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The Visitations: Horror Short Story by cam 1/3

Black-capped Chickadees

The singing of birds which filled my ears when I first woke, sounded like a chickadee holiday, and they had invited all the finches, bluebirds, orioles and nuthatches to join them. I cultivate my property to provide food and shelter for such talented musicians as these. Then it was gone. The silence rushed in and chased out all the musical notes. Presumably, the birds had gone as well. How strange. Only eminent danger from a predator would cause such a drastic change among the aves.

I crawled from my bed, giving up on the return of the chorus and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Spring was in the air as I looked out the open window at newly blooming flowers and smelled the fresh aroma after last evening's showers. But the birds had fled.

the-visitations-horror-short-story

While the coffee brewed I slipped on my shoes to go outside and investigate. A bald eagle might have caused such a displacement of music from my back yard if it had soared low enough in search of its breakfast. I poured my coffee and proceeded to the door that led out to my back deck. The screen door struck something. When I saw what it was, my body lurched backward into the house. Steaming coffee splashed onto my hand and wrist, but I barely felt it for the horror of what I had seen. "No, Please no," I uttered aloud. "Not again."

I ran cold water over my shaking hand and wrist while my racing mind dug up memories from the last several months. The two previous visitations had been in mid to late winter, so there had been no disruption of singing birds.

I never heard a vehicle on the previous occasions, which puzzled me regarding the second visitation. The decomposing body of a young woman, sans head, must have been carried from a distance, possibly from a parked car down the road.

I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to consume it before I ventured outside to do what had to be done. I am a retired, high school science teacher. These days, when I'm not outside tending to my lawn, gardens, and feathered friends I'm writing an article for my blog which covers the whole range of public school issues. In other words, I'm just an average guy. I was trying to figure out why someone would want to implicate me in a murder because that is how this seemed. Also, I was terribly concerned about the poor, young woman. Who was she? Who killed her and why?

I heard Tabby scratching the screen on the front door. I let him in and set a bowl of warm milk on the kitchen floor. It's our daily routine. Tabby is the wandering feline of a young couple down the road. Every morning, he makes his way through the woods and meadows that separate our properties. As his name suggests, he has stripes, black and white, that cover his entire body and give him the look of a five-pound tiger. He has one black spot on his cheek that looks like a dimple.

I sat in my house most of the morning with Tabby as company. He rubbed his head against my legs, I suppose as a way of marking me as his own. I still hadn't gone outside to deal with the latest delivery. I'd put it off too long already. I had gotten enough of a glimpse earlier to know what I was in for, and I was frozen with dread.

I slipped outside, barely opening the screen door so I wouldn't disturb it again. Her face was contorted as if she had been in the clutches of fear and pain right up to the end. The eye sockets were empty, but that did not surprise me.

Her eyes had been the first delivery in mid-winter. I had gone out to put suet in the bird feeder, and there they were on the deck, staring up at me in a lifeless plea for help. Those eyes had so frightened me that I vomited onto the suet. I staggered back into the house and made it to the bathroom. Eventually, I called the police. The officers took the eyes as evidence and spent most of the day searching the area for more clues. They had found none. For the next two weeks, I and my property had been watched 24/7 by the Sheriff's deputies. Apparently, calling them had been reason enough to make me the number one suspect.

When the headless body arrived, I had grabbed the phone and dialed a nine and a one. I stopped before the last one.They might even call me in for questioning this time. Is it possible they could succeed in convicting me for the death of this woman? I hung up the phone.

Here at my feet, on my back deck, lay the third delivery, and the final, I would suppose. I rolled the woman's head into a paper grocery bag. There was no need worry about blood. The head had been severed for some time.

Beside the head lay the eyes that had been taken by the police. I could still smell the formaldehyde in which they had been preserved. Clearly, the deliverer so wanted the body parts to be together that he had secreted them out of whatever forensic lab had been holding them.

A horrible thought kept crossing my mind. Were the eyes taken before or after the head was removed? I shook my own head to clear the thought and went about the business of hiding the third delivery.

© 2017 Chris Mills

Comments

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on November 13, 2017:

Rasa Aur Drama, thanks for visiting and reading.

Rasa Aur Drama on November 13, 2017:

Scary!

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on May 27, 2017:

jgs/Editing Dept, Thanks for spotting that one. In normal circumstances that would be an obvious redundancy. There are places it would be needed. This is not one of those places, so your correction is appreciated, as is your entire comment.

jgshorebird on May 27, 2017:

Good story...

