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By Donna Walo Clancy
Many years ago, when I was a young girl, I would visit my grandma for three weeks each summer while my parents traveled for their ministry. She lived in the back woods of West Virginia, far away from people.
Her three-room log cabin sat on the edge of Valentine Pond. The first floor, one large room, consisted of a kitchen area, a living area and a walk-in closet where she kept all her personal belongings. The second floor, or loft—as grandma used to refer to it, had two equal sized bedrooms. A fieldstone fireplace we didn’t use in the summer—except when it rained and we couldn’t cook our meals outside, kept her warm during the cold winters when she was there by herself.
There was no electricity or indoor plumbing, but the outhouse was only a few steps away from the back door so even going out in the middle of the night wasn’t scary. Each morning, it was my job to take the two wooden buckets to the fresh-water spring and make sure they were full for that day’s use. Back then, there were no cell phones or internet to miss in the absence of electricity.
In her younger days, grandma had built an outside firepit she still used to heat water for dishes and cook her meals. There was nowhere to take a bath or a shower. You either washed up when the water was heated up for dishes or you took a swim in the pond, the latter of which was my favorite.
I always looked forward to the time I’d spend with grandma during the summer. I respected and admired her. She was my hero. If something needed to get done, she could do it. All these years she’d survived, living on her own, far out in the woods, not depending on anyone but herself, or so I thought back then.
Many considered her odd, even crazy. The locals of the area avoided her. On the rare occasion she would venture into town—mostly before the onset of winter for supplies, people would cross the street to get away from her rather than walk or pass near her. They believed only a person who’d made a deal with the devil could survive out in the woods, alone, the way she did year after year.
She never hurt anyone, she was just different from them and because of that they treated her poorly and shunned her. Maybe this was why she hated the human race. She even hated my parents; her own daughter. I never understood why until I returned to her cabin, many years later, and found her diaries which told the strange story of her life as a young woman and the years right up until her death.
***
“YOU HAVE AN ENVELOPE on your desk that looks pretty interesting,” Sammy Jo said as Brenda walked by her cubicle.
“You been nosing around in my stuff again?” she said as she poked her head in to her friends work space.
“Of course, I have,” Sammy Jo answered. “What else are friends supposed to do?”
“You got me there. How’s the workload look for today?”
“Pretty light. We may even be able to take a longer than usual lunch break,” she answered smiling. “Go open the envelope. I’m dying to see what’s in it. It’s from some law firm down south.”
“Down south? The only one I knew from down in that area was my grandma and she died almost a year ago. I hadn’t seen her for at least fifteen years before that,” Brenda stated.
“Wasn’t she the one you used to spend time with in the summer?”
“Yea, she was. I loved her when no one else did. Now that I look back, though, she was kind of weird and a lot of things happened she just brushed off and told me to ignore.”
“It’s funny how trusting we are when we are younger,” Sammy Jo commented.
Brenda sat down at her desk and picked up the manila envelope. The return postmark was from Sawyer, Sawyer and Rose Law Firm in Little Tree, West Virginia. Her grandmother lived in Stone Creek which was just a few towns away from Little Tree. She carefully opened it and emptied out the contents.
A copy of her grandmother’s will, two sealed letters addressed to her in her grandmother’s handwriting and a letter from the law firm landed on her desk. First, she picked up the letter from a Patrick Sawyer, one of the firm’s partners.
He sent his condolences on her grandmother’s death and stated that he represented her estate. He apologized for it taking so long to get in touch with her, but her grandmother had been dead for several months at the cabin before anyone knew she’d passed and then they had to do a title search on the property Brenda was now about to inherit.
The will stated that Brenda was the only beneficiary listed and she would inherit everything in her grandmother’s estate, including the cabin and surrounding property on Valentine Pond.
It also stated her grandmother had several safety deposit boxes at the Little Tree Community Bank which held a large sum of cash grandma had received from insurance policies when her parents died. She had little use for money except when she needed winter supplies, so most of the money sat in the bank for many years, untouched. The attorneys, however, couldn’t find the keys that had been in her grandmother’s possession for said boxes.
“Well, are you going to keep me in suspense?” Sammy Jo yelled from the next cubicle.
“Come here,” Brenda answered.
“Check this out. According to my grandmother’s will, I’ve inherited everything from her, even the cabin I used to go to in the summer,” Brenda claimed. “Catch is, I’ve to go down to West Virginia to the attorney’s office and sign for everything.”
“Wow! I wonder how much money’s in the boxes,” Sammy Jo commented, perusing the papers Brenda handed her.
“Leave it up to you to find that part,” Brenda laughed. “Do you want to take some vacation time and go with me to West Virginia?”
“No offense, but I save my vacation time for the white beaches of the Caribbean and the tanned guys partying there,” Sammy Jo grinned.
“I figured as much,” Brenda chuckled. “Fine, I’ll go by myself. It might be nice to go back to the cabin again now I’m older. I wonder how much it’s changed in sixteen years.”
“Only one way to find out, girlfriend. When do you think you’ll go?”
“We’re in the middle of our down time right now, and I’d really like to go back to cabin in the summer. I hope the pond hasn’t dried up. I loved swimming there even though the stupid fish used to bite at my toes and bump into my legs,” she said, reminiscing.
Brenda and Sammy Jo owned and ran The Get-A-Way Express, a travel agency specializing in winter vacation traveling. The beginning of the summer was always the slow season for their business with a few walk-ins here and there setting up their cold weather escapes.
“That’s what’s nice about running your own business; you can take a vacation without asking the boss,” Sammy Jo stated. “We can cover while you are gone. One week or two?”
“I think I’ll plan on two. I have to drive down and back which will take four days right off the top. I’d like to spend a little while at the cabin going through grandma’s stuff and relaxing. And, I want to see exactly what’s in the big closet I was never allowed to go in to. Do you think you and Pat can handle things around here for that long?” Brenda said.
“No sweat. When are you leaving?”
“Probably Saturday morning. I’ll get down there by Sunday night and I can go to the attorney’s office on Monday morning before I go to the cabin. I’ll call them to set up an appointment right now,” Brenda said, reaching for her desk phone.
She spoke to Patrick Sawyer and set up an appointment for the following Monday morning at ten. Next, she called in a reservation for a room at the local bed and breakfast. The lady who answered the phone was pleasant until Brenda gave her name and credit card number, but she did confirm her room would be ready when she arrived Sunday night.
That was strange.
Brenda picked up one of the envelopes addressed to her in her grandma’s hand writing and opened it. Three small keys were taped to the bottom of the page. It was a short letter explaining what the keys were and the box numbers they were associated with at the bank.
“Well, now we know where the missing keys are,” Brenda said, folding the letter and placing it back in the envelope.
“Are you talking to me?” Sammy Jo asked, standing at the copier.
“No, just to myself,” Brenda answered.
