Jamarion Bailey returns to his hometown of Mudder's Row, hoping to piece together his fragmented memories and solve the mystery of why he was separated from his family and sent away all those years ago.
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This story was originally my entry for a writing contest I entered last year. Upon reading it again, I realized it was due for a rewrite in certain parts. Aside from editing bits of dialogue, I rewrote and extended the beginning of the story as well as the ending. I may end up rewriting it again. Until then though, #ENJOY...
It has been a while since I felt the sun here in Mudder's Row. Basking in the gentle warmth of its rays has always been a fond memory for me. I can remember very vividly running in the wind as the cool and soothing breeze wrapped itself around, embracing my entire body. Paired with the beautiful sun up high, I have both joy and peace, albeit fleeting. I have to take it all in while I can, for there is work to be done.
So, here I stand on this cliff, relishing the resounding waves as they splash against the foot below while terns on the beach belt out slurred and melodic burrs. It's like an avian chorus and I have front row seats in an oceanside theatre. These things combined have filled me with intense nostalgia and I feel compelled to jump from this intense surge of memories. However, I am struggling—very hard, I might add—to remember everything clearly. If I could only make sense of it all, I'd be fine. All I know for certain is that I was taken (more like driven away or cast out) from this place as a youth and I still resent that. What did I do to get ripped from home? To have my parents turn away from me? I just don't understand it.
To be honest, I'm only back in town because my aunt sent a letter (she's very old school) to let me know that Granny Bailey passed away and that she requested on her death bed I be allowed to attend the funeral. I'm still a little iffy about going, but I can't disrespect her wishes. I mean, she's the only one who bothered to reach out to me while I was away. Sending me money and birthday cards, while my parents just avoided any type of contact.
I feel a lot of anger just being in this atmosphere. Every time those memories come back to me, I have the most painful migraine. I believe that has something to do with the injury I sustained as a kid though which left a piece of metal lodged in the back of my head, piercing right into my brain. From what my aunt told me, the doctors couldn't remove it or I'd be a vegetable or something. There was also a possibility I could've died.
If you ask me, I'd prefer to be dead. My life hasn't been the best since I left here, but that's because of situations that I regrettably got involved in. Long stories for another day, so forget 'em for now.
It's time I head into town, for I have a funeral to attend plus a mother and father who won't be happy to see me there.
***
I have tried to talk to and question people concerning what happened, but everybody runs like they've seen a ghost or like I have leprosy. Reminds me of those old Casper cartoons. Kind of breaks my heart, being the recipient of so much disdain and fear. Contempt beyond reason if you ask me.
One person, an older Caucasian male with a scruffy red beard and glossy, silver-ish left eye, possibly a fisherman of some sort, was the only one to say anything to me, though his words were anything but kind.
"If I were ya', I'd cut me losses and hightail it," he said sternly, refusing to look at me. He instead kept his head down and looked to his left like he was watching for someone as we stood shoulder to shoulder.
It's important to note that he was headed out of the town as I was walking in, so I faced the sun. The glare in my eyes was an irritant along with the smoke from what appeared to be a handmade cigarette he was puffing on. A kind of thick cloud of it wafted around us, burning my eyes softly. After a brief fit of coughing, he continued his poor attempt to turn me away.
"Them don't want ya' here, me boy, so run while ya' still can. They think ya' did it and it's no way of convincin' 'em otherwise. Heed me warning if ya' value livin'."
I scratched my head, a bit confused as well as disturbed by his warning, but ultimately remained set in my resolve to piece things together.
"I hear you, old man, but I can't leave. Not yet, at least. They may not want me here, but I NEED to be here," I said, stifling a cough. "For one, I have to attend my granny's funeral. Secondly, I have to clear my name. So, unless they're going to come after me with pitchforks and rifles, I'm not going anywhere."
The old man grunted, but gave a smirk from what I could see in my peripheral.
"Well suit yer'self then, me boy. Don't say I didn't advise ya' any. Take care."
He walked off, leaving the town and puffing his cig as he went. The cloud of smoke combined with the brume in the area obscured him from view, making it seem like he had simply vanished. I was still a bit unnerved, but not completely shaken. I couldn't abandon my mission, so I made my way further into town, keeping my head down as others averted their gaze.
