Halloween - 8:03 AM
“The police are baffled, even with the newly announced help from a Portland FBI Agent. A serial killer – posing as the once missing, but now returned, corpse of Kelly Rodgers – has terrorized our quiet town of Stewart Hollow in this month of October, similar to last years Harvest Slasher killings. The police say that clues have been uncovered at each crime scene that somehow connects a former resident of our town to the killings.
“It is, however, a known fact that somehow, a play written by a local high school student – a tribute play to those who died last year – is said to have sparked the massacre this year. For what reasons, we are unclear of.
“But we here at Channel 4 have been doing our own investigating over the past week, and if the released details are correct, the gruesome murders of Jack and Theresa McDowell are not connected to the rest, suggesting they were either the targets of a random attack, or something else. Being Stewart Hollow’s oldest, and longest married couple, the murders of Jack and Theresa McDowell immediately bring to question, is the Blood Coven myth coming to life?
“For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Blood Coven myth, it dates back…”
Riley Little turned the television off, stopping Brent Tiles from continuing. Her husband looked over at her from the couch, where he held their sleeping baby.
“What is it?” Jacob asked. “I was watching that.”
“I need to talk to the cops in Stewart Hollow.” She said, trying to remain clam.
“Is everything okay?”
“It won’t be.”
Ben Carter stood in his bathroom, washing the rest of the shaving cream off of his now smooth cheeks.
Amber walked in behind him, wearing a white bathrobe and her hair up in a towel.
“Morning.” She said. Her voice was soothing and comforting, something Carter hadn’t been feeling lately.
“Morning, sweetheart.” Carter forced a smile and kissed his fiancé on the cheek. “Breakfast?”
“Sure.”
After they were dressed, they drove to the Oregon Trails Diner, and sat down to a hot breakfast.
“You’re nervous, I can tell.” Amber said.
“Why do you think that?”
“You’ve been quiet all morning and you’re barely touching your bacon. You love bacon.”
Carter nodded, knowing she was right.
“What’s wrong, Ben?”
“I just know something bad is going to happen. It’s Halloween, and this whole thing is going to come crashing down today, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.”
Amber drank her juice and called the waitress over for a refill. She looked back at Ben. “What’s the latest?”
“Dart called me last night. Another teacher was killed yesterday, and another student was killed on the 29th. More muddy footprints, two more Braxton Summers autographs, a lot of blood, and no suspects. Amber, I don’t think I was cut out for this. I keep failing.”
“You’ll rise above eventually, Ben. You’re a young Sheriff, you’re bound to make mistakes.”
“It’s this damn town. It’s so small, and so unfamiliar with crimes like these. We don’t have the technology, or the man power, to handle it.”
“Well,” Amber started, “We’ve discussed moving in the summer. That’s still an option.”
Carter nodded.
“But you like it here?” She asked.
“I love it here. I grew up here. I know the people, I know the stories and I know the area. Aside from Halloween lately, this place is Heaven.”
Amber drank her fresh juice, and ate her eggs, unable to say anything else.
“Now, Doug, stay home today. I’m only working until 3, so I’ll be home early, okay? No funny business. Today is making me nervous.”
“Okay, mom.” Doug said, as his mother stood in front of him, ready for work.
She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Lock the doors, and don’t let anyone in.”
“Okay, mom.” Doug said, slightly aggravated.
“Love you.” His mother said, as she left the house, shutting the door. Doug moved forward and locked it. She stood at the window and watched his mother back the van out of their driveway, and drive away. He zipped up his hooded sweatshirt, flung the hood over his head, unlocked the door and left.
He walked down the sidewalks of his neighborhood, fighting the cold breeze and the falling leaves. He looked at each carved pumpkin on the porches. They were all different, all unique.
Once out of his neighborhood, he crossed the street into the next development. He walked down the main stretch of road, and took the second left, onto a street he had strangely admired for years.
