Chapter 6 – The Mystery of the Black Woods

The library was nearly deserted, as usual. It sat in a fork in the road that the city had dubbed Sander’s Triangle, and there never was an explanation for why the city decided that a particular fork in the road should have a name but, there it was, and the library that sat there was never visited. In fact, there was almost something about it that seemed to repel people. The look and atmosphere of the building could be off-putting, I supposed, as I looked up at the exterior. Personally I found the place easy to settle in.

Something about it was familiar, and the library gave me a strange mix of uneasy comfort. I walked into the library, signed in, and said hello to Marianne and Lucy. The two librarians that had known me since just after high school, and while I was on fairly pleasant terms with Lucy, Marianne was someone I considered a friend. She was pretty, and her laugh was endearing. I spent many days there when I was younger, checking out poetry books to try to get better at the stanzas in my songs.

Marianne always let me have free run of the library’s resources, and I took full advantage of them that day. I let myself into the old media room where they kept the newspaper records for the last hundred years or so. I started with just around the time Jessica had disappeared, searching the data base for murder, disappearance, and bizarre accidents. I knew I would get some hits, but I was not prepared in the slightest bit for the amount of results I got.

Murders? There were at least forty in the last three weeks. Bizarre accidents? There were nearly twenty unexplained occurrences just in the last fifteen days. Disappearances had the highest frequency, and all but one happened on the Road. I searched further back, then still further until I reached the first account of anyone disappearing that wasn’t on or near Blackwoods Bend Road, and it was that of the town’s founder, Andrew Harson.

There was a full write up on Harson and his wife, Victorvina Bludstan Harson, that had been written in the late 1950’s by a man named Carl Nelson. “Nelson. Nelson… Why is that familiar?” I asked myself, searching back through the photos I’d taken on m y phone of the articles as I’d read through. “Gotcha. ‘Reporter Carl Nelson Vanishes Mysteriously. Car Found Near Blackwoods Bend Road.’ He went missing after he wrote the Harson article, and that’s when the disappearances started to get worse. What the hell?” I turned my eyes back to the screen in front of me, reading the article.

Victorvina Bludstan was a native of Munster, Germany, and she and Andrew Harson married, moving to this area in late 1870. They built their home in the settlement once called Ore, for the iron ore in the area. Harson opened the first mines in the hills, giving them the name Victorvina Mines; a name that the area still bears today.

The Harsons lost several of their children to scarlet fever (six in all), then in 1886 Victorvina died in childbirth. Andrew was heartbroken, and according to the local account at the time, he went mad. He locked himself in his house with the corpses of his wife and child, and wouldn’t leave for weeks.

“Jesus…” I frowned at the screen feeling a little grossed out, and sad for the Harsons at the same time. “Then what?” I asked Carl Nelson, wherever he might be.

A young couple out for a stroll, were passing on the opposite side of the road from the Harson house, attempting to avoid the horrible smell emanating from the manor, and they later claimed that they saw Andrew creeping out of the side entrance, dragging something with him to the carriage house. The couple ducked out of sight, watching as he drove the carriage off towards the edge of the settlement. When he returned to town he announced that Ore was now to be called Black Woods Bend, and that it was named after the forest that he had planted behind the cemetery, in honor of his deceased wife and children.

“Harson planted the forest? How does no one know this? It’s right here!” I whispered out loud to myself in shock as my eyes scanned over the sentences a few times. “It used to be ‘Black Woods Bend’? Why doesn’t anybody talk about this?” I went back to reading the article, my eyes wide.

The entire town found themselves in a perplexed state. No one had been seen in the area of the cemetery since the last funeral two weeks before, and there hadn’t been a sign of a sprout, let alone a forest. However, when the people of Black Woods Bend went to check, there they were; a whole forest of young, sapling trees. Upon inspection the trees were not actually black wood trees, but were sweet chestnut trees.

Harson called them black woods because of the deep, charcoal color of the bark. He also claimed that they were grown from seeds from The Black Forest, that was near the place Victorvina had been born. According to arborist, Phillip Freeman, the bark of the sweet chestnut trees should be light brown, and he informed this reporter that he couldn’t be certain what might cause the unique color.

I pulled up a search engine on my phone, looking up information on The Black Forest. All of the results returned with at least one mention of myths and legends about witches, monsters, and ghosts. One result said that the woods themselves were a hub of power, like a supernatural substation for mystical energy. I felt like I was starting to understand, but there was something nagging at the back of my brain. A piece of the puzzle that I just couldn’t make a connection with. I read on.

