The Friendly Fort (Chapter Four)

Hello All:

"This is a very, special week at The Literary World of Tom Raimbault; for this is Halloween week! And like we do every year, new stories written just for the holiday are featured throughout the week. This year we roll out some brand-new Mapleview material in the form of a mini novella titled The Friendly Fort. Be sure to visit each day for a new chapter. The Friendly Fort will be featured from Sunday through Saturday."
***

VIEW PRELUDE AND CHAPTER ONE
VIEW CHAPTER TWO
VIEW CHAPTER THREE
***

When I was a teenage boy I had been thrown out of my bed by a malevolent spirit. Now I should clarify that this spirit didn't actually enter the physical space where I slept that night. Rather, it somehow accessed my consciousness while I dreamed. It coerced me in my dreams to poise myself at the edge of my bed and then jump onto the floor. I recall growling some seconds before taking the plunge.

Then my feet hit the floor and I awoke in the darkened room. I screamed in terror and, of course, woke up the entire family. My father rushed in to see if I was okay.

"It threw me out of my bed!" I declared to my father who probably figured I only had a bad dream. But to me, the incident was very real. To this very day I know what happened. Through dreaming, I had exposed myself to some dark and evil place in the astral realm where a malevolent spirit with hyper dimensional existence managed to affect me, here, in the physical realm. For many months, thereafter, I had to learn how to protect myself while dreaming. And I developed a phobia some years after of my inherent skill of astral projection. It wasn't until I was in my early twenties that I resumed the practice of projecting my consciousness outside of my body.

But on that fateful night of being thrown from my bed; I recall having a series of bizarre dreams, afterwards, of a barn. It was an old barn that people had converted into a living area; not a farmhouse, but a barn. In my young mind, I concluded these people to be evil, perhaps even possessed by demons. And the barn held a mystery that could never be solved. You see, one would never want to enter the building because its infinite interior of ever changing, and "paradoxical" realities would trap an unfortunate visitor forever! The old building was a portal to some reality that we could never comprehend in this world.

While writing this introduction, I referenced the meaning of a barn on Dreammoods.com. The dream dictionary says, "To see a barn in your dream signifies the feelings that are kept in your subconscious. There is a possibility that you may be holding back your instinctual action or natural urges."

So there I have it! The mystery of the barn is solved! As a teenage boy, I had fragments of myself trapped in my subconscious mind. I might go so far as to say that the malevolent spirit that threw me out of my bed was actually my Jungian shadow that was yearning for me to consciously embrace and bring it to light Subconscious manifestation, after all, is one of our lifelong journeys.

Although possibly solving the riddle of the barn; it is soon to become a regular phenomenon of fictional Mapleview. In future Mapleview books that follow the upcoming, House of Witches, this barn will be used. And this isn’t the first time that I’ve put the mysterious barn in a work of fiction. During Halloween week of 2009 the short story, Things Heard from the Ouija Board, included the mysterious appearance and disappearance of an old barn.

This isn’t the last time that the barn will be mentioned during this week’s introductions to the Friendly Fort. I have plenty more personal stories to tell you about a barn. And wouldn’t you like to know just what the so-called, “friendly fort” is? You will know by the end of this week.

The Friendly Fort (Chapter Four)

Tuesday was a day which dictated conference calls, surveying more land to acquisition in Mapleview, and then creating reports. Spencer was much too busy that day to give attention to his cemetery investigation.

It wasn't until Wednesday when Spencer reported to the Mapleview Library to do some research. He had hoped on finding some historic news articles that might have gone as far back as the 1800s. And keep in mind that this was the 1990s. Internet use wasn't in prevalent use like it is today. What's more: The Mapleview Library hadn't updated its facilities to include public computers, much less Internet access.

"Excuse me." interrupted Spencer upon approaching the main desk at the Library.

It was an older woman with long, white hair who worked as the librarian.

"I was wondering if you had old news paper articles from Mapleview and surrounding areas.” asked Spencer.

"We do." confirmed the Librarian. "We have a collection on the periodical shelves over there that go back for about two years." She pointed towards its direction. “For anything going further back, you'll have to access it on microfiche."

"Well I was looking for some historic publications." explained Spencer. "I guess I'll have to be set up on the microfiche?"

"Well just how far back do you need to go?" asked the librarian.

"I was hoping you would have publications from the early 1800s."

The librarian shook her head in negation. "No, I'm afraid we don't have anything that far back for the Mapleview area. The furthest back we have is the 1950s. But that's just for the Mapleview region. We do, of course, have periodicals throughout the country that go back further, but not Mapleview. Can I ask what it is that you are looking for?"

Spencer hesitated for a couple of seconds. "Well... It's sort of strange. You see, there's an old cemetery that looks to be abandoned near my house. It's actually out in the middle of the woods. You can hardly see the gravestones, much less the names. The only thing that can be seen is a battered, stone cross in the ground. I'm assuming it's from, maybe, the 1800s. Oh, there is a name on one of the headstones that can barely be seen: Reverend Jensen."

The librarian stared off for a few seconds, apparently in thought. Then she offered, "I know this probably isn't the direction that you want to take this. But something tells me that an old, forgotten cemetery in Mapleview might have some urban legends attached to it. Now I know that urban legends are typically blown way out of proportion. But if you dig deep enough, you often find some grain of truth." She paused and stared at Spencer for a second, expecting some sort of comment.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. "It's a start. Did you have some sort of book on these urban legends?"

The librarian smiled," Do we??? We definitely do! You see, the Mapleview region is full of urban legends—hauntings and stuff. And we have an interesting book that was written about this area. Follow me."

Spencer did as invited. He was led over to a small section of books that were under the paranormal category.

"Let's see..." spoke the librarian out loud. "This book is usually very popular around Halloween. It's probably still here... Ah! This is it!" She pulled out a large book titled, "Hauntings and Urban Legends in Mapleview and Surrounding Areas"  

"Let's bring this over to a table and see what we can find." suggested the librarian while heading over towards the main area.

Spencer followed, and then pulled up a chair next to the librarian where she had sat down. She fingered through the table of contents which offered the general names of the various urban legends.

·        Murder at the Historic Trivelli House

·        Flesh-Eating, Human-Appearing Creatures

·        The Curse of Nukpana's Hole

·        A Tunnel in the Basement

·        The Witch Burnings of New Essex

The librarian paused at the witching burnings.

"You think that's it?" asked Spencer.

"I don't know..." answered the librarian. Why do I think this is the one you are looking for?" She flipped to the title page of The Witch Burnings of New Essex. It actually had a black and white photo of the stone cross that overlooks the forgotten cemetery.

"That's it!" exclaimed Spencer.

"Shhhh..." the librarian reminded Spencer. (This was back in the day when people were supposed to be quiet at the library.)

"Oops, sorry about that." whispered Spencer. But that's the stone cross that overlooks the cemetery."

The librarian skimmed the opening paragraphs which additionally contained a small map with Creek Highway at the center. "And I assume you live over here, somewhere?' she asked.

"I do." affirmed Spencer.

"Okay, so this might be an old cemetery that had been used for a settlement back in the early 1800s before Mapleview was established. It was called New Essex. Is this book a good place for you to start?”

“It definitely is.” affirmed Spencer.

“Well, you are welcome to read all of this. You can check the book out if you need to." invited the librarian.

"Thank you." answered Spencer. "And thank you for all of your help. This is definitely an excellent place to start."

The librarian smiled in acknowledgement while standing up and then walked back to the main desk.

Spencer remained at the table and read The Witch Burnings of New Essex…

“In the early 1800s before Mapleview had been established, a small town of English immigrants called New Essex existed in the region of forested wilderness that surrounds Hidden Lake. It would have been the ideal place for a community to establish itself. Plenty of trees in the forest made it easy to build up their small town of log cabin homes, shops, a school, and a church. There are areas throughout the forested wilderness that open up to wide clearings. These would have been ideal for farming. The small lake (technically large pond in the middle of the forest) would have provided water for crops during the summer months.

But what happened to the long-forgotten and mostly buried town of New Essex? Local historians theorize that at one point there may have been mass flooding in the region of New Essex by a heavy rainy season. In modern times; Hidden Lake has been known to overflow and flood the surrounding area during heavy rains throughout various years. Residents would have had no choice but to evacuate and settle in a region of higher altitude to avoid further flooding. That place would most-likely have been where modern-day Mapleview stands today.

