This story is part of an ongoing series.
The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.
Feedback and
constructive
criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.
This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racism, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.
There may or may not be discussion of political issues in my stories. If you are a Snowflake that feels you need to be protected from any mention of politics, then click the Back button now, and never attempt to read any of my stories ever again. You've been warned.
***
Dedicated to the memory of Her Majesty Elizabeth II, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.
Part 1 - Prologue
"You want to do
what?
" I asked in stunned disbelief.
"I need to go to Point Hol-low." my daughter Carole said. "And see the painting of Nellie Blye."
It was 7:00am, Monday, September 6th, and it was the Labor Day holiday. We were at The Cabin, and Carole had joined Bowser and Buddy at the back door to go out. So I poured a cup of coffee, and Carole and I went on deck and sat in the metal mesh loveseat as the dogs went around the side and down the mountain trail to inspect their territories and do their business.
"There's the train, Daddy." Carole had said as the light of a train appeared on the western horizon. As it made its way towards Town and the curve that would take it south, Carole had 'hit' me with the request to go to Point Hollow. Considering all that had happened there in the past, it was not exactly something I was comfortable doing.
(
Author's note: Readers may wish to (re-)read 'Return To Point Hollow', especially Ch. 02 for Carole's experience there.
)
But I got a sense that it was important, and not just to Carole. "Okay." I said. "We can go. Do I need to call Father Romano to come with us?"
"No, Daddy." Carole replied. "He's with Dr. Mickelson. We can go see them after we see the painting..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
9:00am. We arrived at Point Hollow in my Police SUV, and it didn't seem to be as forbidding in the morning light as it was at night. I still had a key to the front door of the house, and I unlocked the door and looked inside, then allowed Carole to slip past me and go inside.
We went into the large greatroom. The big windows allowed in plenty of light, which was muted by the dark, rich paneling of the walls. I saw that the mechanism that Dr. Charles Westbrook had used to attempt to hang me had been removed, and the stones were set in place with cement so that they could not move. The painting of Nellie Blye Westbrook was still over the fireplace mantle, still somehow bolted in place and unable to be moved.
Carole just stood in front of the painting, looking at it. I was moving around, looking out the window at the front lawn and the copse of trees on the other side, and then came around and sat down on one of the plush chairs. My daughter had glanced over at me a few times, and had finally had enough.
"Sit still, Daddy!" she ordered. "Clear your mind." I did so, breathing slowly in and out, letting thoughts come and go until the distractions cleared. And then I heard it... what sounded like wind chimes just outside the window filled my ears.
I looked over at the window, but there were no wind chimes there. I focused inward again, and heard more wind chimes, though much more faintly. And then I saw something in my mind's eye. It was my son Jim as a young grown man. He and a lovely blonde woman were admiring the baby boy she was holding. Instinct told me that he was their son. And something beyond instinct told me who that baby boy was going to grow up to be...
"Okay, I'll tell him." I heard Carole say, which dissipated my vision. I looked over at my eight-year-old daughter just as she turned to look at me. "Daddy, can we go see Dr. Mickelson now?"
"Sure." I said, a little quietly, as if I were in a reverie.
"Did you hear the wind chimes, Daddy?" Carole asked as I got up and we walked out of the room.
"Yeah... yeah, I did hear some wind chimes." I said. "Did you?"
"Yes, Daddy." Carole said. "That was Alice, playing her violin for us on the Other Side. But all we can hear is wind chimes..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Hospice wing of University Hospital is on the lower floors of the southeast wing of the 'I' shape of the Hospital. Carole and I went down the hallway of the third floor to the room that was almost at the very end, and went inside.
The window to the outside faced south, and we could see the bottom of the mountain finger that The Cabin was on, and the tops of several buildings and something of a vista southwards. The headboard of the bed was against the wall to our left. In the bed was Dr. Mickelson, holder of the Gregor Mendel Chair of Genetics at the University Department of Biology... but for not much longer.
The emaciated old man's eyes were closed, and he was lying on his back. Sitting in a chair next to him was Father Alberto Romano. I was remembering that ghastly night at Point Hollow when I stopped Charles Westbrook from murdering a girl and in the process liberating a hideously evil demon, and remembered that Father Romano and Dr. Mickelson had endured beatings at the hands of Westbrook's supplicants.