Andrew Harson disappeared a week after his announcement about the town. He was last seen going into his home, and it was presumed that he never came out again, though no human remains were found in the Harson’s Manor. The men of the town searched high and low, all over his grounds and all over the rest of the town, but he was nowhere to be seen. The only evidence that pointed to him potentially leaving of his own accord was that the horse and carriage were missing, but there were no tracks to be found leading away from the home, and no indication that he settled anywhere else. He had simply vanished.

“And then you vanished, Carl,” I said to the reporter, who had long ago disappeared, himself. “Where did you go?” Was it the woods that were causing all of the problems, and why was the whole town being affected? Why could no one enter those woods, then come back? I was startled out of my thinking by my cell phone ringing loudly. I really need to learn to turn that thing off when I’m deeply pondering things, I thought. I answered to hear James’ frantic voice on the other end of the connection.

“Danny, listen. Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just gonna say it. Keith…Keith is dead,” James said, his voice breaking. I took in a sharp breath, my hand flying to my chest, and before I could ask for more details James offered them. “He was in my house, alone, and the police have come and gone. They questioned me, because I was connected to Robert, too. They didn’t find anything. No weapon—nothing. He was locked in the bathroom, sitting in the tub, with his throat slit, Danny! I don’t know what to do…” The line went silent, and all I could hear were James’ quiet sniffles.

I couldn’t think or move for a few moments. Another friend was mysteriously dead, and this time it was someone that we were all close to. I had the thought that something was slowly picking us off, but why? Why us? Why now? “Let me let you go, James. Have you told Will and Amy?”

“They’re on their way,” James said, his voice thick.

“Good. Try to stay calm,” I said, ending the call. I took a photo of the article I had pulled up, then exited the archive. I said a hasty goodbye to Lucy and Marianne, noting the worried look on Marianne’s face. “No time to explain. There’s an emergency. Thanks for letting me use the archive,” I said in a rush before hurrying out to my car.

When I arrived at James’ house he was beside himself. He was sitting on the back steps of his home, his skin pale as a sheet. There were twenty cigarette butts in the ashtray, and he was working on a twenty-first cigarette from a new pack. Will and Amy stood just in front of him, looking sorrowful.

Amy let go of Will’s hand, moving to put a hand on James’ shoulder. “Have you eaten, Bub? Want me to cook you somethin’?” Before James could even blink Amy was up the stairs and through the back door to the kitchen, banging and clanging around, trying to cook him some comfort food.

“So, how long was he here by himself?” Will asked, I suppose trying to get to right to the bottom of what happened. I nodded, thinking that to be the best way to go about the whole thing, and lit a cigarette of my own. “How long were you gone?”

“Just thirty minutes,” James groaned, his voice slurred just slightly. “I ran out for beer and cigarettes, and by the time I got back he was dead. My receipt from the gas station kept me from getting arrested.”

Will turned to look at me with a sullen expression. “The police said he must have done it himself, judging by the angle of the cut,” he said softly, explaining the situation further. He kept his tone even, as if he was trying not to startle James.

James ran his hand through his hair as he sniffled. “They said that he must have been so upset about Robby that he took his own life. I told them that he wasn’t even that close with Rob, but they wouldn’t listen to me. There wasn’t any sign of anything he could have used to do it…”

Of course there wasn’t a perpetrator for the BBPD to find. From my interaction with Officer Hatchcoin, it seemed like the police were well aware of the nightmare things that went on in their town. Easier to rule a death as a suicide, rather than waste man power on searching a murderer that likely didn’t exist, and I had to agree with their logic. It was ridiculous to run around chasing ghosts and shadows, yet here I was, trying to get to the bottom of the haunting of Blackwoods Bend.

I turned to look behind me to the end of the driveway where James’ girlfriend, Tiffany, was just pulling up. She hurried out of her car, slamming the door before jogging over to James. “I got here as soon as I could, baby. Are you okay?” she asked, sitting next to him as she placed her hand against his face. James just sniffled, leaning his head on her shoulder.

“This isn’t just some random murder, you know? Neither was Robert. They didn’t commit suicide,” Will said, propping his hands on his hips. “We gotta figure this thing out. We could be next. Any single one of us could be the next one.”

“Yeah, that’s the direction the conversation with our traumatized friend needs to go,” I said, looking at Will pointedly.

“Will’s right, Dan,” James said, pointing in Will’s direction. “This has to stop.”

“What are we talkin’ about stoppin’ here?” Tiffany asked.

