Mary Suzanne

As she stood watching, the door to the house opened slanting a yellow beam onto the porch. A slender man walked from the entrance into the moonlit night. She could feel another chill settling over her. It looked as if he was heading straight for their cabin.

"We're letting our imagination run wild," Carol admitted before she joined Lacy near the window. When she bent her head to look out into the yard, her eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze followed the man as he got closer. "Do you know him, Lace?"

Lacy could feel a shudder race through Carol's arm as it brushed against hers.

"I don't have the slightest idea who he is." Her tone sounded muffled as a splash of fear seized her.

Lacy found she couldn't look away. Her eyes were drawn like a magnet to the slow moving silhouette. The man headed straight for the door of their cabin, and as he drew closer, Lacy felt her stomach knot up inside.

"He does look a little like Norman Bates," Carol's words trailed off as they heard the gravel beneath the stranger's feet outside the door. "Do you believe in reincarnation? That could be him and he's come to get rid of us."

"Carol, will you be quiet? You're doing a good job of scaring me to death." A hard knock sounded on the door and both girls jumped in alarm.

 "Well, he's here," Carol squeaked out.

"I'll get it," Lacy volunteered in a trembling whisper. As she glanced over at Carol, she didn't miss the scared expression that covered her face combined with a white pinched appearance.

"I don't believe I can move an inch," Carol admitted in a shaky tone.

"Thanks," Lacy said, shaking her head over her foolish thoughts. "My parents are right next door if we need them. We can get their attention by tapping on the wall."

She figured they were just being silly about the entire situation. They didn't even know the identity of the man standing outside waiting for them to answer. There was only one way to find out who it was. Open the door and ask him his name.

He shined the light across the long hallway just off the entrance. To the right, a stairway led up to the second floor. Sage cautiously made his way into the musky smelling hallway and could feel how cold the inside of the house felt. It was almost a chilling feeling ten degrees cooler than outside. A shiver of apprehension raced down his spine. His instincts never failed him and tonight they were on high alert.

He could sense the body heat of the others following him and saw Jason light the flashlight he'd given him. Once everyone was inside, the door slammed shut without warning and a loud click reverberated throughout the room.

"What was that?" Sage knew the sound was the door locking and he also knew the door couldn't lock on its own. He turned his head just in time to see a strange white apparition floating past him. No, he decided his imagination must have been playing tricks on him. He didn't believe in ghosts. Just at the point of asking one of the others if they'd seen anything, Sage heard Summer scream.

"Let's get out of here, Sage!" Her blood curdling scream sent another wave of apprehension racing through Sage. She grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his skin.

When he reached the saloon, Jake walked slowly up to the swinging doors. Loud music from an old piano competed with the sound of laughter and voices spilling out of the room. Jake looked over the top of the swinging doors and noticed the saloon had a full house that night. He decided he should wait for daylight before doing anything, but the decision was taken out of his hands.

Lucky unexpectedly glanced up toward the door and spotted Jake. All the color drained from his face as he stood and knocked his chair onto the floor with a loud bang behind him. Ben and Bill glanced over to where Lucky was looking and their faces turned an ashen color. They, too, stood quickly.

 This didn’t leave Jake any choice but to enter the saloon and have it out with the three men. As he made his way in, the music stopped as the piano player noticed something wasn’t right. The man hurried behind the old machine as if to take cover. Jake figured the piano player must have an instinct that trouble was on the way having played in the saloon for so long. He wasn’t about to get in the line of gunfire.

 Jake stood just inside the door and his narrowed eyes landed on the three that were also standing, facing him. All along, Jake thought he knew these three men, but when it came down to it, he didn’t know them at all. There wasn’t the usual confident look lining any of their faces now. They’d been caught and they knew it.

The traffic was light at such an early hour and jokes and laughter floated around the interior of the car. Somehow, Lacy felt safe now that Ryan sat only an arm length from her in the front seat.

“Lacy, grab one of the CD’s out of the glove box and put it in the stereo,” Ryan told her. “I can’t get anything on the radio but this country music. I’ve never been too fond of country, but that’s all they’re offering.”