She opened the second envelope. It, too, was a short letter, but very strange.
My dearest Brenda,
You were the only one who loved me for who I was. I know people talked about me behind my back. I could not let outsiders influence my thinking and actions knowing what my responsibilities were. When I am gone, it will be your turn to takeover and protect the innocent from the screamers of Valentine Pond. I cannot trust your mother to do it as she never believed a word I told her about them.
You’ll love living at the cabin once you get used to it. The winters will seem long at first, but they will provide you with plenty of company to see you through. I’m sorry to thrust this responsibility on you out of nowhere, but someone must live at the cabin or they will begin to kill innocent men again.
When you go to the cabin upon my death, look for my diaries. They’ll explain everything you need to know. You’ve already been touched by the spirits and they trust you. All the times you swam in the pond, it was them you felt grabbing at your legs, not fish as I told you when you were younger.
Be brave as there will be many things happen that you’ll not understand at first. I love you and have missed your visits.
Grandma
“Sammy Jo, you have to come read this,” Brenda called out to her friend.
She gave her the letter and waited a few minutes for her to read it before she spoke.
“So, what do you think?” Brenda asked. “Pretty weird, ha?”
“I think your grandma lost it in the last few years she was alive. Does she seriously think you’ll just pack up, give up your life here and move to the cabin forever? And screamers? Really? What the hell is a screamer?”
“I’ve no idea, but you know what’s strange? I can remember hearing screams coming from the pond area when I was little. Grandma used to tell me they were just wild animals and sound carried over the water and I didn’t have to be afraid,” Brenda confirmed.
“Don’t get sucked into your grandma’s illusions,” Sammy Jo warned. “I think all those years of living by herself she had to invent some kind of companionship to keep her sanity; even though it looks like she totally lost it in the end.”
“You’re probably right. It’ll be interesting to read her diaries, though,” Brenda admitted. “Okay, back to work. I need to go over the new graphics submitted for our new fall trips.”
Brenda didn’t get much accomplished the rest of the day. Her mind kept returning to the letter she’d read from her grandma and to the screamers of Valentine Pond.
Chapter 2
Brenda left at sunrise from Upstate New York. She planned on driving for five to six hours and then finding a hotel somewhere in southern Pennsylvania when she got tired. On Sunday morning she would leave after a good breakfast to complete the second leg of her journey arriving in Little Tree in the early afternoon.
As she drove the miles by herself, her mind kept returning to different events that happened at the cabin when she was younger which her grandma would just brush aside. She could remember hearing the screams on many occasions, but her grandma insisted it was racoons in the woods across the pond.
Then, there was the one night when she came out of the outhouse and a woman was standing several feet away from her; a woman she’d never seen before. At the time, she could’ve sworn she could see the trees right through the figure standing before her. They stood there, in the dark of the night, just staring at each other until the woman turned and walked away in the direction of the pond. Brenda never told her grandma about it because she was afraid she wouldn’t be allowed to come back if there were strangers in the area.
How many times did she complain to her grandma that it felt like hands were holding her legs when she would stand up in the water? Again, her grandma brushed it off as fish or eels swimming around her legs.
There were so many little things which happened that she could look back on now and not understand. Brushes, books and bracelets would disappear from where she’d put them down, only to show up somewhere else days later. She’d always chalked it up to her grandma moving them and forgetting she did.
Did she really want to go back to the cabin by herself? She had to, at least to get the diaries left behind. She chided herself for letting her grandma’s ramblings get the better of her.
That night at the hotel, she didn’t sleep very well. The woman she’d seen when she was younger kept appearing in her dreams and waving at her to come closer. She would take Brenda’s hand and lead her to the edge of the pond. Words were being spoken, but the lady’s lips weren’t moving.
‘The others want to meet you.’
At this point, she’d walk into the pond. Standing knee-deep in the water, she would just vaporize into thin air. Brenda was jolted out of a sound sleep twice from the same dream and couldn’t get back to sleep the second time it happened. She turned on the television hoping to be distracted from the reason that she was awake.
She dozed off sometime later, not waking up until housekeeping knocked at her door. Checking her watch, she realized she’d over-slept by four hours. She yelled to the women she’d be leaving in the next twenty minutes.
Packing quickly, she left without breakfast. She stopped at a gas station and topped off her tank and grabbed a coffee and muffin from the attached minimart. She bought some snacks and bottled water so she wouldn’t have to stop for lunch as she’d started out later than she’d planned to.
She turned on the music to shake the memories of last night’s dreams and drove on. Five hours later she pulled into Little Tree and parked in front of the bed and breakfast. She stepped out of the car and stretched. People walked by, staring at her and shaking their heads.
Wow! Word sure travels fast around here.
She grabbed her pocketbook and suitcase and entered the Red Rose. There was no one at the front desk so she rang the little bell sitting on the counter. An older woman appeared in the doorway behind the desk. She stopped short in her tracks, her eyes growing wide.
“You look just like your grandma,” she whispered.
“You knew my grandma?” Brenda inquired as the woman walked forward.
“Yes, I knew her for many years. We went to school together,” she answered. “Flora and I used to be very close.”
“What happened? Why did you stop being friends?” Brenda asked. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“My name’s Margie Evans. As to your first question, when we were seventeen we went on a double date for Valentine’s Day. After the movie, each couple went their different way. Your grandma and her date went to Valentine Pond to make-out. I don’t know what happened out there, but Tommy Holden was never seen again, and your grandma changed drastically,” she commented.
“What do you mean she changed?”
“She started to skip school and would be found out at the abandoned cabin on Valentine Pond. She had no memory of what happened to Tommy that night and the police could never prove anything as they never found his body. Flora never graduated high school. After a while, her mother and father gave up trying to reason with her. She withdrew more and more from the people who loved her and started staying at the cabin all the time.”
“Couldn’t her parents do anything to bring her home?”
“By then, she was eighteen and pregnant. No one knew who the father was, but it was assumed it was Tommy. Anyway, their hands were tied as she was considered an adult. I tried to go visit her at the cabin; she asked me to leave and never come back. When her parents died, she used some of the insurance money to buy the property and after that, she never left the woods except occasionally to come to town for needed supplies.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“The state stepped in and took the child away. They deemed your grandma unfit and your mother was put up for adoption. She was fostered by a local family and grew up three towns away from her mother. She was never officially adopted so her last name remained the same as your grandma’s. Your mom had you out of wedlock, married and then moved away. But, I guess she eventually started talking to her mother again because you came to visit every summer.”
“I remember when I came to visit my grandma and when we would come into town, people would stare and avoid contact with her at all costs,” Brenda stated.
“Locals thought she was a witch and made a pact with the Devil to survive all the years out in the woods by herself. They were afraid of her. They were afraid for you when you came to visit her.”
