Out of the Depths of Abandon
A Tale from Cutters Notch
By Mike DeCamp
October 31, 2012
If you were soaring high above the neighboring tree tops,
Tim and his ten year-old son, Tony looked like ants as they moved back and
forth on the grass. They would fill the
wheelbarrow with weeds, sticks, brush, and soil. Then they would cart it off to the nearby
woods to dump it. Slowly, but surely
they cleared out the camouflage that kept the great old slab of limestone
hidden from view in the middle of their new home’s backyard.
It was an odd hunk of stone sitting all alone in that spot
for no apparent reason. Flat on top and
almost perfectly round, it appeared to have been fashioned into that shape and
then moved into that spot for a reason that was lost on everyone. Even the real estate agent that had handled
their purchase could find no historical reason for it to be there; no old grain
mill, no old limestone mine. Limestone
mines were common in this area, but it seemed that this stone’s location had
been established long before the mining had even begun.
Despite its longevity in that spot, and since it seemed to
have no historical significance, Tim decided it needed to go. A swimming pool was destined to take its spot
as the focal point of the property.
It was lunch time when the man and his son finally cleared
out the last load and stood side-by-side, shovel in hand, looking at their
handiwork.
Tim looked at the rock for a long time, then: “That is such an odd place for that stone.”
“What’s so weird about it, dad” replied the boy.
“Well,” he started as he scratched his chin. “It looks like it was moved here on purpose,
like someone meant for it to be here, but there is no record of who did it or
why it was done. It’s almost like it was
done prehistorically.”
“Like, maybe the Indians did it?” asked Tony.
“Maybe…” Tim trailed
off in thought. Then said, “It could
have been the Adena-Hopewell people.”
“Who?”
“Do you remember when we went up to Mounds State Park in
Anderson and saw the Great Mound?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, they used to live throughout this area. Just as the reasons why they built that mound
are long gone, maybe the same people fashioned and put this rock here…for who
knows why. Some of the mounds were
burial places or ceremonial places, but nobody knows why they built some of the
other mounds ‘cause they just disappeared.
Nobody knows where they went or what happened to them.”
“That’s weird, Dad.”
“Yes, it is. Weird is
a good word for it.”
The man and boy heard the back door of their house open, so
they turned to look. Framed by the
ornate old wooden pillars that held up the roof over the porch that spanned the
length of the rear of the two-story, red brick house was Tim’s beautiful young
wife of sixteen years. Traci was wearing
tan shorts and a short sleeve, red polka dot top that buttoned down the
front. Her auburn hair was pulled back
in a ponytail. The shade of the giant
sycamore tree that stood at the corner of their house like a lone sentry of the
surrounding Hoosier National Forest caused the sunshine to cast shifting
shadows across her lightly freckled face.
“Lunch is ready!” she called. “Wash up and I’ll set it up here on the
porch.”
A few minutes later, they were seated at the rectangular
glass patio table that fit nicely onto their spacious porch that was enclosed
by a wooden railing that matched the pillars in ornamentation. Tim’s fifteen year-old daughter, Teresa had
joined them. She had plopped down with
her back to the yard and had carefully arranged a notebook and accompanying
Bible to the left of her plate.
“Are you going somewhere after lunch?” asked her mom.
“Yeah, the teen group has an afternoon devo today. Jilly is picking me up.”
Jilly was a new friend from school, and also daughter to one
of the elders at their new local church.
Tim and his family had only recently moved to Cutters Notch, Indiana from
Indianapolis, and it was helpful that Teresa had been able to make at least one
new friend so quickly. Already this
seemed like a really good move because Tim had begun to worry that his little
girl might get wrapped up in the wrong crowd in the big city. Now, she seemed all about Jilly and her new
church group. Tim was proud of her
apparently innocent faith and he wished his matched hers in its unwavering
nature.
Turning to Tim, Traci asked:
“Is it ready to move yet?”
“Yep,” he answered.
“I’ll get Jim to bring over his tractor tomorrow and we’ll drag it over
to the woods.”
“You can’t move it with the truck, Dad?” Tony asked.
“Nope. Way too heavy
for the Chevy. But, Jim’s John Deere
will make light work of it.”
“Cool,” said the boy.
Traci was looking at a paper she’d pulled out of a folder. The folder seemed to be stuffed with white
pages printed with articles and pictures, plus some old newspaper clippings.
“Did you know,” she randomly interjected, “that this
property has a reputation for being haunted?”
Tim gave her a skeptical look. “No.
I’m afraid I hadn’t heard that.
Care to share?”
“Well, over the years there have been various sightings of
native Americans appearing and disappearing right around our house.”
“Indians?!” Tony’s
interest was piqued.
“Native Americans, Tony.
Indians live in Asia. But,
yeah. Seems that is the reason this
house has had so many owners over the years.
People move in, get spooked, then move out.”
“I guess I should have checked this out before I bought it,
but how many owners has it had?” Tim asked his wife.