“I know what you mean. Carol and I ran into the same problem on our last trip. Talk about boring.” While she talked, she placed the CD in and cranked the sound up filling the car with a current hit song.

Amid joking, laughing and singing the entire trip, the ride seemed shorter than Lacy remembered. It wasn’t long before she saw a sign along the highway with Salem printed on it.

Just on the outskirts of the small town, Lacy glanced at a car headed in the opposite direction. She thought for an instant her eyes were playing tricks on her, believing she saw Steve and Jason riding along in a hot rod at a fast rate of speed heading out of town. No, I have to be wrong. Surely, I’m imagining things. Steve and Jason were supposed to be in jail waiting for the court date that morning. But again, they could be out on bail waiting for the trial to begin.

Suddenly, there was a metal sound filling the air around them. Lacy glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the hot rod deliberately swerving toward a pickup truck. The truck tried to get out of the way of the car, but the driver wasn’t having any success. The truck spun out and flipped over a number of times before coming to rest on its top in the ditch.

The following morning Josh was up before daybreak. He tried not to make any noise as he left the bedroom wanting to give Callie a few more hours of rest. He made his way into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee and after drinking his fill, pulled on his old coveralls and headed out the door.

When he got in the truck, he forgot all about the cows and headed instead to the north pasture. Curiosity was eating him up alive. Ever since seeing the lights the night before, he felt the need to find out what had caused them. He doubted whether he’d discover anything in the daylight, but something was urging him on to check it out.

As he rounded the bend in the road, he could see the tops of the oil drilling rigs jutting up into the sky. A feeling of nostalgia swept through him making him think of his father and how he missed him. He was just happy he managed to spend a few weeks with him when he’d arrived home before his father died.

Driving closer to the pasture, Josh’s gaze narrowed as he studied the ground beneath the rigs. It looked as if someone had been digging holes in the field. He parked the truck and got out. By the time he made his way across the pasture, a puzzled frown settled across his features wondering what was going on.

Every hole was the same size in circumference looking as if a machine had carved out the earth. Inside the middle of the circles were little holes looking as if they reached deep into the earth surface. If he didn’t know any better, he could almost believe these circles matched the patterns a farmer had taken pictures of for a documentary. This occurred in another state some distance from Oklahoma a while back. They had called them crop circles. From listening to all the reports on the circles, it was unknown how they got there and what they meant. There were many scientists coming up with ideas, but not one of them had solved the origin of the circles.

One night, Riley made his journey to the old cemetery and could feel the chill of the night seeping into his bones. “What a night to be out,” he muttered. “I have a feeling about tonight that I can’t shake.” Riley smiled, realizing he was talking, but only the empty cemetery and lonely tombstones could hear him.

He kept looking at an old tombstone a few feet from where he stood. The granite slab acted almost like it was beckoning him. He walked over and leaned down, brushing aside the leaves piled on top. The thick marble slab looked as if it had been there forever. The cut and style of the stone had to date back to the nineteenth century. The tombstone read, Wild Bart Jamison, from out west in Colorado.

Riley decided this gravesite might be an interesting plot to place his recorder on and let the microphone try to pick up any message that may be coming through. Something urged him to do this.

The marker stated that Bart Jamison died in 1850. After his death, the family brought the old prospector back east to be buried in the family plot. A small inscription at the bottom of the marble stone stated that Bart had discovered gold in Colorado right after the California gold rush of 1849. Near the inscription was a carved out picture of a cowboy astride a horse.

“Wow, this looks like a good find,” he stated, his voice carrying across the lonely cemetery on the stiff breeze now sending chills through his bones.

Riley felt excitement stir in him as he placed his recorder on the old gravestone and turned it on. Just maybe he would be lucky tonight and find out a little about this Bart Jamison. He wondered if the man had really struck it rich or died a pauper and his relatives had to bury him in New York City.

Suddenly, Riley saw a light flashing across the deserted cemetery. He didn’t bother removing his equipment from the marker as he hunched down behind the tall gravestone. The light made another pass right near his hiding place.