Chapter 1
The Visitor
1
Lightning flashed, filling the dark room with a flood of blue light. “Oh, my God!” She exclaimed.
“Babe, it will be alright.” He said, wrapping his arms around her. He knew she was terrified of storms; this was the first storm they had experienced since they finished renovating the old house. “It’s just some lightning and thunder.” As he said, this thunder boomed all around them. He could feel her body tighten against him.
They had lost power over an hour ago. Dale Jenkins didn’t mind it so much, it reminded him of when he was a kid, and they would lose power for hours. They had a generator, but they had decided not to use it. They had guests coming this weekend for the grand opening of Dale & Gayle’s Bed & Breakfast, or D&G B&B for short. So instead, they went around and lit candles, and he started a fire in the common room fireplace. He figured they could throw down some blankets and camp out here all night, just like when he was a kid, except that he hoped to add a little romance to the evening.
“It’s just,” She said, “Storms have always terrified me.”
He smiled and said, “It always cracked me up that a person named after a storm was so afraid of them.”
“Hey,” she said, smiling a little now. Somehow, he had always known what to say to ease her tension and make her smile. “I will have you know I was named after my grandmother.”
He had felt her loosen up a little. The joke was working. “That’s what you keep telling me, and unless they named storms after her, which, admittedly, was quite possible, then both of you were named after a storm.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” She said, smirking.
Lightning flashed again. This one wasn’t as bright, but he felt her tighten again. They were looking out the large bay window as the storm raged on. The trees in the front were almost bent completely over as the wind blew. The rain looked to be falling sideways and in buckets. Thunder rolled again, and she tightened up even more. It would take more than a few jokes for her to relax tonight.
The storm itself didn’t worry him much, but the clean-up would take forever, and he would only have two days before they opened to get it done. Lightning flashed again, and this one was much closer and brighter. He squinted his eyes, “Did you see that?” he asked.
“See what?” She said.
“I swear I saw someone walking out there.” He said.
“Couldn’t be,” She said. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and those are at least sixty miles per hour winds.”
“I know,” he said, “and it was probably just my imagination, but I swear I saw someone out there heading this way.”
Lightning flashed again, and he saw no one there. Then came the thunder, but there was something in it this time, something not as loud and yet closer. They looked at each other and then heard it again. Someone was knocking on the front door.
2
He grabbed the knob and turned his head to look at her as if to ask if I should open it? She shrugged her shoulders and slowly nodded her head. Bang, Bang. They both jumped at the sound. He then turned the knob and slowly opened the door.
“Hello.” In the doorway stood a very old man hunched over and leaning heavily on a cane with a black shaft resembling glass and silver grip. His voice was barely audible and sounded older than he looked. “ I was wondering if I could come in out of the rain for a bit. You are an Inn, aren’t ya?” He spoke with a deep Irish accent that made it difficult to understand.
“Yes, please come in out of the rain.” She said. “ I’m Gayle Jenkins, and this is my husband, Dale. Welcome to Dale and Gayle’s Bed and Breakfast. Although, we don’t officially open till Friday.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Which came out more as I dinnit know, “I apologize for my intrusion. I was hoping to let a room for the evening. But I understand; I will be on my way. Before I go, could I briefly warm myself by your fire? It’s wicked cold out there.”
“By all means, you can stay.” Dale said, “We just can’t charge you. If you’re hungry, our kitchen is fully stocked, and although the power is out, the gas works just fine for the stove and heat.”
“I thank you heartedly.” He said, But I’m not hungry at the moment.”
“Would you like some hot coffee or tea?” Gayle said.
“Coffee would be wonderful.” He said, “Would you be so kind as to add a nip of brandy? Nothing warms old soggy cold bones quite like brandy. Besides, if you can’t guess, I’m Irish, and we Irish like a nip of something in our coffee. It’s not called Irish coffee for nothing, ya know.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Gayle said, smiling. She liked the old man and wasn’t sure if it was the Irish accent or how he carried himself, but she liked him, nonetheless.
“Please, hang your hat and coat up and come in here by the fire. I will get you a towel and a blanket.” Dale said.
“Thank ya kindly.” The old man said as he sat down the leather case he was carrying. Dale had noticed it looked very old and very wet. The old man hung up his coat and hat and slowly entered the common room. Dale noticed that although he seemed very old, a strength emanated from him.
When Dale returned, the old man had taken up residency in a large chair by the fireplace. Dale handed him the towel, and the man began to dry his hands. Then he took the blanket, opened it, and laid it across his lap.