“That’s crazy. My grandma was a strong, independent woman who could accomplish whatever she needed to do to live in the woods,” Brenda insisted. “She was just different, that’s all and people didn’t understand her.”
“You’ll never convince anyone around here of that,” the woman said, turning the registration book towards Brenda. “And, please, don’t go out to the cabin by yourself at night. Strange things happen out there; things that have no explanation.”
“I’m only here to see the attorneys who are in charge of my grandma’s estate. I’ll go out to the cabin, during the day, to find certain things I remember being there from my childhood. I’ve no intention of staying or living in the cabin,” Brenda informed Margie while signing the book.
“That makes me feel a little better,” the woman said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Your rooms at the top of the stairs on the left. Breakfast is served at eight. Please, be careful. Your family isn’t well liked around here.”
“I will and thanks for the warning. And thank you for telling me about my grandma when no one else would,” Brenda stated.
“Flora was my best friend... until she... never mind,” the inn keeper said as she walked off.
Brenda entered the room that would be her safe haven for the next two weeks. It was small, clean and had its own bathroom. She unpacked and hung up her clothes in the tiny closet. Sitting on the window seat and scanning the center of town for a restaurant to go to for supper, she happened to look down at her car. She ran from her room past Mrs. Evans.
Someone had defaced the driver’s side of her car with spray paint. The words, GO HOME, ran the entire length of her car in bright red paint.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Evans commented, coming up behind Brenda. “I’ll call the sheriff.”
“Thank you, I’ll wait here for him,” Brenda stated, frowning.
Minutes later a cruiser pulled up alongside Brenda’s car. A well-built, middle-aged man, stepped out of the car and introduced himself as Sheriff Gary Holmes.
“I wasn’t even inside for a half an hour,” Brenda complained.
“You look just like your grandmother,” he said, staring at her.
“So, I’ve been told,” Brenda stated. “What about my car?”
“I have to be truthful. Your family is not looked on favorably in this area. People won’t speak up even if they know who did this,” he admitted. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here?”
“I do mind and I want to know what you are going to do about my car?” Brenda demanded.
“I told you, there’s not much I can do. I’ll file a report, but I wouldn’t hold my breath anything will come out of it,” he answered honestly.
“Great! So, I’m just supposed to accept the damage done and ride around with this on my car?” Brenda asked.
“You could go to the carwash and see if most of the paint will wash off,” he suggested. “It doesn’t look like it has dried all the way yet.”
“Are you serious?” Brenda demanded, staring at the sheriff.
“I don’t know what else to tell you, except to give you some advice. Finish whatever you’re here to do and go home. I can’t protect you from the whole town and I don’t know just how far the locals will go to get you to leave,” he stated.
“I guess you leave me no option but to call the state police over in Towers Point and file a report with them,” she stated.
“You can do that, but they’re four hundred miles away and I can tell you right now they won’t make the trek here for paint on a car,” he replied. “But, hey, do what you have to do.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Brenda said.
“I’m the only law around here and you don’t want to get on my bad side,” he said, firmly.
“Are you threatening me?” Brenda demanded.
“No, just stating facts. Watch your backside while you are here; I can’t be everywhere,” the sheriff said, walking back to his car. “And Miss Hills, take my advice. Leave as soon as you can.”
She watched the sheriff drive away with a smug look on his face. Her brand-new car was ruined, and he wasn’t going to do a damn thing about it. She was pissed.
“He thinks he’s God’s gift to the world and to woman,” Mrs. Evans said, coming up behind her. “I’d rather let someone walk away with everything in my inn that call him to help me.”
“How did he become sheriff?” Brenda said.
“Many years ago, his dad was the sheriff here and he was as crooked as the day is long. One night he mysteriously disappeared and Gary, his son, stepped into the job daring anyone to challenge him or remove him from the position. He’s been sheriff ever since,” she answered.
“What happened to his father?”
“No one knows. He went out on a call to Valentine Pond and was never seen again,”
“Valentine Pond, huh?” Brenda mumbled.
“The sheriff won’t go anywhere near the pond. If you get into trouble out at your grandmother’s cabin, he won’t come help you. He’s terrified of the area and no one knows why,” Mrs. Evans informed her. “Be very careful out there; you’ll be totally on your own.”
“I guess I’ll go to the carwash and see how much of this paint I can clean off. Can you point me in the direction I need to go?”
“It’s right on the outskirts of town, that way,” Mrs. Evans said, pointing. “Make sure you have quarters with you as the whole thing is automated.”
“Thanks. I’m going to go grab my purse. Thank you for all your help,” Brenda commented.
“Unfortunately, the sheriff is right. I may be the only one around here that wasn’t afraid of your family, so be careful.”
“I will.”
She drove to the car wash and ran her car through hoping the hot water would wash off most of the paint. The words could still be seen even after some scrubbing and being run through a second time. She accepted the fact when she got home her car would need a paint job.
Brenda returned to the bed and breakfast, parking in the same spot she’d left not long ago. Crossing the street, she entered the diner to grab some supper. She sat at the counter and picked up a menu. Several people were already sitting at the counter got up and moved away from her. Now, she was mad.
“What have I ever done to you people?” she demanded loudly, looking from face to face. “I’m here to sign off on my grandmother’s estate and nothing else. Believe me, I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to and be around such rude and ignorant people. Just let me take care of my business and leave me alone.”
Brenda picked up the menu for a second time and opened it. She could hear whispering all around her. She was hungry as she hadn’t eaten anything but a few snacks in her car as she drove. She waited patiently for a waitress to come take her order, but no one came near her.
“Are you serious?” she said, looking at the two waitresses standing at the end of the counter staring at her. “I can’t even get anything to eat?”
They didn’t move. She closed the menu and slammed it down on the counter.
“Rude and ignorant; just like I said,” she yelled, walking out the door.
Brenda returned to the bed and breakfast. She was met at the door by Mrs. Evans.
“Follow me,” she suggested.
She led Brenda into the dining room where a turkey club sandwich, potato chips and a tall glass of sweet iced tea were sitting on the table. A piece of peach pie sat at the side of the silverware for dessert.
“I figured they wouldn’t feed you,” she said, shaking her head.
“Thank you. I am so hungry,” Brenda replied, sitting down and taking a big bite of the sandwich.
Mrs. Evans sat down with her after going to the kitchen and coming back with a cup of hot tea. She kept staring at Brenda like she wanted to tell her something, but was afraid to.
“How much do you really know about your grandmother’s life?” she finally said.
“Not much. I only came to stay with her for two or three weeks during the summer while my parents traveled with the church. I hadn’t seen her for fifteen years prior to her dying a year ago,” she answered between bites. “Why?”
“Do you ever have weird dreams or know when things are going to happen before they happen?”
“Everyone has weird dreams, and no to the second part of your question.”
