The first is my own, and I have decided that there will be a theme running for mine- They all take place in and around the mythical town of Wellbury, PA. There is a reason for this, but that isn't really pertinent at this time. Suffice it to say, this is the first of what will come to be MANY stories of Wellbury. I hope you enjoy.
Route 38, Mile 23 – Wellbury, Pennsylvania
It was
dark, but that was nothing new. It was
always dark outside the small town of Wellbury, Pennsylvania. It couldn’t be helped. When you were from a small town in the middle
of nowhere, with nothing but hills and trees surrounding you for forty miles in
every direction, it was something to which you were accustomed. Darkness and the quiet of the night were
constant, even in the middle of summer.
Gerry Stiles didn’t mind it though, as he sat in the aging Crown
Victoria off the side of Delert Ridge Road.
He was used it. He remembered
growing up on the other side of Wellbury, doing the same things the kids were
still doing today. There was the
occasional mishap when one kid or another wrapped his car around a tree, but
that had been happening for years in Wellbury.
There
was nothing really “special” about the town, Gerry felt. Like every other little town across the
state, there were the same things that happened: there were high school football games on
Friday nights, and Church on Sunday mornings, Cub Scouts and PTA meetings
during the week, and then the cycle repeated itself. The only other time the marching band was
seen were during the Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day parades the
town would hold every year. They had their festival every year in the Fall, and
the whole town would be talking about the football game the night before. It was a place where you didn’t have to worry
about locking your front door, but you did it anyway because nobody ever used
their front doors.
There
were little changes over the years, of course.
There were a whopping two gas stations in town, now, and when the chain
stores came in, there was a huge ruckus about how it would drive out the
businesses on Main Street. Everyone
swore they would never use the new stores, but of course, they all did it
anyway. If you asked them, though, they
only went there for the things they simply could not get elsewhere, and they
preferred to shop locally. Gerry often
said that if the world stopped changing in 1958, Wellbury would be considered
advanced. Maybe it was true.
The one
thing Wellbury did have was the small college that occupied the western side of
the town. Wellbury College was an old
place that somehow seemed to thrive, even though they only graduated about 200
people per year. Somehow, it kept
afloat. Gerry didn’t know how or
why. The school had no athletic program,
and at best was only mediocre in most of its programs. There were rumors about shady things
happening, but nothing anyone could prove.
Gerry thought the students were generally to blame for the rash of prank
phone calls the station had been receiving lately. He even went to the Dean of Students to ask
for an inquiry, where he was promptly stonewalled.
That
was what landed him out in the middle of the night on a forgotten bit of road
outside the sleepy town. Unfortunately,
the Chief of police wasn’t impressed with Gerry’s initiative, and threatened to
suspend him if he visited the campus without express orders again. He hated traffic duty, and the Chief knew
it. He ought to. Chief Bernard Stiles was Gerry’s younger
brother, and constant reminder to Gerry, at least, that the elder Stiles
brother was underachieving.
Still,
it was only a slap on the wrist. While
he didn’t like traffic duty, the nice part was that it was largely quiet. Well, at least until a few months ago, when
they finally finished the highway reconstruction.
Gerry
never though the project was essential, but the truckers were another
thing. The route was windy and traversed
up and down the hills of Western Pennsylvania, making it difficult to travel
for the large trucks that used it to avoid the tolls of the turnpike. To ease the traffic flow, the state decided
to take on the responsibility of leveling and straightening the road. It was a project that lasted several years,
and required a lot of land to be purchased.
It raised an uproar in Wellbury when the proposed highway ran a large
section of its drainage right past the old cemetery.
It was the first churchyard in the area, and
while the church had long ago been torn down and the congregation moved, the
cemetery itself stayed put. It was a
vital piece of the town’s history. The
townsfolk petitioned the state to move the highway elsewhere, but the state
wouldn’t budge. The hillside graveyard
would get the drainage run right next it.
All were assured by the state that nothing would happen, and the
greatest care would be taken.
All
seemed well, to Gerry’s mind, when the project was done. The state did as they said, and there were no
problems. For a while. It wasn’t until several months later when
they started hearing strange reports of things near the highway. People were calling reporting that there were
people out on the road at night. Strange
people, dressed as though they were from another era. The police investigated, but nothing was ever
found. Everyone was questioned, from the
local theatre troupe to the college itself, but nothing ever came of it. No one knew a thing. Gerry assumed it was a fraternity prank, as
it only seemed to happen once the college’s academic year began.