Five houses down, on the left, was Charlotte’s house. He stood in front of the beautiful home, and watched it for a moment. There was a large pickup truck in the driveway, and a minivan in the road. Her parents were home. A shiny yellow Beetle sat in the road, on the other side of the street - Charlotte was home too. Doug smiled.
He walked to the front door and knocked three times. A moment later, the door opened, and Charlotte was there in a pair of blue sweatpants, a white hooded sweatshirt with Abercrombie across the chest, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Her eyes widened:
“What the hell are you doing here, Doug?” She asked, fearfully.
“Please, Charlotte, I need to talk to you so bad, but you won’t let me.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not sure I trust you. Admit it, Doug; all this weird stuff that’s been going on is strangely connected to the play you wrote. Why would all of this stuff be happening?”
“I don’t know! I admit, it’s weird, but I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”
Doug looked at her with sad eyes. The flame that burned for her was unbearable.
She started to feel bad for him.
“You liked the play, right?” He asked in desperation.
Charlotte was hesitant. “Yeah. It was great. You’re really a great writer, Doug. One day you’re writing will get out there, but this just isn’t the time.”
“When you said you liked it, that’s the only reason I started writing a sequel. I was inspired. You inspired me.” Doug was starting to get emotional. “I…”
Doug held back his thought as Charlotte’s father appeared behind her. He was big, brooding, and intimidating. Doug took a step back.
“Everything alright here, Charlotte?” he asked in a deep voice as he crossed his arms.
“Yeah, dad, it’s fine.” She said, keeping her eyes on Doug. Her father looked at Doug, then walked back into the house.
“Look, Doug, I don’t…” Charlotte started, but Doug interrupted.
“Come to my house tonight around five o’clock. Please? I just need to tell you something.”
Charlotte finally gave in with a sigh. “You don’t give up, do you? I’ll be there at five, and I am only staying for ten minutes. No more.”
Doug had new life. His smile was big, but he was also surprised. “Okay. Okay, thanks. See you later!”
Doug ran off and Charlotte shut the door.
4:45 PM
Deputy Dart walked through the busy police station. Phones were ringing off their hooks and officers were shouting – the tension was high. It was Halloween, and nobody knew what to expect.
“Deputy!” A voice shouted from the hallway. Dart turned and saw Agent Holland waving him down. Dart fought through the crowd of cops.
“What?”
“Riley Little is in Carter’s office. She says there’s more she needs to discuss.”
“It’s about time.” Dart walked down the hallway to the office, and Holland followed.
Riley sat in a chair with a small shoebox on her lap. Dart walked in behind her, as did Holland, and they closed the door.
“Mrs. Little, we’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days. Some might consider that suspicious.” Dart said, taking a seat in the Sheriff’s chair.
“I apologize, but starting a family is hard work. Plus, I told you everything I wanted to tell you…at the time.” She said, holding on tightly to the shoebox. Agent Holland picked up on this.
“What do you mean, at the time?” Dart pursued.
“I didn’t tell you everything, because I honestly didn’t think it was that important. But now, with the news reports…”
“What news reports?” Dart asked, looking to Holland for a reaction.
“About the Blood Coven.” Riley said, looking from Dart to Holland. Neither seemed to understand. “Have you guys been watching the news today?”
“I try not to – it’s usually filled with assumptions and rumors. I’d like to stick to the facts that I know. What’s the Blood Coven?” Dart asked, intrigued.
“Channel 4 has been doing their own investigation, and they said that those two older people who were killed – the double murder that seemed out of place – were the oldest married couple in Stewart Hollow, right?”
“I believe so. How is that important?”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Riley asked with a subtle smirk.
“Not originally.”
“Stewart Hollow has a history of witchcraft, dating back to the 1800s. Every fifty years, this old Coven of witches supposedly releases a curse on the town. Now, I know that sounds ridiculous, and obviously the original Coven are long dead, but still, every fifty years, descendents of the Coven carry out the curse. And what’s even more eerie is that the return of the Blood Coven is always preceded by the same events. It happens way too much to be considered a coincidence.”