“Your grandmother scared a lot of people around here. They thought she was in bed with the devil, but I knew better. She was psychic, and she had been since we were in first grade.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your grandmother could talk to spirits and could see into the future. She knew years before Tommy Holden died that he was going to die out at the pond and she strongly opposed to going out there on Valentine’s night,” Mrs. Evans replied. “She told me he wouldn’t come back...and she was right.”
“Do you think she killed him?” Brenda said, putting down her sandwich.
“No, I most certainly do not. But, I’m in the minority in thinking that way,” the inn keeper answered.
“So, tell me. What do you think happened to Tommy Holden?” Brenda inquired.
“I think the screamers got him,” she replied, frowning.
Chapter 3
What do you know about the screamers?” Brenda asked, her mouth dropping open.
“I know plenty,” she replied.
“My grandmother wrote me a letter before she died and mentioned the screamers in the letter,” Brenda said. “I thought she’d just lost her mind in her later years.”
“They do exist,” Mrs. Evans said, solemnly. “And the reason I know they exist is that my sister is one of them.”
“Your sister is one of them?” Brenda repeated in shock. “And you know this, how?”
“Flora told me. She saw her and talked to her at the pond.”
“My grandmother saw her?”
“She saw her many years ago when she first started to visit the cabin. My sister told her that she’d been murdered by The Valentine Killer and her body, along with ten others, were weighted down at the bottom of the pond,” Mrs. Evans replied.
“Did anyone go to the police to report she was murdered?”
“Oh, we tried. But, Gary’s father, who was sheriff at the time, laughed at us and Flora’s claim she talked to her. He told us my sister probably ran off with her no-good boyfriend who she was dating at the time,” she answered angrily.
“Why are they called screamers?”
“I asked your grandmother that. It seems they were all killed in the pond. In between being held under the water, when they surfaced they would gasp for air and scream at their killer. It is their screams which can still be heard to this day.”
“Was the Valentine Killer ever caught?”
“No. Two more girls disappeared after my sister did, and then the killings just stopped.”
“The sheriff never had any leads as to who it was?” Brenda asked.
“If he did, he never had a chance to tell anyone. Not long after the last victim disappeared, the Myers girl, he vanished. He was going out to talk to your grandmother and never returned.”
“So, let me guess. The towns people think my grandmother killed him, too,” Brenda replied.
“Yes, they do, and it didn’t help that Gary fueled the fire by running his mouth around town for months after his father’s death that she did it,” Mrs. Evans stated.
“Everything seems to be connected to Valentine Pond and my grandmother,” Brenda surmised.
“That’s why I am begging you to only go there during the day,” she pleaded.
“I’ve a meeting with the attorney’s in the morning and then I was going to go out to the cabin. I want to find my grandmother’s diaries. She told me in the letter they would tell me everything I needed to know,” Brenda stated.
“Please be out of there before dusk.”
“I promise I’ll be back here by four o’clock.”
“I tried to find her diaries, you know. I searched the cabin, but couldn’t find them. I think someone had been there before me and was looking for them, too. The cabin had been pretty much ripped apart. I don’t know if whoever was there ahead of me found them or not, but I never did.”
“Maybe, the name of the Valentine Killer is somewhere in the diary entries,” Brenda suggested.
“Could be,” the older lady agreed. “I hope you find them, but just remember to be out of there before dusk. That’s when all the strange things happen.”
“Strange things?”
“That’s when the screamers come out of the pond in search of males in the area to seek their revenge.”
“My grandmother said that in her letter, too. She said I had to move to the cabin to keep the screamers from killing innocent men,” Brenda mumbled. “Do you think Tommy Holden and Gary’s father were two of their victims?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure your grandmother wrote about it in her diaries; she recorded everything daily.”
“Mrs. Evans, are you being serious with me or are you having fun at my expense?”
“Brenda Hills, I’ve never been more serious in my life. The screamers really do exist, and your grandmother kept them at bay while she lived at the cabin. If she wrote that in your letter, she assumed you would do the same thing.”
“I’m not living at the cabin. I’ve a good life back in New York, running my own travel agency, living in a beautiful house and socializing with my friends.”
“It isn’t your responsibility to stay at the cabin and your grandmother never should’ve asked you. Just go get the diaries and get out of there before dark.”
“I will and thank you for talking to me and understanding why I don’t want to live in the woods like she did. When I find them, we can read them together, here at the bed and breakfast,” Brenda stated. “I think I’m going to go to bed early. Thank you again for supper and I’ll see you in the morning.”
That night, Brenda was visited by the lady in the white dress in her dreams. She insisted Brenda walk to the pond with her. This time, Brenda tried to ask questions before the ghost walked into the water and disappeared; questions the ghost did not answer. But, this time, Brenda was not afraid.
Chapter 4
The sun was shining as Brenda crawled out of bed. She showered and was sitting at the breakfast table by ten to eight. Four other people joined her at the table. They were polite and sociable to Brenda, so she could only assume they were visitors to town like she was and didn’t know about her family history.
Following breakfast, she went out and checked to see if there had been any further damage done to her car. The four tires were intact and there was no more paint anywhere she could see. The attorney’s office was only five minutes away walking time, but rather than leave her car sitting there unguarded, she drove.
The whole meeting was over in fifteen minutes, Brenda signed several papers, was given the new deed to the cabin property now in her name and copies of all the paperwork she’d need to gain access to the safety deposit boxes. Separate forms had to be filled out for her grandmother’s insurance policy—finished off the package of paperwork.
She thanked them for all their help, and they told her if she had any questions or problems with the estate to just give them a call. The bank was on the same street, so Brenda decided to go there next.
She gave them the paperwork from the attorney’s and produced her grandmother’s letter with the three keys. The assistant manager led her into the secured safety deposit area and inserted the bank’s keys in the corresponding boxes. He turned and left her to her privacy.
The first box contained nothing but cash. Banded twenties totaled ten thousand dollars. The second box contained the same amount. It was the contents of the third box which caught Brenda’s attention. Two leather bound diaries sat in the bottom of the deposit box, tied together with a purple ribbon. She carefully undid the bow and released the books.
The diaries covered a time span from when her grandmother was an early teenager up until she gave birth to her daughter and she was taken from her by the state. Brenda realized something very important must be in these diaries to lock them up the way she had. She tucked them in the bottom of her purse and covered them with her wallet and other items so they wouldn’t be seen leaving the bank.
She called the assistant manager and requested the money be changed into two ten-thousand-dollar bank checks made out to her and the ownership of the boxes be forfeited. He took the money and said he would return momentarily with her checks.
Brenda left the bank after asking to use the bathroom as she was heading to the cabin next and didn’t know if the outhouse was even still in existence. Besides, she really didn’t want to use it after it sat unused for over a year with the spiders and God knows what else living in it.
