Ghost Town

Ghost Town

E. Bard

Copyright © 2011 E. Bard

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition

SMASHWORDS LICENCE NOTE

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any use of currently existing people, places or events is for entirely fictional purposes. Any shockingly accurate resemblance to such people, places or events is entirely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

The sharp cold air cut her breath as she left the warmth and security of the shop. Fanny drew up her collar and shivered as she made her way into the street. It was an exceptionally cold October. The wind whipped her hair across her face, biting into her skin and chilling her spirit. Tiny ice crystals flew in the wind and coated the stone surfaces of the road.

Hurrying against the cold and growing darkness, Fanny skidded on several of the flagstones. She turned to look behind her and quickened her steps. Already the ground was white and buildings were glistening. Fanny hoped her wait would not be too long.

Such an odd place to live, Fanny thought as she carefully navigated her way along the slick lanes. The lengthening shadows made speed here almost impossible. She had never experienced anything like this town. In just this last year, Fanny had felt the shock of snow in the summer, and withstood storms that shook the ground, devoured homes and uprooted trees. She had felt bright hot sun in December, and fog so thick it buried the town for days at end.

The girl shivered again.

Geography could account for only so much. This town simply defied nature. That was what the townsfolk had begun whisper.

As hardy and rational as the local stock were, even they could only take so much. Speculation had begun to invade their minds. Even before the girl was sent to stay with her aging grandfather, Fanny had heard that this once prosperous coastal haven was suffering. The town had been battered by unpredictable weather and plagued by misfortune for five long years now.

It had not always been that way.

In her grandfather’s day it had been a growing port, a bustling centre of activity. That growth had lasted nearly thirty years. Fanny could remember the excitement of visiting her grandfather here when she was a child.

Yet all that changed in only the last few years.

Seemingly, it had changed with the weather. It changed that first year when the animals and people got sick. It changed when all the ship building dried up and many of skilled lay people moved on.

It was as if this was no longer the Knight’s Port Fanny knew and remembered. It was merely a shadow of its former self.

Why had everything changed? Fanny wondered. The girl was truly mystified. She was as baffled by the oddness of the town as anyone that had remained here.

Even as an outsider, the girl could feel it. She could feel the very strangeness in the air. When left to her own thoughts, even she had flirted with some of the less than reasonable explanations that had been whispered in many a forgotten back room.

Many of the town residents had speculated about the changes but few had answers.

Could it be that new mayor? The townsfolk murmured. Could it be his odd relations? They questioned. Had the newcomers cursed this place? Others accused. On a night such as this, Fanny could have believed all of it.

This past year alone in Knight’s Port had been anything but natural. On occasion the patrons who visited Fanny’s grandfather would share outlandish tales of unexplained sights in the woods. Sometimes they would tell of unusually dressed people mysteriously appearing in town and vanishing just as quickly.

Fanny herself was not immune to experiencing some of the eerie phenomena this little harbour could offer. Nights were often plagued by howling winds and strange animal cries. Sometimes when Fanny was awakened by the cries she would peek through cracks in the window shutters to spy strange lights moving through the nearby woods. The lights would glow like fire, float up in the air and vanish.

Although the greatest exodus from the community ended with the disappearance of the ship builders, every week someone else was gone. Moved or missing, no-one could say. They disappeared, leaving their homes as if they had just taken a walk.

It made the girl wonder why the remaining townsfolk chose to stay here.

If ever a place could be thought of as cursed, this was it, thought Fanny. She wondered why her grandfather hadn’t decided to close the shop and leave town with her and so many others.

Afraid to venture too far, several of the townspeople had merely left Knight’s Port for nearby Newville. It was a new community, smaller than the original Knight’s Port and only one or two hours away. But it seemed oddly unaffected by all the strange weather. It was simply a newer version of the town moved across the creek and beyond the town limits. Perhaps there was hope that the town centre might eventually re-establish itself at this new location?

Unfortunately the reality Fanny saw was that the town was just slowly disappearing. Newville might last for a few years, the girl thought, but it was probably doomed as well.

A strong gust of wind with its eerie howling pulled Fanny out of her reverie. This was no time to dawdle and reflect on the community she was so eager to leave. She picked up her feet and started moving as quickly as she could without slipping on the road or being blown over. Even when the wind rested, and the shattering of the tiny ice needles stopped, the road was treacherous.

