Halloween haunting, a story by greg,(reader's discretion is strongly advice )+15

Episode 2

Postal Supervisor, Nancy Harris, turned the
corner onto Amity Road and drove up about a
quarter of a mile where she saw Patrick
Snowden‟s broken down truck sitting off to the
side of the road. In the passenger seat of her
SUV, twenty one year old Chris Potter sat with
jumper cables on his lap. He was the young
custodian at the Post Office, hired right out of a
failed two-year stint at community college.
“Whenever you want to make the jump to mail
carrier, Chris, let me know and we‟ll get you
started on the training,” Nancy said. “Okay,”
Chris said. “Who knows? Maybe someday.” “It‟s
a good job. It pays well.” They approached the
broken down mail truck and pulled up behind it.
Nancy looked in the rearview mirror to make sure
no cars were flying around the curve behind
them, and then got out of her car. Chris climbed
out the side door and the two of them walked up
to the driver‟s side of the mail truck. Nancy
peered in the truck. The sliding door was open
but no one was inside. She leaned in over the
seat and looked into the cargo area.
"Patrick?” she called. There was no answer.
Nancy stepped back out of the truck and looked
around. “Patrick?” she called out again. There
was still no answer. She looked behind her at the
Watkins‟ house. It didn‟t appear anyone was
home. She then looked to the cornfield. It waved
eerily in the wind and the stalks towered over
the land like an unnerving and dominant
creature. All she could hear were the wind
chimes singing on the Watkins‟ front porch.
Nancy pulled her cell phone out of her suit
jacket and dialed Patrick‟s number. She waited
through a few rings and finally heard his phone
behind her. It rang from deep within the tall,
dead stalks of corn. She held the phone down by
her side and called out once again: “Patrick?”
Nothing. Nancy looked around with her eyes and
at once, felt uneasy. Something wasn‟t right. She
ended the call with Patrick and dialed 911....
Holly drove up Main Street and curled through
the connecting roundabouts and into Old Hilliard.
About a quarter of a mile up on the left, Holly
parked her car along the street and she and
Kevin stepped out. They walked into Abners
Casual Diner for an early lunch. The bell hanging
above the door chimed as the two walked in and
grabbed a seat along the wall. A young woman
approached them and laid out two menus.
“Drinks?” the girl asked. “Water for me, please,”
Holly requested. “Same,” Kevin pouted, still upset
at his run-in with Elizabeth Watkins. “Let it go,
Kev,” Holly said as the waitress walked away. “It
doesn‟t make sense, Holly. How can we go ten
years without actual answers?” “Aside from that
poor girl that hung herself, all five of the other
autopsies were conclusive – heart attacks.
There‟s not much you can accuse someone of
when a cause of death is undeniable...
"Meaning what though? Don‟t you find it
completely far-fetched, Holly?” Kevin queried,
confused and angry. “We‟re supposed to believe
that the Watkins‟ knew nothing? There‟s
something that they‟re not telling us.” Holly
looked at a small, carved and lit pumpkin in the
center of their table. She glanced around the
dining area and saw that each table had one.
She smiled, remembering how the two of them
use to enjoy Halloween before Ava died. “We
need to go back to the traditions,” Holly said.
“What are you talking about?” “After lunch, let‟s
go get a pumpkin, go back to my place, carve it
and watch monster movies all day. Like we did
before what happened to Ava.” Holly began to
twist her necklace in her fingers. It was the left
half of a broken heart necklace that she and Ava
had split over ten years ago. Holly didn‟t go very
long without feeling the heart in her fingers. “I
don‟t know, Holly. I don‟t feel up to it.” “Please,”
Holly said to her brother, batting her eyes. Kevin
smiled and shook his head. “Fine.” A chill
pierced the air inside the restaurant.
Goosebumps took over Holly‟s arms and she
shivered. The candle inside the pumpkin on the
table began to flicker and then went out. Kevin
looked around and noticed all the pumpkins were
going out. The lights in Abners Diner flickered
and then shut off.
Everyone inside the restaurant started muttering
and looking around, confused by the random
power surge. Suddenly, Holly screamed and
turned around in her seat, grabbing the back of
her neck. The customers who were in the diner
gasped and looked at Holly; all eyes were on
her..