“So, may I ask, what were you doing out there?” Dale said.
“Why, trying to get here, of course.” The old man said, “And it seems I have succeeded.” Dale looked at him, puzzled. “I see that isn’t quite enough of an answer.”
“Well, that storm is really bad. You could have died.” Dale said. Dale always feared dying alone and walking on some lonely road in the middle of the night while a storm raged all around, and no one around for miles sent a shiver up Dale’s back. “Couldn’t you have waited until the morning?”
“I’m dying.” The old man said, “I’m dying, and I wanted, no, I needed to see this place one last time.”
“Why?”
“Because this was the place I was the happiest.” The old man said. “It was here that I met the one great love of my life. It was here that I met her, where I loved her, and where she died.”
Dale sat on the couch across from the fireplace as Gayle walked in, pushing a cart. The cart had an insulated steel carafe filled with bot coffee, three cups, and a bottle of brandy. She poured out one cup and added a shot of brandy to it before handing it to the old man. “Here is your Irish coffee.” She said, smiling. The old man smiled back, took the cup, and took a small sip.
“Aye, that’s good. That’ll warm the bones.” He said.
“What was her name?” Dale asked.
“Her name was Caroline Chambers.” The old man said, “She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen or have ever seen since. She had long curly raven colored hair and big bright, beautiful green eyes set against milky white skin. Her face was round with puffy red lips. She was a sight to behold.” His eyes had glassed over when he began to describe her, and a small tear ran down his face. “I have lived a long time, and I have never met a woman so beautiful and have never loved a woman as much as I loved her.”
Dale and Gayle looked at each other, smiled, and grasped each other’s hands. Lightning flashed, filling the room with blue light, and the thunder boomed so loud it shook the house. “So it was love that made you travel in this storm,” Gayle said, a tear of her own forming in her eye. “That’s incredible.”
“Do you know I have been a guest at this house since the day it was built?” The old man said. “Hell. I helped build it. I hung this mantle above the fireplace the day she moved in permanently.”
Dale looked at Gayle, confused. “Uh, sir, this house was built in 1773. I think you might be a bit confused. I don’t think you’re 250 years old. Maybe you helped renovate it in the ’40 or ’50s?”
“I know what you're thinking. That I’m some crazy old man who has lost his marbles.” He said, “I’m not.”
“Are you saying the realtor lied? Do you have proof of this?” Dale said. He was getting a bit agitated now. He had loved this house from the moment he saw it, loved how big it was, and mostly loved how old it was. He hadn’t done much research on the house after they bought it because of all the renovations, but he had hoped to dive into the history during the winter months when they would be slower.
“No, of course not. The realtor told ya straight,” the old man said, “but I ain’t 250 years old either. I’m a thousand to the day tomorrow.”
3
“A thousand?” Dale said. He was stunned into disbelief. Here was this old man who looked a hundred if he was a day, who had traveled almost ten miles by foot in the worst storm of the year to stay in this house. He was crazy, for sure, but crazy didn’t explain how he had survived the walk. “That’s not possible.”
“Oh, it is, I tell ya. It is, and I am living proof of it.” The old man said. “I understand your skepticism. I wouldn’t believe me either. But it’s the truth, I tell ya, and I can prove it. Bring me my leather pouch.”
Dale went back to the front door and grabbed his bag. The man took it, rummaged briefly, and brought out a scroll. “This here is a copy of the original land deed. You will see my name right there on the bottom, Gideon O’Neill.”
Dale took the scroll, carefully unraveled it, and looked it over. he saw the year of the deed and could read the names at the bottom. “Look…”
“Not enough? Aye, wouldn’t be for me either.” Gideon said. “Here are pictures of me through the ages, all with the dates on the back. They go all the way back to 1840. I had one taken every year. But those can be faked as well as that deed, but they should at least buy me a bit of credibility, eh?”
“Sure, let’s say this is true that you were born in 1023. How, how could you have lived so long?” Dale said.
“Aye, aye. That was so long ago.” Gideon said, “I was twenty years old, and my wife had just died attempting to deliver our third child. This was seven hundred years or more before I met Caroline. We married at fifteen; that was the custom then; that’s how it was done. She had gotten pregnant three times, all stillborn sons. The last one took her with him. I didn’t love her necessarily, but Suzanne was a decent woman, a good wife. Would have been a good mother too. Not long after her death, I sat in a room much like this one. I was getting shitfaced drunk when a tall man came in and stood there looking at me….”
