in shadow hanging from a cross.

“What do you mean the door?” he asked.

“The columns were vandalised to bring attention to the door – to the prospect that wrath was coming.”

“But what does the dog have to do with it?”

“What can you tell me about the dog?” she asked.

“He was a black Labrador. Beautiful, really. Covered in blood. His eyes had been removed and replaced with red marbles. He almost looked evil.”

“A hellhound?” she asked.

“Maybe!”

“There’s your answer,” Jillian opened the door to the mausoleum and set her gaze on the church directly facing her from across the road. “God will judge you.”

“And hell is coming,” Rupert groaned.