Gerry’s
radio crackled.
“Base
to W-5. Gerry, are you there?”
He
clicked the button on the side of the radio.
“Yeah,
just off Delert Ridge.”
“Had
another phone call about Rte 38. Better
get out there and take a look.”
“You
know there won’t be anything.”
“Yeah,
I know, but that’s what we get paid for.
Get your butt over there and check it out.”
“Yeah,
I’m going. What mile marker, did they
say?”
“Twenty-Three.”
“Same
place as before.”
“Yeah,
I know. Do me a favor this time. Approach with your lights off. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“It’s
pitch black out there!”
“Don’t
worry, I’ve already called Calverton and Rimesville. They’ve got the highway shut down in each
direction. You’ll be safe.”
“You
could have clued me in that was what you were planning.”
“Trying
to keep this close to the vest to catch the people responsible, Gerry.”
“You
know what I think.”
“That’s
partly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Sometimes
I hate you.”
Bernie
laughed on the other side of the radio. “Yeah,
but that’s been the case for forty years now.”
“All
right, I’m on my way.”
“Thanks
Gerry. Oh, and be careful out there,
huh?”
“I
will. Over and out.”
The
Crown Vic roared to life, and Gerry left the desolate stretch of road for the
highway. It wasn’t far, and inside of
five minutes, he found himself on the on-ramp.
He turned off the lights and slowly inched his way down the road,
looking for anything that might be out of place. As he suspected, there was nothing to be
seen. No lights in the trees off either
side of the road, no signs of movement – nothing. Just like every other time. As he slowly approached mile twenty three, he
was not surprised to see nothing but the inky blackness of night. The car stopped, and Gerry got out, careful
to close the door quietly. He could
still smell the freshness of the tar in the blacktop as it mixed with the fresh
air that came in from the west on a light breeze. Even this late in the season, the crickets
could still be heard singing.
The
radio came to life.
“Gerry? Are you there? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just got here, all’s quiet.”
“Gerry,
come on – quite joking around!”
“What are
you talking about? I just got here, nice
and quiet like you asked!”
“Gerry,
talk to me!”
“I AM
talking to you!”
“If
this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny, Gerry!”
“What
the hell are you talking about, Bernie?
I’m right here, and I’m telling you all is well!”
“Dammit. I’m on my way!”
“Why? Bernie?
Bernie?? W-5 to Base, come in!”
The radio
remained silent.
“W-5 to
WC-1, come in Chief.”
Nothing. It wasn’t that there was
no response. There was nothing. The crickets stopped. The breeze stopped. There was nothing at all to be heard.
Panicked, Gerry ran back to his car, and got in, slamming the door. Breaking the quiet no longer concerned
him. He turned the key in the ignition
and nothing happened. The car didn’t
even try and turn over. He checked the
power pack on his radio. Dead. Nothing was working. He pulled out the flashlight he carried on
his belt. Dead. Likewise, the emergency flashlight in the car
was gone, too. He was breathing
heavy.
“No
need to panic,” said a voice VERY close to him.
Gerry
turned around to find himself face-to-face with a gentleman, finely
dressed. He wore a large black top hat
and tails, a freshly starched high-collared shirt and bowtie, grey pants with
gleaming white spats covering his shiny black shoes. He was middle-aged, with a touch of grey
beginning to show at his temples and in his thick moustache, which was waxed to
perfection.
Gerry
drew his gun and backed away.
“Put
your hands up!” he shouted.
“I will
do not such thing, my good man,” said the gentleman. He glanced his eyes over Gerry. “You are an officer of the law?”
“Officer
Stiles,” said Gerry. “You stay right
there while I call this in.”
The gentleman
paused a moment. “I am afraid that will
be impossible for you. In fact, there’s
much that you will find impossible at the moment.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I do
not believe any of your gadgets are going to work at the moment.”
Gerry
pointed his gun into the air and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.
“Who
are you? What have you done?”
“Ahh,
good,” said the gentleman. “These are
questions I like much more.”