She left for Stone Creek which was two towns away from Little Tree. Ten minutes later she was turning down the dirt road that led to her grandmother’s cabin. The over growth had crawled past the edge of the road in many places forcing Brenda to slow down to a crawl to get down to the pond’s edge.
Pulling up next to the cabin, she sat in the car looking out over the pond’s reflective water. The afternoon breeze had ceased to exist, and the air was hot and stifling. She exited the car to look around.
As she walked, she felt cool breezes chill her skin as if she’d walked into a refrigerator and out again. She stopped walking twice, thinking she heard whispering. Brenda was positive she heard someone say, “she’s here.” She looked around, but there was no one is sight.
The fire pit was still there just as Brenda remembered it as a young girl. Some of the rocks had fallen free from the wall and were lying next to the pit. The grate her and grandmother had cooked many meals on had fallen inside the stone structure and was mostly buried by charred wood and seasonal leaves. A loud bump seemed to come from the opposite side of the pit from where she was standing.
Her skin crawled as she slowly walked to the side the sound came from. A large stone had come loose from the wall and was sitting on the dirt. Thinking to herself she should just get in her car and leave; she couldn’t do it.
She knelt next to the opening in the wall from where the stone had been dislodged. She couldn’t see anything in the hole.
‘Go ahead, reach in.’
She whipped her head around expecting someone to be standing behind her; but there was no one. Her heart was racing.
‘Reach in and take it. She wanted you to have it.’
“Who wanted me to have it? Where are you; show yourself,” Brenda demanded.
It got quiet again, the coolness was gone, and the stickiness returned to the air. Brenda slowly reached into the hole.
“I’m probably going to get bit by a poisonous spider and die out here,” she thought, reaching deeper into the hole.
At the very bottom of the hole, her fingers grasped onto a book. She pulled it out into the sunlight and saw that it was another one of her grandmother’s journals. She flipped through it and saw the final entry had been made right before she died or close to as no one really knew the exact date she passed.
Brenda took the book to her car. She placed the journal in her purse with the other ones and locked and alarmed the car.
The outhouse was still standing at the back of the house. As she tugged open the door, a squirrel jumped out of the darkness at her and almost gave her a heart attack. He had claimed the space as his own and built a huge nest on the rotting wood next to the toilet seat opening.
“Damn squirrel,” she muttered, closing the door.
Walking to the water’s edge, she so badly wanted to stick her hand into the pond and spread some of its cool water on her face.
‘Go ahead; we won’t harm you. Your grandmother said you would return to help us.’
“All right. This isn’t funny anymore,” Brenda yelled, scanning the property around her.
Silence.
“If you’re living in the cabin, that’s fine. I’m not going to stay here so you can continue to use the place as your home,” she yelled into the woods. “Just come out and show yourself.”
Silence again.
Brenda reached into the water. It felt cool and inviting. Leaving her hand dangling in the water, she looked out over Valentine Pond. It was just as she remembered it many years ago. Maybe there were a few more stumps and dead trees sticking up out of the water, but it hadn’t really changed at all in sixteen years.
She rubbed some of the cool water over her face; it was refreshing. She returned her hand to the water for a second scoopful. She felt it; a hand was holding onto her wrist. It was the same kind of feeling she’d experienced when she swam in the pond years ago and the hands held her legs. It wasn’t fish, she knew that now. She yanked her hand out of the water and fell backwards, landing on her ass. She sat there, staring at the water trying to see something; anything, but there was just water.
“Pull yourself together, Brenda. You’re letting two old lady’s ramblings get to you. Get up off your ass and go in and find the diaries,” she said out loud.
She got up, took a deep breath and walked to the cabin door. Brenda reached for the doorknob, but the door swung open by itself. She froze. Her breaths came in short, shallow bursts. She knew she should get in the car, leave and never come back, but her feet wouldn’t move the way her brain was telling them to.
‘Go to into the cabin; I hid my diaries there’.
It was her grandmother’s voice, she was sure of it. But, she was dead.
‘Turn around...this is who you must help.’
Brenda didn’t want to turn, but her grandmother’s will was stronger than her own. She watched in stark terror as figures rose up out of the pond and walked on top of the water towards shore; her grandmother leading the way. Blurry white figures, short in stature, with their hands held out in front of them as if asking Brenda to take hold and help them, were advancing her way.
She felt death all around her. It was choking her. Something bad happened here; not once, but many times over. The sun was shining, and it was ninety degrees, but Brenda was covered in goose bumps. The air surrounding her body was cold and she felt like she was standing in a walk-in freezer. She could see her breath as she released short little gasps of fear.
‘Help us...in many different voices filled her ears. She covered her ears and tried to block out the voices, but couldn’t.’
It was then her brain and her feet started to work together again. She ran down off the porch, and put her key in the door lock forgetting she’d set the alarm. The shrill sound echoed in the woods around her. She hit the button on her key and the noise stopped. Jumping in the car, she locked all the doors and tried to catch her breath.
She looked out at the pond and they were gone. There wasn’t a single ripple on the surface of the water where they had just been. Was she losing her mind? She felt her arm; it was ice cold. No, she hadn’t imagined it, it really happened.
Brenda decided she’d had enough for one day. She started the engine and drove towards the cabin to turn the car around. As she put the car in reverse, she watched the door to the cabin close on its own.
‘See you tomorrow, my dear sweet Brenda. You can help us, I know you are strong enough.’
She hit the gas so hard she almost backed her car into the pond, stopping just as the rear tires hit the water. Fearful they would drag her and her car in, she shifted into drive and tore up the dirt road away from the cabin. Brenda ran over brush, roots and anything else that got in her way. She only slowed down when she hit the main road back to Little Tree.
Back at the bed and breakfast, she raced up the stairs to the safety of her room. Mrs. Evans had seen her fly by the front desk and ran up the stairs after her.
“Brenda, are you okay?” the elderly woman asked, knocking on the door. “Brenda?”
She opened the door, her hands still trembling.
“You saw them, didn’t you?” she asked Brenda quietly.
“The screamers are real. I saw them; they came out of the pond,” she stammered.
“I’m truly surprised they came out during the day,” Mrs. Evans said, gently backing Brenda up and closing the door so no one else would hear their conversation.
“My grandmother was with them,” she mumbled.
“I figured Flora would stick around to see things through,” Mrs. Evans replied. “Did you find the diaries?”
“I found two in one of the safety deposit boxes at the bank,” holding up the three books.
“And the third?”
“Someone, or something, knocked a large stone out of the firepit wall and told me to look into the opening,” Brenda answered. “The book was in the hole.”
“I bet it was your grandmother,” Mrs. Evans stated.
“Why are these journals so important?” Brenda asked, sitting on the window seat.
“Somewhere in those journals is the Valentine Killer’s name. And until he’s brought to justice, the screamers will continue to kill any males who wander into the pond area. It’s like they’re stuck there searching for the man who killed them and until he is found, they can’t move on,” she answered.
