NETTIE
by
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For a while she just lay there, listening to the muffled hiss of the passing cars on the nearby highway. So much had happened to them since they had arrived in Arkansas that she wished she had been able to write them down, but she hadn’t had the time. From Bill’s discovery of the sepiatone photograph, to the finding of the John Cummings relics, the day had been a monumental one in their search for Nettie’s identity, with one major clue quickly following another, even down to the evening phone call from Tom Higgins in Bowling Green, who had put them in contact with a direct descendent of Joshua Drummon, the ghost she had seen at Little Round Top. There had been no time for reflection, let alone the jotting down of notes. Julie was right, it did seem as though they were being pushed faster and faster, with each discovery coming easier and easier. But it had also begun to bother her. It was beginning to become too easy. The discoveries had been handed to them, and were neither physically nor intellectually demanding. Was this what it was like to be a pawn? Is this what you became when you turned control over to a ghost, as Julie suggested? Or was this what it was like when you naively dealt with " messengers of the Devil", as Rochelle suggested? Was it really Nettie who was helping them, or was it the Devil? Were she and Julie really solving her grandmother’s mystery, or had they been duped into some sort of Faustian trap without their even knowing it? Mary rolled over on her side. Stop it! She told herself. Go to sleep! If this was Faustian, then it was already too late to do anything about it as they had sold out back in Vicksburg when they had made the decision to come to Pea Ridge in the first place. There was no going back now. She felt warm again, blaming it on the Bailey’s Irish Crème she had sipped after dinner. She threw her covers to one side and welcomed the momentary chill across her chest. "You Bitch!" He snarled, lunging at the bed and ripping her covers away. "Don’t think for one minute I believe all this crap about the flu!" he shouted, his dark silhouette hovering over her menacingly. "You don’t leave cold food on the table for a man!" He growled savagely. "You do that to a dog!" His strong hand suddenly grabbed her around the neck, his powerful fingers digging deeply into her throat, squeezing. "I’ll teach you to never do that again, you wench!" He snarled. She gagged, gasping for breath as she was pulled upward by the throat, and then struck sharply back and forth across her face until she felt herself falling. "Oh, God! Please, the baby!" she gurgled hoarsely, her fearful plea crackling somewhere deep in her strangled throat, unable to pass through the crushing force of his fingers. Then darkness closed in and she felt herself falling-- "Mary, dammit! Do you hear me! " A light switch clicked. Mary opened one eye and squinted. Julie was looking down at her. "Oh gawd, girl! Not again!" Julie moaned. She swung her legs out of bed and reached down to help Mary up. "You’re having those dreams again, aren’t you?" She asked as she helped Mary up off the floor and sat her on the edge of her bed. "Are you okay Mary? Do you hear me?" As if in a stupor Mary put her hand to her face. She tingled with fear and gasped for breath. "He hit me, Julie!" she croaked in a hoarse voice. "He grabbed me by the throat and hit me across the face!" Still shaken, she began to cry. "It was horrible!" "Who hit you?" Julie asked frantically. "Was it your grandfather?" "I don’t know," Mary tried to say, forcing her voice. "I don’t know who it was. He was standing over me. All I saw was his dark silhouette." Julie knelt down quickly and looked at Mary’s face. She gasped. "My God, Mary! Your face! I can see a handprint!" She sat back on her heels, a horrified look on her face. "You look like someone slapped the hell out of you!" She suddenly reached out and touched Mary’s neck. "Good grief girl! You’ve got finger marks on your neck!" She scrambled to her feet. "I have to get you a wet washcloth--" "No! "Mary croaked, putting her hand out to Julie. "Get my camera first!"
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About the Book
College history teacher Mary Meadows takes on the challenge of constructing the family genealogy and finds more than she bargained for. Perplexed by the discovery that her grandmother’s body had vanished from her deathbed in 1904, along with her identity, Mary is subtly drawn into the bizarre mystery, which begins to threaten her marriage, her job, and her sanity. Unknown to her, her grandmother is on "the other side" seeking redemption, and begins to use Mary in a desperate attempt to achieve her ends. Although fictionalized, the story of Nettie is based on paranormal events that actually occurred.
About the Author
Growing up along Chicago’s North Shore during the 1940s, the author has fond childhood memories of the many abandoned and allegedly haunted mansions along the shoreline at the time, known only to the neighborhood kids who dared each other to explore them. Since then, the author has held a life long interest in history, hauntings, and the supernatural. Armed with a degree in Art History, this Air Force veteran explored many of Europe’s most haunted places while on duty there. This book brings the author’s interests together in a bizarre saga centered on an actual ninety-seven year old family mystery.