I am a pariah, but I can't completely remember why. Yet, the scorn I am receiving is small things to a colossus. This pain in the back of my head is still killing me the further I go into town, but I have to fight against it, as solving the mystery that is my past is top priority.
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The last time I stood under the silver and misty skies of Mudder's Row, it was my thirteenth birthday. I had been riding bikes with my best friends, Annalise (but we just call her Anna) Chablis and Dalton Beckford, down the narrow strip of land that leads to Galecki Beach. We would race here all the time, always starting at our homes—which were next door to each other in the neighborhood of Seahawk Cove—ending at the head of the alabaster sand below us.
This race between us was different than all the other times due to one detail: I had been gifted with a new bike. It was a six-speed Huffy Falcon, cherry red in color and sporting twenty-inch tires. I was so excited and could not wait to test it out! As soon as my father brought it out of the garage, I hopped on. It was the best moment of my life, one that I would carry with me forever.
I just wasn't aware how long forever would be.
***
Anna and Dalton were already outside, so I didn't have to call and wake them. They were just as excited as I and eager to put my Falcon in flight. I ran inside to put on the new hoodie my mother got me (which was also red and almost matched my bike) then dashed back out the door, hopping on the bike almost immediately. We each told our parents we'll see them later and speeded away from our respective residences.
As with most kids, we were always told not to go too far from home. And here in Mudder's Row, particularly, everybody had been warned to avoid the old cottage on Wardlow Farm. Actually, we were cautioned to steer clear of the farm altogether. See, the Wardlows had gone missing about three years prior. They were a small family of three who mostly kept to themselves. Mr. and Mrs. Wardlow's daughter, Francine, was around our age but her parents never let her associate with us or any other kids. She was home-schooled and, as such, spent most of her time inside. When the Wardlows disappeared, it shook our small town to its core. All of the parents started fearing for our safety.
After years of no upkeep, the cottage became decrepit. Because of this though, it was of express interest to the curious and foolhardy. Admonishing those who would dare embark upon the property had taken priority. I reckon that is because whenever dusk came, you could hear noises from the farm, and they traveled in league with the howling winds like a disembodied flock of bellowing wails. There were times, however, that one could also hear these frightening noises during the day.
The more I think on my last day here, the more comes back to me. Out of all the days we could have done this, Anna and Dalton chose my birthday to suggest riding up to the farm. I, of course, was vehemently opposed.
"Guys, I really don't think we should do this," I cautioned the two.
"Awww, is Jamarion feeling a bit chicken?" Anna teased, folding her arms into wings and prancing around. "Bawk! Bawk-a-bawk bawk bawk BAWK!"
Dalton broke in with a taunt of his own, "Yeah, he is. We're changing your name to Jamarihorn Leghorn!" He leaned against his bike, laughing and wheezing, but was the only one amused by his joke.
"That was corny, Dalton. You always ruin everything. So extra," Anna chided, rolling her hazel eyes. She flipped her platinum-blonde hair and make a slight gagging noise, expressing disgust over Dalton's joke.
"Eh, whatever. You wouldn't know a good joke if it punctured your tires."
Anna countered, "On the contrary, my humorless friend. Jokes are based upon subtlety at the start with the loud pop of the punchline during the conclusion."
"You call dancing around like a chicken, subtle? If so, that was very far from it," he sneered.
"Up yours, you uncultured swine!" Anna groaned. "I don't know why Jamarion is even friends with you."
"And I don't know why he's friends with you, you fat snob!"
"Hey, you take that back!" Anna said, fuming.
Dalton's green eyes blazed with fury. "Make me, Burger-Butt!"
They rushed at each other, but I jumped between them immediately and grabbed the collars of their jackets in my hands.
"Will you fools cut it out!" I loosened my grip and shoved them back. "Today is my birthday, or have you two forgotten that already?"
"No, we haven't," Dalton replied, still seething. "But Little Miss Smarty here needs to apologize."
With her hands clenched into fists and her shoulders taut, Anna screamed, "Apologize?! Why should I apologize to you?! You're the one who just called me fat!"
"And you called me ‘uncultured swine’! Don't act like you didn't start the insulting first!" Dalton retorted, every fiber of his being rippling with anger.