Nearly slipping on a frozen cobble, the girl caught herself. But as she looked down to see how icy the ground had become and choose her footing more wisely, something bright gleamed up at her.

It was a coin. Fanny pocketed it immediately.

Surely this is a good omen, she thought. Perhaps it means this weather will break and the journey home will be less horrid? It was almost harder to believe than the outlandish mutterings of the townsfolk.

Just then, an eerie cry rose into the air just as the wind picked up again. The girl grimaced and hunched her shoulders. Fanny thought the wind came from the eastern edge of the town, near the bridge. It was exactly the direction she was headed.

It was probably just the sounds of birds and animals, the girl re-assured herself. However, on a night such as this Fanny wondered if it might be something more, something from out of those many stories her grandfather had told her.

Again, she felt relieved to finally leave this place behind.

This coin will bring me luck, she said to herself. It’s a sign that leaving is exactly the right thing to do.

As Fanny rounded the corner, the grey stone bridge leading to the main road out of town came into view. She would have to wait on the other side of the bridge for the blacksmith’s brother. He made the journey through Newville and beyond to the city every Friday evening, no matter how foul the weather. This night would be no exception. The only difference was that he would make it a slightly more profitable excursion since he was taking a paying passenger.

It made the girl shiver to think about it. Soon she would be stowed in the open back of the wagon facing an unpleasant journey through the remainder of the evening.

The girl looked forward to seeing her family but wasn’t very eager to leave on a night like this. Fanny worried that the route would be slow, possibly dangerous. Even a gentle first snowfall could make the roads hazardous. And this was no gentle first snowfall.

In spite of finding the coin, there were no signs of tonight being gentle. Fanny had seen no one through town, heard no sounds other than the wind and a million fingernails of ice scratching at the bridge.

The girl stood at the foot of the bridge. In spite of the chill already seeping into her bones, Fanny could see how beautiful the landscape had become. Trees shimmered with their fine coat of ice, and the ground gleamed with a faint reflected light.

The bridge sparkled.

As the girl stepped foot on the glassy surface of the bridge, she heard the strange wailing and inhuman cries carried along the stream below. It made the girl catch her breath. She wasn’t foolish enough to think those sounds were just made by the wind in the tress.

Without stepping further onto the bridge, the girl stood very still and listened. Once the eerie noises had passed, the girl was left with just the sound of tiny ice shards hitting the stones. It wasn’t very comforting.

Fanny decided to wait for her ride on this side of the bridge. The usual pick up location was on the other side. However, the blacksmith’s brother would have to come to this side before turning north. It was the route he took in the winter.

There was a small wooded section the road passed through just beyond the bridge, and not knowing exactly where the frightening sounds were coming from, Fanny was leery. The sounds could have come from the forest that bordered the creek, or they could be coming from something inside that wood across the bridge. It was too difficult to tell.

She could wave to her driver when he came into view.

Besides, the bridge was covered in a film of ice. She could slip going across it, or worse. If she climbed up on the blacksmith’s wagon and it skidded before reaching this side of the bridge… she girl shuddered to think what could happen. She could be thrown off, trampled, anything. It would be much smarter to wait until the smith’s brother was safely across the span.

While she waited in the dark and cold, Fanny hardly noticed when the wind died down. She hardly noticed as the falling ice crystals lightened to nothing. Something else had caught her attention.

Faint at first, but now growing steadily, there was a strange light flickering beneath the bridge. The light quivered and licked at the air the way firelight does.

The girl stared, transfixed by the wavering as it brightened. The way it moved was impossible, the girl knew.

When the first tormented cry broke through the girl’s fascination, the realization struck her. The sounds were coming from the light beneath the bridge. And the girl recognized them. They were straight out of one of the stories her grandfather had told her.

Without hesitation the girl lifter her ice sodden heavy skirts and turned to flee. She could hear the pound of hooves on the road and prayed she was fast enough to reach the smith’s brother.

He must be close. That must be his horse I hear.

But as the girl lifted her head, expecting to see the blacksmith’s cart hurtling toward her, she was stunned.

There was an enormous shadowy black shape bearing down on her. It was much larger than a horse and cart.

And it wasn’t the blacksmith’s brother at all.

It was death.

Chapter 1

First Impressions

Snap.

It was the branch he was on. So,

Oh snap! was what he thought.