She answered: “It was
built in 1858, which makes it over one hundred and fifty years old. In that time, it has had seventy-five owners
and countless other tenants.”
“Good grief!” exclaimed Tim.
“I just don’t understand that.
It’s a beautiful old house on a beautiful piece of property. I just don’t understand why anyone would ever
want to leave it.”
“Unless it is actually haunted,” said his wife.
“That would explain it,” said Tim with more than a hint of
sarcasm. “No ghost is gonna get me out
of here, though. I love this place
already.”
“The Lord is greater than any ghost,” added Teresa. “He would protect us anyway.” The rest of the family just turned and looked
at her.
Ignoring their stares, she grabbed her Bible and sprinted
off around the house to meet her friend.
Over her shoulder she yelled, “The Lord is my shepherd…right?!” Then she disappeared past the sycamore and
around the corner.
Traci looked at Tim.
“I think she might be going a little overboard on this Bible stuff. Don’t you?”
“She’ll be fine,” Tim answered. “It’s a phase.”
It had been a phase for Tim.
His parents had dragged him to church every week as a boy until at age
thirteen he had been baptized. He figured
he couldn’t beat them, so he might as well join them. Besides, he had friends in the youth group
and they did a lot of fun things. Reds
games. Summer camp. Things that boys his age loved to do. So, he put on the God clothes and passed through
that phase of his life. Then he grew up,
reality took the place of spirituality, and God was relegated to whatever time
he had left after everything else was done.
Six hours later, the sun was beginning to set in the October
sky and the multi-colored leaves were drifting down creating a collage of
autumn color that stretched from the still green lawn up through the angled and
twisted limbs of the forest. The giant
leaves of their home’s lone sycamore gathered on the porch and around the rose
bushes that formed a prickly barrier between the house and the outside
world. Tim was reading a history
book. Teresa was reading her Bible. Tony was driving his Tonka dump truck around
on the oak floorboards, pulling through tunnels formed by table legs and down
highways created by carpet runners.
Traci was cooking dinner and looking out at the beauty of the changing
forest before her.
Inspired by the great tree outside the kitchen window, Traci
said: “Tim, how tall will the sycamore
grow?”
“Well, if I cut it down, you’ll never know.” He replied with a snicker.
“No! No way!”
exclaimed Teresa! “You can’t! I love that tree!”
Tim ignored her. Tony
was oblivious. Only her mother noticed
her pained expression.
“It’s okay, Teresa.
He was only joking with me. It’s
a line from the movie Pocahontas, remember?”
She could see the relief sweep across her daughter’s eyes,
so she turned her attention back to the fading panorama of her new yard and the
neighboring forest. Almost mesmerized by
the drifting yellow and orange leaves, her mind was floating back to times past
when things were simpler for her; times when all she had to do was run and play
in the leaves. Running. Laughing.
Jumping into raked up piles. A
smile crept across her face, and for the first time in several years she was
beginning to feel a measure of contentment.
She had married Tim right after high school and had dropped
out of college when she became pregnant with Teresa. From then on, it was life on a shoestring,
and she felt the constant pressure to maintain the household. The truth was that she sometimes doubted her
love for her husband. She wondered if
she had jumped in too young, and she wondered what her life might have been. In a sense, she envied her daughter now
because she could see the faith building in her and she yearned for that
youthful innocence that she once had.
Now that they were living in Cutters Notch, away from the need to keep up
appearances in Indianapolis, she was starting to feel like she could regain a
sense of balance in her life again.
Maybe. Looking out the window at
the beauty of the falling leaves, she thought just maybe.
That was went she saw it.
Just a glimpse. It darted from behind
a large, wild honeysuckle and then ducked in behind a large old oak. It was just a form, a shadow really. But, it looked like a man. A man in odd, sort of primitive clothing.
Suddenly, the forest no longer looked beautiful. The sun had drifted lower and now the shadows
were overtaking the fluttering leaves.
Darkness was encroaching from every angle and she remembered the file of
old “ghost” stories she had been reading earlier.
She shook her head.
It was just her unconscious mind playing tricks with her. Her overactive imagination was at work again. It had plagued her at night since she was a
small girl, and this was no different.
She had learned to use her rational mind to overcome the irrational
fears of her creative side.
Then, she saw it again!
This time the figure darted from behind the oak toward the
great old sycamore.
“Tim!” she nearly screamed!
“There’s an Indian in the yard!”
“What?” asked Tim.
“You mean ‘Native American’, mom,” said Tony.
Ignoring the boy, she said: “Tim, there a man in the
yard! I’ve seen him twice! He looked like he’s an India…..I mean Native
American. He’s sneaking around.”
“You’re just messin’ with me,” said Tim. “Trying to get my goat over those stories you
told me.”
“No!” she said. “I
mean it! I saw him.”
Tim looked at his wife and saw the genuine fear in her
eyes. As he stood up, he heard a thump
on the wooden planks that formed the floor of his porch. Now, the situation had everyone’s attention.