“What events?” Holland said, stepping in.
Riley addressed them both, probing her memory for the exact words, “The myth says, ‘a plague of unprecedented selfish acts of terror, will craft a direct path for the Lores’ return.’”
“What the hell are the Lores?” Dart asked, holding back a small chuckle.
“The Lores was the family name of the original Coven.” Riley started getting serious, knowing Dart, in particular, wasn’t buying it.
“And these unprecedented selfish acts of terror would be…” Dart waited for her answer.
“The Harvest Slasher’s killing spree last year – it was for money and fame, right? And this year, the Kelly Rodgers murders, you guys think it’s a writer trying to base their next book off a true story. Once again, money would be the motive. These, to me, are selfish acts of terror.”
“How do you know so much about this, Mrs. Little?” Agent Holland calmly asked, seeing her displeasure.
Riley looked down at the shoebox, and opened it up. She pulled out three books with dark covers. She laid them out in front of Deputy Dart on the desk.
Dart looked at each book, each with a different title: ‘Return of the Blood Coven’, ‘The Tortured Souls’, and ‘The Crafters of Hollows End’.
At the bottom of each cover was her name, Summer Braxton.
“You wrote these?” Dart asked.
“Yeah, when I was a teenager. Like I told Sheriff Carter, I use to read my stories and poetry at the Halloween Festival each year. A lot of it had to deal with local myths and folklore, with the occasional horror story.” Riley explained.
“You said you never had anything published.” Dart asked.
“Not back then. I self published these only about a year or so ago. They’re not even for sale – I just wanted copies.”
Dart thought for a moment. It was obvious the killer looked up to Riley, especially at that age, but who?
“So we’re back to, why would someone use a variation of your name from when you were little? You’ve obviously influenced someone. Maybe even inspired them? Come on, Riley, think.” Dart said.
“Well, I did mentor a small group of children, and we did a lot of writing and art projects after school.”
“Do you remember the names of the kids?” Dart rifled through the desk, looking for a pen and paper. They hadn’t been this close, and his heart was beginning to pound.
Doug sat impatiently on his couch, watching the clock like a hawk. It was almost five, and he would finally be able to talk to Charlotte like he’d been dying to. His foot bounced nervously up and down on the coffee table in front of him.
“Doug, do you want me to make spaghetti tonight?” His mother called in from the kitchen.
“No thanks.” He yelled back.
“What about chicken or something?” She called back in.
“No, mom.” Doug was disgusted. How was he going to be able to declare his love for Charlotte with his mom in the house? He thought for a minute, and then called back into her. “What about Chinese food?”
After a moment of silence from the kitchen, she agreed.
“I can run out and pick it up for us,” Doug shouted.
“No, no. I’ll get it. I don’t want you going out of this house tonight.” His mother walked into the living room. “What do you want?”
“Soup and an egg roll.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll get the same.” She went back into the kitchen, put on her coat and grabbed her purse. Stopping at the front door, she faced him. “Don’t answer the door for anyone, you hear me?”
“I’ll be fine mom.” Doug smiled, knowing his plan worked.
She blew him a kiss and left the house. He could hear her locking the door from the outside. Doug jumped up and looked out the window. The sun was starting to slowly fade in the west, creating a haunting orange glow in the neighborhood. His mother backed the van out of the driveway and left. As her car cleared the end of the street, he noticed a girl walking by herself. She was in a white hooded sweatshirt and blue sweatpants. Doug smiled.
The loud ring tone on Doug’s cell phone ripped him out of his admiring daze. He looked and saw it was Kevin calling.
“Hello?” Doug asked, impatiently.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Kevin responded.
“Nothing, why?” Doug moved the curtain and saw Charlotte getting closer to his house.
“No reason, just seeing how you’re doing. I heard they’re going to start classes at school again tomorrow. Are you going?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”
“Just asking, dude.” Kevin caught onto Doug’s edgy tone. “What are you doing, Doug? You sound weird.”