“Death?” Will asked with a shrug.

Amy stepped outside with grilled cheese sandwiches on a plate. “Here ya go, Bub. Hey Tiff,” she said softly. “These are pimento cheese and pepper jack.” She handed the plate to James and he sat staring at them for a moment before finally picking one up to take a bite from it.

“Thank you, Amy,” James said as he chewed.

“You’re so welcome,” Amy said kindly. We sat or stood in silence for a while, and I debated on whether or not I was going to share the information that I’d learned earlier that day. I watched as the steam that had been rising from the sandwiches dissipated as they cooled, and I wondered if I would ever have an appetite again. Amy yawned, then stretched her arms. “I don’t mean to interrupt this charmin’ lack of conversation, but I’m really scared, and I am really tired. I don’t think that any of us should be alone.”

Will walked over to her, reaching for her hand. “I’m gonna stay with Amy. Buddy-system up,” he said as they stepped towards Amy’s car.

“Who am I supposed to buddy up with?” I asked with a shrug. James had Tiffany, but I didn’t have a girlfriend, or anybody else that would want to spend every second of the night with me.

“Don’t know, Danny. Maybe set yourself up at The Flat Cat, and stay there as long as you can?” Will suggested, standing just inside the driver door.

“Great,” I said under my breath. I watched as he shrugged again, climbing into the car to back out of the drive, then the sound of the car’s engine faded into the distance. James, Tiffany, and I sat staring at each other, the worry in their expressions matching what I felt. “We look like a wreck.”

“I just can’t bring myself to go into the house. I need a shower, but I don’t want to set foot into that bathtub. I feel like I’m losin’ my mind,” James muttered under his breath.

“You know you can stay with me,” Tiffany said. “I’ll go with you to pack up your stuff, and we won’t let each other get out of sight.”

James pointed at me, turning to Tiffany. “What about Daniel?” he asked glumly.

I held up my hands, surrendering to the fact that my lack of paramour might end up meaning my demise. “I’m gonna go to the diner. I’ll take my laptop, and I’ll keep digging into the history to see if my theories are right. I want to be certain before we go off in one direction half-cocked.”

“Be careful, Danny,” Tiffany said with a serious expression. “We can’t lose anybody else.”

That night at the Flat Cat was one of the slowest in my life. The waitress, Debra, kept bringing me coffee as I researched The Black Forest, fighting sleep as my head nodded. When dawn was breaking I decided that I needed a shower, and I needed to get at least a few hours of sleep, whether that meant being alone or not.

I got home and crashed right into bed. I couldn’t remember a time in my whole twenty-seven years of life when I had felt so exhausted. The past few days were blurring together, and I wasn’t even sure what day of the week it was. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, squinting at the glow from its screen as I pulled up the calendar. “October thirty-first. Halloween,” I said aloud to myself. “Of course it is.”

It was a cold, rain-washed, gloomy Halloween, and it fit perfectly with how I felt. I needed a vacation from this place—from all the bizarre happenings, and never so much than this Halloween. Something was tugging at my subconscious, and I couldn’t put a finger on it. “I need a break from this place…This place.” I got out my laptop, typing random things as they came into my head to try to puzzle things out.

1. Andrew Harson

2. Victorvina Harson and her children

3. Blackwoods Bend

4. The forest

5. Where are they buried?

There it was—the question burning in the back of my mind. Where are the Harson children and their mother buried? I was embarrassed that I hadn’t thought of it before. Sleep would have to wait. I dragged my exhausted body off of the bed, grabbed my keys, and headed off to the library again. I waved to Marianne and Lucy as I rushed to the archive room, digging through the files upon files of old laminated newspapers trying to find details of the burials of the Harson children.

I found that there were no such accounts. Not a single obituary. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t so strange for the late 1800’s. It was an abysmal fact that in the 19th Century children died often. Mothers didn’t die as often, though. Victorvina Harson had been a prominent figure in the settlement. Eventually, when Harson released her remains, they would have had some kind of procession or ceremony. Where was the funeral information for Victorvina? There wasn’t even anything written about her death. It’s as if Victorvina had evaporated, just like Andrew.

“Just like everyone who goes to Blackwoods Bend Road,” I said to myself in the quiet of the room. I looked up from the file folders I was searching through, eyeballing the space around me. The lamp on the desk at my back gave off a dim, green glow, illuminating the dark wooden shelves. “No need for monsters, Danny, when you just narrate yourself into freaking out.”

