Pawpaw's Cold

This story is based upon events that happened in my childhood. However with the help of one of my favorite editors, "Dave Wilker", it took a bit of a frightening turn...{THANKS DAVE!}

 

                                      Pawpaw's Cold...

 

     When I was just a small child we lived in a place called Comstock a little "township" in Michigan, on a dead end street that was named after our family, 1437 Barton St was our address. It was near the Kalamazoo river and we loved the days we spent there as kids in the semi-country setting.

     There were only a few neighbors but they were friendly and treated us like a part of their families. One such neighbor was Jan Terry. She had children of her own and was good friends with our mom so much so that my mom named my little sister after her. Sylvia Jan, was my sister's name as was Mrs. Terry's but everyone just called her Jan. She had a sweet disposition and her husband was a country western musician. Her son Chucky sat behind me in Mrs. Nichols 2^nd grade class. We all played together after school and on weekends. We were great friends. However each summer she sent her kids to stay with relatives in South Carolina so playmates were hard to come by.

    One summer she had a visitor who came to stay with her. They all called him Pawpaw Porter he was Jan's great-great grandfather. He was nearly 100 years old but was as spry as could be and loved to tell stories of the olden days.

    Every morning when my little sister and I awoke we'd eat our breakfast quickly and run over to see what Pawpaw was up to that day. Even though I'd try to get away without her following me she'd catch me and throw a mighty fit if I didn't take her with me. We kid's all called her, "Queen of Brats."

     The old man did some wood work and made a small bench for us to sit on while he regaled us with stories of days gone by. He also taught us a little song that he said Jan used to sing as a child.

     "Pickin up pawpaws, put 'em in yer pocket. Pickin up pawpaws, put 'em in yer pocket. Pickin up pawpaws, put 'em in yer pocket. Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch."

     Once he told us the story of "The Little Haint of MacAfee's Reef".

     Many years ago there were a band of thieves and rumrunners that smuggled gold and liquor from Cuba to the shore of MacAfee's reef. It was just off the coast of South Carolina where Pawpaw had lived as a young man when he heard the story from MacAfee himself. He swore the tale to be 100% true, as true as he stood under the old willow tree telling the tale and we believed every word.

     It seemed that MacAfee had come across these unscrupulous, rum running pirates and attempted to put a stop to the goings on. Well, unknown to MacAfee his teenage daughter had secretly married one of the men. The captain of the ship they sailed had performed the ceremony at sea.  (Now, he knew why his daughter had been sneaking out during the night to walk on the beach.)

     MacAfee was threatened that if he were to do anything his daughter would never be seen again. He lived in fear for many years. Upon his return home that night, his daughter told him of the marriage and that she was also with child.

     Her husband never showed up till long after dark and rarely ever stayed the entire night. He was a no good thief but he always left MacAfee's daughter with a small amount of gold and rum. She loved him still the same and he was good to her and the child when he was there.

      A few years after the baby girl was born when she was 5 years old, (the same age as my sister, we giggle to our selves) the rum runners had stopped coming to the reef at all. There had been a big storm out at sea and pieces of the ship washed upon the reef for many days, weeks and even years there after.

     The child would often wander to the reef perhaps looking for her missing father. One day she wandered off. They searched many days and nights for the child. One week later on the shore of the reef near a small cove they found the little girl's white dress that she had worn the day she went missing. No other sign of her was ever found.   

       Now to this day if you're anywhere near the reef you can hear a sound of a crying child calling for her daddy! "Daddy… I want my daddy, moaned the old man in his best impression of a little crying child. Then he reached out and grabbed Sylvia by the arm and shouted, "I GOT YA!"

     We were a bit startled by the surprise ending but giggled till we laughed uncontrollably!

      His stories were great and it was lots of fun. Sometimes we'd even get him to play a game of hide-n-seek, although we wouldn't hide very far away from the front of the house where he'd so often sit whittling and spinning yarns of yester year.

      Many an afternoon would find him taking a nap under the willow tree in the front yard of Jan's house. Sometimes after our lunch we'd sneak over, wake him up, he would laugh and give us both a piece of hard candy. He was a sweet old fellow and everyone loved him. We spent most of our summer with him except for a few trips to the lake for picnics and barbeques.

