The Martin House

The Martin House

by

Trina M. Ward

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright Ó 2013 by Trina M. Ward

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-61160-651-5

Cover Artist:

Editor: Merrylee Lanehart

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

I am dedicating this book to my loving mother and father, Mrs. Lois June Ward and Mr. Thomas Gene Ward. Thank you for instilling the strength and pride that I take in everything I do. I hope they are as proud of me as I am of them. I love them both with all of my heart, and I wish they could have stayed with me long enough to see me fulfill my lifelong dream.

I want to give a special thanks to my sister Wendy for advising me and giving me pointers as to the format and direction in which the storyline should be told. I couldn’t have done it without you. Tell the kids at Vernon Elementary the importance of education is what made this possible. I hope to inspire one of them as they did me. Without my English teachers and the homework I wouldn’t be here today. Imagination is the beginning. The ability to read and write is the rest.

I would like to give a special thank you to those that have shared stories with me regarding their encounters with The Martin House. Thanks Mom, Charlie, Nate, Blake & Judy!  I hope I have used your experiences as close as possible to the truth. You endured the fear and I wanted to keep the stories true to you.

Thanks to my siblings: Mark, Wendy, Angie, Keith & Sebrina for all the ghost stories we told as children. I love you all!

Finally I would like to especially thank someone who is near and dear to my heart, Ashley Raffield. You are my Rock and best friend. Thank you for encouraging me to press forward and follow my dreams. You gave me a sense of accomplishment and kept me focused on completing this book even though, after reading it, you couldn’t sleep without a night light and made me open the curtain before you showered. You couldn’t enter a room without me checking it out first. I know suspense and thriller type story lines aren’t your thing, but you endured it. You still wanted to finish reading it until the end. Without you I would have most likely given up and not only with my writing. It has been a trying year to say the least. You showed me that I didn’t have to go through it alone and that my love is what it is all about. Nothing else matters.  With all of this said I thank you & I love you very much!

Chapter 1: Reputation Is Everything

It’s not the smallest of towns but it has the same charm as those you may have heard about. Everyone is cordial and appreciates their close knit families. None the less every town has its secrets and this one located on the Gulf Coast is no different. Panama City is made up of a variety of people. The beaches consist of snow white sands and tourists year round. When spring break rolls around thousands travel there to enjoy the most beautiful beaches in the country.

For most people a visit is the vacation of a lifetime. Tourists travel from hundreds or even thousands of miles away to catch a glimpse of the emerald waters and the crystal white sandy beaches. There are some who might visit with the intention of getting away from their everyday lives and the associated stress. Others come just to party. The town relies on visitors of any and all kinds to keep its small businesses afloat.

For many years, people had to travel for miles around the lake to get to town to purchase everyday necessities. Eventually, after the outlying areas of land became more populated, two bridges were built. The view from one of the bridges was startling. From one side of it the view was picture perfect. On the other side leading up to the Martin House the water was stagnate and cloudy. It was almost as if it were two different bodies of water.

Tucked away in the woods, the Martin House had a beautiful view of Martin Lake located along the rear of the property and from one side of the county to the other. Portions of the lake were crystal clear and had natural springs that fed into it. It was ideal for swimming, diving, and boating. There were a lot of rumors regarding both the lake and the house. The police have taken numerous reports about swimmers seeing submerged bodies or partial remains at the bottom of the lake while enjoying their day on the water. But no bodies had ever been recovered. The police assumed the reports were the result of inebriated imaginations or what they’d seen had been devoured by the alligators populating this very large lake.

In the middle eighteen hundreds there were rumors of witchcraft and devil worship by individuals living in the secluded parts of town. Some of these outcasts would perform ritualistic killings using animals from nearby farms. On some occasions family pets went missing and were never found. It was only a matter of time before the farmers figured out what was happening to their livestock.

One of the farmers known to his friends and family as Shiny had noticed a trend as to what days of the month his farm animals would go missing. He decided to wait up and spy on the thieves, hoping to put an end to the mystery. He hid in the woods and awaited the arrival of the perpetrators. He saw a person walk from behind the back of the barn. The figure was dressed in all black with a hood over his head. It was in the early hours and the moon was nearing full, allowing Shiny to watch in disbelief as one of his baby pigs was wrestled down and tied up by the feet. The mouth of the pig was restrained as well to minimize the noise.

The farmer followed the dark figure to a field approximately two miles through the woods. There were several spectators there dressed in the same type of clothing. There was a fire burning and they proceeded to chant in a language that wasn’t English. The man appearing to be their leader stabbed the pig and proclaimed it a sacrifice for eternal life. In exchange for the sacrifice the leader proclaimed he would be given powers to fight for the good of all mankind. The pig’s blood was then drained into a container.

Each member walked up to their leader and knelt on one knee. The leader then dunked a gold goblet into the container and filled it with blood. He then dipped his thumb in the warm pig’s blood and drew what appeared to be a star symbol on each man’s forehead. It was as if they were being initiated.