"Ugh! Whatever, Dalton! I hate you!" Anna stomped off towards the cottage, but not before grabbing my hand to drag me along with her. "Let's go, Jamarion. You can't be a chicken today, you're thirteen. It's time to grow up."
I swallowed hard and my eyes glazed over with fear. "I- I- I'm still not too sure about this, Anna. This place is eerie and not to mention, dangerous. We shouldn't go inside."
"You know Jamarion, you frustrate me sometimes." she sighs, folding her arms. "Whether you come or not though, I'm going in. We can't fear this place forever. I bet our parents haven't even tried to check it out, they just ignorantly recoil in terror over the thought."
Knowing that I couldn't let her go alone, I relented and followed her up the cobblestone walkway.
As he had not been paying attention (probably lost in space, no doubt), Dalton had to zoom through the dewy grass to catch up with us for we were halfway to the cottage's door.
"Jamarion! Burger-Butt! Wait for me!"
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We stood at the front door waiting on Dalton to get there. He finally made it, panting heavily and on the verge of collapsing.
"You guys... weren't... supposed to leave... without me. Next time..." he stopped short to catch his breath.
"If there is a next time," I muttered.
"What was that?" Anna asked, raising her brow.
"Nothing," I replied. "Don't worry about it."
"Whatever. Anyway, I hope you two are ready. There's no turning back now." Anna said excitedly.
If only she had known just how true those words would become.
***
Anna gripped the heavy silver knob on the weathered door. It had a weird design, shaped like the head of a lion, but with a demonic face. The keyhole rested between two jeweled green eyes. Maybe it was my eyes, but they seemed to glow once the knob had been turned. Also, I could've sworn I heard a low roar, but Anna said it was probably just the air inside escaping.
Remaining undeterred, we crossed the threshold into the dark and dusty house. It was much larger than it appeared on the outside, which I found very peculiar. The air that blanketed the living room and hallway was heavily malodorous. Breathing it in felt suffocating, but it seemed to clear up the further we traveled.
At this point, I remember how uneasy I felt inside Wardlow Cottage. Its old floorboards creaked and groaned as we walked, which caused us to tiptoe as we didn't want to accidentally fall through the floor. When we peered into the kitchen, we saw over a dozen cobwebs with spiders in them, poised and patiently in wait. Their eyes had the same eerie glow as the doorknob.
Continuing down the hall, rats and cockroaches scurried in varying directions, disturbed by the vibrations from our footsteps despite being light. A few cockroaches blitzed up the walls like a dozen brown torpedoes with antennae and legs. Speaking of the walls, they were covered in blue wallpaper that was faded and peeling. Visible underneath those peeled layers were cracks as wide as a ballpoint pen. Everything about this place just gave me the heebie-jeebies, but Anna was in a state of awe and excitement. She grabbed my hand again and pointed at a painting at the end of the hall.
"Hey, Jamarion, do you think that's a picture of Old Man Wardlow?"
I shrugged and replied, "I'm not really sure."
"Well dang, you're no help," she giggled, bopping me on the head and twirling her hair all innocent-like.
I don't know what she expected me to say. I honestly never got a good look at the man, though I had seen Mrs. Wardlow and Francine quite often. They always stopped by the general store my grandparents ran. Of course, they were never very talkative.
Mrs. Wardlow only said what she needed to say, which is what she came in the store for. Francine always stayed as quiet as a church mouse. Practically mute. Mr. Wardlow never came inside. Ever. He always stayed in his old Ford pick-up, a bit slumped in the seat with his straw hat over his face. I never knew if he was sleep or just pretending to be.
The more I think about The Wardlows, the more I realize how strange they were, especially Mr. Wardlow. Being in that cottage had put it all in perspective for me. They say hindsight is twenty-twenty, and remembering how our parents had told us time and time again to stay away from that property, I wish we had listened.
***
We walked into one of the bedrooms, which looked like it might've been Francine's.
"Man, it's really dark in here." went Dalton, his voice shuddering.
"I'll see if I can find a flashlight or something," I said, hoping to calm him down. "I'll be right back."
"Awww, is the little baby afraid of the dark?" Anna asked sardonically. "Want momma to hold you? Hahahaha!"
