Living Forest (9 page)

The chest falls out colliding against my legs. Someone placed this damn box directly in front of the door. Pissed off and in pain, I mumble many curse words under my breath while dragging the chest to my room. I sit down and prepare myself for what may lie within this box. I just hope it’s not the body of someone. The crate does weigh around a hundred and thirty pounds. It’s just heavy enough to make me scared while opening the lid.

Chapter Seven

Looking inside the chest, the glowing of gold quickly grasps my eyes. Reaching in, many papers and books block my path to the glimmering metal. Pulling the books out to clear my way to the gold, I notice that they are hundreds of years old. Slowing down, I carefully move the books to the side. I can now see the golden coin lying beside a stone axe. One side of the coin is molded with an equal armed cross. The other side gloriously presents the symbol of the free Mason’s. The stone axe looks ceremonial with the eye of an Eagle chiselled into the knob, but stained blood looks as if the axe cries red tears.

Underneath the stone axe is a leather bottom, protecting the ancient relic. The more I admire the old leather, I begin to notice that the leather is more like a small blanket. Remarkably it’s still soft like it had been tanned recently, but I still continue to take precaution. Pulling it out, the sight of ink clutches my attention. As the leather unfolds, a giant map reveals itself. The map is well detailed, but the ink is more of a dark reddish-brown color rather than black. It really looks like the ink used is blood. Many ancient Algonquian symbols detailed the map along with a story written on the entire right side and bottom. The map itself only took up the top left corner of this massive leather blanket.

Some of the books are even written in Algonquian. I only know this language because of my father. We are Shawnee which my ancestors spoke a form of Algonquian. He made me learn our language and history. He also shown me symbols of an earlier language that he’d draw and express to me that it’s a part of our more ancient heritage from the first settlers of North America. What’s strange is that he always acted like the world was going to end in my lifetime, but he didn’t want me to loose sight of who I am. My father use to always tell me in a long story growing up,

“Many tribes suffered great losses from plagues, warring tribes, and white soldiers. Our ancestors watched the Wampanoag be afflicted from disease for showing kindness to the English settlers. We helped Mohicans living on the Hudson battle our sworn enemies, until their tribe was nearly killed off like ours. Our tribe spread thin for Shooting Star to try and unite many nations, only to be denied by most and witness the fall of native strength in North America. Many things were taken from us, including mountains of gold and millions upon millions of acres of land sold for pennies. They had to accept the offer or die. Our ancestors still lived or we wouldn’t be here today as proof. You will remember them, and the blood our people lost to save our heritage. Maybe even one day you’ll get to learn the true history of your family.”

I can now see what my father was saying by learning the true history of my ancestors. There’s one thing I can’t pinpoint, why are these books and animal skin parchments not preserved in a museum? Looking back at the map, the writing on it is the first record of Shawnee migration into the frozen lands of Canada. The map shows that they crossed over from the land bridge that once connected Europe and North America.

After reaching south of Canada the winter sheets of ice vanish into a forested land of promise and hope. We keep moving south to warmer weather following bison and other great beasts. The map details encounters with mammoths, elephant sized sloths, and other dinosaurs during our settlement of North America. No other tribes of natives are found on the northern part of the map.

The southern portion of the map has a large city icon and a smaller icon around modern day northeastern Oklahoma. The icon is not only from the older language that my father had taught me, it’s also from what we perceive as the Aztecs today. A nearly non-noticeable red line lay drawn across from the symbols. The line is only barely noticeable because it’s in the crease of a fold. The near hidden words read,

“Homes made from Sunlight.”

It will be easier if I tell you how the map reads with correcting English, rather than confusing you with the song speech of the Shawnee which has become an endangered language today.

“Dawn has risen and the southern redskin wouldn’t agree to leave our land. We’re going to gather our close brothers to take back our shiny homes and trinkets from them. Many moons we spent gathering brothers to fight. One brother managed to give us warning on a battle happening with the southern invaders. Upon our arrival back, many lay decayed in piles outside the city. Shiny silver men, wearing the symbol of a red cross on white cloth, tear apart our homes made from sunlight. They drink and celebrate while melting them down. We wait in the woods until nightfall. During the night, we paint ourselves black and quietly kill most of the army before they become alarmed. Even through our victory, we still suffer a great loss as the shiny men were well protected. Our arrows could not easily kill them, and our tomahawks would shatter, barely leaving a scratch. Our brother warned us of this so we also carry the weapons of the newly dead. We’re still the ones left breathing and victorious at the rise of the sun. We fear the armored men will come back in great numbers, so we buried the…”

The rest of the story is missing and no name is left for the author.