Two more thumps.
Undaunted, Tim strode over to the door, threw it open, and
stepped out onto the cedar decking only to be confronted by one of the largest
men he had ever seen. Standing just to
the right of the doorway and silhouetted by the great old tree was an oddly
dressed man with long feather-tipped hair, draped in fur and carrying a large
spear. His bright blue eyes pierced
through Tim with an icy stare that seemed to be able to freeze even the hottest
oceans of courage.
Tim stopped on a dime and almost fell back in surprise. However, he quickly gathered his wits, tried
to stand more upright, and confronted the man.
“Hey! What do you
want? What do you mean by sneaking
around my property?”
The man stood there quietly.
He seemed to be evaluating Tim.
His right hand held the spear, but his left hand rested on the hilt of a
very large knife.
Nervously, Tim pressed on.
“Speak man! What do you
want? Do I need to call the sheriff?”
After a few more moments of silence, the huge figure
spoke: “My name is Tomba. I am the guardian of the stone.”
His stare did not weaken and his hand did not move away from
the knife. Never the less, Tim was
determined to show that he was man enough to deal with this apparent threat.
“Okay, Tomba. My name
is Tim and I own this place. I’d like
you to leave.”
“You must not move the sacred stone,” the man said with a
deep monotone voice that seemed to boom from his throat with very little
effort. “Do not move the stone.” With that last said, he lifted his right hand
and pointed the spear toward the large limestone slab in the middle of the
backyard.
“My people have guarded that stone for season upon
season. It must not be moved.”
“Well, Tomba, apparently your job is done. I own that stone now and it sits where my
pool needs to go. I’ll be moving it
tomorrow.”
For the first time, Tim saw a shift in the man’s eyes. Interpreting it as doubt and hesitation, he
pressed on.
“Now, if you aren’t off my property in about thirty seconds,
I’m going to do two things. First, I’m
going to call 911. Then, I am going to
get my shotgun.”
The focus of the ancient figure’s eyes reset upon Tim, and
he stepped forward into that uncomfortable space directly in front of the
smaller man. Since Tomba was several
inches taller, he stared down upon Tim’s face.
The spear again rested upon the surface of the porch, but the tip was
above Tim’s head.
“I warn you. You must
not move the sacred stone. It contains a
great evil that must not be released.
Long seasons ago, it claimed many of my people, but the Great Spirit has
banished it to the depths for as long as the stone remains unmoved.”
“Traci, call the sheriff,” Tim yelled to his wife who was
watching the whole thing from the kitchen window. “Look Tomba, if that is really your name, get
off my porch and get off my property. I
am going to get my shotgun, and if you are not gone when I get back, you will
find buckshot in your butt.”
As Tim moved back toward his door, Tomba stepped off the
porch decking. “I warn you small pale
man. Destruction will come to many if
you do not heed my words. You must not
move the stone.” As he said those words,
he strode to the far side of the Sycamore.
Tim watched him go, and when he did not emerge past the tree, Tim strode
after him to ensure he kept going. But,
when he reached the tree, the unusual man was nowhere to be seen. Looking around the tree and past the side of
the house, Tim could not find him. It
was almost as if he had simply stepped off into a shadowy realm.
The sheriff came and went, chuckling at another Indian
sighting at the old house. “Probably
some local teens playing a practical joke,” he had suggested. Eventually, the family settled down. It was a restless night, but they tried to
sleep. Both Tony and Teresa slept on
pallets on their parents’ bedroom floor.
Sunday morning finally dawned bright and chilly. The family rose to start the day with Traci
headed to the kitchen to pull together a breakfast, Teresa snagged the bathroom
to perform her beauty rituals, and Tim and Tony slipped outside to answer the
call of nature. After all, pressure was
pressure, and as nice as the place was, it still only had one bathroom.
As they stepped out the backdoor, the guys were confronted
with an astonishing sight. The large
stone had been encased in hundreds of small stones ranging from three inches to
six inches in diameter. Around the stone
works, twelve large spears had been driven into the ground. Each had feathers and strips of cloth
fluttering from the shafts at various heights.
Outside of the ring of spears was another ring of twelve larger stones,
large enough to sit on. On top of the
limestone was a small fire, or more accurately, the remnants of a small
fire. A small stream of smoke still rose
from the center.
“Traci! Come see
this!” He called.
“Whaaa….?” Her
question drifted off as her mouth fell open.
“Some prank, huh?” Tim asked with a sarcastic tone. “It’s gonna take Tony and me all morning to
clear that away!”
“What about church?” Teresa asked. She had slipped out behind her mother. “We’ve gotta go to church.”
“You and your mom can go.
Me and Tony will clean this up.
We’ve got to get it done ‘cause Jim’s coming over after lunch with the
tractor.”
“Tim, maybe we should just leave it alone,” said Traci. “I’m kind of freaked out by all this. Maybe it is a sacred site for Native
Americans. Maybe we should just let it
be.”
