The Curse of the Cook Witch

Chapter 1

1

They brought her out, hands tied behind her back. Her hair, dripping wet from water constantly being poured over her head to force a confession, hung over her face in long dark strings. Her eyes blazing with pain and anger, were barely visible through her hair. Her dress ripped and shredded, showing her nakedness; only her black stocking remained untarnished. She didn’t utter a single word as they tortured her or now as they walked her to her death. She watched as they threw the makeshift noose over the thick tree branch.

“Confess Catherine Cook. Confess to being in league with Satan himself.” He said sternly at the bound woman before him as two other men held her and another cinched the noose around her neck. “Confess, repent, and beg for mercy and we may let you yet live.”

“The only thing I confess, Jerimiah Jones, is that this atrocity will not go unavenged.” She said, staring at the bulbous man before her. “I curse ye and all who attend my murder. Let God and man see you as the vile, evil beings you are. Be afraid, for no one in your lineage shall live past my years, and you will all be trapped to roam the earth until your family line runs dry and dies.”

The people in the crowd turn to look at each other, murmuring in fear. “She’s cursed us; the witch has cursed us all.” Cried a woman from the crowd that gathered to watch the Witch die.

“Nonsense! Do not listen to the Witch’s lies and empty threats. We do God’s work here and have God’s protection.” Jerimiah said to the crowd and Catherine Cook. He nodded to a few men, and they began to pull the rope, lifting the accused into the air. She kicked and twisted as she fought for air and life before, and finally, her body went limp. Jerimiah looked over at the two men who stood near a cart. The men grabbed some small barrels and threw the lamp oil onto the lifeless body of Catherine Cook. Jerimiah then took his torch and lit the oil. A foul wind began to blow from the woods behind the burning body. The body never moved, nor did the flame blow out as the wind began to gust; on the wind, the crowd heard a scream. It grew louder and louder until blood began to drip from the ears of those in attendance. The scream turned to laughter as the crowd tried to cover their ears and fell to the ground in agony.

As the body burned to ash, the laughter finally died. Jerimiah Jones cut down the burnt corpse, dug a shallow grave near the edge of the forest, and buried her face down.

Chapter 2

1

“Can’t believe we finally got everything moved in,” he said, pouring two glasses of celebratory sparkling apple cider he had bought earlier in the day just for this occasion.

“And now the fun part… unpacking everything,” she said, smiling a little.

“Seriously, Tabitha, don’t overdo it.” He said, handing her the glass and looking at her stomach. The baby bump started to show last month, and now she was noticeably pregnant.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. You worry too much.” Tabitha said, “Besides, women used to give birth in fields as they worked. I’m sure I will be ok putting a few sweaters and stuff away.” She looked out into a sea of boxes and thought to herself ok, way more than a few sweaters. When did we get so much stuff? They had hired movers that did most of the packing and moving, but now looking at the task ahead, she didn’t realize how much there was to do. Now I am going to fill that big old claw foot tub, and while that is filling, I will dig out a towel, my bath stuff, and my bath pillow. While I do that, you can get the bed put together.” She smiled, clinked his glass, and drank her glass empty. “you can bring me some more of that too.” And with that, she turned and headed upstairs. He smiled, drained his glass, grabbed the bottle, and followed her.

2

She lay in the large tub filled with hot water. She loved this tub. To her, it was the main selling point of the house. The real estate agent told them the tub was over 100 years old and that most of the house was older. The previous owners recently renovated the house, adding a new air conditioning unit and electrical wiring with a new breaker box. It had a new water heater and added one of those new lifetime roofs. However, the room the front door opens is the original cabin from the mid-1600s. The fact that the house had parts nearly 400 years old sold Thomas on the house. He liked to tell people all the modern conveniences mixed with all the history.