But modern-day locals of Mapleview have a different theory as to why the settlement of New Essex didn't last. Legend says that a small group of witches and warlocks—about a dozen or so—arrived and settled somewhere near New Essex. This would have been near the area where Mapleview Road intersects with Creek Highway.  You see; rather than move into the town of New Essex, they simply built a couple of large cabins in the forest along with a barn.  As for water, there is a freshwater stream that opens up to a wide brook before it narrows and continues to Hidden Lake. This, of course, would have provided plenty of water for these newcomers.

Hunters from New Essex accidentally discovered the small settlement while hunting. As they reported, it was as-if the group of newcomers traveled by night and quietly set up homestead in the forest. The residents of New Essex weren't angry, of course. The newcomers were quiet. They had their own farm and gardens, and even seemed to hunt in their own region of the forest. Through time, the town of New Essex actually traded and did business with these mysterious newcomers. They even allowed their children to attend the small grammar school.

But it was eventually noticed by the teacher at the school that the children of this neighboring settlement had no formal Christian education. They were clueless of holidays such as Easter or Christmas. They were unfamiliar with common figures of monotheistic religion such as Noah, Moses or Jesus.

Reverend Jensen of New Essex invited the newcomers to attend weekly Sunday mass, and insisted that there was plenty of room for everyone. But the mysterious newcomers with children who apparently had no Christian education never took the reverend up on the offer. They, instead, observed other religious practices.

It was easy for residents of New Essex to conclude that the newcomers were a small colony of witches and warlocks—something very unsettling for people at the time. The residents of New Essex might have fallen under a bad spell of mass hysteria. And just like the Salem Witch Trials of Massachusetts from the late 1600s, a witch hunt was underway that was launched by Reverend Jensen.

With no records or documentation, it's unclear of the exact number of people who lived in New Essex. But it's believed to be close to a hundred. Being the case, there would have been no contest when a large percentage of the town of New Essex surrounded the two homes of the suspected witches and warlocks in the night. They were forced out of their beds, and given a speedy trial led by Reverend Jensen. It was a trial by fire! One-by-one, each family member—including the children—were burned at the stake. Of course none of the supposed witches and warlocks survived this trial. Their remains were buried at a fresh cemetery where the trial by fire had taken place. Today the cemetery is marked with a stone cross. This very cross can be seen if hiking in the forested area at the edge of Mapleview where Mapleview Road intersects with Creek Highway. Some people have gone so far as to examine the surrounding area, and find large, flat stones embedded in the ground. They definitely resemble gravestones; gravestones that belong to an old, forgotten cemetery.

Legend further says that shortly after this sinister deed, Reverned Jensen died in a freak accident in his own church. His body was found in such a way that it appeared as though something had terribly frightened him. Residents of New Essex concluded that he was trying to get away from whatever it was. He might have tripped, fallen, and somehow broke his neck.

It just had to do something with the savage and murderous trial by fire of the suspected witches and warlocks. There was now some sort of curse on the town of New Essex. So to avoid any further tragedy—possibly to wash their hands of the reverend's sinister deed—the body of Jensen was buried at the cemetery along with those who had suffered their trial by fire.

From there, New Essex was quickly evacuated. It's theorized that its settlers moved to the area where downtown Mapleview stands today.”
To be continued...

The Friendly Fort (Chapter Three)

Hello All:

"This is a very, special week at The Literary World of Tom Raimbault; for this is Halloween week! And like we do every year, new stories written just for the holiday are featured throughout the week. This year we roll out some brand-new Mapleview material in the form of a mini novella titled The Friendly Fort. Be sure to visit each day for a new chapter. The Friendly Fort will be featured from Sunday through Saturday."
***

VIEW PRELUDE AND CHAPTER ONE
VIEW CHAPTER TWO

***

I think one of my favorite characters of fictional Mapleview (aside from the lovable Mary) is Doctor Millheimer. Originally created for a short story in the book, Freaked out Horror, Doctor Millheimer eventually became the main character in a first-person narrative short story titled The Psychomanteum. It was featured during Halloween of 2013.

Doctor Millheimer was then used for a few scenes in the most-recent Mapleview book, Sex Magick. He now works in Mapleview as a family physician and also as a psychiatrist! What a busy man!

Along with his old-fashioned, Victorian-era gentleman's personality, it's his style of psychiatry that I enjoy from this fictional character. You see, Doctor Millheimer has a fascination with the mystery of the human mind. Surely a subscriber to the Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung schools of thought, his treatments can sometimes be unconventional in the modern-day world of psychology. For a grieving mother who had fallen under a bad stupor of depression after tragically losing her daughter to murder: Doctor Millheimer actually created a psychomanteum for the woman, and then taught her how to use it in a means to continue the relationship with her murdered daughter. And the treatment worked! She snapped out of her depression.

In the upcoming Mapleview novel, House of Witches, Doctor Millheimer will become a therapist to one of the major characters of Mapleview. And if you’ve read any of these Mapleview books, you’ll agree that plenty of characters from that fictional town could certainly use some therapy!

Always citing how the human mind has been a mystery throughout the ages, Doctor Millheimer is convinced that our minds are connected and interact with that vast and mysterious world from behind the veil. He provides trustworthy, scientific reasons behind the bizarre phenomenon and sometimes hallucinations that people experience in Mapleview. And he doesn't write his patients off as being crazy. Rather, he challenges them to explore their disturbing visions in a means to understand what that world behind the veil is trying to tell them.

Doctor Millheimer now appears in our Mapleview mini novella which is being featured throughout this week. If you've been following along, then you certainly know that the main character, Spencer, has witnessed some baffling phenomenon—particularly with his next door neighbors who recently moved in. He now questions their existence. Why does Spencer sometimes see them living in that house with a large garden in the yard, only for the property to become vacant an hour or so later? It's as-if these neighbors of Spencer's are a hallucination.

And that's why Spencer will seek the psychiatric services of Mapleview's much-accomplished Doctor Millheimer.

The Friendly Fort (Chapter Three)

This is about the time when Spencer felt that perhaps he needed to see a doctor—a good head doctor. Spencer scheduled an initial visit with a psychiatrist, Doctor Millheimer, who lived in town. Doctor Millheimer had been working in the region of Mapleview for many years, and had seen plenty. The man of science is a wealth of understanding into the human psyche. He once treated a patient whose wife was tragically killed in a car crash; but suffered the horrible hallucination of seeing her alive, conscious and well in the hospital room while he signed the death papers. To this, Dr. Millheimer advised the patient some days later, "The mind has been a mystery for countless ages, and it continues to baffle us. I'm afraid the more we try to understand the human psyche, the more we will realize how little we know of it."

As luck would have it, Doctor Millheimer had a one hour time slot available on that Monday to make an initial assessment of his new patient, Spencer. Poor Spencer believed that he was going mad.

I'll spare the reader the details of the first half-hour or so of conversation between Doctor Millheimer and Spencer. It was mostly Spencer explaining why he had set up residence in Mapleview along with relaying the peculiar things witnessed with the neighbors next door. And many times when Spencer mentioned Lydia or her assumed family, he would remind Doctor Millheimer that they didn't really exist—possibly a hallucination.

"I see... I see..." would answer Doctor Millheimer. Then, satisfied that he had heard enough; he began with some basic questioning. "And you haven't had any history of mental illness?"

"Nope." answered Spencer.

"No history of mental illness in your family?"

"Not that I know of." answered Doctor Millheimer.

"Have you recently suffered from any injuries; particularly head trauma that resulted in black out or loss of memory?"

"No." answered Spencer.

"Is there any drug use or excessive alcohol?"

"I never used drugs and I rarely drink." declared Spencer.

Doctor Millheimer paused for a several seconds in deliberation. "How do you feel about this project that you are involved in? Do you ever feel that it goes against something you might believe in? Take for example; perhaps you feel guilty that you are acquiring personal land to be used for this investment of yours."

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't say that I feel terribly guilty or resentful for seeking out land to acquire. Sometimes I feel bad because Mapleview is a really, nice area. I realize that people have lived here for most of their lives. But I always remind myself that I am helping to improve the region with alternative energy."

"Yes, very good!" acknowledged Doctor Millheimer. "But let's talk about the encounters that you've had with your so-called, non-existent neighbors. I am most interested in the fact that..." Doctor Millheimer looked at his notepad for a name. "...Lydia brought you to a remote location in the forest to show you a cemetery that had been long forgotten. Even more, she showed you a nearly-buried gravestone that could only be seen by the light of a lantern before the Sun rose. This name was..." he glanced at the notepad, again. "...Reverend Jensen."