“Oh, come on, Traci. If it were a sacred site, we’d have
been officially notified. There wouldn’t
be a strange guy on our porch or spears in the yard. I’m not sure what the deal really is, but I’m
not letting some crackpots keep us from building our pool on our own property.”
An hour later, breakfast was done. The girls headed off to church and the guys
started carting stones off to the woods.
It was almost noon when the last rock was removed. Tim was using a scoop shovel to lift the
charred wood off the top when he noticed some shallow markings on the top
surface. They were so faint that he
couldn’t easily make out the images, but they seemed very old and
weathered. He could see a large image in
the center that seems to have eight jagged legs extending around an oval
figure. Dozens of smaller figures were
scattered around the larger one, some seemed to be standing with spears in
hand, while others were reclining.
Showing the figures to his son, he said: “I think maybe we do have an old Indian relic
here.”
“Are we not gonna move it then?” asked the boy.
“Oh, yeah. We’re
moving it,” he replied. “But we’ll keep
it safe in another spot so we can show someone who maybe can make sense of it.”
Shortly after noon, Traci and Teresa returned home from
church to find Tim sipping lemonade while Tony was trying to throw a spear at
the sycamore tree. He was failing miserably
to the great benefit of the tree because each spear was almost twice as long as
he was tall.
“Your daughter has a guy interested in her,” announced
Traci.
“Aw Mom!” Teresa whined and ran inside.
“Great,” Tim answered.
“Just what we need.”
“Yeah, and he’s a real cutie too.” You could hear the sneer in her voice.
“Stop it, Mom!” Teresa yelled from inside.
“Mom!” Tony emerged
from his submersion in the art of spear-throwing to see that she had come
home. “Dad says we really do have an
Indian relic!”
“Oh, yeah?” Traci
looked at her husband with curiosity.
“Is that right Tim?”
“Seems so. It’s
covered with markings that look extremely old.
Looks like a drawing of a battle with a giant creature of some sort. Don’t know what kind….just has a lot of
legs.”
They walked over together, kicking leaves along the
way. More leaves were drifting down,
tossed to and fro on the wind. Tim
pointed out the ancient designs, tracing the lines with his finger.
“Are you going to leave it alone then?” she asked. “I mean, maybe we should respect Tomba’s
request.”
“First, Tomba didn’t make a request. Tomba made a demand. I don’t like strange men, dressed in dead
animals, showing up on my porch in the dark, and making demands. Second,…Yes,…I am still moving it. Jim will be here any minute.”
“But…”
“No buts. If we wait
until some historian gets wind of this, we’ll never be able to move it. I’m gonna move it, but I’m also going to be
real careful and we’ll keep it safe…and out of the way. Okay?”
“Well…”
“Look. I promise we
won’t even scratch it.” Tim put his arm
around his bride’s shoulders. “Seriously. I promise to take good care of it. Besides, it might be worth a bunch of
money.” A sneaky smile crossed his lips
as he mentioned the money.
“Oh, okay,” said Traci.
“Just you remember your promise, though.”
About that time, Jim Abbott from a mile south on Robbins
Creek Road rumbled into the driveway on his huge, green John Deere
tractor. He was about as big as a small
elephant, but the tractor made him look tiny in comparison. It was convenient to be able to hire out the
tractor on occasion, but Tim didn’t relish the idea too much because Jim was an
unpleasant sort of man. He swore with
every breath, smoked huge cigars, and leered at his wife and daughter whenever
they were around. He wore bib overalls,
a long-sleeve red, flannel shirt, and a camouflage cap with the Rebel Battle
Flag emblazoned on the front.
Tim directed him around the house to the big stone in the
yard. When he got the Deere positioned,
he shut it down and without a word (at least not a word fit for young ears) he
lumbered over to the woods and relieved himself in the brush. He must have been holding a gallon of water
because it took him about five minutes to finish the job.
By the time he returned, Tim had secured a chain around the
stone and fastened it to the tractor.
“Drag it over there by the woods,” said Tim. “Take it easy. I don’t want the chain to slip. It’s got some markings on the top I want to
protect.”
“Got it, Chief,” replied Jim. “I’ll ease it over like I’m sneakin’ past my
old lady on a Friday night.”
As the mammoth of a man jumped back up on the mighty
machine, the words of Tomba returned to Tim’s mind: “I warn
you. You must not move the sacred
stone. It contains a great evil that
must not be released. Long seasons ago,
it claimed many of my people, but the Great Spirit has banished it to the
depths for as long as the stone remains unmoved.” Along with the words, a hint of doubt arose
in the man’s mind. A ‘great evil.’ Tim wondered what that could have meant.
“Are you ready for me to do this or not?” the redneck in the
rebellious hat demanded. “I got other
stuff to do ya know.”
Tim motioned for him to proceed, and then watched with some
trepidation as the great stone moved aside.