“Do you think my grandmother knew who the killer was?”
“She once said to me her daughter was the product of the devil. I believe the night she and Tommy went to the pond, he wanted more than Flora wanted to give him. He got mad, drove away and your grandmother was left there alone. I think the Valentine Killer came out of the woods and raped your grandmother and was in the process of drowning her when Tommy returned looking for her.”
“My grandmother hated my mother. I wonder if that was why,” Brenda pondered.
“I think Tommy found Flora in the water, alive, but the screamers came out of the water and dragged him away. I personally think that that was the first night Flora ever saw the screamers. She was never the same after that night,” Mrs. Evans stated, sitting down next to Brenda. “One night, before she stopped talking to me all together, I asked her if that was what happened. She would never come right out and tell me, but she didn’t deny it either.”
A faint glow materialized in the far corner of the room. It grew to a full-size figure as the stunned women watched from the window seat. The white mist floated towards them. The elderly woman grabbed for Brenda’s hand and wouldn’t let go.
‘Hello, Margie, my dearest friend.’
“Flora?”
‘Yes, it’s me. Hello again, Brenda. You still have my diaries?’
“I can hear your words, but I don’t see you speaking, Flora,” Mrs. Evans stated.
‘I can’t stay long. Read my diaries and go to the state police for help.”
“I know Gary Holmes is an idiot, but can’t he help us?” the inn keeper asked.
‘NO! DO NOT trust him! You will read why. He knows...and he hides everything.
“Flora, I missed you,” Mrs. Evans said. “I wanted to help you, but you wouldn’t let me.”
‘I didn’t want you to get hurt. Your mother had already lost your sister, she couldn’t lose you, too. Stella sends her love and wants me to tell you she’s sorry she didn’t listen to you the night of the party and stay home. She wants you to stop blaming yourself for her disappearance.’
“Tell Stella that I love her,” Mrs. Evan sobbed.
‘I have to go. Someone is at the cabin that doesn’t belong there. Read and learn.’
The ghost grew smaller and smaller until it was totally gone. The coldness in the room left with it. The two women sat in silence taking in everything that they had just witnessed.
“I knew my sister was one of the screamers. I could feel it,” Mrs. Evans finally said, breaking the silence.
“I’ve only found three of her diaries. There’s a large gap in between the first two and the last one,” Brenda stated. “I have to go back to the cabin and find the other diaries.”
“Not tonight,” Mrs. Evans insisted. “How about I make us some supper and we read the diaries together? Two sets of eyes will read quicker and maybe you won’t have to go back there if we find what we need in the ones you’ve found.”
“Sounds good to me,” Brenda agreed. “I missed lunch. I’m going to shower and then I’ll be down to help you.”
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” the elderly woman agreed.
Chapter 5
At four-thirty, both women were sitting in the dining room table eating a nice steak and baked potato dinner. Each had a diary at the side of their plate, reading while they were eating.
Occasionally, they would stop eating and read an interesting passage out loud which needed to be discussed. Brenda had the first diary and Mrs. Evans, the second.
“Listen to this,” Brenda said, excitedly. “I can’t believe I was such an idiot to think the sheriff would help me. He’s going to protect his son no matter what. I can’t make anyone understand they are hiding behind the office he holds.”
“Protect his son from what?” Mrs. Evans wondered.
“I don’t know, but I’ll keep reading.”
They were so engrossed in their reading they didn’t see the sheriff had entered the dining room and was watching them. When Brenda finally looked up and saw the sheriff standing there, she closed her diary, grabbed the one Mrs. Evans was reading and put them both under her leg.
“Can I help you with something, sheriff?” Mrs. Evans said.
“Nope. I just came to see if Miss Hills knows when she’ll be leaving now her meeting with the attorney is done.”
“I can’t see where it is any of your business. I’ll leave when I see fit and not until,” Brenda insisted. “Is there anything else?”
“I’m just letting you know if something happens to you, I won’t be held responsible as I warned you about staying here and the consequences,” he informed her.
“And just what is going to happen to my guest?” Mrs. Evans said, standing up.
“I don’t know; I’m just saying,” he insisted.
“Sheriff, it’s time for you to leave. You’re disturbing our supper and I consider it quite rude. If there’s nothing else, show yourself out the front door,” Mrs. Evans demanded, walking towards him.
“I’m going, but don’t take my warning lightly,” he admonished.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re threatening my guest.”
“Don’t get involved in this, Margie; you have to live here,” he warned.
“Get out! Get out and don’t come back,” she demanded.
“You’ll be sorry you sided with that one,” he yelled, going out the door.
Mrs. Evans returned to the table after making sure the front door was locked.
“Did you see the fear on his face? He was staring at my grandmother’s diaries,” Brenda stated.
“We have to find somewhere special to hide these tonight. I don’t have a safe on the premises,” she commented. “And I’ve a sneaky feeling our friend, the sheriff, will be back to get them.”
“Just before he so rudely interrupted our meal, I found something you have to hear,” Brenda said, taking the two books out from under her legs. “Let me find it again.”
She flipped through the diary until she came to the page where she left off reading.
“My body is starting to show the evidence of that dreadful night. God, how I hate this evil thing growing inside me. Every time it moves, I relive staring into the face of the Valentine Killer while he ravaged my body. If Tommy hadn’t come back when he did, I would surely have been dead at the hands of Gary Holmes. Sometimes, I wish he’d succeeded in my demise.”
“Gary Holmes is the Valentine Killer? That would mean he started killing when he was only sixteen years old. It’s no wonder the killer was never found. As Flora said, the father covered it up and his son continued to kill. That’s why she insisted we had to go to the state police and not the sheriff.”
“I wonder why he suddenly stopped?” Brenda puzzled.
“Let’s keep reading. Maybe Flora will tell us why.”
Silence overtook the room as the two women kept reading.
“I think I know why he stopped,” Mrs. Evans claimed. “Gary Holmes witnessed his father being dragged into the water by the screamers. Valentine Pond was his killing grounds; it’s why he was dubbed the Valentine Killer. He couldn’t go back after that, so the killings stopped.”
“I thought he got the name because he killed on Valentine’s Day,” Brenda commented.
“No, the girls disappeared at all different times of the year. I never understood why the killer didn’t go back and finish what he started with your grandmother. Why didn’t he go back and kill her? Why would he leave a witness alive?”
“Maybe, the screamers protected her,” Brenda suggested.