     One bright Sunday morning we were getting ready to go visit Pawpaw. Aunt Marthy showed up at the door and asked if I and my little sister would like to go to church with her and our cousins. We were told that afterwards there was to be an ice cream social. "I love Ice cream!" we shout in unison. So we put on our best dresses and away we went.

     When we got home it was nearly 2:00pm so we hurriedly changed into our play clothes and ran to see Pawpaw. We'd missed him and wanted to tell him about all of the fun we'd had at church. Then afterwards the ice cream had been hand churned and taken quite some time to make and to eat. We were so excited to tell him a story for a change.

     When we crossed the dirt road that was our playground we saw Pawpaw lying under the old willow tree in the front yard.

      "Has he been sleeping there all day?" we said to each other.

     Then we giggled and with an impish skip then a run we fell upon the old man who we loved and knew to have hard candy for us. However when we touched him he was as cold as stone. We backed away, I turned to my sister and said, "Pawpaw's cold! Go ask Jan for a blanket."

     My sister knocked on the door and when Jan opened it she made her request for a blanket for the dear old fellow we all loved and called Pawpaw.

     "He's cold?" repeats Jan with a bit of distress in her voice, "It's got to be 80 degrees outside today!"

     Jan walked near to where I stood looking down at the "sleeping" old man. I looked up at her and said, "He needs a blanket he's so cold!" I knelt down near his head and reached for his big brimmed straw hat that covered his face, "And we can't seem to wake him!

     As I pulled the hat away his head rolled to one side and it rolled and rolled till it hit the trunk of the old willow tree.

      Jan drew a deep breath, quickly turned me around to face her "Girl he'll be OK. Go fetch up your daddy." said Jan in a stern, somber tone.

     We promptly went and told our father what we thought was going on. That Pawpaw was sleeping under the old willow tree and was very cold, he needed a blanket and Jan had sent us to get him for some reason. His eyes grew wide and a bit frightened; his hands seemed to tremble slightly and with his voice starting to crack a bit, made us promise that we wouldn't leave the house. He grabbed an old blanket from the cedar chest at the foot of his bed and ran over to the Terry residence.

     My sister and I had no idea why folks were acting so strangely. So we sat in our room playing with puzzles and wondering what was wrong with Pawpaw till someone came to get us. (I never mentioned what I had seen to anyone and could not even acknowledge it even to myself. His head just rolled away, how could that be? It must have been some sort of trick.)

     It was nearly 2 hours we were exiled to our room. During which time we'd heard a siren blasting loudly then abruptly stop. We went to the window to see an old black and gray car that looked more hearse than ambulance with young men in dark uniforms putting some sort of bed in the back of the vehicle. I thought that it may have contained what might've been Pawpaw Porter. We started to worry that he was gravely ill or even dead. "You can't get any deader than having you're head off, could you? But it just had to be some sort of a trick!" I thought to myself.  However I said nothing to my little sister who was only a very small child at the time.

     Daddy and mommy came to our room and said that we were going to have supper at grandma's house. Nothing more was said about Pawpaw that day.

     One week later we were instructed to put on our best dresses and get in the car. I didn't give it much thought as to where we were going I just loved to dress up and go just about anywhere. So I put on my navy blue dress with the small white polka dots, found my little white cloves, my pillbox hat and matching shoes, I was set to go. My little sister however didn't much like to wear the frilly dresses and fussed the entire trip.

     We arrived at a huge dark gray building that I thought must've been a church of some sort. It was getting cold and even a little dark as we walked inside. There were folks that we'd never met before smiling at us and saying that we must have been a comfort to the old fellow in his last days. It was all pretty strange to us as our daddy never before had gone to church.  (He was a devout Atheist and wasn't afraid to tell others so. He also used to damn people to hell, use the Lord's name in vain and often shouted… "I swear to god that I'm gonna kick that guy's a*s!")  Not what I would call someone who didn't believe in some sort of a higher or lower power. Yeah, I'd say this was getting pretty weird!

     Daddy and mom were busy shaking hands and singing a guest book, so we wondered off. In a small room adjacent to the chapel there were lots of pretty flowers so we walked inside only to find our dear friend Pawpaw lying in the center of the flowers all dressed in a black suit white shirt and tie. It was at this point that it hit me that our dear playmate was truly dead.