Still reading...

Please check paragraph 5, second sentence: "...young female woman..." Maybe just "young woman."

Thanks,

From the --

Editing Department

Shauna L Bowling from Central Florida on May 09, 2017:

Wow, this really is a horror story, Chris! If this were a movie, I wouldn't be able to watch it. I'm not good with gross things. However, what is the significance of the severed head and intermittent deliveries to the science teacher's doorstep? I guess I'll find out soon enough.

Lawrence Hebb from Hamilton, New Zealand on May 06, 2017:

Chris

Very spooky, has me wondering, 'what else is being hidden?'

johnmariow on April 17, 2017:

Excellent! A well written first chapter. Gripping and intriguing. Hiding evidence is self incriminating. I enjoyed reading it.

Shyron E Shenko from Texas on April 16, 2017:

Chris, this is going to be another horrific murder that the mystery intrigues us with.

I can't even imagine anything like this.

Blessings my friend.

Genna East from Massachusetts, USA on April 16, 2017:

Hi Chris. Sorry I'm late, but I'm woefully behind in commenting. Spring songs that suddenly disappear can be the harbinger of many things, but I was shocked at the cause. You hold us to this story with each and every line, Chris. What will happen next? I'm off to the next chapter.

Linda Rogers from Minnesota on April 10, 2017:

Wow! This is a gripping murder mystery. I am concerned that he didn't call the police on the body delivery. I hope this doesn't end up with him being implicated and put in jail.

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 09, 2017:

RJ priya, Welcome to HubPages. And welcome to my hubs as well. I'm glad your enjoyed part one of this story.

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 09, 2017:

John, I know how it can be to accumulate so much so quickly. When I went on the road to work, I made a deal with my son to buy the house from me. He got everything in it. Now, everything I own fits in the jeep and goes with me. I hope you get more settled before your winter begins. Or has it begun? Anyway, good luck with it all.

RJ priya from Jabalpur on April 09, 2017:

OUTSTANDING ..

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 09, 2017:

Paula, I'm glad my story woke you up and grabbed your attention. I can't ask for more than that. Parts two and three are posted and waiting. Have a great Sunday.

John Hansen from Queensland Australia on April 09, 2017:

Would you believe we are still not finished moving, Chris. We hired a removalist but they were only able to fit about a third of our stuff in the truck. We have been going back and forth with trailer loads since. Packing things away before getting the next load. I can't believe we have hoarded so much in six years.

Suzie from Carson City on April 09, 2017:

Cam ....Nearly impossible to even imagine opening one's door to such an incredibly gruesome sight! The thought of this is horrific. You bring it to us in your very own brilliant way, Cam. No time to prepare, just boom(!) in our faces, a body ~worse, a headless body on a back deck. Not your everyday sort of delivery by U.P.S.!

Your gripping tales are the perfect early morning Waker-Upper!!

Good Morning Cam. You have my undivided attention.! Paula

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 08, 2017:

Gilbert, I saw your comment on part two first. Backing up to catch your comment here. I'm putting part three up before I go to bed. It is Saturday night. I appreciate the feedback on the story.

Gilbert Arevalo from Hacienda Heights, California on April 08, 2017:

Very good start, Chris. You have me hooked. Brilliant use of background environment change with the departure of the birds to create a macabre mood.

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 08, 2017:

Hi Ruby. All I will say is don't miss part three. See you there.

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 08, 2017:

John, Thanks. It's good to see you. How is the move going? The actual move is probably over, but moving in is usually prolonged, at least in my experience.I'm glad to hear you are enjoying the story.

Ruby Jean Richert from Southern Illinois on April 08, 2017:

Someone has a grudge against this man, I wonder why and who. This is horror in the first degree! I'll be back!

John Hansen from Queensland Australia on April 08, 2017:

Chris, this one has me hooked already and I know you are going to slowly draw the line in. You make the reader easily slip into the role of the main character. Gripping stuff.

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 08, 2017:

Bill, thank you. It's getting off to a slow start, but I hope part two will bring others in. I'll be posting it this morning.

Bill Holland from Olympia, WA on April 08, 2017:

I love me a good horror story, and this is a good one. You set the ominous stage perfectly in the first two paragraphs, and then you delivered.

Chris Mills (author) from Traverse City, MI on April 08, 2017:

manatita, I've worked on this one for a long time. Part two later today. Thanks for your support.

manatita44 from london on April 08, 2017:

Gruesome, all right. I too, need a coffee, Bro.

Still, all good. Continue ...