“God Dammit!” she heard him shout from down the hall. She laughed at this. He had the same trouble with that bed when they first bought it and said the same thing back when he first put it together. There was a master bathroom connected to the master bedroom, but it only had a stand-up shower, one sink, and a toilet. The large bathroom upstairs had the claw foot, dual sinks, and a separate stand-up shower. The lights also had a dimmer switch, and she had turned the lights down to help her relax. She laid back in the tub, resting her head on her air-filled pillow. “Hey.” She said as she felt him put his hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t hear you come in bed altogether?” she said.

“Son of a bitch!” she heard from down the hall. She opened her eyes to look and see who was touching her, and she saw no one. Then the hands pushed down on her and forced her head under the water. She fought and struggled against the unseen force. She swore she could hear someone laughing as she struggled. “Hey babe,” she heard him say and knock on the door before he opened it. Suddenly the hands were gone, and she sat up in the tub. “Hey, the bed is all ready, my dear.” At first, she said nothing; she just stared at him. She looked pale, and he could see something he had rarely seen in her eyes; fear. What could she be afraid of, he wondered, “Tab, are you ok?”

“I’m, I’m fine.” She said, looking around. “just, just help me out here.” He went over to her and helped her out of the tub. She grabbed her towel and left the bathroom as fast as she could.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked, knowing something was wrong, but he could only push it so far. He knew she would have to come to him.

“I’m fine.” She said, sounding better, less frantic. “Lets… let’s just go to bed ok. I’m just tired.”

“Ok,” and with that, they went to bed and fell asleep for the first time in their new house.

Chapter 3.

1

“Hey. Why don’t we take a break from all this unpacking?” Thomas said.

“If we do, we will never get it done,” Tabitha replied.

“Look, it’s a beautiful day, I don’t know what happened last night, but you still seem on edge. Let’s get out of the house and walk that trail the realtor showed us when we toured the house.” Thomas said.

“I could use a break,” Tabitha said apprehensively. “Maybe some fresh air would do me some good.” With that, she sat down the pan she had just pulled out of the box, sat it on the kitchen counter next to a stack of plates, and grabbed her jacket.

He wore jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, while she wore a red T-shirt with a denim bib, overall shorts, and a black jacket. Both had been wearing hiking boots as they worked. Thomas had hoped to go down this trail from the moment they closed the deal on the house. He still couldn’t believe how cheap this house was. “According to the realtor, there was a settlement around here. Apparently, it was abandoned around the 1700s.” Thomas said. He had done some research on the area. He was new to all of this, being from California. Tabitha grew up just a few towns away. They had met in college and fell in love almost immediately. He thought all of this deep history was beyond fascinating.

She had been thrilled when he took the new job near her home. Most of her family had died when she was younger, and she was almost the age her mom was when she died, which scared her. The events of last night brought that fear to the forefront of her mind. “I want to tell you what happened last night. I need to tell you something, and I need you to believe me. Ok?”

“Of course.” With that said, she began telling him what happened, how the hands felt, and how they had pushed her head under the water. He listened, nodded at the appropriate places, and grew increasingly worried. “That’s a hell of a story.”

“You believe me don’t you?” she asked.

“Of course, I believe you.” He replied. “What do we do? I mean, we can’t call Ghostbusters.” He said, trying to alleviate the tension. “I believe you, but to play devil’s advocate, is it possible you fell asleep in the tub and dreamt the other stuff? And, I don’t know, your head slipped under the water while you slept?”

She looked at him with confused and angry eyes. “No, it isn’t possible. I know what I felt. I heard you swearing in the other room while putting the bed together. How would I hear that if I was sleeping?” she said, looking at him sternly.

“I don’t know.” He said, “I just want to rule out all possibilities before going right to the haunted house theory. Ok?”

She started to calm down. She knew that he was right, that it would be best to rule out all the natural reasons before going to the supernatural ones. “Ok, you’re possibly right. I mean, I guess it’s not impossible I fell asle….”

2.