Chapter 2
1043
1
“…Aye, can I help ya?” Gideon asked.
“Gideon O’Neill?” The tall man said in a thin wispy voice.
“Aye, that’s me,” Gideon replied as he looked the man up and down. The man was unnaturally tall. Gideon thought he had to be at least seven or eight feet tall. He was pale as a ghost and dressed in all black. This man had unnerved him, he thought for a moment death had come upon him, and he would be buried next to his dead wife for all eternity. “What, uh, what can I do for ya?”
‘It’s what I can do for you, Mr. O’Neill.” The tall man said as he pulled a small wooden chest from underneath his cloak.
“What’s that?” Gideon asked.
“This is your heart, Mr. O’Neill. This is your soul. This is everything you have ever wanted or desired.” The tall man said. “This is the wish box.”
“That’s funny. It looks like a crappy old box to me.” Gideon said.
“Looks can be deceiving, Mr. O’Neill.” The tall man said as he set the box on the table before Gideon.
“What am I supposed to do with it,” Gideon asked.
“Write down your greatest wish and place it in the box. Hold that thought in your mind and heart as you close the clasp. Be warned, Mr. O’Neill, once you close the clasp, it cannot be undone.”
“So, whatever I wish for?” Gideon said, “So if I ask for a bottle of whiskey, a bottle will just appear?
“If that is your greatest desire, then yes, but there are conditions.” The tall man said.
“Conditions? Like what?” Gideon said.
“You may only get one try, which can never be undone. Be specific; the box does not guess or hypothesize what you want. It gives you exactly what is written. Exactly what is in your heart.”
“So, one wish, and it has to be specific?” Gideon asked.
“No, and yes. You may only wish for one thing once. If it is not specific, the box will not grant it, or it will not grant exactly what you want.”
“I see.” Said, Gideon. He had begun to laugh a little at the notion of the wishing box. “Aye, I know what I want.” The tall man produced a piece of paper and a pen. “What, no ink?”
“You will find your finger holds all the ink you need.” The tall man said.
Gideon O’Neill pricked his small finger with the pen’s tip and quickly wrote on the paper. He then opened the wish box, placed the paper inside, closed the box, and his eyes as he clasped it shut.
“Done.” The tall man said as he picked up the box. “Your wish has been granted.”
“Hey, I thought you said that was mine, that I get more than one wish?” Gideon said.
“I never said it was yours to keep.” The tall man said, “You may have more than one wish If the wish box ever comes back to you again. until then, Mr. O’Neill, have a good day.” The tall man said. He then turned and left…
Chapter 3
The Visitor ll
1
“.. I ran after him, of course, but when I got outside, he was gone. Outside my door, you could see for miles in every direction, and he was just gone as if he had vanished into thin air.” Gideon said.
“You never saw him again or the wish box?” Gayle asked.
“Never. I looked for him. For over two hundred years, I looked for him. As I said, I Was twenty when I made my wish; that was back in 1043.”
“What did you wish for?” immortality?” Dale asked., thinking that would have been his wish, eternal youth.
“No, I wish I had taken it more seriously. I thought the man was full of shite.” Gideon said, “No, I wished to live for a thousand years, and at half past one in the morning, my wish will be up.”
“So you came back here one last time.” Gayle said, “To spend one last day where you were the happiest.”
“Aye, I came back here to die in the same place she died, My Sweet Caroline,” Gideon said.
“You must have really loved her,” Gayle said.
“Aye, I did.” The old man said. “I loved her so much. My body still moves and breathes, but I tell ya, I died the day I had to kill her.”
2
Dale and Gayle shared another look, one filled with shock and fear. “You…, you killed her?” Gayle said.
“Aye, I did.” Gideon said, “I told you I loved her like no woman before or since and that she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, before or since. I bought the land this house sits on and gave it to her. I paid for all the materials and the workers that helped me build this house for her. I gave her everything. I loved her, I did, but the same could not be said about her feelings for me.”
Dale was still unsure if he believed any of this man’s story. “That is still no reason to kill her?” Dale said.
“I did not plan on it,” Gideon said, “it was a crime of passion. I had spent the months of April and June away from her, away from this place. I needed some money and had a few investments in a shipping yard in Boston and a few other establishments. So I went there to gather funds. When I got back, I went straight to the house, but I could not find her anywhere. Then as I passed near the creek, I heard sounds….”