First, the chain grew taunt, and Tim thought maybe it would snap under
the weight of the relic, but then the slab began to move. Soon, it was on its way to its new resting
place, and Tim ambled over to look at the spot where it had been stationed for
God knows how many hundreds of years.
Reaching the spot, he stopped short and looked in amazement.
“What the…?” he started.
Tony had been watching from the house, but now he ran down
to join his dad.
“What is it?” he asked as he trotted up beside him. “What’s there?”
His dad did not respond.
Rather, he just stood there looking at what seemed to be a manhole cover
in the earth. It was about three feet in
diameter, made of stone, and covered with hundreds of strange curved markings. They were not the same as the rough drawings
on the stone. Rather, the characters
wound around the outer rim in a circle.
More characters formed additional rings that grew smaller as they were
formed toward the center of the stone like age rings in the center of a
tree. In the very center, there was an
oval with a circle in the center that gave the impression of an eye.
The circular stone was set in a depression that was only
slightly larger in diameter. It was
perfectly centered, leaving only about a quarter of an inch of clearance. The base that contained the stone seemed to
be formed from some sort of marble, while the stone itself had the appearance
of granite.
“What the blazes is that, City Slicker?” asked Jim. “Got yerself a well or somethin’?”
“No idea. I think
it’s too old to be a well.”
Tim scratched his chin.
Jim scratched his privates.
“Tony! Go to the barn
and get me that old pry bar.”
A couple of minutes later, Tony returned with the tool. Tim took it and then walked around the stone,
examining it from various angles. He
seemed to be trying to decide if lifting it up was a good idea or not. He could be unearthing an ancient grave. If that was the case, he would be in for a
world of hurt. He would have to report
it, and that would lead to officials, archeologists, reporters, and definitely
no swimming pool. Special care would be
required of the site and his property would fall into the hands of the
government.
He was still thinking it over when his thoughts were
interrupted by a whistle, the kind of whistle some men make as an attractive woman
walks by. Teresa, Bible in hand, had
stepped out on the porch and Jim was staring at her, and he had made the
whistle.
“Boy, that girl’s a hot one!” he said with a lustful tone.
“Are you kidding me?” Tim responded. “Are you going to say that kind of crap right
in front of me? I’m her dad, you know!”
“Well, I’m not,” The
supersized redneck said with a chuckle.
“Jim. I cannot
believe you would say something like that.
I think I’m done with you. I’ll
pay you, and then you can leave. Got
it?”
“Sure enough. Game’s
on TV anyway. That’ll be fifty bucks.”
“Tony, run in and get this jerk his money from your
mom. Tell her fifty dollars.”
As the boy retreated to the house, Tim returned his
attention to the round stone tablet set in the earth. He made his decision and slipped the pry bar
into the slight gap and lifted it.
Working carefully, he was able to maneuver the bar further under the lip
and slide it over. Once it was propped
on the edge, he set the bar aside and used his hands to push it further off the
hole revealing a dark, deep hole that his eyes couldn’t penetrate.
“Tony!” he called.
“Bring the flashlight from the kitchen drawer when you come back out.”
“I got a Maglite here on my belt,” said the disgusting local
tractor driver, and he handed it over to Tim.
“What’s down there?”
“I dunno,” Tim answered, so consumed with the possibilities
of the hole that he forgot how disgusted he was with the flashlight owner. “I can’t really see anything.”
Tim was shining the light at the hole, examining the edges,
and running the beam down the cylindrical sides. The appearance of marble along the rim was
extended into the hole as far as he could see.
It was perfectly smooth on the sides and the appearance was almost
crystalline. Tony returned with the
man’s money and the other light so they flashed both beams into the hole and
still couldn’t see the bottom.
“Shhhh,” Tim said as he dropped a large stone into the
abyss. They listened for several seconds
but never heard it hit the bottom. It
was obviously crazy deep!
“What have you done?” boomed a deep voice from behind
them. “You have brought disaster upon
yourselves and many others as well!”
The two men and the boy turned to see Tomba standing beside
the great, old sycamore. He seemed even
larger in the daylight, and a look of sheer terror blanketed his face.
“Quickly, return the cover!
You must replace the lid before he awakens! Perhaps it is not too late. Be quick!”
The man moved as he spoke and rushed toward the hole with
the obvious intent of putting the stone back in place, but before he reached
his target, a great and horrible screech erupted from the darkness at their
feet. It pierced the tranquility of the
autumn afternoon, rattling the windows and causing hundreds of birds to leap
into the air from the forest trees. The
screech ended as quickly as it began, but it was followed by a cacophony of
clicking sounds, like thousands of fingers tapping a table top at once.
Click, click, click,
clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.
It grew louder, and louder.
“Doom! We are all
doomed!” shouted Tomba. “It is too late
to stop him from returning. Run! Run for your lives!”
Turning toward the house, Tim and Tony intended to get
inside. Jim, being slow to move at any
time, had not yet comprehended the situation.