Now in a near flurry of suspense, I start looking through the books to see if I can find the rest of this story. There has to be more to this, I want some details now. I need to know what they buried. On one of the parchments, I notice the same equal arm cross symbol that’s on the coin. I know that symbol from my studies and it’s that of the Templar Knights. I thought they died off over a hundred years before the discovery of America. A sound lightly taps on my door as if not wanting to wake me.

“Knock, knock, knock…”

Annie’s voice lightly whispers,

“Hollister, are you still awake?”

I ask with a near sigh in my voice,

“Yes Annie, I am. Is there something you need?”

The only reason for the “Ugh” reaction is I’m getting into this once lost history and I don’t want to stop. She now sounds as if someone intruded upon her counting sheep to sleep.

“I’m sorry hun, but there’s a woman at the door who’s very persistent on seeing you.”

I said curiously,

“Thank you Annie, I’ll see to it at once. It must be important to bother someone at, Holy crap! It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

Annie starts giggling,

“I know Hollister. I was apparently knitting in my sleep because when she started hammering on the door knocker instead of the bell, my scarf ran away. I woke up looking for it under the bed.”

Annie still gingerly giggles as she’s walking back to her room. On her way she looks back and says,

“Oh my lord, okay Hollister hun, if you need me just page. Goodnight and try not to stay up all night.”

Shouldn’t be long before she’s back to knitting her imaginary scarf. Opening the door, the woman is turning around to leave. She’s much shorter than me. She stands only about five feet tall, and weighs around ninety pounds. If it hadn’t been for her silver hair and wrinkles showing from the lawn light, I would’ve thought she was a child.

Reluctantly I ask,

“Excuse me ma’am, it’s very late. What brings you to this house at this time in the night?”

She speaks as if she owns everything.

“I heard of my little brother’s death. I left my home to come here.”

This rushes out of my mouth as I’m closing the door,

“I don’t ever remember William speaking about a sister. Tomorrow you can come back and we will have the attorney’s handle this, but for now you have a good rest of the evening to you.”

I’ll skip reading any more tonight or this morning, and get some rest. Locking the door, I can hear the elder woman outside manically laughing. At first I thought she was crying, and then I notice it’s her laugh that sounds like that. This woman’s actions and voice reminds me of Elizabeth. To the point that a flash back hits me, and now I’m back on Amanda’s bed fighting for my life. Kicking and screaming, I snap back out of this memory. I find myself curled up in the corner of the front door. Annie rushes out of her room in a panic. Annie speaks caringly though I think she may be just as scared as I am.

“Have mercy child, what’s wrong with you?”

Now I’m becoming more delirious.

“There’s something about that woman that reminds me of what happened in Oklahoma. After she left her laugh sent me back, and even though Elizabeth is dead, I’m still scared shitless of that woman Annie.”

Annie quickly interrupts me. A bossy tone echoes through Annie’s voice,

“Now don’t you be using bad English with me Hollister, I’ll make us some coffee. After that we can calmly work this mess out. You know that you’re not as weak as you once were with all of your training now.”

You can tell that my delirious moment is over with, leaving concern to take control.

“Annie ma’am, do you think you can call Richard to take a look at our gate? I don’t think we need anymore late night crazy visitors again.”

Annie replies in a dependable manner,

“Hun, that was on my list the moment that woman started banging on the door knocker. Now, let us get to the kitchen so I can make a fresh pot of coffee.”

After the cup of coffee, Hollister began to teem with energy again. He didn’t realize six hours had flown by since the time he discovered a piece to the largest puzzle in the history of mankind. Hollister has no intention of leaving his home this day. His mind continuously wanders to the ancient documents that have been hidden from society all these years. Hollister fills a thermos full of coffee, walks to his room, and now begins to translate more history. The next document to be discovered needs not translation, but rather careful examination.

Tuesday, October 12
th
1307

“We received correspondence from a brother within Paris of the coming besiege. After loading our wagons with the treasure, we haste as fast as the horses could carry us to the port in La Rochelle. Abjuring the old land, we fill our fleet and flee in the night. James keeps saying he foresees a terrible path. I told him that if we stay our fates would be much worse.”