Doctor Millheimer stared at Spencer for a few seconds in anticipation for any input from his patient. But Spencer remained silent, almost appearing to be ashamed of the recent incidents with his so-called, non-existent neighbors.

"Well before we write you off as being crazy..." began Doctor Millheimer. "...I need you to do a little homework for your next visit. I want you to do two things for me—for both of us, actually. First, I want you to go back to the very location of the cemetery where Lydia had brought you. I want you to confirm that it is there, and not vanished like your mysterious, non-existent neighbors. I predict that when you go to this location, you will see the cemetery. Cemeteries remain for many decades, even centuries. And you already received permission from your neighbor, Lydia, to use her backyard to access the forest. So don't feel bad about doing this.

Next, I want you to fulfill your promise to Lydia, and do some research into the history of Mapleview. Go as far back as the 1800s when this area was first established. Newspapers were in print at the time, so I'm sure there might be some of these on file at the library. Look, particularly, for a Reverend Jensen. Surely, he would have been an important figure in the area at the time."

Doctor Millheimer paused for another few seconds while studying Spencer. Then he continued; "Now I know what you are thinking! Maybe I should be treating you for hallucinations and giving medications and such. But I'm not entirely convinced that this phenomenon of encountering your so-called, non-existent neighbors is a mental problem. Chances are that someone or something is trying to communicate with you. Maybe it's your own subconscious coming to terms with something you've learned of the area. You need to shed light on it—like the oil lamp on the grave stone—and fully understand it. You see; the mind has been a mystery for countless ages, and it continues to baffle us. I'm afraid the more we try to understand the human psyche, the more we will realize how little we know of it.

As for these nightmares of people coming to get you, and strange dreams of communicating with Lydia through the mirror; I am only going to suspect that these are symptoms of a greater problem. I will not treat symptoms! I need you to reach the very crux of the matter."

***

With no business matters to take care of on that Monday afternoon, Spencer started his homework that was assigned by Doctor Millheimer. He began by cutting across the vacant backyard (Lydia's yard) into the forest. Now light outside, Spencer could finally see the creek that snaked through the dense forest. After following it for some distance; he confirmed that it did, in fact, open up as a wide brook—approximately twenty feet. And as Spencer discovered now that it was daylight, the brook was surrounded by a three-tiered coliseum of heavily-mossed flagstone. He could have easily sat down on this coliseum as if it were bleachers. But Spencer wasn't there to sit. He was on a mission to find the cemetery.

Through instincts and foggy memory from that morning, Spencer followed the brook some distance until reaching a small clearing in the forest. And just like earlier that morning, Spencer could see the stone cross. It was definitely an antique; stood the many seasons and decades while marking the location of a long-forgotten cemetery.

Yes, Spencer found it!

He walked to the area where he felt that Lydia had brought him earlier that morning. Just like before, it was as-if instinct had guided him. And there it was! The partially-buried gravestone lay right before Spencer's feet. Doctor Millheimer was right. The cemetery and gravestone would be there for the simple matter that these sites and their occupants remain throughout the many years... decades... centuries. It wasn’t like Lydia’s garden that suddenly vanishes as-if it never existed. But as for the name, Reverend Jensen, it could not be seen in the daylight. Apparently, Lydia was right. Only through the lighting of a lamp could it be seen. Strange…  

But what about other gravestones? Surely there had to be more. To look for these Spencer proceeded to walk around. But he soon imagined in his head the voice of Lydia urging him, "Careful! You don’t want to walk over people's graves!"

"Oops!" acknowledged Spencer out loud. "Sorry about that!"

Carefully, Spencer walked about in such a way that he imagined nearby gravestones with the bodies laid to rest before them. And amazingly, this enabled Spencer to find a total of thirteen additional headstones throughout the seemingly-forgotten cemetery. It was only necessary to kneel down and move away a bit of dirt with his fingers to find them.

After some time, Spencer approached the most-visible item in the cemetery, the stone cross. Now in the daylight, he could see that it stood many decades and many season. It was weathered and old, nearly a shame to symbolize Christianity and salvation. But it matched, none the less, the state and condition of the forgotten cemetery. Unlike the cemetery, however, the cross was not so forgotten. It had seen graffiti along with possible attempts of physically destroying it. The sad condition of the cross made Spencer wonder what sort of people would do such a thing and why.

***

Spencer had dinner that night, in town, at the Mapleview Supper Club. He sat at one of the long tables in the dining room along with other residents of Mapleview and ate his Yankee pot roast. The supper club often provided Spencer a chance to have simple conversation with residents. And he always hid his true identity and purpose. You see, Spencer didn't want people knowing that he was affiliated with the organization that had plans of installing wind turbines throughout the area. Residents clearly weren't happy with this prospect as evidenced by the signs throughout town and the rural area that had a wind turbine with a red-X over it.

The people who ate near Spencer discussed church rummage sales, weekend farmers’ markets, sports, etc. He wanted so badly to inquire of the old and forgotten cemetery near his home. But doing this might have clued people in of Spencer's whereabouts. Already he was beginning to suspect that some people knew who he was. After all, who was this out-of-town person who ate with the locals at the Supper club a few times a week?

It was early in the evening when Spencer returned home. It had been a long day for him, and he was exhausted beyond belief. Who wouldn’t be? Spencer retired early, and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. By midnight, Spencer awoke and lie in bed for about a half-hour or so while staring into the dark. Perhaps this is what Lydia had meant by with the term ,"first sleep". Spencer never paid much attention to the phenomenon; but throughout his entire life he would awake in the middle of the night to lie there for a while—sometimes an hour—before falling back to sleep.

But this temporarily-awakened state brought with it that night some strange and eerie sensations. For the first time in Spencer's life, he felt something unexplainable that surrounded him. He likened the sensation to being inside of an invisible enclosure—some sort of membrane without matter that possessed a consciousness of its own. What was happening to Spencer?

The Friendly Fort (Chapter Two)

Hello All:

"This is a very, special week at The Literary World of Tom Raimbault; for this is Halloween week! And like we do every year, new stories written just for the holiday are featured throughout the week. This year we roll out some brand-new Mapleview material in the form of a mini novella titled The Friendly Fort. Be sure to visit each day for a new chapter. The Friendly Fort will be featured from Sunday through Saturday."

***

VIEW PRELUDE AND CHAPTER ONE"

***

We actually put up our Halloween decorations late this year at our house. As my wife pointed out, our weekends have been loaded with plenty of activities in October. It wasn't until yesterday that we finally put them up. I'm so proud of my little cemetery that takes up a small portion of our front yard. And look! Donna the Unburied looms over some of the gravestones.

Surely you do something similar. If you love Halloween as much as I do, then you probably decorate your home with gravestones out in the front yard along with gruesome statues and hand-carved Jack-o-lanterns. The inside of your home probably has morbid pictures hung on the walls and plenty of skulls seated on tables with candles. Yes, Halloween is one of the greatest holidays of the year!

But you might occasionally receive backlash from people who aren't too fond of Halloween. These people attack our beautiful holiday that presents a certain eeriness in the air that we can harness and use during this time of year.

But what to do with those who attack our wonderful holiday? They tell you that it's evil. They tell you that it's the Devil's holiday or a witch's holiday. I guess only if you let it be as such. Really, it's only a fun holiday to celebrate in autumn. 

***

Today's featured writing in chapter two of The Friendly Fort--a Mapleview mini novella. Enjoy!

The Friendly Fort (Chapter Two)

Two mornings later, a Thursday, Spencer sat at the kitchen table and ate a bowl of cereal while looking out the window. It was a cloudy morning with occasional light drizzle. He had nowhere to go for the day, no conferences, and no reports to write on recent updates of land acquisition. One thing was for certain: there was plenty of downtime for Spencer.  In moments like this, he wondered why it was necessary to stay in Mapleview. He could have easily flown into town by commercial jet as needed to handle business.

Still, Spencer had to admit that the peace and quiet of the surrounding Mapleview wilderness was a nice change in comparison to the noisy hustle and bustle back at home. And if Spencer didn't know any better, the town and wilderness of Mapleview was beginning to grow on him.

Just then, there was a soft knock at the front door. At first, Spencer intended to ignore it; assuming that the knock was only a door-to-door salesperson, or some kid selling candy on behalf school activities. But then he remembered that he lived off a highway, not on a neighborhood street. For this matter, it might have been someone important.