“What the hell?” he said, cutting her off. They both looked up as the trail opened into a massive clearing. In the clearing, they could see remnants of old buildings still standing; some had collapsed roofs, while others had walls that seemed to have been pushed over into the smaller structures.

“Oh, my God. Was the settlement the realtor told us about, and What was his name again?” Tabitha said.

Thomas stood there amazed at what he was seeing. “Stan. I remember because of the commercials. Stan, the real estate man.” Thomas said. “He said there used to be a settlement, a small town mostly made up of houses and a church. This must be it. What did he say the name of the town was again?”

“Jerimiah’s Landing,” they said in unison as they found an old wooden sign. The lettering badly faded into what looked like rust. Some of the letters were impossible to make out, but they could understand what the sign had once read long ago.

“Why did they call it a landing if there was no lake or river nearby?” Tabitha asked.

“Maybe because this is where Jerimiah landed,” Thomas said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Ha, Ha, Ha,” Tabitha said, smiling and rolling her eyes.

“Hey, what can I say, Dad Jokes are a natural phenomenon,” Thomas said as they began walking down the middle strip between the houses.

Most of the buildings seem to be mostly intact except for one. A free-standing partial wall resembling a stone foundation was at the end of one row. Inside the crumbling wall were rotted and broken pieces of wood. They could still see some roofing material that matched the rest of the small houses. In front of the ruins stood a large fountain and well.

A couple of times, Thomas darted to the houses and peaked into doorless frames and windowsills. As the two stood by the fountain and looked up at the Church, they were amazed that of all the remaining buildings, this one was the largest and seemed undamaged. It was as if the Church was timeless. As they neared the Church, the small breeze they had noticed when entering the tiny village began to pick up. As they reached the gate to the old Church, the breeze had become a gust. They looked at each other, turned, and headed back to the trail. The further they got from the Church, the softer the wind became until they were back in the forest, and what had started as a nice cool breeze before became a gusting wind was gone.

Chapter 4

1

It was dark when they returned home, and neither had realized how far away the little village was. When they entered the front door, they stopped and stared in disbelief. All of the contents of all their boxes had been taken out and thrown all over the living room. They heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Thomas darted through the kitchen door to find all the cupboards thrown open and the dishes smashed against the wall. In the dining room, a pentagram had been formed on the floor out of the silverware; the dining room table had been embedded into the wall legs first.

“Oh, my God,” Tabitha said as she entered the dining room and kitchen. “Who would do something like this?

“I’m calling the sheriff,” Thomas said, pulling out his cell phone.

2.

“Johnson, when you finish writing the report, I want it put on my desk with three extra copies of the photos.” Sheriff Morrison said. Then he looked at the young couple staring at him with fear and hope mixed entwined together. A look he has sent over and over again since he became a cop nearly forty years ago. “We got all we need so you guys can begin cleaning up and getting things put away. Be sure to let us know if anything comes up missing.”

“We will, Sheriff.” Thomas said, “Thank you.” And he stuck his hand out to shake the large Sheriff’s hand. He figured the Sheriff stood at least 6’5”, maybe even 6’6”, and this was not someone he wanted to dislike him.

Sheriff Morrison looked them up and down. “Would you guys mind if we sit and talk for a bit?” He said finally.

“Sure,” Thomas said, lowering his hand and figuring this night business was yet to conclude.

“Would you like some coffee?” Tabitha asked.

“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble if it’s already unpacked.” Sheriff Morrison said.

“The first thing we unpacked,” Tabitha said. She turned to head into the kitchen and paused. “why don’t we have our conversation in the kitchen?” she said, not wanting to go in there alone. The two men understood, agreed, and followed her.

While Tabitha started the coffee, the two men pulled the table out of the wall, set it up, and found three chairs to sit on. Thomas found some coffee cups that survived and brought them to the table. “Sheriff, would you like some sugar or creamer?” Thomas asked.

“No, thank you. I take my coffee black.” Sheriff Morrison said.