My thoughts turned back to what had unnerved me. The Harsons had vanished into Blackwoods Forest. They’d been the first, but there was a difference. Harson, himself, put the forest there, so maybe he took his family there to disappear, intentionally. He didn’t want them to be found, or remembered. Everything was making perfect sense, and at the same time I had so many more questions.

I could almost hear an audible click as the thoughts fell into place; anyone who went near Blackwoods Bend Road disappeared because Andrew Harson was making them disappear somehow. He didn’t want to be found in 1886, and he still didn’t. That didn’t explain why the whole town was falling apart so suddenly. The riddle of where the woods had come from was solved, but that didn’t explain how people were still vanishing, dying, or being terrorized by Things. My head ached like I’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

By the time I walked out of the library the sunlight breaking through the rain clouds was nearly blinding me. I opened my car door, throwing myself down into the driver’s seat, setting the stack of copied documents I’d made into the passenger seat. I slammed my car door shut, and was asleep as soon as my head fell back against the head-rest.

I was walking down Blackwoods Bend Road. I had just stepped off the blacktop onto the clay-dirt that made up the section of road that no one would ever be brave enough to pave, and I was slowly moving towards the bend in the Road. There was a sound prickling at my hearing. Rustling leaves?

There was something within that rustling sound. It was a whisper that grew into many voices that were speaking softly, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying. A shadow moved in my peripheral, crossing swiftly from left to right. I turned my head sharply, but there was nothing but a tree branch moving, though, there was no shift of air that I could feel.

I continued forward, compelled towards the bend. I turned my head right and left as I walked, scanning the tree line, gazing past the trees for something. What was I looking for? There was something I was supposed to find, but I couldn’t remember. Just beyond the tree-line there stood a small brick building, with a large metal door. It was obviously very old, and suddenly I knew that Andrew Harson had put it there. How did I know that? Why would anyone put such a thing here?

I walked towards the little building slowly. It wasn’t much bigger than a small shed. As I got closer I could see more and more of those flitting shapes racing past. Anytime I would turn my head to try to focus on them, they would end up being a branch swaying in wind that wasn’t there.

The whispering returned, closer and louder now than it had been before, but I still couldn’t make out what the voices were trying to say to me. The door began to open, and I could see Victorvina Harson holding her stillborn child. She was still in her blood-stained birthing gown, her cheeks caved in, her eyes bulging in their sockets.

Her skin looked like it was made of leather in some places, and cottage cheese in others. Her mouth was frozen open in the final cry she had given as her child had been born sleeping, and she, herself, had died. The baby was shriveled, and looked mummified, but it cried so loudly that there was no mistaking that the child was somehow living. The baby shrieked and screamed, and yet I couldn’t keep myself from moving closer…

I awoke abruptly to the sound of an ambulance siren blaring as it sped past the parking lot of the library, then I jumped again when there was suddenly someone knocking on my window. “Jesus!” I put a hand to my chest before turning the key in the ignition to roll my window down. “Marianne..I’m sorry that I fell asleep in the parking lot. It’s been a rough few days, and I haven’t gotten a lot of rest. I just couldn’t fight it.”

“I know. You’ve been in research mode, but you need to take better care of yourself, Danny,” she said sweetly, her gray gaze soft with worry. “I just wanted to tell you that the library’s closed now, so you need to go.”

I checked the clock on the dash to see that it was five forty-five PM. It was dark outside, and I had just woken up from one of the most horrible dreams that I had ever had in my life. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Come home, Danny,” she said with a kind smile.

“What did you say?” I asked her, feeling like my heart drop.

Marianne laughed softly. “I said you should go home, Danny. Get some rest.”

My jaw fell open a little. I would have sworn that she’d echoed what the whispers had said over the car’s speakers. Come Home, Danny. What did that mean? “I should, yeah.”

Marianne reached her hand out, resting it on my shoulder. “I worry about you.”

Something in the tone of her voice, and the look in her eyes was so familiar, though I couldn’t ever remember her looking at me or speaking to me that way before. “Do you wanna get coffee sometime, Marianne?” I asked. “When this thing I’m dealing with blows over?”

“Yeah,” she said brightly. “I would love that.”

“Good, yeah. Me, too.” I nodded my head once. “I’ll see you soon.” She waved at me as I pulled out of the parking lot, turning down the road towards Tiffany’s apartment. Good job, Daniel. You asked out the pretty librarian, in the middle of trying to make sure that monsters or demons don’t murder you and your friends. At least if we did manage to survive there was something to look forward to.