     Sylvia ran up to the casket and shouted, "Wake up Pawpaw! We've missed you so very much! Wake up… wake up and give us some candy!" she began to cry and attempted to climb up on to the coffin to jump on the "sleeping old man" in order to wake him up. I saw Pawpaw's eyes begin to open his hands to move and just as I thought he was about to speak, some of the people outside heard the commotion, ran in and took us back to our folks. My little sister cried and cried. "Why wont Pawpaw wake-up!" she exclaimed. (I wasn't sure if anyone seen what I had. But I was getting pretty darn scared)

     My folks seemed dumfounded and did not know how to explain to my sister the plain truth that Pawpaw was dead, or perhaps it wasn't death that had dumbfounded them. Anyway it fell to me to tell her. I didn't want to scare her anymore she was very upset that Papaw wouldn't wake up. So I had to be gentle she was just a little girl, and my baby sister.

     As we all filed into the chapel I clasped my sister's tiny hand and told her that Pawpaw was so tired that he went to heaven to sleep and that someday if we were very very good we would get to see him again. She seemed to understand.

     When the service came to the point where folks were urged to come to the front to say something about the dear old man, my sister said that she wanted to say something but was afraid to go alone.

     I held her hand and we walked to the front of the pews and up to the pulpit. I cleared my throat and simply said… "Pawpaw was a very nice man I know that god loved him enough to take him home".

     Finally Sylvia worked up enough nerve to say… "Pawpaw sleeps with the angels in heaven now."

     We walked back to our seats. All of the people in the chapel came to us one at a time and told us how beautiful and special we both were. These folks were a little weird and it seemed strange to us that these people would stand in line just to speak to us. It was getting to be a bit much for my little sister and I was scared out of my 8 year old mind.

     Sylvia started stomping her feet, crying and screaming at the top of her lungs. Now that's why we kids called my sister "Queen of Brats"!! I smiled and even giggled, for once I didn't mind her little tantrum. "Cry on baby!" I thought to myself.

      I was glad when our parents scooped us up and headed for the car. Nothing much was mentioned about Pawpaw or his family that had abruptly moved away after that day. There house stood empty at the edge of the woods on our little dead-end street.

     One night in late August I looked out of the window at the abandoned house and wondered of I'd ever see my little friend Chucky again. School would soon start. He had sat behind me in 2^nd grade and before that next to me in 1^st. He had even given me mumps last Christmas although I really didn't appreciate the gift! My face was swollen for over a week and everyone had made fun of me. "You look so funny with a fat face and those skinny legs." they'd say as they got ready to go play in the snow while I had to sit in my room. But anyway I really missed him and thought of him as I fell to sleep that night.

     Just as I was drifting of to sleep I heard my little sister get out of bed and walk into my parents' room. However I didn't think much of it and went directly to sleep.

     Sometime later I awoke to hear a loud chopping-cracking noise followed by another then two thumps and the sound of something rolling across the floor. I sat up in my bed and reached to wake my sister, only to find that she was gone. My heart jumped to my throat and all I could do was sit there in the dark and listen to the sound of little feet scurrying around, then the sound of the back door slam and a drip, drip, dripping sound coming from the next room. I sat there still and unflinching for quite sometime. Finally I got up the courage to go investigate.

     I slowly crept to the end of my bed with one hand on the wall franticly searching for the light switch, I found it! But to my dismay it wasn't working. I then made my way to my closet and found my emergency flashlight I kept there on a shelf behind my shoes. I turned it on but the batteries had grown low and the light was very dim. However I persevered onward. I could hear the drip, drip, dripping sound growing louder as I approached my parents' room.

     In the dim light I saw a large dark puddle at the side of my parents' bed. As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see that there was some substance dripping off of the bed. I shined the dim light on my parents and to my utter horror… There they lay covered with blood and missing their heads. I screamed and dropped the flashlight. "Oh my god what has happened here?" I thought to myself as I made my way to the kitchen to find a candle. "Where in the heck is my little baby sister?" I shouted into the dark, as I walked to the cabinet drawers near the stove to retrieve some light. I found a candle and lit it on the gas stove.