“Just like Thomas,” Tabitha said, smiling a little. “I, however, need my caramel macchiato, or there will be some serious trouble.” With this, they all laughed a little. Tabitha brought the coffee pot to the table and poured the three cups as they sat down.

“So, I know I asked earlier how long you been here and where you came, but I have to ask what brought you here?” Sheriff Morrison asked.

I got a new Job in Boston. It’s a bit of a drive, but we decided when she got pregnant, we wanted to raise our kids in a small town with access to a large city.” Thomas said.

“Ok, how did you find this house?” the Sheriff asked, using his professional interrogator’s voice.

“I found it online. Being from the area originally I….” Tabitha said.

“Wait. I thought you both were from California?” The Sheriff said.

“Well, I grew up in Williamstown and went to college in Cali,” Tabitha said.

“That’s where we met, ended up getting married, and worked until she got pregnant, and I started looking for the new Job,” Thomas added.

“Ok, I see. Did you buy the house online, then?” Sheriff Morrison asked.

“In a way, I guess. We talked to a realtor, came down, and he showed us the house. We fell in love with it and put in the bid. We then..” Thomas said

“Who was the realtor?” The Sheriff asked.

“We were just discussing him earlier. We couldn’t remember his last name, but his first name is Stan.” Thomas said.

“Stan, the real estate man,” Tabitha added.

“Stan Holland, he was a good man.” The Sheriff said, smiling a little in remembrance.

“Was, Sheriff?” Thomas said, wondering why the Sheriff used a past tense to describe him. After all, Stan was relatively young, maybe only a few years older than Thomas himself.

“Stan passed a few weeks back.” The Sheriff said plainly.

“Oh, my God,” Tabitha exclaimed. “How? May we ask?”

The Sheriff nodded his head. He wondered how much he should tell them. He doubted they had anything to with it. They had already told him they had just arrived yesterday, and their story would be easy enough to check out. “He was murdered.” He watched as their faces went from shock to horror and back again. “He was killed in a house he had just sold to a young woman and her little boy. All three were murdered and ripped to shreds. The woman and her son were upstairs, and Stan was downstairs. Stan had called 9-1-1 and asked for police to go to that address. Said there was an intruder. I got to the scene too late. In all my years on the force, I have never seen a scene that horrific, and I worked in Boston and New York City before coming here.”

“Did you catch who did it?” Thomas asked.

“Not yet, but let’s get back to here. Did Stan tell you about this place?” Sheriff Morrison asked.

“Just a little. That it was over a hundred years old, that some of the wood used in the living room wall was from the original house from the 1600s, and that it was all updated and modernized a few years back.” Thomas said.

“Well, that’s probably all Stan knew, but there is much more.” Sheriff Morrison said. “See, me and Stan are like you, Mrs. Daniels; we were born here. I grew up here and graduated from High School here before heading off to the academy, then Boston, New York, and then back here. Stan and his mom left after his dad was killed. In fact, Stan’s dad and Stan were both 31 and died in similar ways in the same house.” The Sheriff went quiet. How did he not see that before? Why didn’t he think of that?

“Jesus,” Thomas exclaimed.

Thomas’s voice brought the Sheriff back to the here and now. “Anyways, as I was saying. Stan had just returned to town about six months ago. And here you are now, also returning. Makes a man think, ya know.”

“Think about what?” Tabitha asked.

“My wife runs the best little diner this side of Boston, and if you’re ever inclined, you should check it out, but she is also the town librarian and Town historian. She even wrote a book on the history of the town. You said you went down that path behind the house when the vandals tore your house up.” The Sheriff said this as more of a statement than a question, but he saw them both nodding in agreement. “Did you find Jerimiah’s Landing?”

“Yes, we did,” Tabitha said. Thomas just sat there drinking his coffee, waiting for the Sheriff to continue.