Once this had been done the new members turned to the others and everyone removed their hoods. The last person to reveal his face was the man Shiny had pegged as the leader. Panicked, Shiny rushed back through the woods to his farm. He stayed awake all night, fearful of what might happen to him if someone had seen him snooping around.

The next morning he went to the sheriff’s office and explained what he had seen. Sheriff Mitchell was not your average law official. He was extremely short and skinny, with a closely shaven face and short hair. Although he was in his late twenties, he didn’t look a day over eighteen.

Knowing Shiny the way he did, the sheriff was extremely leery of his accusations, but the only way to satisfy the overzealous farmer was for them to make a trip to the secluded area where Shiny claimed to have watched the sacrifice. When the two of them arrived it was obvious to the sheriff something had definitely taken place there.

The fire pit was noticeably warm and still smoking. Yet Sheriff Mitchell remained skeptical of everything Shiny had been explained to him. The farmer had the reputation of making a mountain out of a molehill, and he spent plenty of time testing the moonshine made by his father. Not knowing his limit, once inebriated he made a complete ass of himself, thus his nickname.

Sheriff Mitchell had no idea what to think when they came across the blood-stained ground and the burnt remains of the animal. They were both in shock when they saw the amount of bones piled in a small ditch just a few feet away. Obviously, there had been many of these gatherings that had gone unnoticed.

Sheriff Mitchell looked up at Shiny and asked, What the hell is going on here?

Shiny seemed relieved that his story had been confirmed. He simply stated Something has to be done.

With the townsmen in an uproar, they decided to go to the remote location and try to catch the perpetrators in the act. But it wasn’t until the next full moon that the apparent cult held another gathering.

The sheriff was extremely angered that such goings on had occurred in his town right under his nose without him catching wind of it. This type of activity in his hometown could damage his reputation and credibility as a lawman. Unfortunately, he was only able to capture the woman who appeared to be the leader’s companion. The remaining members of the cult were able to escape without giving away their identity.

Sherriff Mitchell took the woman back to town where he locked her up and began questioning her. They were at it for hours but the only name she gave Sheriff Mitchell was her own—Chastity. She told him she would never stop honoring her god, an entity she referred to as Lord Mortigan. Unrepentive, Chastity claimed Mortigan would reward his followers with the ultimate gift of immortality.

Fearful this outrage could spread and destroy their economy, the townsmen took a vote on what should be done with Chastity. Obviously, they couldn’t publicly try her; the news would get out. Besides, she hadn’t really broken any laws. There weren’t any laws anymore against witchcraft, devil worship or whatever it was she’d been engaged in.

Quickly, they came to a unanimous decision. They would hang the witch. They planned to hang her in a secluded area of town with just a few of the townsmen there. The day came for her execution, and they were all excited to get the dirty business done. All without a fair trial.

Chastity was guided slowly up onto the wooden platform built especially for her execution. The executioners yelled and cheered as she took her steps towards death, looking neither scared nor nervous as she approached her death.

From afar, the cult leader watched in a state of terror as the event took place. He could not believe such a heinous act was about to be committed against his beloved Chastity. And that he was about to lose her.

Chastity’s head was covered with a hood. Stones and other things were thrown at her. Then the lever was pulled and her body hung from the noose, squeezing the life right out of her body. Chastity jerked and kicked, swaying back and forth as she gasped for air. Once she was dead, her body was burned, leaving nothing behind.

The presence of the evil society diminished over the next few years. Or so it appeared. They were never seen in public again, but that didn’t mean they had discontinued their worship of Mortigan. In hiding, they continued doing the unthinkable. Occasionally, the sheriff heard rumors as to the identities of some of the members. One could have been Chastity’s estranged husband Sebastian, but rumors were not enough to lead to his arrest.

Sebastian still lived in town but was not welcome in social circles. He had no known address, and some say he went crazy after his wife went missing. He apparently blamed himself for her likely death by bringing her into the cult for the leader to entice and corrupt. Or so the sheriff surmised.

The town definitely had its secrets, which the townsmen meant to keep. A story like this could damage the town’s reputation as well as the profitability of the town. It would surely make believers of all the skeptics who didn’t have proof regarding the happenings in that house. You can only deny something like this for so long before the truth is made public.

Those who had put Chastity to death believed if they spoke of her ever again, they would surely suffer financial and emotional ruin. However, word of Chastity’s shocking death was destined to slip out.

Years later, a document substantiating the hanging of a woman for devil worship would turn up in the public library. Unfortunately; it would spark rumors and feed into the ghost stories surrounding the Martin House, a place that was to become one of the most feared homes in this small but affluent community.

Chapter 2: Getting To Know The House

The Martin House was one of the first homes built in the then remote part of Panama City. Locals of the time all agreed the house was one of, if not thee nicest home, ever built in the community. It was huge and painted all white. Although it was made entirely of wood rather