Wednesday, December 28
th
1307

“We land on the new world. A hurricane was tearing through our fleet and two ships were separated. Only one carried any treasure. Our lost brothers will be prayed for and hope we meet up soon. We are pushed into a warm Gulf. We land to the right of a large river that flows into the ocean. These costal natives seem to greet us as if they are familiar with our kind. Their clothing, how rather savage they look, still is more sophisticated than I have heard. Our brother that visited the Netherlands gave us this knowledge. They brought us food and fresh drink. Our entire regiment is thankful for their hospitality, and given that, I keep the men from committing any crimes. I give the natives three ships in trade for their hospitality. The other thirteen ships are left anchored and guarded. The natives wanted our horses and stood in amazement over them, but we need them to move our treasure to our new home. We will claim our spot on this land.”

The loud ringing of church bells echo through the house. I think to myself,

“Good lord, I hope it’s not that wretched woman again.”

Creeping down the stairs I notice Annie talking with Richard. Richard looks my way with a stunned look. I quickly glance at a nearby mirror to see if my hair is messed up. He stutters to me with a troubled tone.

“Gu gu good mor morning Mr. Wolf. I have br br brought some v v video f footage yu you need t t to see. Th th this is about th the old lady that c c came last night.”

Now I’m becoming covetous. While reaching for the memory stick I say,

“Let me take a look at it then. I’ll put it on the TV.”

Richard hesitates on letting go of the memory drive. Stuttering strikes his voice once more.

“N n n no! Th th this v v v video scared the sh sh sh c crap out of me e. C c call the po po po police Hol Hol Hollister.”

I yank the memory stick from Richard’s hands, and quickly place it in the slot. The software automatically pulls up and plays the video for me. Richard scampers out of the room like a mouse that just seen a lion. The video shows from the camera hanging above the front door looking towards the front gate. The left of the screen a person slowly walks on the other side of the gate. Suddenly static flashing on the screen cut out my vision of the person. Within a few seconds the screen flashes back normal, well… I’m now looking at an eyeball. The eye begins to get smaller, gathering a face around it.

Gulping some saliva down, trying to swallow this eerie feeling, the face develops into that of the old woman. Somehow hovering in the air she begins to speak softly into the camera’s microphone. Her voice even soft sounds like wind whistling through the trees as she speaks, but with a more creepy gurgling sound.

“Hollister… I come to you my dear to take your soul. My sister Elizabeth sends her regards.”

She begins to manically laugh, but no sounds of laughter fall from her voice. Her eyes turn completely black as if they have been burned out. She now floats down to the ground dancing in a circle. A gust of wind flowing from the old woman unhinges the front gate. A bright blue fire begins to burn in the circle she dances around. Two questions hit my mind like a ton of bricks.

“Wait, what the hell is this woman? Is someone playing a prank on me?”

The woman stops dancing, and plays hopscotch through the fire as it fades away. It’s like the flames never existed to begin with. No charred marks lay on the lawn where the fire burned. She hopscotch’s to the door knocker. Her fingers twitch back and forth in her hands waiting for Annie to open the door. I watch as I hurry her through the door. After I close it, the shadow of Elizabeth flows out of her, but it’s still attached as if not wanting to leave her body.

Elizabeth’s shadowy arms grasp me through the window. That’s when she pulls me into her nightmare. The old woman, psychopathically laughing, vanishes. If this hadn’t been recorded I would’ve thought this to be nothing more than a nightmare.

Hollister walking out the room leaves the video playing. He’s looking for Annie to make sure the police are on their way. The old woman reappears in the video hovering in front of the camera. “Knock, knock, knock”, she taps on the glass of the TV as if she was tapping on the lens of the camera. No one’s in the area so no sound is heard. The old woman mass-appears from the television to inside the room as if the TV now became a portal from an unknown dimension. She now quietly floats to Hollister’s bedroom.

Annie’s voice loudly echoes from the front yard,

“Hollister, the police need to talk with you.”

I loudly reply back,

“I’ll be right there. I need to put some public clothes on. Go ahead and bring them in, and let them watch the video in the front room while they wait Annie.”

I say public clothes, but that’s what I call clothes I only wear when I go out. I don’t feel that comfortable wearing my pajamas in front of crowds of people or company. I race upstairs to my room to quickly prepare myself for the visitors. Walking in my room, towards the closet, the door slams shut and locks behind me.

Chapter Eight

A heart pounding, skin crawling sensation collides with my senses. The smell of sulfur quickly gags me. My vision becomes hazy and blurry. My knees shake and lose hold, causing my body to fold down on the ground choking for air. The room becomes pitch black with only a small flicker of blue light emanating from the corner of the room. The light resembles that of electricity though I can hear no zapping sounds. My California king canopy bed rips across the floor, crashing against the bedroom door.