The strange
man began to pace back and forth in front of Gerry, but his feet made no sound
on the pavement.
“Let us
start with the simple things: My name is
Stewart Fallsby, Esquire. I have been
appointed as the representative of the town of Wellbury.”
“What
do you mean? We already have lawyers in
town.”
“Ahh,
yes, “ said Fallsby. “Not the town as
you know it. You see, there is another
town here, one you and your kind have disturbed.”
Gerry
looked at him, puzzled.
Suddenly, Fallsby drew very close to him, his congenial attitude gone as
a sneer spread across his face. “And we
don’t like it very much.”
Gerry
looked around as there appeared other people, some dressed as nicely as
Fallsby, and others dressed in their own version of Sunday Best. None made a sound, but looked at him with
hatred in their eyes, their skin a hazy blue-green. They looked as solid as Fallsby, but their
coloring frightened Gerry.
“I don’t
understand!” Said Gerry as he backed
away next to the car.
“None
of you do!” yelled Follsby. “We built
this town. We suffered through disease
and famine, floods and worse, all so that you could build the lives you have
here. You could not even respect our
graves, and for that, you will all pay!”
“We
told the state not to do this!” said Gerry. “We petitioned, we tried!”
“And
when they told you to be quiet? Did you
go to war?”
“No, of
course not!”
“Then
you did nothing.”
“Please,”
begged Gerry. “Give us another chance!”
“You
have had many chances,” said Fallsby. “And
you did not listen.”
“We‘ve
been trying to figure out what was happening.”
“Then
you are as stupid as you are gutless.”
“Please
– tell me how we can make this right again!”
“It’s
far too late for that, Officer Stiles,” Fallbsy grinned. “You see, we like this world you’ve
made. We like your technology. How easy it is to move about, to talk to one
another over great distances. We like
your convenient lives. And as you have
taken our home for your own,” here Fallsby’s grin turned even more sour, and
his skin became the blueish-green akin to the others, “And now we’re going to
take it back!”
Fallsby
started to laugh.
Gerry
started running down the highway, trying to get to the town before any of the
spirits did. He could scarcely hear his
feet on the blacktop, but the blood pumping in his ears hurt. His head throbbed. He still had a mile to go, he knew, but saw
the headlights up ahead coming toward him.
The flashing red and blues atop the headlights could only be
Bernie. He would be safe. He began flailing his arms, trying to flag
down his brother.
Bernie
rolled to a stop and got out, looking at his elder brother. The man was crazed and out of breath, his
eyes wild with fright as he collapsed into his younger brother’s arms. He was blabbering something Bernie couldn’t
understand.
“Gerry! Gerry!
Are you okay? What happened? What’s wrong?”
The
questions came out in a flurry and panic as Bernie helped his older brother to
the ground, and got on his radio.
“This
is WC-1 calling WEMS. Carter, are you
there?’
The
radio crackled back to him, “Yeah, chief what’s wrong?”
“I’m
out on the highway, Carter. Come out and
get my brother. Something’s happened to
him, and I don’t know what. He’s alive,
but I can’t help him like this.”
“Ten-Four. On my way.”
It wasn’t
but a half –second later when Bernie could hear the sirens from the fire
department sound.
“Hang on
Gerry! They’re coming for you!”
Gerry
looked up into the face of his younger sibling.
“They’re coming for us all,” he said before he passed out.
“They’re coming for us all,” he said before he passed out.
In
moments, Carter arrived in the ambulance, and the crew helped get Gerry into
the back and on his way to Memorial Hospital.
In the
darkness on the side of the road, the crickets still did not chirp. Silent eyes watched the scene unfold.
Fallsby
turned to his friends and neighbors, gathered behind him.
“Tonight
we learned much. It won’t be long until
we can take advantage of all we’ve learned to undo them.”
The ghosts
of Wellbury nodded in silence as they turned to head back to their earthly
graves. They could wait until the time
was right.
Fallsby
grinned as he looked back at Chief Stiles, scratching his head as he looked
down the highway to see Gerry’s car, lights on, engine running, wondering if
his brother would ever be the same.
ENTRY #2:
This entry comes to us from a young writer friend of mine, who goes by the name of Abbey Lynne. She is starting out on her writing journey, and frankly, her cinematic vision is really great. Thanks for participating!!!!!!!!!