It wasn’t a thought he’d normally have. Because Oh snap wasn’t really one of his surprise expressions. He was more of an *Oh Crap* guy. He’d just been forced to watch a lot of TV lately. So he’d picked it up.

Then the branch made that cracking noise again.

Sam Steves froze for a second. It was a long way down, he realized. And there wasn’t a mattress or anything cushy to land on. Yet. But he wasn’t going to overreact and blow his hiding spot. There were still plenty of grabs on the way if this branch really decided to give.

Very quietly Sam slipped onto another branch. He was pretty tough for a fourteen year old with lightning fast reflexes; but this was probably the wrong time just to wait and see how well the branch would hold up. He didn’t exactly want to meet that girl in some kind of awkward falling out of a tree scenario. It wouldn’t make the best first impression.

Besides. They’d only just started the unloading down there.

Sam could wait until the movers had left. He could sit tight and watch for a while. See what his new neighbours were like before he had to meet them ‘officially.’ So he squished himself back up against the tree trunk and hoped there were enough leaves to camouflage him.

Why did all of his friends have to go on vacation at the same time anyway? The thought just jumped right into Sam’s head. He wouldn’t have been stuck in this position if someone had come home early today. He would be out doing something. Anything. Not hanging in some tree avoiding his mother.

Sam took a breath and settled in. No one had looked up. Either no one had heard the cracking branches, or they just didn’t think to look up. Oh well, he could wait. There were some big tough looking moving guys on the lawn now. They were professionals. That meant the whole moving thing wouldn’t take long now. Right?

Or would it?

Sheesh, Sam thought. The things you have to do to avoid shopping with your mom when you’re a teenager.

***

Clara gingerly straightened her back as she placed her end of the couch down on the grass. Trying to move the family couch all by herself might have been a mistake. Normally the girl wasn’t one to admit mistakes lightly, but this time it was staring her in the face.

Although, when she thought about it, mistake was probably too harsh a word. Over-eagerness was better. Clara could admit she was a little over eager. It was something that happened to her whenever she threw herself into something so hard it led to over inflated ambition and consequently, exhaustion.

Moving was always exhausting, difficult work. Clara already knew that. Particularly when it seemed like you were the only one doing it.

Unlike the girl - by expertly holding up its own end - the beat up U-Haul rental showed no signs of fatigue. It could hold the other end of the couch all day if it really wanted.

Clara frowned.

The professional movers with their dollies and their big muscles had all left. Only the little trailer Clara’s parents hauled behind their car remained to be unloaded. And she was the only one unloading it. Clara arched her back, slightly pulling her shoulder blades together, and rested her hands on her hips. A light phew eased its way out of her lips.

Clara Brelle was a bright, sun speckled fourteen year old usually radiating energy. It just kind of spilled out of her and around her whenever she got started on something. Kind of like her hair.

Today her corn syrup gold hair was painstakingly folded up under a Vancouver Canucks cap. And starting something now or radiating anything at all just wasn’t that appealing to the girl. Maybe later though. Maybe after she figured out exactly how she was going to move that couch.

Because she was definitely not going to ask her mom.

Nope. No way.

Clara took a step back and her foot nearly took off without her. It had skidded back when it landed on a piece of paper.

The girl bent low to get a better look. It was a fairly amateurish looking brochure, slightly crinkled by the untimely stomping. Retrieving the foot imprinted paper; Clara could just make out the title.

Welcome to Night’s Port, she read aloud. It didn’t sound as ominous here in the sunlight as it had when her father first told her they were moving. Slipping the snippet of advertising into her back pocket, Clara straightened up.

Oh my aching fourteen year old back, she thought to herself and chuckled out loud. If only her parents knew how much she enjoyed mimicking them.

What’s so funny?

The disembodied voice of a boy made Clara start.

Poking his head out from behind the large Maple tree that stood exactly dead centre on Clara’s front lawn was a gangly boy with a dark blond mess on his head. He smiled and started picking leaves out of his hair.

Oh, not much. I was just thinking about how my parents are making out moving all this furniture. Clara realized that might sound a little mean, so she adjusted her reply, Oh - but not in a bad way. I was just thinking how sore I was getting, so they must be doubled over in agony. They’re in their forties, you know … might as well be in the hundreds.

Yeah, the boy agreed. I’m Sam by the way. Your neighbour. Do you want any help?

Sam Bytheway? Funny name.

