The Sawgrass Footpath

The Sawgrass Footpath, unfolds with one nightmare after another.

The Horror 

 

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 As Tom sat in the driveway of his late parent’s house, horrid screams clouded his mind. Tables being thrown to the side, blood splattered throughout the house, as well as two mutilated bodies burned through him like an out of control fire.  It was safe to say, Tom Diggens was definitely at his breaking point in life. As a doctor he knew what being on the verge of a nervous breakdown meant and he was tipping the scale.  The only thing pushing him and willing to carry on, was his wife, Ann, whom he cherished. Tom ran his fingers through his hair as if to calm himself. It was his choice of OCD and he never understood why it helped, but it did. Well, at least sometimes, and it was good enough for, Tom Diggens, MD. He slowly released his seatbelt which made him feel relief as he hated wearing  

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it; even though he had seen what happens to the human body by not wearing it. Tom had tried to save many lives during the years he worked in the ER and saw the gruesome affects caused when not wearing it, usually trauma to the head or internal organs.  Before attempting to get out of the car, Tom rested his head against the steering wheel of the car as he took in a deep breath trying to compose himself.  “Stop being a procrastinator and just get the f**k out of the car,” he told himself as he opened the car door.  As he stepped out, a gust of wind blew through him, which was refreshing. Tom closed his eyes as his pitch black hair blew back over his forehead exposing his deep dark eyebrows the girls went crazy over ever since high school. Tom reopened his eyes and began the dreadful trek towards the front door. 

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 Once at the front door, the brutal murder of how his parents died haunted him. No matter how hard he  

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tried to escape what he imagined his mother and father endured in their final moments on this earth, he couldn’t. It was why selling his parent’s house was so crucial. Tom knew he needed to distance himself from what happened as much as he could. He knew the longer he held onto the house, the harder it would be to overcome the horrors that happened therein.  He knew this final trip to the house he grew up in would be his last and he was, oddly enough, okay with it. Tom was tired of fighting with the demons lurking within and having a hold over his life.  It would be a sad good-bye but nevertheless, a desperately needed good-bye that had to take place. As he stood at the front door he saw the window the intruder broke in through and visualized what the assailant must have looked like. For some reason he pictured a Richard Ramirez look alike. The crimes were after all just as sadistic and sick as his were. It took the papers to tell him how both his parents were bludgeoned to death with a baseball bat. Oddly enough it’s not what threw him over edge as it was what  

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he found out about his mother, explaining why there was no open casket at the funeral. He knew about one of his mother’s breasts was almost severed from her chest, but of all the stab wounds and having her eyes gouged out was way too much to take. All Tom knew was he wanted five minutes alone with the sick, demented f****r who brutally tortured and murdered his parents. As he thought back on the day he walked through the house and saw the aftermath of what happened, an explosive rage coursed through him like an uncontrollable conflagration. Tom would love to put an end to the intruder's life. He would show the assailant no compassion, just as the man (Tom used the word man lightly, as the animal was more like it) had shown his parents. Tom lowered his head in what looked like a prayer and whispered through a clinched fist showing the white of his knuckles, “No Mercy!” He took in a deep breath, “You can do this,” he assured himself, “This will be your last and final goodbye,” he said as he composed himself. Tom looked up and stared at the front door as though  

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hypnotized with the key firmly gripped in his hands. As he slid the key into the lock, he heard a voice behind him.   " Tom I haven’t heard from you for a while now, how have you been?” Tom turned around and saw his lifelong neighbor, Trevor Benson, a Vietnam era Army sniper standing behind him.  "Hello Mr. Benson, how are you sir,” Tom said genially, pleased to see the man standing there.   "Tom you’re a grown man now and although I do realize I am over the hill, but please, call me Trevor,” he said with a smile as he held out his hand. Tom managed a smile as he extended his hand.   "It's just habit Mr….,” Tom began to say but caught himself and smiled as he held his head down almost embarrassed, “ So Trevor how have you been?   "That's more like it. It’s good to see the smile on your face. I mean when I first walked up on you, you looked rather disturbed.”   “Well yeah, considering what happened,” Tom said as he turned around and looked up at the house, “There is not too much to smile at here.” 