     I looked on the floor to find little foot prints left in the blood that had apparently dripped from my mom and dad's heads as the decapitator had ran out of the door. But these foot prints were no larger than those of my baby sister.  I wasn't sure what was going on but I didn't like what I was thinking. Slowly I opened the back door where the trail of footprints had led me. I then turned and headed for the shed to find a lantern to light my way better as I knew that I might have a long rough way ahead of me. I was frightened nearly to my wits end but had to try to find my baby sister.

     After retrieving the lantern from the shed and struggling to light it with the stub of a candle I had, I turned back to searching for the trail of blood that had brought me outside. There at the edge of the woods were droplets of blood leading toward the river. Through the trees, in the distance I could see a large bonfire and hear the pounding of drums with voices chanting something that I didn't quite understand. As I walked nearer the chanting grew louder and more intense. 

     Just at the edge of the tree line I saw bright flames. It appeared as if the river it's self was burning in the fire. As my eyes adjust to the brightness I could see Pawpaw his face pale and gaunt his eyes deep and menacing. He was standing, no levitating above the luminous inferno. In front of this blazing firmament stood my little sister!

      I started to run toward her to save her from the strange zombie creature that dear Pawpaw had become and realized that she was holding in either hand the heads of our mom and dad! I stopped dead in my tracks. She raised them up as if offering them for sacrifice and with a blood curdling scream tossed them into the fire. Her body went limp and started to rise and move toward Pawpaw as if by some strange unseen hands.

     It was then I heard a familiar voice behind me, "Hey there." The voice said.

     I turned to see my dear childhood pal Chucky Terry, "Hey there skinny legs!" he uttered above the frightening throng of the howling holocaust before us!

     I started to walk toward him to embrace my little chum.  "STOP!" he said. "Do not touch me I am an unclean creature of the night as is my heritage."

     "But Chucky, I need you to help me save my baby sister!" I said pleadingly.

     "There's nothing that can be done to save her, or me at this point we are too far gone. However you can save yourself."

     I looked into his eyes with a combination of sadness and disbelief and now notice that his face had also grown pale and gaunt. His once warm friendly eyes were now as black as coal and his once sweet nature as hard as a stone. He handed me a can of kerosene and instructed me to cover my path with the combustible liquid as well as our house and property.

     "You must run, run as fast and as far as you can, and NEVER look back!"

     He managed a weak grin and motioned me to leave as he walked toward the fire with a bundle of sticks. He threw them on the blazing bonfire and knelt beside it as if to pray.

     "God help me." I murmured to myself as I started pouring a stream of kerosene on the ground through the woods, all the way to our back yard, then to the shed, around the garden and finally all over our little white house that stood there empty except for the headless bodies of my dear parents. I smashed my lantern to the ground and the strong smelling liquid ignited in a horrendous blaze that consumed the innocence of my once happy childhood. I then ran as far and as fast as I could.

     Eventually I made my way to California, where through the good graces of a kind and loving Heavenly Father I managed to find a loving Christian family to take me in and care for me.

     I did well in school and managed for a while to put the past behind me. After graduating High School I attended a local community collage for a time where I met and married my wonderful husband. We even started our own little family and all was good for many years.

     However not long after our last child left the nest I began once again to hear from my little sister. First only in fitful dreams then in nightmares, hauntingly her voice would beckon me back to our childhood home.

     "I'm still as young and as pretty as always. I have not grown one moment older. I am worshiped here and rule over this domain," then with a wicked shrieking of laughter, "Ahh, Haaa, ha, ha!" She abruptly states, "It truly is better to rule in HELL than to serve one minute in Heaven!"

     I awake at this point in a cold sweat and fumble for my scriptures that I always keep close at hand. There is so very much comfort to be found in the words…

      Isaiah 11:6 "The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the young lion and fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

   

                                  An original story by: Margaret Barton-Wahl

Author's Note

This my first attempt at writing a scary story. I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to make comments.
Sincerely yours... Margaret Barton-Wahl

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I had forgotten that you said it was fiction, and was buying the whole thing as fact until lil' sis did her dirty work. It's a great little scary story, and I especially like the the first three-quarters of it. There are quite a few small errors, most of which could be fixed easily. A really good first effort, Margaret! Sam

[Connexionem]

I thoroughly enjoyed it! Some parts were just a tiny bit dragged out, but I struggle with that too. But, honestly, wonderful tale.

[cookies213]

I really like this story, i found myself completely enveloped in it. Although I was sad about paw paw