“You probably noticed the Church and the houses on each side of the strip. See, there used to be ten houses, one for all the founding families, except one. One chose to build outside of the village- Johnathan Cook. See, Jerimiah Jones and Johnathan Cook were business rivals. Not to mention they just out and out hated each other. At the age of 45, Cook married Catherine Miller. She was 15.”

“Seriously!?” Tabitha said, sounding disgusted.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, but those were different times. Catherine was Cook’s third wife. The previous two having already died; one in childbirth along with the child and the other of Tuberculosis, which they called consumption back then. Johnathan and Catherine were married for almost 16 years before Cook took ill and died. It wasn’t long after that Jones had declared Catherine a witch and accused her of killing her husband. See, Jones was magistrate back then, and he knew if he could get Catherine to confess, he could take all she had inherited for himself. When she refused to confess, they hung her, burned her body, and buried her face down in a shallow unmarked grave.” Sheriff said, pausing for effect and to take a sip of his coffee that had started to go cold. He grabbed the pot, warmed his cup, and took another sip before continuing. “Now, just before she died, she supposedly cursed everyone who witnessed her death, which was everyone in the village except Constance Jones, Jerimiah’s wife. She was off visiting relatives with their daughter Honour. They never returned to the village because shortly after, a huge storm killed most residents, including Jerimiah. His house was totally destroyed.”

“We saw that house,” Thomas said, getting excited.

“Hard to miss. A few of the families did survive the storm and moved away. We were able to dig up some reports, and from what we could tell, most of them all died away at a young age. Stan was the last known member of the founding families. We know Honour married a guy Ned Smith, but then we lose track of her.” The Sheriff stopped talking and looked at Tabitha. Her eyes had grown wide-eyed. “You know something, Mrs. Daniels?”

“When I was in High School, we had to do a genealogy report. My dad said I should do one on my mom. See, my mom died when I was young, and he thought it would help me to get to know her better. We had this trunk of hers upstairs that had all these old letters and pictures and stuff. So, he paid for one of those genealogy sites, and we uploaded everything we had. Honour Smith was my last known relative, dating back to the 1600s. We couldn’t find any information on her mother or Father, and it was like they disappeared.” Tabitha said, rubbing her stomach.

“You’re making it real hard not to believe in curses Mrs. Daniels.” Sheriff Morrison said. It took a lot to surprise him anymore these days, and now he had been surprised twice in less than a month—First Stan Holland and now Mrs. Daniels. “However, I don’t believe in curses, but some around here might. I didn’t tell you that story to scare you, but some around here think it could be thrilling to terrify a young couple like yourselves. Some might break into a house and trash it and leave stupid symbols on the floor, and some who might believe in the Cook Witch. Does anyone in town know of your history?”

“No. Stan, you, and your deputy are the only ones we have met since we arrived.”

“Good. Keep it that way. Don’t tell anyone, not even my deputy.” Sheriff Morrison said.

3

The day had been long, and they were both exhausted. After the talk with the Sheriff, they both crashed pretty quickly. His wife forced Thomas out of a deep sleep, screaming in pain. He sat up; she was lying on her back, writhing in pain. He threw the covers off her and saw blood soaking her white nightgown from her belly. He lifted the nightgown, and what he saw terrified him.

There he saw scratches forming on her skin. He watched as the scratches formed letters, and the letters formed the bloody words:

I

Want

The

Child

Chapter 5

1

Thomas jumped from the bed and ran towards the bathroom. He flipped on the light switch, and his heart stopped. For a second in the mirror, he swore he saw a pale woman with stringy black hair draped over her face staring at him. He turned his head and then looked again; his reflection was the only thing staring back at him. Awakened from his daze by Tabitha’s cries of pain, he threw open the bathroom closet and grabbed a towel, peroxide, and gauze. He turned on the faucet and got one end of the towel wet before returning to his wife. He used the towel and peroxide to clean her up, then covered the words etched into her skin by some unseen force, but he had seen, he had watched in horror as the letters etched themselves one by one into her skin; he saw in the mirror who had done it. At first, he thought what he saw in the bathroom was a trick, but he knew better. It was her; it was Catherine Cook.