"I’d love some. And I’m Clara. Not By-the-Way. Clara Brelle."

Oh. Okay. Sam moved toward the free end of the couch and started looking for a hand hold. Pretty brave of you to try and move this all by yourself.

Yeah, well. Try anything right? Thanks for helping. Looking straight at the boy, Clara noticed there was single maple leaf still lodged in his hair. So where were you that got all those leaves in your hair?

Sitting in your tree watching you struggle. He grinned sheepishly. I just couldn’t let you try and move this without at least offering to help.

Clara grasped her end of the couch a little more tightly. It wasn’t everyday a girl picked up a stalker after only just arriving in town. Several possible comments raced through her mind. How long were you there?

All morning. But it’s not what you think. He added awkwardly. I usually go and sit up there on difficult mornings. This morning was a family shopping trip I was trying to avoid. If my mom saw me I would have had to go with them – and then you guys showed up and I was kind of trapped up there. Probably wouldn’t have looked too good for some strange kid to drop out your tree with the movers and your parents and everything on your lawn. I thought it would be safer if just one person - or better nobody - saw me getting out of the tree. But then you had to try and move this thing. Sam picked up his end.

Okay. Clara said looking directly at Sam. His eyes were a sparkly blue and he did have a kind of dazzling smile. He looked like he wouldn’t be out of place on a beach somewhere. With a surf board.

If he’s some kind of psycho stalker dude I guess I could do worse, thought Clara. She was surprisingly calm about it.

They made their way to the front door of Clara’s new house but were stopped by Clara’s mother. Incredibly, the petite woman with spiky cropped hair dominated the entire doorway.

CeeCee. Who’s this? she barked.

Startled, both Clara and Sam dropped their ends of the couch.

Uh. sputtered Sam

He’s the neighbourhood boy. Came to help. Name’s Sam. Clara shot out the words.

’Kay Clara’s mom disappeared back in to the house.

After angling, sliding, dipping, dropping and generally fumbling with the couch, it was through the door and plunked down in the middle of the living room. A second later two teenagers were also plunked down in the middle of the living room, one at each end of the couch.

So where exactly do you live? Clara asked.

Jellybean blue house next door.

Wow, so that’s what you call that colour. Have you always lived here? Gone to school here?

Yup.

Clara was hoping her questions would break open a new conversation, but it was looking like this was going to be a whole lot harder than she first thought.

So your mom calls you CeeCee? Sam asked.

Yeah sometimes. If she’s not mad at me.

The boy nodded but didn’t add anything. In fact, Clara thought one of those awkward silences might just be lurking around the corner if she didn’t work a little harder at getting the boy to talk.

Tell me about the school, the place. Is there anything to do? Anything at all? Are there other kids?

School’s school. There’s a lot to do – if you know the right person. Sam stretched. The boy was remarkably comfortable in his surroundings considering he had only just met the girl who lived there.

Clara was genuinely surprised by his ease. She didn’t know anyone who was this comfortable in a stranger’s house when they’d just met the stranger. Maybe it was a small town thing?

When you guys are done moving in - send your mom over to my house. My mom’s been waiting to meet her. It’s a small town thing. My mom will probably be back from shopping in about an hour.

Might take my mom a little longer than that. She’s not all that friendly. Takes her a while to warm up to people.

Then send your dad.

My dad?

Yeah. It’s kind of a local tradition thing. My folks just want to meet the new people. You know how it is.

Considering Clara really didn’t know how it was, she just nodded and thought it was a bit weird.

Sam then leaned forward and stood up. I should get back home now.

Oh, okay. Clara offered a little sadly. She was enjoying getting to know her new neighbour. But really, they’d only just met and Clara did have a lot of unpacking to do.

Maybe your mom will let me show you a little bit of the town when she comes over?

Again Clara nodded but thought it unlikely. Her mom hadn’t met the neighbours yet and she would never let Clara go anywhere with someone she hadn’t had time to form an opinion about.

So maybe that was the motivation behind such a quick neighbourly meet and greet. Maybe there weren’t an awful lot of kids to hang out with here?

At any rate, the boy seemed genuinely friendly and Clara didn’t feel any of those warning vibes kick in – those city instinct vibes that told a person if there was something really not right about somebody.

So Clara took a second to be sure before she replied to the boy’s suggestion.

"I hope so. But before you go, what’s the town like? I mean really. For