Tomba joined the father and son and headed toward the old house. Before they made it more than ten feet, a
thick fog burst forth from the darkness.
Spurting well above the tree tops, it spread out into a great dome that
enveloped the entire open yard and house.
It formed walls on every side that prevented view beyond that gray
membrane in any direction. The
previously bright October afternoon was now transformed into what felt like a
gloomy overcast winter evening with most of the sun being filtered out.
“Get into your house!” Tomba yelled.
Now, even the rude redneck was beginning to move.
The fog ceased to flow from the hole, but the clicking sound
became even more intense. Louder. Louder still!
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick!!!!!!!!
As the two men and the boy reached the back porch, they
turned to urge the fat man to move. He
had only gone a few feet before the clicking reached the surface, and a sea of
small, black creatures swelled up over the lip of the hole and scattered in
every direction as they poured out. With
bulbous abdomens of about a foot in diameter and multi-jointed legs that jutted
in every angle, it became quickly obvious that they were huge spiders!
“Inside!” Tim ordered his children! He shoved them inside and was immediately
followed by the Native American guardian.
Once inside, they turned in anticipation that Jim would be on their
heels. Instead, they were witness to two
things. First, they saw him trip over
the pry bar. Second, he was overwhelmed
by the spider horde and both bitten and then spun into a silk cocoon.
Tim slammed the door and then ran to the kitchen window to
make sure it was closed. It was open,
and he barely had slammed it down when black legs scrambled over the glass.
“Quick! Make sure all
of the other windows are closed!” he ordered.
With haste, all of the windows and doors were successfully
secured, and everyone was gathered in the family room. Traci was holding Teresa. Tony was holding on to his mother’s right
leg. Everyone was looking at Tomba with
a mixture of fear and hopefulness. They
were fearful of both what was emerging from the hole and of the reaction that
Tomba may have at Tim’s disregard of his warnings. At the same time, they all were hoping
against hope that Tomba would harbor some answer to how they might escape with
their lives. That hope was quickly
dispelled.
“We are doomed,” he simply announced. “You have killed us all with what you have
done. Us, and perhaps many, many more.”
Tim was looking out the window. Between the flittering legs, he could see
that his yard was being transformed into a magnificent globe of intertwining
spider silk which created the largest web that anyone had ever seen, at least
anyone in modern history. As he looked
closer, he could see that leering, insulting Jim was now suspended in the
air. He was hanging from a line that
stretched to the domed ceiling, dangling like a deer carcass after the hunt.
The clicking sound was now all around them. It was echoing from every corner of the house
as they were quickly being encased in their own web cocoon.
Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick!
The Indian had continued his depressing description of how
their lives would end. “…and, then when
he is done toying with us, he will drain our bodies and move on to find other
prey.”
Tim turned on him.
“Shut up! Just shut up, will
you?!”
Stunned, the stone sentry fell silent.
“There must be a way out of this,” suggested Traci. “How did your people survive?”
“Most did not,” began Tomba.
“He claimed nearly our entire clan and this after he had wiped other
clans from the earth throughout our trading area.”
“You keep saying ‘he.’
All I see are huge spiders,” said Tim.
“What are we missing?”
“The spiders you see are only his servants. He has not yet arisen. He will soon follow. And when he does, we will perish.”
Teresa was weeping.
She was now sitting on the couch, rocking back and forth, and mumbling a
prayer between sobs. Tony had fallen
silent and was sitting with his back to the sofa, leaning to one side against
his sister’s legs. She had wrapped one
arm around his neck.
“But Tomba, you obviously defeated him before,” Traci
pointed out. “There must be a way to
live through this. How did your people
do it?”
He explained: “The
Great Evil was a man, a shaman to a clan that lived nearer where the sun
rises. He became obsessed with dark
magic, with the ability to manipulate his form and change his body into that of
various creatures. One night, he shifted
into the form of a small, black spider.
While in that form, he was seduced by the wiles of a she-spider, and as
with all female spiders, she meant to have him as a meal in the end. However, before she could finish him, he cast
a hasty spell of self-preservation and attempted to revert to human form. It was an imperfect spell that left him trapped
between forms, condemned to spend the future as part man and part spider. The result was an angry insanity, and he
began to wipe his own people from the earth as he feasted upon the flesh of his
family and his clan. Once he had eaten
all of his own people, he began to seek out other clans, and soon most of our
peaceful people were gone.
Those of us who were left had gathered here to call upon the
Great Spirit to take vengeance upon the Great Evil. We danced and we prayed. We called out in our great fear and
desperation. In His great mercy, He
heard our pleas. When the shaman found
us, the Great Spirit drove him into the depths below this place and held him
there while we fashioned the stones of containment. There he has been kept until your foolishness
today. Now, he is free and we will die.”