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 “Understood, I just wanted to come over and let you know we were thinking of you. Me and the Mrs. have spoken of you quite frequently, mainly out of concern. The old for sale sign has been up for a while. I have to say I think it is probably the best thing for you. Selling the house will wipe a lot clean for you, at least I have prayed for just that.”   “Thank you,” Tom smiled somberly. “I think it is for the best as well. I am just here to say one last good bye to the old house I grew up in and make sure everything I want is out of here.”   “You think she’ll sell easy?”   “So far it doesn’t look very promising. Not many people want a house where a brutal murder took place, well unless you’re in the Cali area where they thrive on that sort of thing. They’re always hoping the next writer or Hollywood producer will show up at their door and pay top dollar for access. You know they all want cheap thrills and real life death sells. I have even gotten letters from a few writers who want to do a book on what happened here. I have always turned them down though 

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and for damn good reason. Making money off my parents death would be blood money and I would do just fine if I stayed away from that.”   “Well, on that note, I will let you get back to it. If you feel up to it, stop by the house; we can have a beer and you can say hello to the Mrs. if you’d like.”  “I would love to but Ann is waiting for me and I still have a few appointments coming in today. A few old timers who refuse to see any other doctor in town due to the trust and respect they have…” Tom said then paused as he corrected himself, "had for my father. Well anyway, you know the story, the entire town does.”   “Here, here,” Trevor said with a steadfast tone as he held up his hand in a military salute to show his own respect for Tom’s late father. “On that note, I will get outta yer hair. Just remember me and the Mrs. are here for you if you ever need us. Hell boy, we watched you grow up even wiped your a*s as a baby a time or two,” Trevor said with a fat man’s chuckle.   “Nice,” Tom exclaimed as his face 

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turned a beet red.   Trevor turned around and headed back towards his own yard.   "Retribution is a b***h,” Tom mumbled, “Vengeance can be a m**********r. ”  Hearing what Tom said, Trevor turned around and smiled, “In the military we take care of our own. So yes, retribution is a b***h and although vengeance can be a m**********r it is usually only a m**********r for the one receiving it, not the one giving it. Take care of your own boy, take care of your own. A 9mm loaded with a magazine of full metal jackets is a fine instrument for home protection.” Trevor said with a wink, turning back around and walked away. 

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As the door slowly swung open, Tom imagined the smell his mother’s cooking. “Meatloaf,” he whispered with closed eyes as he dreamt of the aroma wafting through him like a 

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mother’s tender touch. He opened his eyes and slowly placed one foot over the threshold. He paused as he shivered with fear, only silence hung over him. “The worst part is over now,” he assured himself, as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Tom gradually made his way through the living room as he stared at the frescoed walls all-round. He remembered the day his father took on the project of painting the interior of the house. Tom chuckled, “How he bitched.”  He gently rubbed at the wall before making his way into the kitchen. As he opened the two saloon style doors leading into the kitchen, more memories festered inside making his eyes water.  Once through the swinging doors, Tom immediately noticed a box sitting on the island in the center of the kitchen. He laid his keys on the counter and walked towards it. An envelope perched on top of the box read, “Things left behind” from Sufi, his real estate agent. Disregarding the envelope, he slowly opened the box and looked inside. He saw two jade elephants he bought for his mother on her birthday along with various 

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family photos of all sizes. Tom picked up the stack of pictures and began going through each one. A smile crossed his face as he saw one of him and his parents taken on his tenth birthday. A stray tear from one eye made its way down his cheek.  In a moment of pure solemn he sat the pictures down as more tears began to well up. Tom lowered his head as if to say a silent prayer but never did. He believed in God but never went to church and hardly ever prayed. What little bit of faith Tom had in the good Lord above took a pretty serious beating the day his parents were exterminated. He took in a deep breath picking up the envelope as he read aloud, “Hi Tom, I thought you would want these. I found them hidden in the kitchen pantry and I hope they bring joy in your hour of pain. Take care, your friend Sufi”. A heartfelt smile spread across his face as he finished the letter, “Good ol’ Sufi; thank God she likes to snoop.” Tom put the letter back in the envelope and moved the box closer to the door as to not forget it.  Hands flat, he leaned over the counter as he rested. Tom sat in deep thought as his mind raced once again. He hit the 