"Leave me alone!" Dalton screamed. "You always wanna act so tough and pick on me. I'm not having it anymore!"
"Oh? Is that right? Well have this!"
Anna flipped Dalton the bird and I saw it as soon as I walked back in the room with the flashlight I found (which was conveniently out in the open by the way). I was just in time too, as Dalton was proceeding to shove her, but I intercepted and pushed him back.
"Alright you two – ENOUGH! We didn't come here to fight! Jesus... this is shaping up to be the worst thirteenth birthday ever!"
In my frustration, I kicked the wall and put a pretty big hole in it, causing the house to go haywire. A fierce wind immediately exited the void, howling as it raced around from the bedroom to the hallway to the kitchen and living room, lifting and launching anything that wasn't tied down.
"Oh my god, Jamarion! What in the world did you do?!" Anna yelled.
"I wasn't trying to!" I exclaimed. "I was just angry! You guys were fighting again, ruining my mood, so I acted out! Sorry!"
"You don't go around kicking walls, buddy!" Dalton chimed in.
"Stuff it, Dalton! It was a accident!"
"Accident or not, you've upset the house!" added Anna.
"Guess we should've listened to our parents and stayed away, eh!" Dalton quipped.
We all ran for the den further down the hall, where we ducked behind a sofa to shield ourselves from the flying objects and debris. We gotta get out of here, I thought to myself, but as soon as I thought of such, the fury taking place subsided.
"Phew! That's a relief," sighed Dalton. "Don't kick ANY more walls, please, Jamarion."
"Yeah, keep your big feet to yourself," Anna jabbed.
"Hardy har har, both of you can kick rocks," I grunted.
"Like you kicked the wall? No thank you. Might stir up another disruption." Anna jested, sticking her tongue out. Despite all the commotion we just experienced, she was eager to continue exploring the house. However, I objected and suggested that we leave immediately.
"UGH! You're such a coward, Jamarion! Grow a pair! Why do I even like you?! UGH!"
Choosing to ignore her admittance of attraction, I retaliated. "Cut it with the insults. I'm not a coward, I just know when to leave well enough alone. This is DEFINITELY one of those times."
"I agree with, Jamarion. This place is giving me the creeps." Dalton griped. Knowing him, his heart was probably drumming rapidly with fear. I'm talking straight hummingbird mode.
"You. Two. Are. PUSSIES!" Anna yelled, hurriedly storming off down the hall. I went to chase after her, but she suddenly disappeared in the darkness.
"Wait! Anna come back!"
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With the flashlight in hand, I swung it around from room to room, hoping I would find her. Sadly, the only thing I came across were flitches of lumber in a rather neat pile. To reiterate an earlier point I made, the cottage was bigger on the inside than it should be. It was like it existed in its own universe, or rather, its own dimension. Also, I could've sworn there were only three rooms down that hall, but maybe I just couldn't see properly. It was dark, after all. Entirely too dark. The same went for outside.
When we first went in, it was daytime. The sun was out, but the clouds covered it, making the sky overcast. Still, it was pretty luminous, enough to provide light on the inside of the cottage. However, once we closed that door, everything was pitch, like nighttime in a blackout.
I continued my search, waving the flashlight in a frenzy as I called out, "Anna! Where are you?!"
Dalton, as usual, was lagging behind but caught up with me and joined in.
"Burger-Butt! Where do ye be?!" he shouted, making light of the situation.
"Will you cut the jokes, dude! We gotta find her—quick! She may be hurt!"
"Jeez! I'm just trying to ease the tension. C'mon! Relax, guy."
"This isn't a time for ‘South Park’ quotes, Dalton! Now quit it!"
Right then, I heard Anna call out.
"JAAAAAAMAAAAAARIOOOOON! HEEEELLLLLP MEEEEE!" she screamed, but her voice sounded disembodied, echoing all over the place.
"Anna! Tell me where you are!"
"HEEEEELLLLLLP!"
Her screams continued, but it was hard to follow her voice as it reverberated in multiple directions, so I stopped. It seemed like it was coming from above me, but I also heard it from the right, left and underneath, where I could feel the sonorous vocals vibrate against my feet, surging through my legs. I trembled slightly. The only path I didn't hear it coming from, was directly in front, which is where she must have been.