Tim grabbed his shotgun, inserted several shells, and pumped
a round into the chamber. Pulling aside
the curtains, he took a glimpse outside to assess the situation. He found that the web work was completed, and
now a thousand spider eyes were positioned between the house and the hole,
staring eagerly at him and his trapped family as if knowing that it was only a
matter of time.
As he watched them watching him, he noticed that the
darkness of the abyss had been replaced with a blue luminescence.
“The hole is glowing,” he announced.
“He is coming now,” replied Tomba. “The walls of this wooden abode will not
resist him for very long.”
Traci was near panic.
“Call out to your Great Spirit again!
Ask him to spare us! We will not
be so stupid again! Please! Ask him to rescue us!”
“It is not possible,” he answered. “We have not made the preparations. We do not have the herbs and the fire. We do not have the dancers and the wise men. I do not know the words to speak.”
The house began to rumble, pictures fell from the walls,
lamps rattled on tables, and a crack split a window over the kitchen sink. The blue glow now lit up the entire web dome
and leaked into the room giving everyone an eerie appearance. From outside, there arose a chorus of
high-pitched squeals as the minions greeted their master. Inside the home, curiosity drove five sets of
human eyes to cluster into the two rear windows to see the sight. Terror consumed any hint of hope that they
had retained.
Standing in the middle of the yard between the house and
where the old stone had once been stationed with hundreds, perhaps thousands of
squirming spiders swarming around his eight multi-jointed legs was a massive
creature with the abdomen of a spider and the torso of a man. His face was shaped like a human, but he had
large, bulbous eyes and pincers extended from each side of his jaw. As he studied the house and the human eyes at
the windows, the pincers moved in and out in anticipation.
Then, as if he had only then noticed, he turned his
attention to the fat morsel in the cocoon.
Moving so quickly that he was a blur, he came up beside the immobilized
man. Bringing his huge eyes up evenly
with the Jim’s, he seemed to savor the moment briefly and then the pincers sunk
deeply into the man’s throat. The
man-spider then began to drain him of the juices of life until he was nothing
more than a gunny sack of dry human bones.
“Ahhhhhhh, it has been so long,” exclaimed the
creature. “Ah ha ha ha ha!”
As if the large man were only an appetizer, the insane
arachnid turned his attention back to the house. Moving up to the porch, he used his front
feet to delicately examine the wood frame, the support posts, and the gutters
along the porch roof.
“Come out. Come
out. Let us discuss your fates.” His voice was like the screech of a squeaky hinge. “Come out now and perhaps I may spare some of
you.”
Tomba said: “He
lies. He will spare none.”
“I am not going to sit here and wait for him to come get us!”
Tim exclaimed. “I’ll see how he likes
the taste of buckshot!” He grabbed up
the shotgun and reached for the door knob.
“No!” Teresa screamed!
“Don’t go out there Dad! Don’t do
it! Oh, God no!”
Tony latched onto Tim’s arm and pulled. Traci tried to get in the way.
“Look!” he said. “We
have two choices. First, we can sit in
here and wait for that thing to tear the walls down and find us. Or, we can take it to him. I’m not going to cower in here like a beaten
dog. He may kill us, but he’ll have to
do it the hard way!”
“Come out!” shouted the man-spider. “Perhaps I will be quick and you will feel no
pain. If you make me work, I will be
slow and you will feel your life drain from your feeble bodies!”
Tim looked each member of his family in the eyes. He apologized for bringing this upon them and
he told each of them that he loved them deeply.
After several moments of quiet closeness, he looked over at Tomba and
opened the door.
Stepping outside, he leveled the shotgun at the giant
being. He could sense the evil intent
and dread settled on his soul.
“Taste this!” he shouted.
Then he fired the shotgun into the body of the shaman. He slid another round into place and fired
into the abdomen. Neither shot had any
effect.
“Ah ha ha ha.” The man-spider
just laughed. “Do you think your silly
weapon is any match for my magic? You
are weak and stupid. Ah ha ha ha.”
From the point at the end of the thing’s abdomen, a huge
stream of silk burst forth and enveloped Tim.
He was pulled from the porch and immediately strung up next to the
remains of the tractor driver. Tomba had
followed Tim through the door and he began to chant and call on the Great
Spirit following the few rituals that he knew.
“Ah ha ha ha,” squealed the creature. “You are of my race! You still rely on the words, but you know not
the meaning. Your words are lost on the
wind.” Another stream of silk grabbed up
the guardian and soon he hung next to Tim.
From inside, the evil presence could hear Traci trying to
pray. She was trying to call up a faith
that she had not cultivated. She was
appealing to the Great Spirit to which Tomba’s people had called upon hundreds
of years before. With a sweep of one
massive forefoot, the giant spider swept away a rear wall. Spotting the praying mother inside, he
snagged her with more silk and strung her up leaving only Teresa and Tony.
The two children were huddled in a corner with Teresa
shielding her younger brother. She was
holding her Bible, and with her eyes closed she was praying with all of her
heart.