“I’ll have to call you back, Kev, Charlotte’s on her way over.”
“Charlotte? Why?”
“She’s finally going to listen to me.”
“Doug, please don’t. You guys are going to be going your separate ways after high school. There’s no reason to start…”
“Kevin, shut the hell up. I’ll call you later and let you know how it goes.” Doug hung up and glanced outside again. Charlotte was walking up the driveway.
Doug positioned himself behind the door and waited for a knock. It came seconds later. He opened the door and saw Charlotte standing there.
“Come in.” Doug made way and Charlotte cautiously entered his home.
“Okay, Doug, you have ten minutes. What do you want?” She asked assertively.
“Do you want something to drink?” Doug asked, keeping things at his pace.
“No thanks.”
“Okay. Um, can we talk upstairs? There’s something I want to show you.”
Charlotte gave him an uncomfortable look. “You’re not going to try anything, are you?”
“Oh, shit no!” Doug laughed nervously. ”There really is something I have to show you.”
She hesitated, but followed him up to his bedroom anyway.
Upstairs and down the hall, Charlotte sat on his bed. Doug stood, pacing back and forth.
“I like you.” Doug exhaled, having wanted to get that off his chest for years. “Actually, I love you.” He felt even better.
Charlotte started to get uncomfortable again, and put her hands down on the bed in case she had to spring up fast.
“Don’t be freaked out by that, please.” Doug begged.
“I’m not. I just get that a lot. A lot of guys claim to ‘love’ me, Doug. We’re so young though – how could you even know? There’s a whole world out there.”
“I know because of the butterflies in my stomach every time I see you. We’re not supposed to be together, but that’s what makes me want it more. I’m a nerd, I’m quiet, and I’m a writer. Plus, add the way I dress to the mix – like a modern Kurt Cobain – plus my hair, my glasses and my big belly.
“Then look at you. You’re popular, you’re gorgeous, and you’re always dressed so nicely. You’re every guy’s dream. All the popular guys get girls like you, but it’s guys like me – the one’s who would truly make a great companion – that never get a chance.”
Charlotte took in everything Doug said. He was hyper and sweating, and trembled in his voice.
Doug continued, calming down. “That’s why when I wrote ‘October’s Shattered Graves’, and you liked it so much, I got a big head and wanted to impress you even more. I’m sorry if I scared you, or anyone else.”
“Well,” Charlotte started, “It was a natural reaction I guess. But yeah, you did scare a lot of people. You have to admit, Doug, the similarities between your play and the murders were disturbing.”
“I know, but it was completely coincidental.” Doug said, easing up a bit.
“What was it you wanted to show me?” Charlotte asked, curious to see what else Doug had in store.
Riley Little sat in the office, rummaging deep into her brain for the names of the children she use to mentor. Dart was growing anxious:
“Come on, Riley, you said there were four kids, and we have only one name – Elise Bristle. Think, who else?”
Riley was stressing herself out. “Okay, I know there was definitely two girls. Elise and…Maggie! Maggie Rowland!”
“Great.” Dart said, scribbling the name down. “Who else?”
“Um…”
Holland stood by – there was not much he could do besides wait.
“Jessica Snare! There were three girls…I think,” she said, unsure. “Oh, and a little boy too.”
Dart wrote down the name of Jessica Snare. “What was the boy’s name?”
Doug reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a folder. He opened it up and revealed a freshly printed, and laminated, copy of ‘October’s Shattered Graves’. He handed it to Charlotte as she stood up.
“What’s this?” She asked, running her fingers over the smooth laminated pages. On the cover page, Doug had autographed it with a red marker.
“No matter what you would say to me today, I wanted you to have a copy of the play, since you liked it so much. It’ll probably never get made or preformed, so if you choose to leave my house today and not think twice about me ever again, I just wanted you to have it.”
Charlotte smiled. “Thank you.”
Charlotte and Doug stood there, sharing a special moment with each other. They were both unaware that a set of eyes were locked on them, staring with curiosity, jealously and fear.