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counter top in discouragement as he wailed out loud.   "I need this day to be over and with a stiff f****n’ drink to boot,” he said as he turned and looked down the hallway leading to what was now referred to as the infamous bedroom. He was on the verge of retching as his stomach whirled in what felt like a sack of puss. Tom closed his eyes as he rested his head against the wall, the bedroom hijacked his mind. It was he who was responsible for the clean-up. The blood soaked carpet, the bed and the walls were his responsibility to clean, all his. As the horrid memories raced through his mind, he felt flustered. Tom stood motionless until uncertainty broke him away from the visions. Uncertainty, on whether or not he was making the right decision by staying the course, selling and moving away. Horrified with morbid flashbacks, Tom grabbed for his stomach, “If there is a God, why did he let this happen,” he questioned as he held back the inevitable tears. Tom immediately turned around and headed for the door. All he could think about now was how bad he 

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wanted out of the same house he once found solace as a child. 

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Tom locked the house up for what would be the last time. He put the key to the front door in the lockbox hung over the outside door handle and securely latched the device and scrambled the tumbler. He took in a deep breath as he tenderly rested his hand flat on the face of the door before he turned around and walked back towards his car.  As he cranked the car his cell phone rang. When he looked at the caller ID he saw it was his wife Ann.   “Hey honey,” Tom said as he attempted to composed his tone.   “The office called looking for you,” Ann said, “You have an appointment in twenty minutes. Is everything all right sweetie,” she asked with a worried tone.   “Yeah, I’m fine….” Tom said but paused; he knew Ann could always tell when something was wrong. He tried to overcome the sense of ambivalence everyone finds inside themselves when they face a 

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major disaster or crisis in their life.   “I just left the house for what would be the last time. When I went inside, Sufi had a little surprise for me. There were some photos I guess my mom had stashed away and forgot about, but Sufi found them tucked in the pantry.”   “You know I would have gone with you. Tom, you know I don't like you going there by yourself. It’s just too much.”   “Ann, Ann, Ann, listen honey, I'm a big boy, besides, I needed to say my final goodbye alone. It brought back a lot of memories, good and bad. A few I could have certainly done without, but other than that, I am fine,” Tom assured her in what he thought was a believable tone.   "I know baby. Ok. Just try and make it home on time, I miss you when you’re not here.”   “You know I will.” Tom said as he pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it. “Damn babe, I have to go it’s the office calling. I’ll call you around lunch, love you bye.”  “Love yo..,” Ann began to say but Tom had already hung up. 

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Last Day 

 

1 

 

As Tom pulled into the parking lot of his office; he saw three cars parked in front. He recognized two being patients of his late father, but the black Cadillac de Ville parked next to his reserved spot stood out. As he pulled around the back of the car, he saw licenses plates which read Wisconsin. He realized it was the new doctor who would be taking his place. “If he wants to survive here he better lose those tags,” Tom chuckled as he rolled his eyes taking a cheap shot, “Fuuuckin’ cheese heads!”  He had forgotten about the meeting they had scheduled for today.  He quickly pulled into his reserve spot which read, Dr. Thomas A Diggens. Knowing he was late, he promptly grabbed his briefcase along with his white jacket from the 

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backseat of the car. He rushed inside where his nurse immediately met him with three charts in her hand.  “Is everything all right, Dr. Diggens,” his nurse Trish questioned with concern.   “Everything is fine thank you,” he assured her as he slipped on his white jacket. “Where would our new doctor be?”  “He took the liberty of making rounds for you while he waited. He said he wanted to get to know some of the locals. Made it sound like the word ‘locals’ was some form of bird flu.”  “Yeah, well wait until some of the locals get a taste of the Yankee accent he has going on. How do you reckon that will go over,” Tom asked as a weak giggle escaped him. Trish just smirked, “Well, I am one of those locals who will have to deal with the unwanted Northerner, thank you very much.”  “I guess so,” Tom said with contrite as he took the charts into his office to quickly look them over. As he sat at his desk, he rubbed his head as he assured himself it was going to be a very long day. He was well aware the media would be calling as 

