By Jen Mac
"Jack, it's time for dinner!". No answer.
"That 's weird", Helen thought, as she set the table for dinner. She had just him, playing with his GI Joe's on the front porch.
"Jack!". Still no answer, but then she heard a giggling noise from the front porch. Helen quickly rushed through the room's of the old Victorian house to get the front porch to investigate what was happening.
"Jac-..", Helen froze as she saw the strange young man sitting by her eight-year-old son. She was stunned completely as she looked at the this creature before her. The man had what appeared to be translucent skin with purple veins radiating from the sides of his face, he had short brown hair, and the most beautiful eyes-bright green. He had the most bizarre clothing, too. He bore a long black trench coat, with a long-sleeved black velvet shirt, black trousers, and to add along with it-black business shoes. From the looks of his clothes, the man appeared to be a drifter. They were caked with dirt.
Before Helen knew it, she had taken Jack by the arm, away from the drifter.
"Jack, go get your father. Go!".
Jack quickly hurried in the house and searched for his father frantically, he could that his mother was upset and that she was serious. In the meantime, Helen stood in aw as she stared at the stranger.
"I am sorry that I have frightened you." The drifter drew a big grin across his pale face as he said this.That pissed Helen off even more.
"You're sorry?!" screamed Helen, as she stepped a few feet closer to the stranger, looking down upon him as if he were a criminal.
"Whoa, come down Helen." She had not noticed her husband George, come up behind her and put his hands on her arms to keep from cussing out the man or even have an altercation with him.
"You're scaring Jack." Helen looked over her shoulder and saw her son staring at her behind the screen with a frightened look on his face. She didn't what had come over her.
"Yes, Mr. Folsey. I'll be back in a few minutes." George quickly rushed Helen and Jack back to the kitchen. "Jack, go to your room."
"But dad, I didn't do anything."
"Go to your room, now!" Jack quickly ran off to his room.
"Don't yell at him, he didn't do anything." Helen quickly sat down at one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
"Then what the hell happened Helen? I had Jack come back into my office screaming, saying that mommy was yelling at one of his new friends. I come there and see you yelling at a damn stranger.What happened?!"
"I kept calling for Jack to come to dinner.And he didn't answer. So I called for him again and I heard a giggling noise from the front porch and I knew that Jack had been playing with his toys out there. So I ran to the porch because I was worried and when I got there, I found him sitting with that man."
"Jesus Christ Helen, what the hell were you thinking! From what I'm hearing the man didn't do a damn thing wrong. Why the fuck did you yell at him?"
Streams of tears came down Helen's and then she began to cry uncontrollably."I don't know. I don't know. It's just been building up from the last couple of months, all of the stress.From the murders, from my sister's own murder, and the move.All of it came out on that particular person."
George quickly took her into his arm's. "Shhh, Helen. It's okay. It's okay." He began patting her on the back and kissing her forehead."Everything will be all right. Here you go lay down. I'll go talk to Jack." George began wiping the tears off of her face and lusicious sweet tasting lips.
"Oh god, Jack. I must've scared him to death."
"More confused is actually like it. I'll also go talk to Mister Folsey and see why he is here. Okay? You go and lay down and relax." He kissed her on the forehead and released from his grasp to go talk to Jack.
Helen finished setting the table and headed back to the bedroom. As she laid on the bed, a dozen thoughts swimmed through her mind. The man seemed so familiar. Had she seen him in the town? Was he the murderer? Helen, if you think that you're going crazy. You would be able to recognize a man that would be able to kill nine people with his bare hands, riping out their throats. Anyway, the murderer didn't have short brown hair and he didn't have bright green eyes. If all of these thoughts keep going through your mind Helen, you'll lose it. All I need to do is get some rest and relax, a big grin came across Helen's face. Relax. Helen closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the fan above her and the soft touch rain drops hitting the side of the house as she quickly fell asleep.
Helen was finally at piece.The first time in six months. But, it wouldn't last for long....
Chapter One - Part Two
As Helen woke up, she felt this sharp pain-shoot through the sides of her temples. 'Great a migraine. That's all I need on top of this
stress. Dammit. Can't I have any peace and quiet!', Helen pondered as she got up from her laying position and sat herself up on the bed.
A large out pouring of tears came down Helen's face as she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. She was remembering the dream
she had of her sister. The last time she ever saw her other sibling.
"Oh god, why. Why me!" she managed to whisper, between the heavy sobs she was experiencing. Helen laid her chin between both knees and stared at the portion of light pouring through the small crack, underneath the bedroom door.
She heard footsteps walking up the hallway, near her bedroom. 'It must be Jack'. A grin came on her face. She saw the doorknob move and to
Helen's surprise, it was George.
He looked awful. She had never seen him this way. George made his way through the doorway, took off his shirt, and sat down by Helen on
the bed. He put both of his hands on Helen's shoulder's and began rubbing her back. Helen suddenly turned facing him, putting his hands
in her lap. "Not so hard! said Helen a grin on her face. "Your hands are cold. Are you okay George? You look very pale." Helen reached
up, pulling George's chin down-french kissing him.
Helen began studying George's features. They looked oddly different from his 28 year old features. It had seemed that in the past couple
of hours, her husband's whole deminure had changed completly. His bright blonde hair looked as if it were pale. His skin appeared to be
translucent. It wasn't only on his face, Helen could see that even his chest was pale. George was always muscular-such strenght, but it seemed as if he were fatigued. His eyes had a certain glare to them, as if they were black-not bright blue.
"No. I'm fine." he managed to say under his evil smirk. Helen became worried, she had no idea what was going on. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "I'm just very tired. Work and the farm. It's a lot for only one man." George put his freezing hand on Helen's cheek to reassure her.
She was surprised and caught off guard. Helen quickly jumped up and stood up, grabbing the bedpost with one of her hands. Somehow, this
made Helen feel more safe. She had no idea why.
Helen stood there a few minutes, as George stared blankly at the wall. Staring at nothing. Suddenly, George stood up straight, still
looking at the wall beside the bed. He then, turned to the front of the bedpost-where Helen was. George glared at Helen with sneer. His
eyes became, then became fixated on another object-the bedroom window, which was a couple feet away from Helen's side.
George had a huge smile on his face, it was as if he saw someone at the window. Then, he once again was staring at Helen. This time, he
was laughing. "I'll go check on Jack."
Helen was frozen there in fear, until George walked out of the room. She quickly ran to the window and looked outside. She saw a gray blur,
run past the window. Helen quickly pulled the window shades down and ran back into bed-pulling the covers over her head. Helen began laughing, and pulled the covers down-off of her head.
'What am I a child again. Could that possibly be a ghost, with a white sheet? Oh, come on Helen-you can do better than that!'.
The laughing quickly stopped, as she thought about George. He seemed so strange, but maybe he was tired thought Helen. Helen closed her
eyes, falling asleep.