“That bitch ain’t getting my baby,” Tabitha said, looking at Thomas.

“I know.” Thomas said, “Let’s get out of here. We can drive to the city and get a room, stay for a few days, and figure this out. Tabitha nodded, and they got dressed and packed a bag. When they got downstairs, Thomas opened the front door and was pushed hard into the back of the house; then, the door slammed shut. Tabitha grabbed the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge; she heard a voice behind her. The voice sounded old and scratchy. It said only one word, her name: “Tabitha.”

Tabitha turned and saw a shadow stretch across the wall. At the front wall, the shadow stopped. The shadow had begun to take shape, that of a woman standing sideways. Tabitha looked for what could be making the shadow when the shadow’s head reared back and laughed maniacally. Then just as it began, the laughter died, the shadow’s head turned towards Tabitha, and she could see its red eyes glowing, staring at her. The shadow’s arm reached for her; no, she thought it’s reaching for my baby.

“No! You can’t have her!” Tabitha screamed. Tabitha and Thomas had decided to wait to find out the sex of the child, but she knew. Somehow she knew it was a girl and had known it all along.

The shadow still stretched for her unborn child, and as the shadow stretched, she saw it tear through like pushing your hand through a black garbage bag. She saw the pale grey skin as the black shadow fell away to the flesh—first, one arm, then the other. The shadow woman was coming through. It placed its hands on the wall and pushed. Its head ripped through next, and she saw the eyes go from a glowing red to little black dots floating on the whited of the eye. She saw the stringy black hair that fell, hiding its face. She was face to face with Catherine Cook. The Witch looked at her, opened her mouth, and let out a blood-curdling scream. Tabitha covered her ears as Thomas finally broke the front door in. He grabbed Tabitha and led her outside.

2

They ran towards the car and got in. When Thomas tried the key, nothing happened. The car was dead. They looked at each and then back up to the house. They saw the Witch in the window staring back at them. She turned and began to head to the door. She didn’t seem to walk as much as shimmer when she moved. “We got to go,” Tabitha said.

“To where?” Thomas said, sounding confused and scared.

“The old Church,” Tabitha said. They had been unable to enter earlier, but now she knew they would be allowed in; she just knew. They both exited the car as the Witch appeared in the doorway. Thomas ran around the car and took Tabitha’s hand as they ran towards the trail. Once in the woods, they heard the maniacal laughter once again. The hairs on the back of their necks rose, and gooseflesh ran across every inch of their skin. They ran as fast as they could, but the laughter kept getting closer. Finally, they reached the small village of Jerimiah’s Landing. As they got near the fountain, The wind picked up, and they could hear the laughter coming from all around them. Thomas looked behind him to see Catherine, only a few houses behind them now.

The wind picked up to a full gust as they reached the gate to the churchyard. When Thomas turned to look again, it seemed as if Catherine had gotten further away. They fought the wind and were able to get through the gate. Once in the churchyard, the wind had died down completely and was gone. They looked back at Catherine and saw the torn remnants of her dress rippling wildly in the gusting wind.

“The wind is fighting her,” Tabitha said

“C’mon, let’s get into the Church. The wind is slowing her down, but I doubt it stops her altogether.” Thomas said as they quickly headed into the old Church.

When they opened the door, they got a strong scent of dust, mold, and something else. When they walked inside, they saw what that scent was; in the pews lined up as if they were listening to a Sunday sermon were rows and rows of the dead. They wore clothing from all different eras and saw pieces of a body in the pew closest to them. The only part intact was a head they had both recognized- Stan “The Real Estate Man” Holland.

“Do you know how long it took me to find them all, and here you and Stan just show up out of the blue.” They heard a familiar voice say. He was sitting in the front pew of the Church, nearest to where the altar would be.