“Listen to this... Sheriff Holmes is here looking for Gary. I heard a girl screaming off in the distance. We both ran through the woods, yelling Gary’s name, trying to help the doomed girl. We found her floating, facedown, in the water, dead. Gary was nowhere. As the sheriff stepped knee deep into the water to bring the victim’s body onto dry land, I saw them. They were coming for the wrong person. Sheriff Holmes let out a yell. Something had grabbed his legs and dragged him under. He came up sputtering, screaming for help. Gary came out from the woods and watched as the screamers dragged his father out to the middle of the pond. He went under and never came up again. That night, Angie, the girl in the white dress came to me. She said he knew and did nothing to stop the killings. He did nothing to bring peace to the families that were left behind. He had to be punished for his son’s wrong doings.”
“Well, it certainly explains the sheriff’s sudden disappearance. And Gary saw it happen, but he couldn’t tell anyone because they would want to know why he was out there in the first place,” Brenda stated. “And, besides, who would believe him?”
“So, he did the next best thing. He told everyone in town his dad went out to see Flora and he never returned from the visit.”
“And because of my grandmother’s reputation, people assumed she killed the sheriff and disposed of him,” Brenda finished.
“We need to bring these diaries to the state police. They might think we’re crazy, but we have to do it,” Mrs. Evans stated. “Maybe then, they will dredge the pond and the screamers bodies will be found and they can find some peace.”
“I’m going back to the cabin tomorrow and actually go inside. Maybe the diaries my grandmother wrote in between these two will fill in more information and give some of the girl’s names the Valentine Killer disposed of in the pond,” Brenda said, holding up diary number two and three.
“You have to extra careful now the sheriff knows you found Flora’s books. I bet he’s been looking for them ever since she died.”
“I will. Besides, after what they did to his father, I doubt he’d go near the place,” Brenda replied.
“Desperation breeds stupidity; and Gary is pretty desperate right now.”
“I’m going to hide the books up in my room. I won’t tell you where just in case he comes back. And then, you can truly say you don’t know where they are,” Brenda said, standing up and taking her dish to the kitchen. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Goodnight.”
Brenda retired to her room and Mrs. Evans started to wash up the few dished that were in the sink. Catching a flash of light out the window, she saw the sheriff standing in her back yard. He took out his gun and waved it in her direction. She left the rest of the dishes undone, double checked all the locks on the first-floor doors and went to her second-floor bedroom to hide.
Chapter 6
Brenda came down in the morning and heard her hostess shuffling about in the kitchen. It was eight o’clock and no breakfast was on the buffet table like it usually was. Mrs. Evans was running behind schedule. Brenda suggested she slow down and not worry about breakfast as it was only for the two of them and there were no other guests registered. The elderly woman collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs.
“What is the matter?” Brenda asked concerned for her hostess.
“He was here last night,” she answered. “After you went to bed.”
“The sheriff?”
“Yes, I was doing the dishes and he was standing in the backyard staring in the window at me. He took out his gun and waved it at me as a warning,” she replied, her fearing apparent in her voice.
“That settles it. You’ve no new guests checking in until tomorrow, right?” Brenda asked, pouring a cup of coffee.
“Tomorrow at eleven,” the elderly woman answered.
“You need to get dressed; you’re coming with me to the cabin. I’ll not leave you here by yourself,” Brenda stated.
“I haven’t been out there since Flora told me not to return,” she said hesitantly.
“We’ll be safer together. And I’ve a feeling if anything happened, your sister would be there to protect you,” Brenda advised her friend.
“Do you think I might see her again?”
“You never know,” she answered. “Go get dressed so we can be back before dusk.”
Brenda hid the diaries in her purse. They double checked the bed and breakfast was securely locked and drove away under the watchful eye of the sheriff.
“He knows we left,” Mrs. Evans whispered.
“Don’t worry. I called my friend in New York last night and told her what was going on. She knows where we are going today and why. I also have my cell phone with me and it’s fully charged,” Brenda assured her.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. Brenda kept an eye on the rear-view mirror watching for the sheriff, but he never appeared. Arriving at the cabin, Mrs. Evans hesitated on getting out of the car.
“Are you okay?” Brenda asked.
“It just brings back so many memories, knowing this was the last place my sister was alive,” she replied.
“We won’t stay any longer than we have to,” Brenda promised. “Do you want to stay in the car? We can lock it if it would make you feel safer.”
“No, I’d feel safer going in with you,” she announced. “Let’s go find those diaries. I want Holmes to pay for what he did to my sister.”
The two women walked up to the cabin door. Just like last time, it opened on its own. Mrs. Evan grabbed for Brenda’s hand.
“It’s okay,” Brenda said, sensing her grandmother’s spirit around her.
They entered the cabin. It had been ripped apart like someone was looking for something.
“This is where Flora spent all her years?”
“Yes, she did. It looked quite different then, though. Okay, we must assume Holmes never found the diaries because of his response when he saw the ones we were reading at the dining room table?”
“When you were here during the summer, did she have a favorite place? Somewhere you weren’t allowed to go?”
“Her closet. I was never allowed in her closet,” Brenda answered.
“Let’s start there.”
‘NO!’
The women turned in the direction the voice had come from. Standing just inside the cabin door was Brenda’s grandmother and the young woman Brenda had seen at the outhouse that night. It was the same spirit who’d come to her in her dreams.
“Stella...” Mrs. Evans uttered.
‘Hello, Margie. It’s been too many years.’
“I’m so sorry, Stella...” Mrs. Evans said, tearing up.
‘For what, Margie? It was me who snuck out that night to go to the party. The party you told me to stay away from’.
“I should have come to get you.”
‘How could you? You didn’t know where Gary Holmes had taken me. You need to let go of the guilt you’ve been carrying around all these years.
“The last time I came to visit Flora, I felt you near me. I knew you were one of the screamers. I knew the Valentine Killer had murdered you and then Flora confirmed it,” Margie sobbed. “But, until last night, I’d no idea who the killer was.”
‘We have made some terrible mistakes; innocent boys and men were taken by us in revenge while we protected girls we thought to be in danger. We thought we were protecting them from bad men.
“Is that why you stayed here all these years, Flora? You said you had to protect the innocent.”
‘That is why I stayed.’
“We know who the Valentine killer is now, but we need the rest of your diaries to help us identify the bodies in the lake, Grandma,” Brenda said, “Where are they hidden?
‘Go to the fireplace. The large stone with the heart etched into it is loose. It will release from the wall to reveal the missing diaries.’
Brenda rushed to the fieldstone fireplace. Digging her finger nails into the sunken edge around the heart stone, she grabbed hold and wiggled it until it came free. Four diaries were hidden behind the stone.
“I have them, Grandma!” she exclaimed.
“We need to get these to the state police,” Mrs. Evans insisted.
“Don’t worry. I called them this morning and asked they meet us here at noon,” Brenda stated. “They should be arriving very shortly.”
The others are waiting at the pond’s edge.
“Come on, Mrs. Evans. Let’s go meet the screamers,” Brenda suggested. “We have the diaries and suddenly, I’m not afraid anymore.”
