Sawyerville: Horror Short Stories From Another Earth Vol.3
Read Sawyerville: Horror Short Stories From Another Earth Vol.3 Online
Authors: Remi Aubert
Sawyerville
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – The Message
The town of Sawyerville was the kind of place that no one would really care to talk about, at least not until after the incident. The place was home to 987 residents, each of them being self-sufficient enough with their small farms and engaging in occasional trades with other towns to make ends meet. Gail Fuller's pa, for instance, is the town's go-to guy for organic cantaloupes.
"Pa, why haven't you ever tried leaving Saw' and went to one of the bigger cities to make a living?" Gail had once asked her father while he was piling up cantaloupes after a modest harvest.
"It's too bad a place out there, Gail," her father had replied, his one good gray eye looking at her before it focused back at the pile of fruit. "I tried leavin' when I was a young lad and look what it did to me? The devil himself came out of nowhere, knocked me out cold, and left me bleedin' and half blind."
Gail had wished she hadn't asked. When she was 5, she wondered why her pa only had one eye and other little girls' papas have two, so her mother had told her that her father lost his left eye to a very bad man who wanted to steal her father's money. Her mother had not told her that it happened when her father was on his way to the city, trying to find a better-paying job.
The authorities never caught the criminal.
While on her way to the post office one afternoon, Gail thought about what her pa had said to her, about the city being a bad place to live in. She kind of doubted that now. She's 19 and fresh out of high school. She had heard that some of the town's rich families' daughters were planning to leave Sawyerville to go to college in the city. She had always dreamed of becoming a nurse, and what she was hoping to find at the post office would determine her fate. She knew that her father alone could never afford to send her.
All of her parents' hard-earned savings went to pay for the hospital bills 6 years ago, when her mother had found out that she had cervical cancer. The cancer had metastasized when they had brought her in for a check-up, and by the time her mother was admitted to the hospital, it was too late to save her. Now, her mother is gone and all Gail has left to remember her ma was an old brooch and a few faded photographs.
As she continued to walk, her thoughts started to drift toward her memories of Ma. Ma, who always knew how runny she wanted her porridge. Ma, who always sang old love songs in her soft voice as she faithfully washed the linen in the wee hours of the morning. Ma, who had loved her and her little sister, Shaney, more than anything in the world.
My little ladybugs
. That's what her Ma used to call them. Ma, who was now buried deep beneath the earth.
But it's not her ma down there anymore.
It's just a shell
, she thought.
Because Ma is now an angel who is up in heaven and looking down at me and Shaney
.
I'll see her again, someday.
At least, this was what she has been telling herself for the last 5 years. She was the one who has been taking care of her now 12 year old sister, Shaney, ever since.
Gail sighed deeply then composed herself.
Stupid girl,
she thought.
Why do you always have to think of something sad right before meeting other people?
She had shed a tear once, while waiting in line at the local grocery store. The memory of her mother had come to her when she had caught the scent of the lavender soap her mother had always used. When old lady Fatima had asked her what was wrong, she had said that something got into her eye.
Now, she's at the post office and about to talk to Ronnie, the pimply teenage son of Mr. Bertrand, the postman.
"Is there anything in the mail for me?" she asked, staring at Ronnie's severe cystic acne on his forehead.
Poor boy,
she thought.
I wonder if it hurts.
"Hey, Gail," Ronnie greeted in a squeaky, adolescent boy voice. "Lemme just check your PO box. Number 433, right?"
"Yes, please," Gail replied.
As Ronnie shuffled to the back of the office, she began to look around the place. Not much has changed in the Sawyerville post office, except that it looked even more run down, like it could fall apart at any time. The paint on the wall was peeling, and it looked like the termites have taken residence in the wooden benches next to the postman's desk.
She sat down on one anyway, and started picking at a loose splinter. The piece came off, exposing a line of termites. They began to scamper back into a nearby hole.
"Gross!" she exclaimed in disgust. She began to use the splinter she had pulled off to crush the tiny creatures, causing their bodies to get stuck into the little canal where they were passing. Some of them still wiggled feebly after this little act of genocide.
"Here you go, Gail Fuller."
Gail didn't notice Ronnie coming out from behind the counter. He approached her and handed her a small package.
"A parcel?" She stood up and took it from him, a confused look on her face. She had been expecting a letter from one of the universities in the city to which she had applied. She applied for a scholarship without her father's knowledge, and she had been anticipating for the reply for weeks.
"Yep, s'all that was in your box, now." Ronnie shrugged.
"Must be for Pa," Gail said, more to herself than to Ronnie.
"Naw, s'for you," Ronnie assured her. "It's got your name on it, an' all."
Gail looked at the package. Sure enough, her name was scribbled on it. There didn't seem to be a return address.
"Oh, okay. Well, thank you, Ronnie."
"Sure, come back anytime." Ronnie replied, a bit awkwardly.
"I will," Gail replied.
As Gail walked out of the post office, she started to press the package gently with her fingers. She could feel that there was something inside. It was round, and it felt a bit firm, yet soft enough to become indented if she would press too hard on it. She began to wonder deeply what it was, so she approached a nearby bench underneath a large oak tree and sat down.
The sun was setting and the people around her were getting ready to close their shops and go home. Shops usually closed up at 6 o'clock in Sawyerville.
Gail peeled the tape off the back of the package, then started unfolding the paper. When she finally unwrapped it, she clumsily let what was inside drop onto her lap, and when she bends down to look at it, the first thing she felt was confusion, as if it were some sort of joke. But when she finally realized what it really was, she began to scream.