Evil cackling echoes through the room. Something grabs my right leg and drags me towards the bed. The deranged voice of that old woman screams out,

“Elizabeth had her turn and now it’s mine.”

I try to scream police, help, shit, anything, but nothing comes out as my last breath is being drawn out of me. Many old women, that are duplicates of this witch, appear and lock me inside the wooden chest. Over and over the officers try to kick in the door to the room.

“BOOM…BOOM…BOOM…”

A bunch of commotion is heard sounding like a tornado spinning from outside this box. Furniture crashing all around me, echoing screams in the distance, and the house ripping apart flowing around the chest silencing any sound I can make. Whirling and turning through the air, I bounce around the empty space in the chest. I can’t count how many times I’ve hit myself in the face with my knees. Instead of crashing to the ground the chest bounces and rolls.

The loud sound of a train quickly leaves behind sounds of debris colliding everywhere. Nearby trees shake the ground like an earthquake upon impact. Then a longing silence takes over. I try to open the trunk, but it’s locked from the outside. The only thing I know to do is wait until I hear some voices and scream for help.

What seems like hours soar by, though really could’ve just been only minutes. Right now I’m so freaked out I have no concept of time. I feel it has been long enough. I begin to kick and scream with all of my might against the walls of the chest. It’s useless. I can’t hear anyone, and no one can hear me. I now have crazy thoughts race through my head while fighting with being crammed inside this tight space.

“Am I dead? What happened with that old woman demon witch thing? I don’t feel dead. Are they going to kill me? Where are the police, Annie, and the others?”

A voice yells out with a Spanish accent,

“This thing has a big lock on it. I’ll be right back, don’t go any where. I’ll go get something.”

As he’s walking away I think I hear him say,

“What the fuck is going on?”

I sigh underneath my breath. I know that voice, it’s Eduardo. He takes care of the lawn here. I may be here a while. Not because it’s hard to understand him, because it’s not. Eduardo likes to do things himself and sometimes it takes a while.

I yell out,

“If you can’t tell, I’m LOCKED in a box. I wish I could go somewhere right now.”

I can silently hear sounds chiming from where the lock is.

“Click, clank, click, clack”

“Chink, chunk…”

Eduardo expresses gleefully,

“Ah ha, I knew I still had it.”

He didn’t know what happy was until he seen me bail from that chest like a birthday surprise.

I stumble out onto Eduardo. Everything is destroyed in a direct path leading north from my home. Debris is all that left lay on the ground for miles. Many people lay dead lying in trees and on top of crumbled buildings. It looks like an F5 tornado created a path of destruction over a mile wide.

Eduardo looks at me in shock while kissing his catholic beaded necklace. He speaks to me in an uprooting tone,

“Mr. Wolf, God loves you. Now let me get you to somewhere dry to rest. I have called the police and they’ll be here when they can. This storm has killed many people Hollister, and well… God loves you.”

Weary, beaten, bloody, soul torn, and now I find a loss of evidence that once supported my claims against this witch.

Eduardo takes Hollister to a hotel that he now owns on the coast. He first stopped at the hospital, but they were flooded with patients so Eduardo is relying on friends to help. The staff quickly takes Hollister to his room, and they get him cleaned up. The hotel physician quickly attends to Hollister and stitches his wounds. The staff then keeps a watchful eye, but lets Hollister get some rest for recovery.

Waking up in a small shack, quickly I examine my near surrounding. No one is around me. Echoing from the tin rooftop,

“Tic, tack, tic, tack,”

I walk outside into a thick layer of fog. Darkness is falling fast with the rushing storms. Trees surround me completely where I am, with no roads or driveway in sight. The rain tapping on the tin rooftop begins to become louder. A light illumination in the distance grasps my eyes. Even through the fog and darkness I can see it sparkle like a diamond in the morning light. Like a lost bug in the night, I find myself walking towards that light. The closer I get, the brighter it becomes.

From the corner of my eye shadows dart past me, I turn to look and nothing’s there. Looking back at the light, it fades away to darkness. Sounds of screams fill my mind while hands begin to grab at me from the ground. I try to run. Trees move in front of me, vines and roots tangle me, and the hard ground turns into quicksand. Just as I sink in the ground nearing my head, I hear a shy quiet female voice speak.