What? What is it?” Kevin quickly asked,
concerned about his sisters‟ fright. “Someone
touched my neck!” she said. “Their fingers were
ice cold!” “Nobody‟s there, Holly. There was no
one behind you.” A short buzzing sound brought
all the lights back on in Abners Diner. Everyone
shrugged it off and went back to enjoying their
food, while occasionally shooting a glance in
Holly‟s direction. Holly was upset. She turned
back and faced Kevin while rubbing her neck.
She was breathing heavily and closed her eyes
tightly, trying to regain her composure. “Are you
okay?” Kevin asked. Holly didn‟t answer. After
lunch, Holly and Kevin pulled into the gravel
parking lot at Kuhlwein‟s Farm Market off of
Walker Road. They got out and Holly locked her
car with the remote. They walked up to the barn
where they started looking at hay bales stacked
with pumpkins......
Kuhlwein‟s was a year-round farm market, but
autumn was their time to shine. They had
hayrides, fresh produce, pumpkins, baked goods
and fresh apple cider. Cooper, an older employee
and good friend of the Kuhlwein‟s, walked up to
them with a plate of cookies. “Happy Halloween,
guys,” he said in a very peppy and polite tone.
“The wife just made fresh pumpkin sugar
cookies. They‟re over by the pies if you‟re
interested. Want to try a sample?” “Sure,” Kevin
said. He grabbed a cookie, as did Holly, and they
each took a bite. “Mmm,” Holly said finishing off
the cookie. “I‟ll be around. Let me know if you
guys need any help,” Cooper said. “Thank you,”
Kevin replied. Cooper walked off to the next
person and Holly continued looking at the
pumpkins. “Are you okay?” Kevin asked her,
noticing she was a little shaken up still from the
diner incident. “It‟s just a weird day, Kev.” Kevin
just nodded, knowing something was off. He felt
it too.....
Two black-and-white Hilliard Police SUV‟s pulled
up behind the mail truck on Amity Road with
their lights spinning, but no sirens. An officer
stepped out from each of the cars and
approached Nancy and Chris who stood by the
abandoned government vehicle. “Are you the one
who called in?” one of the officers asked Nancy.
“Yes, sir. I‟m Nancy Harris. I‟m a supervisor at
the Hilliard Post Office. One of my carriers
called me a little while ago saying his truck
broke down. Chris and I came out to jump him,
but he wasn‟t with the truck. I called his cell
phone and he didn‟t answer, but it rang from
somewhere in the cornfield.” The officer looked
towards the cornfield, and then to the Watkins‟
home, sitting eerily quiet. “This is the old
Watkins home, isn‟t it?” “I believe so,” Nancy
said. The officer looked back to the younger
officer who was in the other vehicle. “Call the
Chief. We may need some extra bodies out
here.” “What‟s wrong, York?” the younger officer
asked. “You‟re new to Hilliard, Westman, this
house has a history here. Trust me, it‟s probably
a good idea to call in some back up,” Officer York
said......
Okay,” Officer Westman reluctantly complied. He
walked back to his SUV and picked up the radio.
“Mrs. Harris, why don‟t you head back to your
office and we‟ll take a look around. We‟ll call
you when we find anything,” Office York said.
“Could I send someone out to pick up the mail
from the truck and finish the route?” she asked.
“Not yet. This could be considered a crime
scene, and in that case, everything needs to
remain here, untouched.” “Okay.” “I‟ll be in
touch.” Nancy nodded and she and Chris got
back into her car, u-turned on Amity Road and
drove away. Officer York looked around the large
yard leading up to the Watkins‟ home. Everything
was still - eerie and still. Westman joined York
back near the mail truck. “Let‟s go see if
anyone‟s home,” York said. Westman followed
York up the gravel driveway and onto the wide
front porch of the home. Both officers had their
hands on their holsters, strictly as a
precautionary measure. York knocked on the
front door and then peered into the window next
to it. The curtains were obstructing any kind of
viewing. “Who lives here again?” Westman, the
young and inexperienced officer asked
"Elizabeth Watkins,”
York said. “She‟s widely been accused of being a
witch" ,he revealed with a look of dread
spreading all along his face........