Chapter 2 – The Ride
The people of Sawyerville rushed toward Gail, eager to come to the rescue. It had seemed like yet another bland evening to them, which somehow made the young woman's scream a welcome change to the dullness in the small town.
"What's wrong, child?" Samuel McLaw, the town's most trusted tailor, asked anxiously. Mr. McLaw was always known for helping people around.
Gail's hands were held against her cheek, but she slowly dropped them to her sides and said in a panicked voice, "An eye! It's an eye!"
Shivering, she pointed to the small, reddish white orb on the ground. It had collected some dust after it fell, but sure enough, everyone could tell what it was.
The crowd erupted in gasps and oh, my Lord’s. Mr. McLaw pulled out a handkerchief from his trousers' pocket and gingerly picked up the eye. He scrutinized it and pressed it gently, his fingers protected by the flimsy cloth.
He looked at Gail, his forehead lined with worry. "Who on earth would send such a horrible thing?" he asked her.
Gail could only shake her head. She shakily bent down to pick up the paper, which had been the package. She thought she had seen something written on it before she noticed the eye. On the paper, scrawled in thick, black letters, was: I'm coming for you.
She let out a whimper and dropped the paper. Someone in the crowd picked it up and read it out with wide eyes. Suddenly, people started to whisper fervently to each other.
One plump, middle-aged lady by the name of Mrs. Travis said, "We'd better report this to the sheriff's office."
Mrs. Travis is the strong-willed widow of the long dead Mr. John J. Travis, God bless his soul. She was one of the few people in Sawyerville who owned an automobile.
"Shouldn't we tell her father?" someone from the crowd suggested uneasily.
"Yes, definitely," Mr. McLaw agreed. "But, Mrs. Travis is right. The sheriff ought to know about this."
"Indeed," Mrs. Travis nodded matter-of-factly. "We'd better leave now before it gets too dark. Maybe you should come with us, McLaw, since you already have that, that thing in your hand."
Several people escorted the trembling Gail to Mrs. Travis' 1963 Austin Freeway. Mr. McLaw opened the passenger's door for her, helped her settle inside, then carefully shut the door. Mrs. Travis slid into the driver's side and slammed the door shut with ease. Mr. McLaw, who had the message and the eyeball with him, slid into the backseat and pulled the door shut.
"Buckle up!" Mrs. Travis said. She and Gail pulled down the seat belts and clicked them into place, except Mr. McLaw; there was no seat belt in the back seat.
Mrs. Travis started the engine. During their 30 minute drive to the sheriff's office, Mrs. Travis started asking Gail some questions.
"How's your father, dear?"
"He's... he's fine. He'll be back tomorrow," Gail managed to say. "He's gone off to trade with Pickler." Pickler was a store owner who lived in a town 20 miles away from Sawyerville.
"I hope his business is doing well," Mrs. Travis said softly. "My husband and I always thought his cantaloupes are the best in town."
"Thank you, ma’am."
"When your father was younger, he was such a promising young man. He had wanted to leave Sawyerville and become a doctor, I heard. But after your mother got..."
"By the way, Gail, where is your sister?" Mr. McLaw interrupted from behind.
"I left her at our neighbor's. Camille's her best friend. They play dolls there every day."
Gail thought about her little sister.
I'm supposed to pick her up by now,
she thought miserably. However, Gail finally managed to calm down and rationalize the incident as a prank that someone from high school must have pulled on her. Probably Mack Altaire, the high school jerk and Sawyerville's most promising baseball player. He had always been trying to get her to sleep with him. She began to wonder where he was now.
"Will she be alright over there, while we're on our way to the sheriff's?" asked Mr. McLaw, concerned.
"Yes, I believe she will be. I just want to get this over with." Gail sighed.
"Alright, well, then let's hope that this will be..." Mrs. Travis started to say, but before she could finish her sentence, something suddenly collided, hard, against the hood, causing her to frantically swerve the car on the side and crashing it against a big old tree.
Fortunately, the impact was minimal, so all Gail felt was a fright and pressure on her shoulder from the pull of the seat belt. She quickly turned to her side to see Mrs. Travis frozen in shock, her hands still on the wheel.
"Heavens!" Mrs. Travis burst out. She unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. It was getting dark, so Gail could barely see her walk back toward the road to the place where she had hit something. Or someone.
"Mr. McLaw, are... are you alright?" she managed to blurt out as she fumbled to unbuckle her seat belt. "Mr. McLaw..."
"I'm fine, child," Mr. McLaw said from behind her. "Although I think my neck hurts a bit."
After she managed to pull off her seat belt, Gail quickly turned to face the backseat. Mr. McLaw was leaning against the back of her seat. The handkerchief holding the eyeball was on the floor of the car. It had unfolded, exposing what it held inside. Did it seem like the eyeball was staring straight at her? Gail shook the thought from her head.
"Mrs. Travis... she, she went out, to, to take a look at what the car hit..." she said nervously, looking at Mr. McLaw's worried face and trying not to bring her eyes back toward the sickening orb. "D'you think, d'you think we should go out there and help her?"
"Yes, it would be a good idea to get out of this car."
Gail opened the door and stumbled out of the car. She walked toward where Mrs. Travis went. It was getting dark, so she could barely see Mrs. Travis. She managed to see the plump woman running back toward them. It was unusual to see someone who usually walks at an evenly pace move so frantically.