“Ahhhhh. One of
innocent faith,” said the evil one. “But
will that faith save you? We will
see. But, first I think I will test
you. I will take your brother before
you.”
“No!” shouted the girl.
“Leave him alone!”
“I will take him and I will eat him first. Sometimes the youngest are the sweetest!”
“Oh, God. Oh, Lord! Please rescue us!”
“I will take him slowly.
I will sip him like a pool of cool water. Unless.
Oh, here is an idea. Unless you
renounce your faith. If you will admit
that your faith is worthless, I will only eat you and spare your brother.”
“Never!” she shouted at the abomination before her. “I will never turn from my God. I love Him completely and even if you eat us,
He will bring us close to Himself and you will still be alone in your pain!”
The blue light in the man-spider’s abdomen turned red and
his eyes focused on the girl until the hatred was palpable. With no further words, two streams of silk
erupted encasing both Teresa and Tony.
They were hung beside the others, and the hateful being surveyed his
handiwork. Looking at the girl, he moved
in on her brother.
“Ah ha ha ha ha. Now,
you will wish you had taken my suggestion.
Now, you will see your brother die.”
Still watching the terror in the girl’s eyes, he moved his
pincers into place beside the boy’s neck.
Moving slowly as he promised, he slid them into place until they were depressing
the skin above Tony’s carotid arteries. The
boy’s eyes were desperate, but he would not beg for his own life.
Teresa closed her eyes and prayed one more time. “Please, oh God. Please.
You know my heart. You know how
much I love you and how much I love my family.
Please save us.”
“Your faith is truly pure, but you do not know the right
words,” said the ancient shaman. “Let us
end this.”
The pincers punctured the boy’s neck, but before he could
take even a tiny taste, another sound rose above the sound of his squirming
horde. It was the sound of a trumpet!
The gloomy web-structured fog split from east to west and
was torn aside. In a flash, another
being descended, a being dressed all in white.
He had wings that extended high above his head and he carried a sword that
gleamed with a brightness that exceeded the light of the sun. Luminescent eyes caught sight of the
man-spider and immediately he struck out with his blade, slicing through the
tips of the pincers. He then shoved the creature
aside and stood between the thing and the children. The hundreds of smaller spiders fled,
spilling into the abyss faster than they had emerged.
“I am Gabriel,” declared the rescuer. “The Lord of Hosts has heard the cries of his
beloved daughter. The sincerity of her
faith and the purity of her love have summoned me here. Now, you will be gone. Go back to the abyss. Stay there until that day when you will be
called to account. Be gone to the
darkness that matches your soul. Be gone
now!”
With a squeal, the man-spider retreated to the hole leaving
the results of his destruction behind. The
angel swept his hand and the cover plate returned to its spot. He then swept his hand again and the great
stone slid across the leaf-covered grass and was repositioned on top. That completed, Gabriel glided over to
Teresa. Staring deeply into her eyes, he
smiled and the affection he felt for her warmed her heart.
“You have done well, young one. Your love for the Mighty One and your love
for your family are evident. You have a
bright future for the Lord of Hosts makes all things work out for the benefit
of those that love Him. Continue to walk
in faith.”
Having said this last, he moved to the center of the yard
and began to spin. As he spun, a light
bloomed from him and the web fell free and was wrapped up into the spin. The fog followed and an instant later the
autumn sunlight had returned. Teresa,
Tomba, and the rest of the family fell free of their cocoons which were then
swept up into the whirling light. When
all was returned to normal, the light that was Gabriel ascended into the sky
until it disappeared from view.
Teresa sat there weeping, holding her brother. Tim, Traci, and Tomba embraced above
them. Behind them, they heard a
belch. Turning around, they saw Jim, the
obnoxious redneck sitting with his back to the great stone. He was alive and restored!
Obviously dazed, he said:
“Um, excuse me. I apologize. That was rude.” He continued to rattle on a bit: “Um, I’m not sure what just happened, but I’m
not feeling real good. I hope you don’t
mind, but I’m going to get my tractor and go home. And, I think I’ll go to church tonight. I don’t know why, but it just seems like a good
idea. Maybe I could come back next week
and move that rock for you?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” replied Tim. “I’ve decided not to move it after all. Instead, I think I’ll make it the centerpiece
of a new pavilion.”
As Jim got up and walked to his tractor, Tomba approached
Tim, Traci, Teresa, and Tony. “Thank
you,” he said. “I am grateful for your
new plan.” To Teresa, he said: “I am most grateful for your faith, young
one. Your faith has set us free.”
Turning away, he headed toward that old sycamore and said
this last: “I am your friend, and now I
am your guardian as well.” Rounding the
huge trunk of the great tree, he vanished as if walking through an unseen door.
And the family was left sitting together on their lawn. Fallen leaves blew here and there. The sun formed mottled shadows as it shone
down through the crooked branches of the mighty sycamore. Somewhere deep, deep below them a creature
was held captive in the depths of Abandon.