“Come on, Riley! What was the little boy’s name?” Dart shouted, starting to lose his patients.
Riley was flustered. She couldn’t remember. Was there possibly a fifth child? What were their names? Think!
“Riley, we don’t have much time. We don’t know what tonight holds.”
“Biff! They called him Biff for some reason. His real name was Billy Sparks. Yeah, that’s it.” Riley said with a sigh of relief.
Dart scribbled the name down, and handed the sheet of paper to Holland. “Find out where these guys live, Spencer. See if they’re even still here, or know the victims, or have any connection or access to them. Maybe an neighbor, or a relative.”
“Neighbor…” Riley muttered quietly.
Dart stopped and looked at her. “What?”
Charlotte flipped through the pages of ‘October’s Shattered Graves’ with a smile. “You’re a terrific writer, Doug.”
“Thanks.” Doug said, desperately trying to not let his ego run away again.
Charlotte froze and turned around. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Doug said, not hearing anything.
“I heard a noise.” Charlotte was serious. Doug looked around.
“My mom might be home. Was it the front door?”
“There it is again!” Charlotte dropped the script to the floor. “It’s upstairs.”
Doug made his way to the doorway and listened out into the hall. It was quiet – very quiet. “What did it sound like?” Doug asked, keeping his voice low.
“It sounded like…”
Doug still didn’t hear anything, except for the sweet girls’ voice behind him.
“It sounded like the final chapter.”
Doug cocked his head. “Huh?” He turned around and Charlotte drove a large butchers knife into his chest, bringing him instantly to his knees. She knelt down in front of him, keeping the two of them at eye level.
Doug’s eyes were wide, and a dribble of blood found its way out of the corner of his mouth. He looked down and saw blood oozing from his chest, where the chrome blade of the knife was still lodged.
* * *
“My neighbor when I was in high school.” Riley said. “She was this little girl that I use to baby sit. Um…Charlotte Sheldon, I think her name was.”
“Charlotte Sheldon?” Dart and Holland exclaimed in unison.
Surprised by their response, Riley stood up, worried.
“She’s a student at the high school! She was going to be in that tribute play for Christ’s sake!” Dart yelled, picking up and dialing the phone.
Holland pulled out his notepad and flipped through it. He stopped when he saw all of the targeted students addresses.
“5577 Baker Street? You lived over there too, right?” Holland asked.
“Yeah…” Riley trembled. “Is it her?”
The other line of the phone was ringing, and Carter picked up.
“Dart, what is it?” Carter asked.
“Sheriff, the killer is Charlotte Sheldon – one of the high school students. Get to 5577 Baker Street ASAP!”
Charlotte tore the butchers knife from Doug’s bleeding chest, and laid it on the floor next to her.
“I inspired you, Doug? I’m honored. I don’t think anyone has ever been inspired by me before - yet.” She stood up. “I’ve been inspired though. When I was little, I had a babysitter who used to teach me how to write horror stories. I used to write about monsters and goblins, and I’d even do the occasion painting of a dark cemetery or a haunted house. She always pushed us to be creative and successful. When the murders happened last year, I thought it would be perfect two write about. So I did, and I self-published it online. I was shocked when I saw how many people bought it. I made so much money off of it. That’s why I always ‘look so nice’,” Charlotte said, mocking Doug in a cutesy manner.
Doug watched the blood still dripping out of the wound in his chest. He struggled to try and stand up.
“Of course I was going to write a sequel. But the reason the first one sold so well was because it was based on true events. People want to read real things – especially when the events were so abnormal and crazy like the Harvest Slasher. So, keeping with the Halloween theme, I thought I’d be creative and have the dead come back to life and kill again, haunting the same pathetic town.”
“You…” Doug muttered, not able to get much out.
“I stole Kelly Rodgers’ corpse, hid it in the woods near the park for a while until the odor got real bad, than I had to return it. I’m going to leave that part out of the book though.