The Haunted Highway
Lorraine was confined. She didn’t know where she was or who was around her. She had an eerie feeling from the cold air that touched her skin. Lorraine opened her eyes. All she saw was a highway and fog in front of her. The highway was damaged, broken into pieces. Everything around her reminded her of something. Lorraine knew this feeling, but she couldn’t place what it was she was feeling. She looked around to find a building or a gas station. There was nothing. She began to run down the foggy highway.
She didn’t know where she was running, but she had to go somewhere. There must be a place around here. In the distance, she saw a tall black figure. She ran quickly. Every inch she got closer to the dark figure, she got a dark feeling that ran over her entire body. As she neared the tall black figure, she saw the nightmare she faced whenever she was 18 years old. His face was burnt, blood dripping out of his mouth, his jaw was severely broken, his skin was sickly green, and had blisters all over. Lorraine screamed, terrified of what she was seeing with her very own eyes.
“Join me.” He says in a sinful voice. His voice was raspy and sounded like he had smoked an entire carton of cigarettes. The voice was evocative. It brought memories she had ran away from.
She shook her head and ran the other way. She was running as fast as she could. She just wanted to get away from him. His presence made her feel ill. Lorraine suddenly fell to the ground, roughly. She looked up and saw a large, heart-shaped, charcoal black rock. The rock was burning. The cracks in the rock were glowing and had steam coming out. She was mesmerized by the glowing orange cracks. She held her hands in front of the rock. Her hands shook as she picked up the rock. The rock burned her skin for a second until it stopped. She moved the rock up more, so she could look at the rock. The glowing orange looked like lava was pumping through the rock.
“Just join us.” Someone says behind her. She looked behind her and saw the girl who had betrayed her everyday in High School. The girl would be friends with her, but also talk about their friends. She told everyone it was Lorraine saying all those nasty things. Whenever Lorraine needed a friend the most, the girl left her. The girl started to make rumors up about Lorraine. Lorraine stared at the girl. Her eyes were gone, her skin was deathly pale, and she had black veins all over her body.
“Where am I?” Lorraine asked the girl.
“You are trapped. You can’t leave. If you run, it will just hurt more.” The girl replied. “Your heart is barely surviving. It isn’t beating to anything. The only thing that is happening is that you have blood pumping through you. You are cracked and damaged.”
“What do you mean?” Lorraine sets the rock down carefully, making sure she doesn’t harm it.
“The pain, loneliness, and depression. We all know it haunts you everyday. Just join us and you will be better. Look at us, we are happy.” The girl smiled mischievously at Lorraine.
Lorraine looks around and he was back with a few other people. He was the boy she thought she had loved. She thought he loved her. But things got worse and their relationship was not healthy. The boys from her gym class were behind him. They bullied her whenever they got the chance to. They would go up to her saying degrading things to her. Laughing at her whenever she walked past them. Their skin was melting off, some of their eyes were pulled out of their socket, and they barely had teeth. The last person was a man who had said he loved her thousands of times. After everything, he told her never loved her and never would. He was 22 and Lorraine was just 14. He made an emotional connection just to get whatever he wanted. His hair was shedding off, his teeth were sharp, and his fingernails looked like knives, and his skin was peeling off.
All Lorraine could think about was, why was she stuck here? Nowhere to go. No safe spot to go. The air around her became thicker and her breathing got heavy. She looked up and they all just stared at her. They looked at her without any emotion. Lorraine started crawling as quickly as she could. She didn’t get far before their hands started to grip her feet and legs. They all tugged. Lorraine’s screams filled the air as she was dragged into the depths of the fog.
Lorraine could never escape the haunted highway. She had never truly gotten past her nightmares. That gave them the opportunity to run to her again. Now she sits on the haunted highway, crying, begging for someone to come save her. No one will. Lorraine looked at the dark, heart-shaped rock everyday. As the orange glow fades, so does her hope of getting out of this miserable highway.
She was stuck there. Lost in her own world forever. With her nightmares surrounding her everyday. Laughing, teasing, and destroying her every second.
Hopefully, there will be more entries to come!
As always,
Thanks for reading,
Me
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