CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
Knowing the old Nelson farm was haunted, the two boy’s, twelve-year-old Jimmy and his fourteen-year-old friend Jacob, rode their bikes slowly past the house heading toward the barn. They were curious about the hayloft where Beau Camp’s body had been discovered a short time ago.
Daring each other, as young boys are prone to do, to climb to the upper loft to see if the hangman’s rope was still there, or whether the police had taken it down. Jacob, showing his young friend he wasn’t scared of no dead man’s ghost, entered the dark barn and finally made his way to the ladder.
Midway up, he stopped as his nerve was shrinking. Looking down at his younger companion, he half decided to climb back down.
“You chicken? You got a yellow-streak down your back?” Jimmy taunted him.
“I ain’t chicken,” Jacob said, now determined to go all the way to prove it.
Reaching the top, he stood up, a bit hunched over as he now surveyed the hayloft. Not sure where the rope was supposed to be, he took several steps toward the darker end when, he stopped dead in his tracks and froze. Something in the darkness moved, or so he thought, he couldn’t be sure as he was now afraid to venture any further.
“Jacob?!” His young friend hollered up after him.
Hearing his name yelled spooked the boy; it also unnerved the barn owl that was perched on the main beam behind the boy. It took flight as it gave out a screech which caused Jacob to bolt forward.
The sudden squawk and wing flapping of the owl as it departed the barn sent Jimmy running outside for his bike. Jacob stumbled in the darkness and almost fell, but thankfully caught hold of an object which kept him from going completely down.
Steadying himself, he now took a closer look at what he had grabbed hold of; looked to be an old straw-filled scarecrow dangling from a rope he thought. His black pupils widened as he now tried to see if it was indeed the hangman’s noose they had come searching for.
Jimmy was pert-near home as he was almost out-of-breath from peddling so fast. His heart was racing as the adrenalin surged through his thin framed body. Only thing that stopped him from making it was the pothole he struck, which sent him flying over his handle-bars. Dust flew as he landed hard.
Officer Hendrix out on routine patrol, which was ordered by Det. Fairchild, saw the mishap and pulled up. She got out and approached the boy, “Are you okay?”
Jimmy had the wind knocked out of him and couldn’t yet speak.
Kneeling down, she sat him up and told him to take short, little breath’s until he could suck in more air. It was just a few minutes more and Jimmy would be talkin’ up a storm telling her about the Nelson barn, his friend and the fright he got.
Jacob meanwhile, had found a small barrel and rolled it over to the scarecrow in hopes of freeing it from the noose, so he could take the hangman’s rope for himself. Hoisting himself up, he now set to feeling around the noose to see where the knot was located, so he could loosen it and let the scarecrow drop away.
Officer Hendrix now pulled the barn doors wide open flooding the dark barn with sunlight. Jacob turned quickly to see what was happening; his pupils quickly contracted as his eyes were inundated with the overwhelming brightness now pouring in.
“Jacob? This is the police, where you at boy?” Hendrix said letting her eyes adjust.
“I’m up here!” he shouted down.
Hendrix had no sooner started toward the ladder when Jacob let out a scream, the likes she had never, ever heard before. Stopping, she pulled her service revolver and had it at the ready. “Jacob, are you okay?! Tell me what’s wrong?! Answer me!”
Jacob almost fell out of the loft as he scurried down the ladder and started runnin’ for the door. His eyes were wild; his mouth was open, but no sounds were forthcoming.
Hendrix grabbed the boy as he tried to run past her; she shook him hard, “What’s wrong?! Tell me!” She commanded.
Jacob couldn’t speak, he just pointed toward the loft as his whole body trembled from sheer terror, causing him to wet himself.
Releasing the boy, he ran for his bike. Hendrix now listened for any sound or movement of any kind coming from the loft. She leveled her gun toward the loft as she now started to climb. Reaching the top rung of the ladder, she slowly peeked over and now saw what the boy had mistook for a scarecrow. It was Bobby Taylor’s wilting dead body.
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SAINT CLOUD GAZETTE
BOBBY TAYLOR FOUND DEAD
Once again the old Nelson farm is the site of yet another gruesome death. Coroner Troy Van Horn has determined Taylor’s death was an act of suicide. No evidence of foul play per the Saint Cloud P.D. was found. His body was discovered hanging in the hayloft by two local boys. The death count is now at 7.
Story by: Jonah McGregor
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