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 it was the one-year anniversary of his parent’s murders. He had tried to prepare himself as best he could for the media frenzy soon to follow. Tom knew death sold especially well in a little town like his. Frost Proof, up until last year, was considered one of the safest towns in the entire state of Virginia.  “Just make it through today, besides you already knew this was going to happen. Death sells books, movies, collectibles, and even clothing,” Tom murmured, as he knew the day would bring cheap scary thrills for the sick minded. “For f**k’s sake, what Che Guevara and Charles Manson did for tshirt sales is proof positive,” Tom added.  Although he tried to distance himself from his sorrows by packing away any sentimental memorabilia of his childhood and late parents, he found it to be futile. Sitting on his desk was a photo of his parents. He kept it there as an attempt to remember them alive and happy. Tom hoped the memory of their mutilated bodies would soon dissipate from his mind, even though he knew it to be futile as well.  He leaned his chair back and cupped his hands over his face as he took in a deep breath. Before he 

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could get the grip on the reality he had hoped for, there was a knock at the door. He was unable to ask who it was before his nurse Trish poked her head inside the door. She immediately saw he was troubled.  “Dr. Diggens are you ok?” Tom looked at her with what she thought were festered eyes.  “Yes Trish, I am fine,” he began to say, being very curt about it. But back-peddled when he took note of the genuine concern in Trish’s eyes. “I am sorry I snapped. Today as you probably know is the one year anniversary.”  “Yes sir, I know. I just didn’t want to say anything as I figured the press would remind you enough. There have already been calls coming in asking for you. A few local papers as well, even one out of New York. Can you imagine a paper in New York wanting a story from what they call backwater hicks…,” Trish snarled but stopped short as she felt bad. She looked at Tom troubled, with her own eyes welling up and apologized.  “Trish, it’s ok. I understand what you were trying to say. Yankees are like that. You don’t exist until they 

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need you for something. They believe the South is racist and over patriotic in their warped little minds. They live in never-land, a world outside this one. I drove up north a few years ago never saw one America flag hanging anywhere.”  Trish just smiled a crooked grin as she gathered up the charts. “I will put these on the outside of the doors for you. I think you better hurry, the new doc is starting to give out cheese recipes,” she chuckled as she rolled her eyes and quietly walked from the room to give Dr. Diggens a few minutes before he faced the patients of the day.  “Oh well, the sooner I finish the quicker I can get home, then its goodbye old Frost Proof, Virginia forever,” Tom assured himself under a muttered tone only he could hear. As he walked from his office he saw Trish standing in the corner staring at him with deep concern. He walked over to where she was standing and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I am fine, Trish, really! I’ve had a year to prepare for this day. Besides I think it’s you I should be worried about. Cheese, really,” he questioned 

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with a grin Trish didn’t entirely believe. Tom lowered his head as he stood outside his first patient’s room. He shook it slowly from side to side as he gripped the doorknob in his hand. He could hear the old Yankee just as Trish had said, talking about cheese curds and beer. 

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When Tom walked into the room of his first patient, the first words he heard were about cheese. He clutched the door as he cringed. Old Bill Hawksway looked at Tom with eyes that said, help. The good ol’ yank turned around and in his thick northern Yankee accent asked Tom how he was doing. Tom smiled as best he could and stepped further into the room. A mummer of, help me God, escaped his smiling face.  “So, I see you are becoming acquainted with Mr. Hawksway, one of our respected ol’ timers,” Tom said with a smile. Dr. Hayloft just 