Spencer quickly stood up and walked over to the door to answer it. But upon opening; it was no one important, just one of the strange Amish-appearing neighbors who lived next door; a woman who might have been in her late forties with shabby hair grossly parted down the middle and then pulled back into a pony tail. There was no makeup on her face, of course. As for her outdated, floor-length dress; it was dull black in color—almost dirty—with some sort of smock or apron on the lower portion.

Spencer almost appeared annoyed to see her.

"I'm sorry..." she apologized. "But have you been to the cemetery?" Her teeth were discolored, crooked and somewhat jagged.

"Excuse me?" asked Spencer.

"The old cemetery out in the forest." she explained. "The flat headstones have all been sunken into the ground, and are almost unnoticeable. And there is no writing on them. We've counted thirteen headstones, but wonder if there are more. I was just wondering if you knew who they belonged to."

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, "Your guess is as good as mine." he answered. "To be honest, I've never even bothered to walk back into the forest."

For a second, the conversation looked to have been over. But out of curiosity of his strange Amish-appearing neighbors, Spencer next asked, "So how do you like it, next door?"

"Oh, it's nice." the woman answered. "We should have you come over for a visit some time. I've got my garden on the other side of the house. The sunlight is there most of the day."

"A garden already?" asked Spencer with a note of surprise. It was the middle of summer, and his new neighbors only recently moved in.

"Well it's already July." the woman pointed out.

All Spencer could do was speculate that maybe they transplanted their garden from wherever they moved—as weird and unlikely as that might be. Feeling it was best to maintain friendliness, Spencer held out his hand to introduce himself. "I'm Spencer."

The woman daintily held her hand out with palm facing the ground and allowed Spencer to momentarily hold her fingers while shaking. It was very lady-like, not something a business woman would do. She even did a slight curtsy—so old fashioned. "I'm Lydia."

"Well it's nice to meet you Lydia." followed Spencer. And then he confessed, "Yeah, I was expecting to hear you speak Pennsylvania Dutch or have some unique accent."

"I beg your pardon. What do you mean?" asked Lydia.

"Pennsylvania Dutch..." said Spencer a second time. "You know, like the language that Amish people speak. Aren't you Amish?"

Smiling only a several seconds ago, Lydia now returned a queer and somewhat disturbed look. "No, we are not Amish. What makes you think that?"

"Well you people sure do dress differently."

Lydia apparently felt that it wasn't a very polite thing for Spencer to say. At a loss of words, she turned and walked away.

Spencer sighed and closed the door. "Nice move..." he said to himself. "I suppose I came off as being a real jerk."

Spencer sat down at the kitchen table and finished his bowl of cereal. "Gosh, I'm in need of a cup of coffee." he declared. "I need it more and more now that I'm living out here."

And he was talking to himself more and more since setting up residence in Mapleview as well.

A few minutes later, Spencer backed out of the driveway. He carefully checked the highway for any oncoming cars before continuing onto the road. Not more than halfway past the neighbors' house, he quickly jammed on the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder of the highway. Much to Spencer's confusion, the "For Sale" sign was in the front lawn!

"What the...? They just moved in!" Spencer could see that there was even a lock box on the front door.

"I've got to think of something... got to think of something..." Spencer desperately sought of a reason to go to the neighbors’ front door with information, and then casually mention the "For Sale" sign in hopes for an explanation. "Ah, the cemetery!" Spencer finally exclaimed while dashing out of the car. "I will tell Lydia that I'll stop at the library and do some research into the cemetery." But as Spencer stood on the front porch and rang the doorbell, there appeared to be no one home. Was everyone who lived in the house, out? Maybe Lydia was left home alone and she was now working, outside, in her garden.

Spencer walked across the front lawn and to the side of the house where Lydia described the garden to be. But it was only overgrown bushes mixed with weeds along with patches of landscaping stone. There was no garden.

Maybe Spencer didn't understand Lydia, correctly. Maybe the garden was more towards the back. He continued walking along the side of the house until reaching the backyard. He really expected to see Lydia; if not, at least the sign of a garden. But outside of overgrown landscaping and weeds, there was no garden.

Spencer continued walking the perimeter of the house. He made a complete circle and, again, saw no sign of a garden anywhere on the property. And the longer he investigated, the more he felt that the house had been vacant for a couple of years. Had Spencer not seen the new neighbors with his own two eyes, he would have believed that people hadn't recently moved in.

***

In contrast to the drizzly Thursday with ample downtime, Friday was a day in which Spencer met with representatives of the real estate company to go over the various appraisals for the properties he was interested in. Saturday and part of Sunday was spent driving throughout the Mapleview region to visit the properties of interest and photograph them.

So occupied with his work, Spencer mostly forgot about Thursday's encounter with his next door neighbor, Lydia. And beyond taking notice of the sudden appearance of the real estate sign in their front lawn—and how odd it was—Spencer would pay no further mind to it.

"But what about the missing garden?"—you might ask?

Again, Spencer was too busy to occupy himself with petty mysteries. He might have written it off as the neighbors being strange. Maybe Lydia was not right in the head and only believed that she had a garden.

On Sunday night, after his long and busy weekend of work, Spencer slept soundly in bed. Actually it was going on Monday morning, dawn only an hour and a half away The Moon was in its first quarter phase. It had been nearly a week since sleepwalking and partly dreaming of the strange neighbors having a bonfire in their backyard.

It was during this time when Spencer had another disturbing dream. In the dream, he stood before the bathroom mirror with the intention of shaving for the day. That's when the face of Lydia appeared in the mirror. Plain face without make-up, and her grossly parted hair that was pulled back into a pony tail; she forced a smile in a means to cover some sort of sadness.

"Oh, I forgot to give you this on Mother's Day." said Spencer while reaching over to the countertop for a pink carnation flower. He actually handed the flower to Lydia through the glass of the mirror.

Lydia gladly accepted the flower which brightened her smile to the point of no longer being sad.

"Happy Mother's Day." Spencer wished.

It was a strange act, indeed. You see, the pink carnation symbolizes the undying love that a mother has for her children. And Lydia certainly wasn't Spencer's mother! And as the seconds passed in the dream, Spencer received the feeling that Lydia was communicating her wish to be considered his mother.

"But they're coming!" warned Spencer to Lydia. "They're coming! I wish you'd listen to me and understand that they are horrible monsters!" Behind Lydia in the mirror, the scenery changed to that of a raging fire with the voices of countless people screaming in horror.

With that, Spencer quickly awoke.

He glanced over to the clock on his nightstand which read 4:02 AM. This was the second time that Spencer startled himself out of sleep from a bad dream in which bad people were coming. Never before had he experienced such dreams. What did it all mean? Spencer could only assume that living in the new environment required some adaptation. This might have been the reason behind the nightmares.

Spencer lay back down in bed and closed his eyes. He laid there for about ten minutes, but could not fall asleep. "I am not getting up for the day." he declared. Have you, the reader, ever woke up extra early and wondered if you were being given a head's up of important matters to take care of early in the day? It's like something is urging you to get up and get ready for the day because something unexpected is soon to take place. Well Spencer thought about this for quite some time. Maybe there would be a sudden conference call to take place in the early part of the day. Maybe he would receive a visit from one of the co-investors that morning who wished to see the portions of land that Spencer found ideal.

Still, Spencer wasn't going to get out of bed at four o'clock in the morning. He lay there and lay there until finally dozing off. But then, around 5:15 AM, he was startled awake by the sound of loud knocking at the door.

"What the...?" Spencer sat up in bed. "Come-on! Who comes to the door at five o'clock in the morning!" he complained.

As Spencer walked over to the door to answer, the knocking continued—louder and louder—like there was something urgent with the visit. He finally unlocked and opened it.

There stood Lydia with her plain, unmade face and shabby hair that was grossly parted down the middle. She wore the same dress as the last visit. "Good morning!" she greeted.

"Morning?" challenged Spencer. "It's dark outside. It's still night for me."

"But it's nearly half past five." pointed Lydia. The sun will be rising any minute." Then she raised her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no! Were you sleeping?"

Spencer nodded. "I was..."

"Oh I'm so sorry!" apologized Lydia. "You must have been doing some work after the first sleep, and didn't return to your second sleep until later. We do that sometimes."

Spencer hadn't a clue of what Lydia was talking about. "First sleep...? Second sleep...?" Then he asked, "Well, what is it that you want?"

"Oh, we were visiting the old cemetery and found a name on one of the headstones. You can't even read it during the daytime, probably because of the Sun and its glare. It isn't until dark when you hold a lantern near the stone that the name, Reverend Jensen, can barely be read."