Father Romano had not broken, and had refused to reveal what had been told him in Confession. Unfortunately, Dr. Mickelson had never recovered. I'd visited him many times, and each time he was worse. "He's practically in a coma." Father Romano said. "He wakes up and has a few minutes of lucidity, but every time he says a demon is coming for him. They're keeping him sedated now. The end won't be long, now."
"That's why I have to talk to him." Carole said resolutely. She brought up to the bed a high chair that a doctor would sit on, and climbed up onto the crossbar footrest. Her head was a foot away from Dr. Mickelson's. "Hi Doc-tor Mickelson." she said.
I should not have been surprised that Dr. Mickelson opened his eyes and looked right at her. Carole said "I'm Carole, the Iron Crowbar's daugh-ter."
"Hi Carole." Dr. Mickelson said, his voice weak but steady. "Your dad is going to give you his crowbar one day. Will it be the one with the Sigma radiation? The one he beat the Slender Man with?"
"No sir." Carole said. "That's the one I'll give to the next Iron Crowbar. I have to tell you this message from Nellie Blye. When the bad guys try to trick you into going with them, don't be fooled. They will tell you the truth is in the woods, but they're lying. The real truth is on the other side of the Stream. Go with Nellie Blye, she'll take you across the Bridge, to the Real Truth."
"Okay." said Dr. Mickelson. "Thank you Carullll..." His eyes fluttered shut, and we did not know it at that moment, but it would be the last time his eyes opened while he remained on this earth...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Daddy," Carole said as we were driving back home, "you didn't even ask me anything about Nellie Blye or Dr. Mick-ul-sun."
"Do you
want
me to ask you about them?" I asked in reply.
"I was just ex-peck-ting you to." Carole said. "The bad man you stopped at Point Hollow wants to trick Dr. Mick-ul-sun into going the wrong way."
"The Slender Man?" I asked. (
Author's note: 'Return of the Slender Man', especially Ch. 02-03.
)
"No sir, the other man." Carole said. "The man who tried to release the demon."
"Ah, Charles Westbrook." I said. "Yes, he was a bad, bad man. But he's dead now."
"And Nellie Blye said he still wants to hurt Dr. Mick-ul-son." Carole said. "So I had to warn him. But don't tell Mommy any of this. She gets mad at me because I can't explain why I know that."
"No worries." I said. "It's strictly between us." And you better believe I had no intentions of mentioning any of this... especially my own 'look' into the future... to anyone. Things around Point Hollow were probably best left unexplained, and definitely left undiscussed...
Part 2 - Ode to Joy, Ode to Alice
2:00pm, Monday, September 6th. Teresa and I were in my Police SUV, delivering a very precious package.
"Little Joy wants to see Bowser on Bowser Day." Teresa said. "But I don't want to set too much of a precedent of cured former patients coming to visit, because we would have way too many people."
I replied "Hopefully, we can solve that problem today."
We arrived at Joy's house, a modest home in the Kensington District on the north side of Town. Joy's mother opened the door and let us in. Joy was in the living room, sitting on the floor, looking healthy.
"Hi Mr. Crowbar! Hi Teresa!" Joy said, seeing the box Teresa was carrying. "Did you bring Bowser to visit me?"
"No, we didn't bring Bowser today." I said. Joy's face fell, then I said "But I did bring someone else to meet you." With that, Teresa set down the box and opened it. An all-white puppy poked her head out and looked around.
'Joy' was the proper description of what appeared on the little girl's face as she squealed, and her little hands went to her cheeks in utter surprise. The puppy clambered out of the box and immediately identified her new owner. She went over and began sniffing and pawing at Joy, who began laughing and petting the pup.
Yes, Bowser had gotten some pussy, and he and Sadie Mae had produced another litter of all-white puppy dogs. The firstborn one was the little female we were now bringing to Joy.
"Can we keep her, Mom?" Joy called out as she and the puppy petted each other.
"Yes." said Joy's mother. "But you have to take care of her. She's your responsibility."