They walked out to the edge of the pond. White, wispy figures hovered above the water. Flora and Stella had joined them. The spirits opened their mouths and God-awful screams seemed to emanate from each one. The shrill screams made Brenda’s skin crawl.
“Those screams were the ones I heard coming over the water when I used to visit my grandmother,” Brenda stated.
“It’s frightful,” Mrs. Evans commented.
One by one, the figures vaporized until Brenda’s grandmother was the only one left.
‘Run! Get in your car.’
Before Brenda could ask why, a man’s voice rang out behind them. They turned to see Gary Holmes standing there, gun drawn.
“Give me the diaries,” he ordered.
“You shouldn’t be here. Do you want to end up like your father did; at the bottom of the pond?” Mrs. Evans said.
“Everyone knows the screamers don’t come out during the day. They only come out at night, because it’s when I killed them,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve been up here during the day searching for those damn diaries and I’ve never seen or heard them.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t come out if need be,” Brenda threatened.
“Now, give me the diaries,” he commanded.
Brenda set the books on the ground in front of her and stepped away. She saw the state police coming up the dirt road on foot, approaching the sheriff from behind. He had no idea he was finally going to be held responsible for all the women he’d murdered all those years ago. His hidden identity, The Valentine Killer, was finally going to be made public.
“Where are the rest of them? The ones you found last time you were here?” he demanded, waving the gun in Brenda’s face.
“They’re in my purse in the car,” she answered, watching the state police duck down behind her vehicle.
Holmes was watching her eyes. He turned to see what was so interesting. Seeing nothing, he ordered the two women to move away from the diaries sitting on the ground. He picked them up, his back to the water and a smile crossed his face.
“When I get the other books, you two will be history. You’ll be joining your dear family members I drowned in the pond years ago. The Valentine Killer will be able to go on the prowl again,” he boasted.
Screams that chilled to the bone broke the still air. The state police jumped up from behind the car and covered their ears with their hands. Brenda grabbed Mrs. Evans and pulled her to the other side of the car where the state police were standing.
Brenda could tell by Gary Holmes’ face he knew what was happening. He turned to the pond, his face frozen in fear. He feet wouldn’t move. He tried to run, but it was like someone or something was holding him in place.
“But, they don’t come out during the day!” he screamed, over and over again.
“Join your father, you murderer,” Mrs. Evans yelled at the top of her lungs.
Brenda was glad the state police were there. No one would ever believe just her and the bed and breakfast owner, but with four state police witnessing the event, the women couldn’t be accused of murder.
White, mist like figures rose up out of the center of the pond. The screams continued, becoming louder as they got closer to shore. They floated over the water, coming closer and closer to Gary Holmes. Their arms waved like they were reaching out to grasp something, their fingers clawing at the air.
Holmes was screaming bloody murder and continued to scream as the misty figures surrounded him. After dealing with the initial shock of what was happening, the police rushed from behind the car toward the water’s edge. They managed to get within five feet of the sheriff before the white figures picked him up and dragged him out to the center of the pond.
The ear-piercing screams had ceased. The only noise breaking the quiet of the woods was Gary Holmes’ screams of fear as he was dragged under the water and disappeared for good.
The police stood there looking out over the pond. Brenda and Mrs. Evans walked to the water’s edge. There was a lightness in the air they both could feel. The screamers had got their revenge and now their bodies would be recovered and returned to their families. They could be at peace. No more people would die at Valentine Pond.
“I’ve heard of the screamers, but thought it was just one of those urban legends,” the captain stated. “If I hadn’t seen it for myself...”
“Now, will the pond be dredged, and all the bodies recovered?” Brenda asked. “I’ve my grandmother’s diaries which list all the murdered girl’s names.”
“I’ll need those books, all of them,” the captain commented, still staring out over the water. “I’ll have a dive team in here at first light.”
“I’ll get you the books,” Brenda replied.
“Will you women be all right out here if we leave? This is going to be one hell of a report to write up when we get back to the station.”
“We’ll be fine. We won’t be leaving far behind you,” Brenda insisted.
They watched the police walk up the road, the captain carrying the seven journals. They re-entered the cabin and sat down at the kitchen table.
“We did good here today,” Mrs. Evans said. “You were so smart to call the police and have them meet us here.”
“I knew the sheriff would follow us here, and I knew we needed witnesses,” Brenda replied. “I’m glad they were here because it gave validation to my grandmother’s words.”
A cool chill filled the air around them. The hairs on Brenda’s arms stood on end. Mrs. Evans could feel it, too. They looked to the door and were amazed at what they saw.
Girls, in full human form, had appeared in a group inside the cabin. They were no longer the white wisps of mist that existed in the water. Brenda’s grandmother led the way.
“Oh, Stella...” her sister whispered. “You were so beautiful.”
‘You have freed us; I knew that you would, my dear sweet, Brenda. They will return our bodies to our loved ones and we can all move on. They will never find the sheriff or his son; we have made sure of that. The whole story is in my diaries. Make sure you get them back from the police as they’re my private property.’
“I will, Grandma. Are you in the water with the others? The sheriff said you died in the cabin,” Brenda asked.
‘He lied. He overpowered me and drowned me in the pond, finishing the job he had attempted to do years ago. He just barely escaped the screamers the night he killed me. That you won’t find in the diaries, but you will find my body in the pond. No one ever questioned his word.
A bright, blinding light lit up the cabin door. The girls turned towards it, and one at a time, walked out the door and into the light. Stella waved at her sister and blew her a kiss. As she walked out the door, Margie could hear her sister’s final words to her.
‘When they find my body, I want you to take back the heart locket you gave me for Valentine’s Day. My love will surround you every day you wear it. Goodbye, my sweet sister.
My dearest granddaughter...I hope you come to the cabin and enjoy the solitude as I once did. Hold on to the property; someday, to your children, it will be worth a lot of money. I love you and I thank you for believing in me when no one else did. Margie, my best and loyal friend. I’m so sorry I chased you away and ended our friendship, but I feared for your life.
“I would have helped you, Flora,” the elderly woman claimed.
That was what I was afraid of. I have to go; they’re calling me. Love to you both.
She walked into the light and was gone. The brightness of the light diminished and was finally gone all together.
“What say we go home, Missy?” Mrs. Evans asked. “I could really use some lunch.”
“I totally agree,” Brenda said, linking her arm through her elderly friend’s arm.
Brenda got the bed and breakfast owner situated in the car.
“I’ll be right back,” she told her.
Brenda walked to the pond’s edge and said a final goodbye to her grandmother.
“I’ll be back next year, Gram. I still have to investigate your closet. Now there is peace here, I will return,” Brenda whispered in to the wind.
She got in the car and the two women drove up the road away from Valentine Pond.
‘I’ll be waiting for your return. I’ll never stop killing. I learned well from my victims.
Gary Holmes laughed, turned into a white mist and disappeared into the pond.