Spencer stared at Lydia for a few seconds. "That's why you came here at not even 5:30 in the morning; to tell me about a name on the headstone of an old cemetery?"

"Well I thought you'd like to see it." suggested Lydia. "You said you would research the cemetery."

"I did?" asked Spencer.

"Yes, remember? And I thought you could use a name to help you in this research. So would you like to see the headstone before the sun rises?"

"Oh, I'm still in my pajamas." excused Spencer. "I don't have my glasses on, and I haven't even had my morning coffee."

"I don't mind pajamas." reassured Lydia. "There isn't much I haven't seen in the years of raising a family. Put your glasses on and come out. I have coffee. I'll pour you a cup and bring it outside."

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess there's no reason not to join you. I'll meet you in your backyard."

A minute later, Spencer stood in the backyard of his neighbors’ house. Crickets chirped, and robins announced the coming of dawn. In the eastern horizon, the barely noticeable glow of sunlight began to manifest.

And then Lydia emerged with an eight ounce cup of coffee with saucer underneath in one hand, and a glowing oil lamp in the other. When finally in his hands, Spencer could see that the coffee cup was the fancy sort with elaborate flowers and trees painted on it. It looked to be hand painted. And the small saucer had matching artwork.

The coffee was strong, but very good. "Mmmm! Perfect!" exclaimed Spencer. "Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it." acknowledged Lydia. "Now we better get going before the sun rises." Immediately she walked through the backyard; past the half acre clearing of trees and to the edge of the property that joined with the forested wilderness. Spencer followed, but really couldn't see much beyond Lydia and the glowing oil lamp. He was completely dependent on the guidance of his neighbor lady.

The forested wilderness was even darker, still. None of the barely manifested glow of sunlight in the eastern horizon could be seen in this landscape. In the forest, it was still midnight. Lydia must have ventured some one hundred feet until reaching a creek. From there she followed it some distance until (in the midst of darkness) seemed to open as a wide brook. She followed it further before finally stopping. There she announced over the soft roar of the brook from a distance, "This is the cemetery."

A short distance away, Spencer could see the silhouette of a stone cross. It was the only thing he could see of the area. Naturally, he began to walk towards it.

Lydia held her hand out to stop him. "You're going to walk over the graves." she warned. "Besides, the headstone I want to show you is over here."

Now July, the ground of the forest was mostly tall vegetation—weeds and wild flowers that spring up through last autumn's fallen and decaying leaves. But portions of this area had been cleared by—assumedly—Lydia. She knelt down at one of these clearances and touched a stone. "This is the one." Lydia announced. She held the lantern near the stone. Sure enough, the barely recognizable name of Reverend Jensen could be seen. "Is this the person you are looking for?" she asked.

Spencer confessed, "Well, up until now I haven't done much research into this cemetery. But I'll definitely look this guy's name up. Maybe they have some old news clippings at the library."

Lydia nodded her head in acknowledgement.

Spencer was suddenly interested in the cemetery and asked, "Would you mind if I return here during the daylight hours, and cut through your backyard to access the forest?"

"Oh I wouldn't mind if you use my backyard as an easement to the forest." reassured Lydia. "Please feel free."

After a few minutes of additional conversation, and speculating that, perhaps, the cemetery belonged to a small settlement of pioneers that predated Mapleview; Spencer and Lydia began to walk back to their houses. It was then that Spencer casually brought up the "For Sale" sign in the front of Lydia's house.

"So I was driving past your house the other morning, and noticed the For Sale sign in your front lawn."

"You did?" asked Lydia with a note of surprise. "You saw a For Sale sign?"

"Yup!" answered Spencer. "So I assume you will be leaving?"

"No, we are here to stay." declared Lydia. "And I'm going to have to see this For Sale sign. I'm not sure why someone would have put in our front lawn."

"Spencer was confused for a few seconds. Then he suggested, "Maybe there was a mistake. It's probably gone by now."

"Probably..." agreed Lydia.

The remainder of the hike was mostly silent. By the time Spencer and Lydia returned, the sun was peaking over the horizon. This yielded Spencer a view of Lydia's garden at the side of her house. It was, exactly, where she had described it to be the last time she visited Spencer.

"Oh, there's your garden!" said Spencer with a note of surprise."

"Yes, come over and take a look." invited Lydia.

It was a large garden that extended some distance beyond the side perimeter of the house. It was the sort of garden that one would have if growing vegetables as a means to supply food throughout the winter months. There was corn, beans, tomatoes, peppers, asparagus, squash and eggplant along with herbs. Lydia and her family had no reason to visit the grocery store throughout the winter months for vegetables.

This, of course, baffled Spencer. As you recall, he hadn't seen evidence of a garden while perimetering Lydia's house last week.

"Would you mind showing me where you saw this For Sale sign?" requested Lydia as Spencer stared in awe at her garden.

"Oh yes." affirmed Spencer while walking to the front yard. "It was right there in the center of the lawn." Spencer lightly jogged over to the spot and stood where he saw it. "Right here... It was a big sign. Like I said, someone probably made a mistake and quickly pulled it out."

"Probably..." agreed Lydia. "But I'm glad to see that it's no longer there. Like I said before, we are not moving. We are here to stay!"

***

An hour later on that Monday morning—showered, groomed and dressed for the day—Spencer backed out of his driveway and checked the highway for oncoming vehicles before pulling onto the road. He was on his way into town for breakfast. But just like last week, he quickly applied the brakes in front of Lydia's house and pulled over to the shoulder.

"Son of a..." exclaimed Spencer before holding his tongue. "There it is, again!"

Right there in the middle of Lydia's front lawn was a "For Sale" sign; listed by Mapleview's, Jack Swieley Realty!

Spencer dashed out of his car and up to the front door of the house. He would warn Lydia of the sign's reappearance. And just like last week, there was even a lock box shackled to the door knob.

"KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!" Spencer anxiously pounded on the door. He even rang the doorbell. But there was no answer.

"Oh come-on!" complained Spencer. "Maybe she's out in the back." "Spencer rushed to the side of the house to where he and Lydia stood not more than an hour ago.

But what was this?

Lydia's large garden was no longer there! In its place was nothing more than the grass along with overgrown, uncared-for landscaping. In utter disbelief, Spencer jogged around the entire house while concluding that the house hadn't been lived in for over two years!

What happened????

To be continued...

The Friendly Fort (Prelude and Chapter One)

Hello All:
"This is a very, special week at The Literary World of Tom Raimbault; for this is Halloween week! And like we do every year, new stories written just for the holiday are featured throughout the week. This year we roll out some brand-new Mapleview material in the form of a mini novella titled The Friendly Fort. Be sure to visit each day for a new chapter. The Friendly Fort will be featured from Sunday through Saturday."
***

In case you are unfamiliar with Mapleview; it's a fictional town—the very setting of my Mapleview series of novels. And those who visit Mapleview all agree that it's the rural sort of town that one passes through while driving on vacation; the peaceful, historic sort of town that is typically surrounded by miles of forests, lakes, mountains and untouched wilderness. But despite its days-of-antiquity charm and God's country location, Mapleview and surrounding area is surprisingly a thriving community complete with every convenience and luxury one would expect to find in the city or suburbs.   

Downtown Mapleview has a population of some hundred thousand people. That should tell you as to how much this historic town, which was originally established in 1831, has grown. The center of town has a main road that runs north and south that is rightfully called, Mapleview Road. Continue traveling north, you soon enter a heavily wooded highway which marks what many refer to as the historic section. Homes that would have been built in the 1800s—such as the legendary, haunted Trivelli house—continue to stand on their heavily wooded properties of an acre or more. These private properties, in turn, are embedded within the neighboring wilderness.

Continue traveling north, Mapleview Road eventually curves and transitions east. If one remains traveling eastward, they will soon reach an intersecting road called Creek Highway. This marks the unofficial border of Mapleview and its neighboring town, Sillmac. It's a fuzzy region that doesn't quite belong to Mapleview or Sillmac. It's simply referred to as the Mapleview Township. And it's the location of one of Mapleview's most shameful chapters of history that would have occurred sometime in the 1800s.