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looked at Tom with bewilderment.  “How the hell ya doin’ Bill? Longtime, no see, how’s the ol’ ticker,” Tom said with a wink, “I see you’re still here so I guess the patch job I did on you had worked?” Bill chuckled at Tom’s remark as the Yankee just stared in amazement.  “Excuse me, but I don’t recall ever hearing a professional speaking to his patient in such a manner,” the old yank said as he turned towards Bill Hawksway to see his reaction, “Are you referring to the triple by-pass of his heart?”  “Weellll, I reckon we have something in common as I’ve never walked in on a professional talking to his patient about cheese and beer. I mean, in all reality, aren’t those the exact things we as doctors try to discourage our patients from doing,”   Tom asked with a smirk as he looked at Bill. Bill gave Tom two big thumbs up before the old yank had a chance to see him.  “Well, it was just idle chat, innocent enough.”  “Well, that is all we do is idle chit chat.” Tom declared as he rested a hand on the old Yankee’s shoulder 

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and walked him to the side of the room.  “Listen, I realize you ain’t no good ol’ boy, but my patients are and if you intend on fittin’ in here, I suggest you lose the yank side of you. I lived in your old state for seven months and I have to be perfectly honest with you,” Tom said with a grin as he lowered his voice, "I absolutely hated it. No I’m sorry, that was too tame, let me rephrase that, I fuuuckin’ hhaaated it! The people there are what I call from Mars. That doesn’t fly here in the south. If you want to be a successful doctor, that is at least around here, I suggest you first become a human being. I mean that is what we are here for after all.  Just hillbillies, but hillbillies with a human side to us," Tom finished as he winked at the old man. Bill sat as silent as he could as he attempted to hold back the laughter. He felt as if he were fixing to explode. He was glad Dr. Diggens took that old fart to the side and set his Yankee a*s straight.  “Well then, on that note I think I will excuse myself and just come back tomorrow when I will be the 

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one in charge. Good day there feller,” the Yank said, dripping with sarcasm.  “Now see, that is what I’za talking about. If’n you don’t get wif the program, you will by all means fail here. We aren’t asking ya to change, we’re just asking that you act semi human is all. Now good day to you as well,” Tom said but paused with one word, “feller.”  “That was amazing! Thanks fer the save,” Bill said. Tom smiled as he began to listen to Bill’s chest. “Deep breath,” he told Bill. As he removed the stethoscope from his ears, he wrote Bill his usual heart medication and suggested a close colleague of his who was a respected doctor. Bill smiled as he took the prescription. “I wish you and your wife all the best. I have to say though I hate to see ya leave but at the same time I understand all too well. You have a safe trip and let Trish know when you have settled in. I hear she will be leaving soon and I can’t say I blame her one bit. This northern yank is a f*****g a*****e if I’ve ever seen one. Besides he talks wif a funny accent, but then again, I reckon they all do. 

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They just ain’t right,” Bill said. Tom patted Bill on the shoulder as he chuckled. “Don’tcha worry, I bet he won’t last a month before the locals bring out the crosses and run him back to ‘Wiscaaahhnsin,’” being all facetious, “Good riddance I say! ”  Bill laughed as he slipped on his shirt.  “I went to Wisconsin once before about twenty years ago. I figured out right quick it was hell on earth. The people there just don’t get it. Damn liberals, every one of ‘em, rather they think so or not, believing themselves to be the smartest people in the room. Just ask ‘em; they’ll tell ya. I went to a business meetin’ there and they served something called 'are doores,’” Tom laughed and quickly corrected him. “I think it is pronounced Hors Dourves,” Tom said chuckling as he held his head down.  “Well, whatever they called it. It was a dead fish on a cracker with cheese and had somethin’ red on top’n it. I passed, thank ya just the same.  I couldn’t believe it, felt like I was on Mars or somethin’, ya know what I’m sayin?” 

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 Tom just shook his head. “I understand all too well, been to yankville a time or two m’self. I have to agree, Mars sums it up just fine. No charge for this visit Bill, you just take care of yerself old partner,” Tom said as he shook Bill's hand.  “You as well my good friend, I pray Florida welcomes you, providin’ many years of joy for you and yer woman. At least they’re southern folk there. Maybe a few yanks thrown in, but where y’all movin’ to, I think y’all be safe.”  “Thanks Bill, now take my advice and do what I said. I don’t think you’re gonna be able to handle anymore cheese stories.”   “Ya got that one down doc, and I will spread the word. Maybe wif no patients the ol’ yank will be forced to get right the hell outta here!” Bill said.