Chapter 6

1

“Did you kill Stan?” Thomas asked.

“Me no. I have no idea what got to him.” Sheriff Morrison said. “I was going to, but someone or something got to him first. It doesn’t matter; the result is the same; well, maybe there would be fewer pieces, but, eh, it is what it is.”

“Why?” Tabitha said, wanting answers. She had liked and even begun to trust Morrison when they had talked earlier in the evening.

“That’s a long story,” Morrison answered

“We got time,” Thomas said, wanting to get the Sheriff talking so he could figure a way out of this.

“Not as long as you think,” Morrison said, facing them. He was holding his police revolver on them. “But what the Hell, why not.”

2

“I was 14 the first time I came here. Me and a few buddies decided to come out here one Halloween to see if we could see a ghost. The only thing we found was an eerie wind. A few years later, I came back here on a dare. I was drunk and looking to impress some girl. That trip was when I met her: Catherine Cook. She appeared to me, and I swear I have never seen a more beautiful woman in my life. I instantly fell in love. Over the years, I would come back here and….”

“Wait a second,” Thomas said, inching a little closer. “You fell in love with a 400-year-old dead witch? How is that even possible?”

“I told you she appeared to me, talked to me, told me how to see her, and I followed her instructions. I could close my eyes and see her as long as I was here. I couldn’t touch her yet, but we could talk, and I could see her. And she was beautiful.” Sheriff Morrison said.

“Man, if she looked anything like she did when she came out of our wall, me and you have a different idea of what beautiful is,” Thomas said, now within arms reach of the Sheriff. He wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew he needed to do something. The Sheriff smiled, and before Thomas could react, Morrison raised the gun high and brought the handle down on Thomas’s head. Thomas fell to the ground bleeding and unconscious.

“Thomas!” Tabitha screamed and rushed to Thomas to see if he was alright.

“Do you both think I am stupid? Do you think I didn’t see him getting closer to me?” Sheriff Morrison said. “He will be fine, for now. Don’t need him anyways, but you, you we need.” Morrison said, grabbing Tabitha by the arm and dragging her onto the pulpit. There she saw on the floor an unfinished pentagram drawn in dried blood.

3

Sheriff Morrison holstered his gin and pulled out a knife. He grabbed her arm again and used the knife to cut a long deep gash onto her forearm, then grabbed a cloth and drenched it in her blood. “With the Blood of the ten founding families, I complete the pentagram, and she will be able to enter the church and finish what we started all those years ago,” Morrison said as he knelt and wiped the bloody cloth onto the last bare spot closing the pentagram.

The front of the Church blew open as Catherine Cook entered the Church for the first time since her death.

4

Thomas awoke when the splinters from the front of the Church landed on him, but he lay still waiting for a moment, any moment. He quietly grabbed a sharpened splinter and waited.

Sheriff Morrison looked up with lust and love covering his face. He then grabbed Tabitha and forced her into the center of the pentagram, and they all watched as Catherine Cook disappeared.

“What!” Exclaimed Sheriff Morrison. “Where’d she go?” Morrison, confused and angry, left the pulpit paying no attention to Tabitha or Thomas, and headed for where he last saw Catherine. “She was right here. I did everything she told me to; this wasn’t part of it. She was supposed to be resurrected. Where’d she go!?”

With Morrison distracted, Thomas stood up. Morrison turned to face Thomas just as Thomas thrust the large splinter of wood into Morrison’s stomach. Morrison fell as blood gushed from the wound.

“Let’s get the hell out of here. Thomas said, grabbing Tabitha and pushing her toward the front of the Church. Once outside, they both began to run.

A single loud gunshot rang out through the village. Morrison had drawn his gun and fired it once before he died. Thomas was dead before he hit the ground. Now at the edge of the village and the forest trail, Tabitha stopped running.

She turned and looked at the two dead men. She looked down, rubbed her belly, and laughed maniacally.

The End.