The Friendly Fort (Chapter One)

This is the location where wind turbine investor, Spencer Doiler, had set up temporary residence during the summer of 1997. (Bear with me in these next few paragraphs as I disclose the boring details of his reason for setting up residence in Mapleview.) At the time, corporate and government planning was in the works to install a multi-billion dollar wind turbine infrastructure for the town of Mapleview and surrounding areas. But the plans were unsuccessful. To this very day, the region continues to receive power from a combination of fossilized fuel and nuclear energy. You see; at the time, residents and farmers throughout rural Mapleview and Sillmac had strongly opposed the installation of a wind turbine infrastructure. There was significant evidence that wind turbines were harmful to farm animals. The turbines, after all, would have been installed in open areas of land that would have been near farms. In addition, large portions of farmland and even private, residential properties were proposed to be acquired for this project through eminent domain. Needless to say, residents of Mapleview and surrounding areas were not happy with the intrusion of wind turbine power.

Investors, however, remained hopeful. They believed it would only require diligent lobbying along with significant donations to representatives to make the dream of wind turbine energy a reality. For that matter; co-investor of Winds of Change Energy, Spencer Doiler, had been deployed to the Mapleview region to begin the acquisition of land, as well as educate the public of how helpful wind turbines could be. With the assistance of a local Realtor, he would find a corporate rental home and set up temporary residence.

It was a rental property; a simple, three-bedroom, brick ranch built in 1947 that sat on two acres of mostly-wooded land right off Creek Highway. The two acres connected with the forested and mountainous back country of Mapleview.

Spencer believed he would only stay in that house for six months to a year. There was so much momentum behind the development and installation of wind turbine infrastructure that it was nearly a done deal. Often he would stand outside on the old, wooden deck—say—in the late afternoon and look out at the surrounding wilderness. He imagined monstrous wind turbines generating power for Mapleview and surrounding areas. As for the small house that he rented, it was old and would probably be plowed down along with neighboring houses to make room for the turbines.

Next door to Spencer's home was a two-story that looked to have been renovated and built-upon since its original construction. The surrounding property, however, was larger; about three and a half acres with a noteworthy half-acre clearing of trees some distance behind the house. Spencer speculated that at one time this mysterious clearing might have been a large garden. Personal farming was a way of life once-upon-a-time.

This home next door was vacant and for sale when Spencer originally moved in. It was like this for a few weeks until Spencer momentarily went out of town for the Fourth of July weekend, and then returned to Mapleview. His return was on a late, Sunday afternoon. Immediately, Spencer noticed that the "For Sale" sign had been removed from the front lawn, and there were now occupants living in the home. And they were such a peculiar bunch of people; about a dozen of them living under one roof and of various ages which suggested that perhaps a few generations of one family now resided there. And they dressed so strangely in old-style black clothing that appeared to be something that maybe Amish people might wear.

"Amish people?" Spencer softly asked out loud upon studying his new neighbors through the side window of his house. "I have Amish people living next door to me? Too bad the Realtor didn't warn them that all of this land will soon be acquisitioned for wind turbines."

The more Spencer thought about it, the more he speculated that perhaps his new neighbors were real estate savvy, and wished to cash in on the eminent domain advantage. Homeowners could get up to three times the appraised amount when losing property to government acquisition. But it just didn't seem like something that Amish people would do. Amish people were religious and Puritan-like, not aggressively seeking ways to make money. Still, there was just something odd about them. Spencer's new neighbors weren't right.

***

On Tuesday morning following the Fourth of July Weekend, Spencer sat at a desk in the front room of his rented home. The front room had been converted to a make-shift office, complete with business phone and PC on the desk. He was in the middle of a conference call and discussing the progress of acquiring land throughout different locations of America, including Mapleview.

Suddenly, Spencer had a flashback from the previous evening of what could possibly have been a session of sleepwalking. He had no memory of this throughout the early part of the morning, but now remembered it with such clarity.

He recalled lying in bed in a partial state of dreaming while desperately contemplating as to what phase the Moon was in. Was it a new, waxing-crescent, full, or waning-crescent? It was a peculiar thing for Spencer to be concerned about, for he usually cared less about the Moon.

An overwhelming urge caused Spencer to rise out of bed and over to his bedroom window. From his vantage point he could see no Moon in the sky. You see, the Moon was a waxing crescent on that particular evening which was about eight percent full. It would have been long under the western horizon shortly after twilight. But Spencer did see something quite alarming through the window. Across the yard and into the next door neighbors’—from the half-acre clearing of trees some distance behind their house—a large fire could be seen. Was there a forest fire? Or maybe the strange neighbors were having a late night bonfire?

Spencer's vision was blurry at that moment, and he couldn't make out the details. He staggered over to the bedside table for his glasses and happened to glance at the clock which read 2:12 am. Still in a half-sleep state, he returned to the window with glasses on. It was difficult to see, exactly, what was happening next door. You see, the half-acre clearing was partly blocked by trees. But from what Spencer could gauge, the large family of strange, Amish-looking people all stood around a large bonfire while gazing into it with blank faces.

"What the...? What are they doing?" Spencer asked out loud. "It's two o'clock in the morning!"

The light from the flames danced along their faces and contorted their expressions to appear grotesque. One of the women held a book in her hand and appeared to be reading out loud.

"That is just weird..." commented Spencer. "What kind of people moved in next door to me?"

And this is what Spencer recalled while listening in to the conference call the following morning. The phone was on speaker mode to allow Spencer to shuffle through documents or make adjustments to spreadsheets throughout the meeting. This freedom allowed him to momentarily stand up and quickly sneak over to the window to hopefully catch a daylight glimpse of the neighbor's half-acre clearing of trees. But the front room window did not yield enough view. He would have to wait until after the call to go to another window.

"Spencer, did you have anything to add?" asked the conference chairperson over the phone.

He rushed back over to the desk. "I've visited a few local real estate offices and had them do appraisals on the ideal regions of land that we need..."

Ten minutes later—the conference ended—Spencer returned to his bedroom and looked out the side window that he had gazed out of the previous evening. He had his contact lenses in and could see fairly well from a distance. But nothing outstanding or unusual could be seen at the half-acre clearing of trees; just some trash cans and a wheelbarrow full of old dirt.

Spencer just so happened to have in his possession a pair of binoculars to use when surveying prospective land to purchase. They were in his front room make-shift office. With a need to verify what he had seen last night, Spencer dashed into to the front room for them and returned to the bedroom window. But upon studying the area where the strange Amish-looking people had stood the previous evening, there was no evidence of a fire having been there. There were no burned logs or circle of ashes. Perhaps Spencer only dreamed and hallucinated while sleeping walking last night.

***

Later that night—nearly twenty four hours after sleeping walking and seeing the strange Amish-appearing people standing around a fire—Spencer tossed and turned in bed. He had been sleeping fairly well throughout the early part of the night. But now he was having a nightmare.

"Oh no..." called out Spencer in his sleep. "They're coming... We have to run and hide... I'll take Gwendolyn with me... No! They do horrible things when they catch us...! They're monsters...! We cannot stay...! Hurry...! Oh no, it's too late! There's too many of them!"

Spencer awoke upon jumping out of bed. His heart was racing, and he was covered in sweat. 

To be continued...

Jen's Butcher Radio

 Hello All:

Jen's Butcher Radio... What would be Jen's Butcher Radio... I know! It's a radio station that also has a sister television station. Together they broadcast the last day alive of a woman named Jen who will be savagely butchered to death by her killer.

And so I bring you a new short story, Jen's Butcher Radio.

Jen's Butcher Radio

It was Friday morning around quarter to seven as Jen lay in bed in a partial state of dreaming while listening to the annoying clock radio alarm. It was time to wake up; but as often done, she did so slowly.

Normally the radio was tuned to news talk radio. But someone had apparently moved the dial to another station. A chorus jingle briefly sounded before the morning radio show continued, "Jen's Butcher radio... What a radio... WOW!" The voice of a male DJ announced to the world, "And it looks like maybe Jen is beginning to show some signs of stirring awake for the day. The clock radio alarm has gone off and—so ironic—it’s tuned to this station. As you know—we've been announcing all morning—that today is the day that Jen will be brutally murdered. This radio station as well as its sister TV station and numerous other media sources are currently owned and operated by Jen's butcher. And by butcher, we don't mean the person who supplies meat! This is the sort of butcher who cuts and stabs a victim to death."

By now, Jen was certainly awake. Was she dreaming only seconds ago? Startled, she quickly sat up in bed and turned the radio up just to verify that she was hearing things correctly.

"And she's up!" the morning news anchor on the sister TV station, Jen’s Butcher TV, announced to the world.