"Dalton... I think this house is playing tricks on us."
"Chaaa, ya' think?" Dalton mocked, following close behind me.
"I'm being serious!" I declared, trying to mask the fear in my voice.
"Yeah, I know you are, but like I already said: we should've listened to our parents."
"And if you two had've listened to me from the very beginning, we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"You're right," Dalton sighed. "but there's no use crying over it now. And besides, you wanted to explore this place just as much as we did."
"Yeah, maybe so," I replied. "Anyway, let's get going. There's a room at the end of the hall, Anna may be in there."
***
We finally reached the room after what seemed like an hour. I noticed the knob was just like the one on the front door, which made me apprehensive, but I shrugged it off, turned it and walked in. Once inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to Anna suspended in mid-air, enveloped by a thick black substance. When I shined the light on it, it squirmed, tightening its grip on her. It flowed like a thick river of slime, gurgling and slurping constantly.
"I guess we know what happened to The Wardlows now," Dalton said.
"Yeah, I guess we do. But how do you propose we get Anna out?" I asked, desperate for suggestions.
"Well, it doesn't seem to like the flashlight very much, so keep shining it and I'll find something to hit it with."
"Sounds like a plan," I replied, hopeful.
Dalton searched the barely lit room, discovering a axe in the corner. The black slime lashed out in a vain attempt to prevent him from grabbing it, but he was out of its reach.
"Well I'll be, it can't go very far," Dalton said. "It's very limited."
"Yeah, it is. What are you gonna do with that axe though?"
"What do you think I'm gonna do? I'm gonna chop the damn thing, bro. I'm sure this'll hurt it."
Suddenly, Anna blurted out, "DALTON! DON'T!"
But he didn't listen, and with a huge swing he struck The Limited (that's what I decided to call it), creating a massive explosion.
Well I'll be… now I finally remember it all.
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These memories were fragments at first, but being back in town and experiencing the elements that I sorely missed, helped connect the dots. Also, I believe the piece of metal in my brain is connected to that weird mass in the Wardlow's home, as the closer I walked to the source, the more my memories pieced themselves together.
What I am remembering now is that after the explosion I woke up outside of the cottage, my hoodie completely covered in grass stains and what I could only imagine was soot plus a bit of blood, but that was harder to make out due to it mixing with the color of my hoodie. I obviously sustained my injury in the blast, only logical explanation for it in my opinion. Anyway, when I looked up, I realized that I was surrounded by police. It was here that I learned how our parents had been searching for us—RELENTLESSLY—for two years. As I was the only one accounted for with a story that sounded sketchy at best, they assumed I had something to do with my friends disappearance or that I was at the very least covering for someone.
(Very far from the truth.)
Regardless of the fact that I couldn't be charged without proof, my parents couldn't live with the shame and sent me away to live with my Great-Aunt Glenda in Willow Valley, a weird town located on the eastside of Tennessee. I was told to never contact them as long as I live, something I begrudgingly abided.
That was twenty years ago though, and I'm back now, ready to attend this funeral. But first… first I must prove my innocence. There must be a breach somewhere inside the Old Wardlow Cottage that'll take me back to that day. If it shot me forward two years back then, it oughta be able to take me back twenty-two. It just has to. I refuse to believe that my friends are gone.
Even if they are gone, I have to avenge them. I don't know the true nature of this creature, so I may end up going through trial upon trial trying to kill it. Because of that, I may need to go on Reddit or some other site and see if anybody is willing to join me in this venture.
But yeah, it's important that I clear my name and earn the love and respect of my parents again. I've missed them so much. And I know, you're probably thinking that I should be resentful, but I can't blame them entirely. Mudder's Row is a small town after all, and it's full of folks who don't take kindly to anybody or anything disrupting what they see as an idyllic way of life.
Heh… "idyllic". This place is anything but that, especially with that thing lingering about. Hey… wait a minute… what's that in the sky up ahead? I've never seen anything like it before. It's– it's beautiful… and glowing in a very vivid array of colors. Oh… it's landing next to the cottage. Wait—IT'S LANDING!? I better go investigate!
Ah! Here I go again… being foolish… just as I did in my youth. It's funny how things come full circle, eh?
|| FIN ||
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