“But you inspired me also, Doug. I’m not lying when I said your play was genius. It was edgy, spine chilling, and haunting. I might actually steal that title if you don’t mind. ‘October’s Shattered Graves’ – sounds seasonal and menacing.”
Doug stumbled forward and saw the knife on the floor. Charlotte saw that he noticed, and picked it up.
“Don’t worry, Doug, I’ll make sure you get the credit you deserve somehow. Maybe I’ll let your character live in the end. I haven’t decided yet.”
She took the knife, and knelt down. With the bloody tip of the blade, she scribbled a sloppy ‘Braxton Summers’ on the carpet.
“I might have to for-go the muddy prints this time since I don’t have the stuff with me, but hey, that’ll only add to the mystery.”
Charlotte stood up and held the knife out in front of her in an intimidating stance. “I have to make this quick – before you’re mom gets home. Thanks again, Doug. You just helped me complete my next book!”
Charlotte thrust the knife forward, driving it right back into Doug’s stomach. He cringed – he could feel it puncturing his organs. Blood started to once again leak from his mouth. She leaned in close to him.
“Oh, and just so I’m not a total bitch, I think I owe you this.” She leaned in and kissed him passionately – he couldn’t reciprocate. She pulled away, blood on her face, and smiled. She pulled the knife back out, and threw him to his bed. Doug was starting to fade in and out of consciousness. Charlotte stood over him and stabbed him repeatedly in the stomach and chest, sending blood all over the walls. She pulled the knife out for the final time, and watched the blood drain from it and form a puddle on the carpet.
Right then, a blood-curdling scream echoed from outside the bedroom window. Charlotte ran over to it and looked out. Libby Hatcher was in her room, next door, watching the entire thing. She was screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Shit!” Charlotte yelled. She turned around and ran out of Doug’s room, down the stairs and out the front door. She ducked to the side of the house and looked at Libby’s window. She couldn’t see her, but her screaming was louder than ever.
“Dad! Dad!” Libby called out in her home. Charlotte’s face went bright red and she felt dizzy. It couldn’t just be over, could it? She turned back around and saw Doug’s mom driving around the corner in her van.
Charlotte dropped the knife and took off running across the street and between the houses.
Police cars swarmed up and down Baker Street – all of them focused on 5577. The cops who were already there stood out in the streets, protected by their cars, and aimed their guns at the Sheldon house.
“Charlotte Sheldon, come out of the house, now!” An officer shouted through a megaphone.
Carter sped through the neighborhood and came to a screeching halt next to the Sheriff’s Jeep, which Dart was using.
“Dart! Are we sure?” Carter said, in his civilian clothes, drawing his personal weapon.
Dart was dressed in a flak jacket, as was Holland, who aimed a rifle at the house. “We’re pretty sure. If nothing else, we can take her into custody. But there is a ton of evidence starting to pile up.”
“You talked to Riley Little again?”
“Sure did. We might be on to something also with the McDowell murders. There’s something else going on with that, but first, let’s bring Charlotte in.”
“Any occupants inside the house come out! This is the Stewart Hollow Sheriff’s Department!” The officer shouted again, getting slight feedback this time.
The front door to the house crept open, and every single officer had his or her fingers on their triggers. Charlotte’s father poked his head out, and eased the rest of his body through the door with his hands raised high. “Charlotte’s not here! It’s just myself and my wife!”
A team of officers, upon command from Deputy Dart, cautiously approached the house, and contained the father to his knees. He was cuffed. Mrs. Sheldon inched her way out and was also contained.
“Search the house!” The lead officer commanded. They stormed the residence. Dart and Holland shuffled through the front yard and in as well, with Carter right behind him.
The house was clean and organized. It was decorated for autumn – Halloween more specifically. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Upstairs they searched Charlotte’s bedroom and uncovered a box in the closet. Once opened, they saw it contained dozens of copies of ‘Bloody October’, written by Braxton Summers.
Holland turned on the desktop computer on her desk and searched the files. A folder