Chapter 4
1773
Gideon stopped and bent over. The sounds of wailing and moaning stretched from the creek bed near the big old oak tree. The same oak he had carved his and Caroline’s initials. It sounded as if someone was hurt or maybe even dying. He wondered if someone had been attacked because there had been reports of highwaymen stealing from and killing people in the area. Then the thought hit him like a blow to the head, Caroline! He stood up and charged through the underbrush. As he rounded the oak tree, under the carving he had made for her was his beloved Caroline. She was naked and sitting on top of Jerimiah Johnson.
Jerimiah Johnson owned the neighboring farm and frequently came over to help. Jerimiah drove almost as many nails into the wooden frame of the large house as he had himself. “Caroline?” Gideon said.
“Gideon!” Caroline said. “Wha- what are you doing here.”
“What are you doing? Why are you with him?” Gideon said, “Did he force Ya? Is that it? He forced ya somehow?”
“No, Gideon, he didn’t force me,” Caroline said, standing up and getting dressed. “I-I love him. Always have.”
Gideon looked at her, confused. “But he’s married?” Gideon was beginning to get angry.
“Yes, he is, and see, the way we see it is, uh, see, he loves me, and I love him. He was forced to marry Gretchen. She was supposed to be his brother’s wife, but then he died; you remember he fell off his horse. Gideon, I, and Jerimiah are meant to be, we have always loved each other, but he had family obligations. So he married her, and I married Gregory.” Caroline said.
“Did he or you kill Gregory?” Gideon said, knowing that Gregory had died of consumption two years prior, but he was angry and he said the accusation more to hurt her than anything else.
“Of course not; Gregory was sick. You know this, but Gregory and I had an arrangement.” Caroline said, “One I hope you may agree to as well.”
“What arrangement?” Gideon said.
“It was no secret that Gregory was a bit of a dandy, well, more than a bit.” Caroline continued, “By marrying me, I got to continue my relationship with Jerimiah, in secret, of course, and he got to carry on with his preferences. I gave him a respectable reputation, and he gave me freedom.”
“And you want me to agree to this?” Gideon said. He was shocked, insulted, and growing increasingly angry. “to this, this farce?”
“I know you love me, Gideon.” Caroline said, “And I have some measure of feelings for you too. And you can still have me, but you just have to share me a bit with Jerimiah. He has…” a loud bang rang through the air, cutting her off. She saw a flash and a puff of smoke. When the smoke cleared, she saw Gideon holding a pistol and aiming it toward her. No, just off to her right. She turned and saw her beloved Jerimiah lying back on the ground, half dressed as blood spread under his shirt. He wasn’t moving. She screamed and rushed to him, but it was too late. Jerimiah was already dead.
She felt a sharp pain as she was lifted back up to her feet by her hair. Gideon pulled his knife and put it to her throat, holding her tight against him with his other arm. “Ya see that, right there. Ya see that carving that I did for you. You see that house that I built for ya; you see the land I bought for ya. The land we’re standing on right now. All of this I did because I loved you and thought you loved me too. You played me like a musician plays the piano. I have been alive for over seven hundred years, and no one has ever gotten the best of me like you did. I sent your lover and adulterer to Hell, and now I send you to join him.” He pushed the blade deep into the flesh of her neck and pulled across, almost completely severing her head in the process.
Chapter 5
The Visitor lll
1
“I left them there, half naked and dead. There has not been a day that has gone by that I don’t think of my Caroline.” Gideon said. “I left again. No one had even known I was ever back. Later on, I heard they accredited the deaths to the highwaymen, and there was a large scandal about how they were found. Some believed the highwaymen had undressed Jerimiah in hopes of finding more to steal and that they had raped and killed Caroline. Some thought the highwaymen must have encountered the wicked duo as they convorted near the creek, then murdered and robbed them. The one thing no one seemed to realize is that anything with any value was all still there. My name never came up, as it was believed that I was out of town.”
Dale sat there listening to the old man’s story, watching as the tears fell down the wrinkled old leather face. In his head, he was positive this old man, claiming to be Gideon, was telling a story. But in his heart, he was beginning to believe him. Whether or not Dale believed him, Gideon believed it completely.
“So then, what did you do?” Gayle asked.
“Oh, I continued traveling the world, and I resumed my hunt for the wish box again. I thought if I could find it, I could wish her back. I still saw her, though. She was dead, and I still saw her. I could still hear her voice. And every chance I got; I silenced that voice.” Gideon said.