Two doors down from Jen, neighbors Dave and Patricia watched TV from their kitchen while eating their morning bowls of Kashi cereal. The TV was tuned to the all new station, Jen's Butcher TV. Everyone watching it could see Jen sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes in confusion while listening to the all new radio station.

"Ha ha!" the news anchor on Jen's Butcher TV laughed. "As you can see, she can now hear what's being said on our sister radio station, Jen's Butcher Radio. She's probably in disbelief at what's being heard. Yes, Jen's Butcher Media is definitely a freaky production. It's why so many people are tuned in. Never before has a killer disclosed to the world that he is going to murder by first creating radio and television stations that will broadcast the act of violence. Yes, Jen's Butcher Media is owned by the very man who will savagely slice and stab poor Jen to death."

"Yeah, that's certainly Jen down the street." commented Jen's neighbor, Patricia, to her husband before shoveling another spoon of cereal in her mouth.

"Oh, yeah! Look at that!" excitedly chimed in Dave. "And check out her sexy sleepwear!"

Patricia playfully slapped her husband in the arm. "You're not supposed to be looking at that!"

"But it's on TV." pointed David. Then he said, "I wonder if her husband, Marty, is watching all of this."

"Or maybe hearing it on the radio?" suggested Patricia.

"We're going to switch over to a commercial break really quick so that we can all watch the exciting moment of when Jen takes a shower. We don't want to miss that!

“Tonight on Jen's Butcher TV!" began the commercial. "See the moment the whole world has been waiting for! See the final moments of terror of when Jen is brutally murdered." The video for the commercial was nothing more than a large butcher knife being hand sharpened over a butcher block. "Her killer promises the murder to be a bloody mess. He promises plenty of screaming and multiple stab wounds..."

In the mean time, Jen quickly turned off the clock radio and hopped out of bed. She telephoned her husband, Marty, who was most likely driving to work.

"Hello?" Marty answered.

"Marty? Are you playing some kind of joke?" asked Jen.

"What are you talking about?" Marty asked while merging onto the highway.

"The clock radio." answered Jen. "It was tuned to some station about me."

"Oh, you mean Jen's Butcher Radio?" asked Marty. "Yeah, I found that this morning in my car. There’s also a TV station to go along with it. I've been listening to Jen’s Butcher Radio most of the ride into work. It's interesting."

"But Marty, it's about me." argued Jen.

"Oh, it's probably just someone out there playing a joke or doing some kind of sociology experiment." speculated Marty. "Look on the bright side of things. You are now the star of your own reality TV and radio station."

Jen sighed, "Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at."

"Well, I need to put the phone down. I'm about to enter a construction zone." informed Marty. "And I guess people are getting excited because you are about to take a shower."

"Oh jeez!" exclaimed Jen.

"We're back from our commercial break as Jen is about to take her morning shower." announced the news anchor on Jen's Butcher TV. "Now it should be mentioned that during the commercial break, Jen telephoned her husband to ask if he is playing a joke. She's probably still in disbelief that a media network has been created to broadcast her last day alive. Probably had to see if her husband was playing a joke. No, Jen, this is all very real."

The world watched as Jen entered the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

"Ha ha!" laughed the morning news anchor. "She actually thinks she needs to close the door for privacy! Sorry, Jen, but the world can still see everything. But maybe we don't want to see all of that... We'll move the cameras to check out the surroundings of Jen's bathroom while she does her morning business."

As narrated by the news anchor, the camera momentarily looked away from Jen so that she could sit down on the toilet and do her morning business in private. This gave the news anchor some moments to comment on Jen's bathroom. "As you can see, the bathroom would be the perfect place for Jen to be murdered. And we never know if her killer might surprise all of us and choose to do it this morning. Jen's husband is driving to work, and her kids are at school. People who commit murders prefer their victims to be alone. And Jen's all alone; the perfect scenario to be murdered."

The camera moved its attention back towards Jen once the sound of the toilet flushing could be heard. "She's glancing in the mirror at herself." commented the news anchor. "We all do that, right? And oh wow! Check out what she's got under that night shirt! Jen definitely has a nice pair of natural-shaped breasts, not to mention some beautiful nipples. That's right! Take it off, baby!"

Now fully naked, Jen turned on the water to the shower and adjusted the temperature. When satisfied that it was warm enough, she stepped inside.

"What a beautiful lady!" exclaimed the male news anchor.

"I know..." added the female co-anchor. "It's a shame that she's going to be murdered sometime today. I'm actually wishing that someone would act as the hero in all of this and save Jen."

"Now you bring up a good point." said the male news anchor. "Experts are saying that the audience is split between viewers who are eager to see some blood and guts—see Jen get savagely murdered—while the other group wishes that Jen will live to see another day."

"Well I'm one of those who hope that Jen gets saved." answered the female news anchor. "For now, let's just enjoy Jen in her private moment of taking her morning shower."

***

Forty-five minutes later, Jen drove to work with her car radio tuned to the new station, Jen's Butcher Radio. She was still in disbelief of the grand scheme that was unfolding, and the fact that the whole world could see and follow everything she did. Who was behind all of this? And why was this person doing such a thing?

"And Jen's driving to work right now." announced the male DJ. "I'm sure plenty of people are wondering if she has the radio tuned to the station that is dedicated to her."

"Yes, and we are getting some tweets and instant messages from listeners of this station." said the female DJ. "Many people are wondering if Jen is aware that this will be her last day at work. Some people are even asking why Jen would bother reporting to work on her last day alive."

"That's a good point." agreed the male DJ. "But you know, it's probably a good thing that she's going to work. You see, we don't know—exactly—when and where Jen is going to get murdered. The commercials say that tonight will be the grand finale. But a criminal mind just might go so far as to take the world by surprise and murder Jen at her place of work."

"So it's a good thing that she's going to work?" asked the female DJ.

"Absolutely!" affirmed the male DJ. "We want her to go about her normal, everyday life."

"You want her to get murdered, don't you???" accused the female DJ.

The male DJ laughed, "I can neither confirm nor deny those allegations!"

"Oh jeez!" exclaimed the female DJ. "Jen, if you are out there, I hope you know who is on your side."

"Let's get to some news." announced the male DJ. "The top story right now as far as murdering Jen is concerned: police have stepped up their investigation on the alleged murder that is about to take place of the suburban mother and housewife, Jen. They need to know who is behind the scheme, and are offering $100,000 to anyone who can lead to the arrest of this person. Now as you know, Jen's Butcher Media is owned and operated by her killer. But Jen's Butcher Media is currently under a trust company, so the identity of this person is obscured from the general public. There are state and federal laws which make it difficult for the police to get around this obstacle..."

"Oh come on!" interrupted the female DJ. "You mean they can't get a court order to obtain the necessary information and bust this guy?"

"Easy!" urged the male DJ. "This radio station is about Jen's murder. It's why we have a job. And to your point: it gets down to that split of viewers and listeners of Jen's Butcher Media who are hooked. Some people are eager to see Jen get murdered. Other people are hoping that someone steps in to save her. I suppose the police don't want to ruin a good show."

The female DJ suddenly announced, "And she's pulling into her place of work!"

"Oh, good!" exclaimed the male DJ. “Let's hurry up and switch over to a commercial break so we can follow her into work. We don't want to miss anything."

The chorus jingle briefly sounded before airing a commercial, "Jen's Butcher Radio... What a radio... Wow!"

Inside of Jen's office, coworkers sat in a conference room and stared at a large video conference screen that had Jen's Butcher TV on it. They watched as she pulled into the parking garage.

"A parking garage!" exclaimed the male news anchor. "Now these places are dangerous to victims of murder. A parking garage offers plenty of isolation for a murderer to do his business."

"That's right!" agreed the female news anchor. "Jen better be careful. She better not park next to another car. All it would take would be for her killer to step out of a nearby car and stab the butcher knife from behind. It would be all over for poor Jen."

"But do you really think that the killer would do it in the parking garage?" asked the male news anchor.

"Well, just like everywhere else, crews for Jens Butcher TV did install cameras in the parking garage of her work." pointed the female news anchor. "And it's as good as a place as any."

While the whole world watched, Jen cautiously exited her vehicle and walked through the lonely parking garage with the sound of her high heel shoes echoing. She was definitely spooked, and looked at every parked car before passing it. Then she reached the long hallway which lead to the side entrance to the building. Her heart raced as she anticipated someone jumping out on her.

"Look how careful she's being in that hallway." commented the male news anchor on Jen's Butcher TV. "This is evidence that Jen is aware of her planned murder."

"Well how can she not?" pointed the female news anchor. "The whole scheme is on radio and TV."

Once in the main lobby of the office building, Jen could hear that Jen's Butcher Radio was being broadcasted through the PA speakers. "And it looks like Jen didn't get murdered in the long, scary hallway. The suspense is killing us all."

"I know!" agreed the female DJ. "I really thought that was going to be the moment.”

There were three people—a business woman and two business men—standing at the elevator, waiting for the car to arrive. They immediately recognized Jen.

"Oh, you're Jen!" exclaimed the business woman. "You're the one on TV and radio."

Jen smiled and nodded. "Yes... I suppose I'm a celebrity now."

The car to the elevator arrived and the door opened. Jen and the other three people entered. And of course, Jen's Butcher Radio continued to play from the PA speaker within the elevator.

"And right Jen is to say that she is now a celebrity!" commented the male DJ.

"I suppose the elevator would be a good place to be murdered." suggested the female DJ on Jen's Butcher Radio.

"Her murderer could actually be one of those three people riding with her." further suggested the male DJ.

"I bet all of this makes you feel paranoid." said the business woman to Jen while smiling.

"Oh, yes!" answered Jen. "I've been watching my back all morning. I'm actually terrified to know what's around every corner."

"I bet!" answered the business woman. "Well you take care. And I'm rooting for you." The elevator car stopped and the door opened. The three other passengers exited which left Jen alone in the elevator car.

"I suppose it's possible for Jen's killer to suddenly jump out of the hatch in the ceiling and stab her to death while she rides the elevator up." suggested the male DJ of Jen's Butcher Radio over the PA speaker.

"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Jen. "I can't take this anymore."

The elevator car finally reached Jen's office floor. Filled with anxiety and very paranoid, she cautiously walked the hallway to her office suite.

"Well there she is!" exclaimed the manager's secretary, Beverly, upon jumping out of her seat. She rushed over to Jen and gave her a hug. "So you're a star, now. I've been listening to your radio station all morning long."

"That's great." answered Jen. "So who are you rooting for?"

"Oh, well of course I'm hoping that they catch this guy who's after you." reassured Beverly. "I think it's awful that someone would go so far as to create a television and radio network just to broadcast your murder."

"Good morning Jen!" greeted the office manager. "We've got a short notice meeting in the conference room. Hurry on in and we can get started."

Nervously, Jen followed her boss into the conference room. Everyone continued to stare at the large video conference screen that had the morning news anchors of Jen's Butcher TV on it.

"She's here!" announced one of Jen's coworkers.

"Excellent!" exclaimed the news anchor. "Have her take a seat so we can get started."

Jen sighed and reluctantly sat down at the conference table.

"So, Jen, by now I'm sure you know that this station is dedicated to—and there's no way to soften this—your murder. What are your thoughts on that?" asked the news anchor.

Jen shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, "I'm still shocked and at a loss of what to say. I mean it's a horrible thing, but everyone seems to be really into it. And am I really interviewing on TV at this moment?"

"Yes you are." answered the news anchor. "Now, let me ask; when did you first learn about Jen's Butcher Media?"

"When I woke up this morning." answered Jen. Jen's Butcher Radio came in through my clock radio."

"Ah, I see." said the news anchor. "Really the station has only been in existence since about 2:30 this morning, Eastern time. So you didn't miss much while you were sleeping. But already we're #1, nationwide, in ratings! What do you think of that?"

"I'm wondering if I'll be able to split some of the money that Jen's Butcher Media network is making. I am the star, after all." reminded Jen.

"Jen, would you happen to know who your killer is?" asked the female news anchor. "Any leads?"

"No, I haven't any idea." answered Jen.

"Because if you know who your killer is, you might be able to turn this person into the police for that $100,000 reward." suggested the female news anchor while laughing.

"We're going to allow some viewers to call in and ask you some questions. Are you okay with that?" asked the male news anchor.

"Sure... why not..." answered Jen.

For nearly three hours, Jen spoke to curious people around the nation who wanted to know what it felt like to be the star victim of a televised murder. There were plenty of discussions about when the murder would actually take place, and if the killer would really use a large butcher knife as promised. Maybe she would be strangled with an extension cord and thrown into a tub full of acid a few people suggested. But these people were always reminded that the killer promised the murder to be a bloody, gruesome mess. A knife would be the only way to fulfill this.

After the exhausting three hours of being interviewed on live TV and radio, Jen's manager and coworkers had a surprise for her. "Well, Jen..." began the manager. "It looks like this will be our last meal with you. Being the case, we are treating you to a catered-in lunch: Italian beef, sausage, chicken and potato wedges. And we even have a cake specially made for you." It was a large, multi-layered butter cream cake with strawberry filling. The cake said the words, "Good Bye Jen!" A decorative plastic butcher knife stabbed right into the middle. Surrounding the "knife wound" was red-colored butter cream frosting to represent the bloody gruesome mess that the killer promised.

"Want to lick the knife?" offered the manager upon pulling the decorative butcher knife out of the cake. "It has blood all over it."

"Now that would be a twist." excitedly commented the afternoon news anchor of Jen's Butcher TV. “Maybe the killer is Jen's boss. Maybe when she licks the knife, he's going pull out a real butcher knife and stab her. Maybe it'll get all over the cake."

"But don't you think the cake is red enough?" asked the afternoon co-anchor while laughing.

***

Later that night, Jen sat at the kitchen table with her family and ate dinner. She was so tired of hearing about Jen's Butcher Media, and ordered that not one thing be mentioned about it for the remainder of the evening.

"One thing I find interesting:" began the evening news anchor of Jen's Butcher TV as the world watched the family eat dinner. "The husband doesn't seem too worried about his wife getting murdered. I wonder if that's because he's actually the killer."

"It's a possibility." answered the co-anchor. "But this whole scheme has been so surreal that maybe he doesn't believe it."

"I'm sure a lot of people are having difficulty understanding the fact that Jen's Butcher Media means business." answered the first news anchor. "But her killer is not playing games. This is not a joke. He will kill her by the end of today and have the gruesome scene broadcasted for the world to see."

An hour later, as Jen's husband and children sat in the family room and watched TV; Jen briefly entered and announced, "I'm going upstairs to take a nice, hot bath. It's been a long day."

"Okay, Honey." acknowledged Jen's husband, Marty. "You definitely deserve it my little celebrity wife." Once out of sight, Marty changed the channel to Jen's Butcher TV.

"Is that Mommy?" asked six-year old Kristy.

"Yes it is." affirmed Father. "Mommy has her own TV and radio station, now."

"Cool!" exclaimed nine-year-old Paul.

"Oh, kids, cover your eyes for a minute.” ordered Father. “I don't want you looking at your mother, naked, on TV."

Both kids did as ordered while Jen untied and removed her bathrobe. The warm water in the tub continued to fill as Jen stepped in. Oh, but so naughty of nine-year-old Paul; he spread open his finger just a crack to see his mother naked!

"Okay, she's in the tub, now." announced Father to Paul and Kristy. You can uncover your eyes.

"Now this might be an ideal moment when Jen's killer finally does as promised." announced one of the evening news anchors on Jen's Butcher TV. "Bathtubs are one of the least places where a woman wants to be stabbed." he further explained. "She's naked, wet and vulnerable. And she's... UH-OH! LOOK AT THAT! THERE’S THE KILLER! HE'S GOT HER!"

On TV, Jen let out a bloodcurdling scream from the bathtub as her killer jumped in with large butcher knife. The blade stabbed through her naked breasts and chest. Blood gushed out as Jen desperately fought for her life.

"AND HE JUST KEEPS STABBING HER AND STABBING HER! THIS GUY'S A MANIAC! SHE'S FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE AND TRYING TO USE HER ARMS, BUT HE JUST SLICES THEM OPEN WITH THAT LARGE BUTCHER KNIFE...!!!! OH MY GOSH!!! WHAT A GRUESOME, BLOODY MESS!!! HE DEFINITELY DELIVERED AS PROMISED!!!!”

Downstairs, Jen's husband and children watched her murder on TV.

"Is that man hurting Mommy?" asked Kristy.

"He's murdering her." answered Father.

"Will she be alright? asked Kristy.

"It doesn't look like it." answered Father. "But don't worry; it's only TV."

After a minute or so, Jen's killer hopped out of the bathtub. By now the water was dark red as Jen’s lifeless body floated with a frozen, horrified expression on her face.

And that was the exciting grand finale to Jen's Butcher TV.

The End!