“What do you mean, you silenced that voice?” Dale asked. He was starting to become afraid again.
“I would kill her again and again?” Gideon said, “I must have killed her at least two hundred more times.”
“You mean you killed her in your mind?” Dale said, “You killed her in your memory?”
“No, I would kill her,” Gideon said. Dale watched as this placid old man began to get angry. “You don’t understand her spirit haunted me. It tortured me. It stayed with me, mocking me. Telling me how much she loved him, how I could never please her the way he could, and how she never loved me, just my money. She would possess young girls, and the only way to get her to shut up for a little while was to kill her while she was inside of them.”
“You killed at least two hundred women?” Gayle said, it was now her turn to be afraid.
“Aye, that was until the early 1980s when my age started to turn. See, the wish box did me one favor. It slowed my aging down so much that it wasn’t until about 1984 that I started to age and become the old man you see before you. That was how I knew my time was drawing to a close.”
2
The storm outside had begun to lighten up. Now and then, lightning would flash, and the thunder would boom, but the flashes weren’t as bright nor the boom as loud. The storm was moving past them. The wind had died down, and the rain had begun to fall straight down and lighten up. Dale looked to Gayle and then back to the old man. He stood and motioned for Gayle to come with him. “I think it’s time we left you alone now.”
“No. I don’t think so. See, I know I still see and hear her. She isn’t as loud anymore, but she is still around, and I have to kill her again before I die, so I can make sure her spirit goes to Hell, where it belongs.”
“Where is she?” Dale said.
“Right there in your bitch.” Gideon said, pointing to Gayle, who was standing behind him. Dale turned, and that’s when he saw her. It was his wife, but it wasn’t. Her normally red hair had turned raven black, and her blue eyes became bright green.
“Found me, you did, you worthless old man. You were worthless the day I met you, and your even more worthless now.” The woman who once was his wife said. Dale rushed to her to try and snap her out of it. She had barely noticed him as she threw him across the room. Dale, who weighed nearly 300 lbs., hit the wall with a hard, dull thud and fell to the floor. Unable to move, he watched as the old man stood up, lifted his cane, and drew a long silver sword out.
“Time to die once and for all, my beloved,” Gideon said.
“It was you who slew me and cursed me to this life, and it is you who will die as I go on and live forever. I will be given the wish you should have asked for.” Gayle/Caroline said.
Dale watched as Gideon lunged at the woman who was once his wife. He watched as they fought and as Gideon ran the sword through his wife’s throat. Dale watched as the old man fell back into the chair. Dale looked at his unmoving wife, all covered in blood. Her hair was red, and she stared at him with dull, blue eyes. In his mind, he heard her say, Why didn’t you save me? I loved you; didn’t you love me? Then he looked to the mantle, and the clock on there said the time was one thirty-three a.m. He looked towards Gideon, who was back sitting in the large chair by the fireplace. The old man was slumped over and not breathing. He was dead.
Dale Crawled over to the phone that was sitting on the table. They had one put in for guests who may need to make a call, as cell service was spotty at times out here. He grabbed the phone and listened for a dial tone. Earlier, the storm had knocked it out along with the power. He held the phone to his ear and heard the familiar tone. Then he dialed 9-1-1.
Epilogue
Dale sat in a corner booth at the bar drinking a large whiskey. Drink of the Irish, he thought. His sister and her husband had come for the funeral and had taken over running the Bed and Breakfast. Dale had moved to a small apartment in town above the local pizza place. He did odd jobs for them occasionally and still saw a percentage from the Bed and Breakfast. It was enough for him to live on, but not much else. When he wasn’t working or sleeping it off somewhere, he was in the corner booth trying to drown her memory and the memory of that night.
Dale stood up, his head began to swim, and he had to grab the table to steady himself. Once stable, he headed to the bathroom to alleviate the pressure building up in his bladder. As he stumbled back to his table, he saw a tall man standing by it.” Hey, that’s my table.” Dale said. As Dale got closer, he saw the man standing close to two feet taller than he was and was very pale, or seemed to be, as he was dressed in all black. Dale thought the tall man had reminded him of a preacher or doctor from the old westerns he used to watch.
“I know that Mr. Jenkins.” The tall man said, “I was looking for you.”
“What, why were you looking for me?” Dale said. "How did you know my name?"
“I have something that might interest you?” The tall, pale man said as he pulled an old wooden chest from his coat.
The End.
Commentaires