A Crime Scene's Vengence

No one dared to even go near the old abandoned house since the sheriff’s disappearance 30 years ago; answering a call for an unknown disturbance.  All that was left was his badge laying in a pool of his own blood beneath the portrait of old man Tanksley standing on a burned confederate flag.  There were whispers that the un-natural had taken up residence opening strange doors that peeled back the pages of time leading back to an era of abuses where the land and its unfortunates were the victims of laws that spawned cruelty.

The old house seemed to be a time portal that led back to an era of abuse and cruelty unfortunately it was the law of the time despite Abraham Lincoln being the 16th President of the United States, serving from March 1861 until his untimely demise in April 1865.

 From 1865 to 1877 following the civil war the reconstruction era brought about fear.  The strong preyed upon the weak that were systematically singled out for execution to keep the fear factor alive and well.   It also kept a people from rising up and it kept them from the knowledge of who they were.  All their strengths would be the detriment of a society as we know it,” he thought just before he was drug from his bed in the dead of night.

“You is one of them uppity ones…all educated and everything,” the gruff voice barked through the hood that covered his face that barely afforded him enough air to breath; yet his words of hatred flowed like water.

“I know you,” he said unafraid.

“Shut your black pie hole,” the voice said as a swift blow to the gut dropped him to his knees.  But his resolve was stronger than the blow that threatened to take his breath away as he rose up to face his tormentors with a strength he never knew existed within himself. He felt something deep within him that was hot and ferocious.  His head felt light and woozy as his eye sight became burry and then refocused.  Before he realized it their dead bodies littered the floor with their blood covering his hands,” oh dear Jesus what have I done?” 

And then someone came forth out of the shadows; an identical reflection of himself in every way.  Shock and disbelief gripped him so tightly he struggled to breathe starring at himself.

“Oh don’t look so shocked…ya knew sooner or later they was coming for ya.  The others gonna be here in a couple hours when these two don’t show up with the proof of their kill for their membership.  Yeah they’ll come looking for’em.  Now the question is wha’cha gonna do?”

“Who…who are you…where’d you come from?”

“You is asking to many questions.” 

Fright and fear stood by unmoving as he looked on to the bodies with his heart racing as he paced back and forth,” I gotta do something.”

“Well you better do it fast.” 

He grabbed one of the bodies by the arm in an attempted to move it.

“Now what is that suppose to do…boy let me help ya out.  How bout we jus set the place on fire with them in it?  Burn’em to hell that’s where they was going anyway we is jus helping’em get there a little faster,” he said laughing.  And from the wood burning he lit a piece of wood,” fetch me that oil…oh never mind I’ll jus do it myself.”

 Within minutes the flames were running up the walls.

“Don’t jus stand there boy…check them pockets see if these good ‘ol boys got any money, they usually do from all the colored folk they steal from.  You gonna need it…oh don’t forget…take them guns too…they got horses you can take. They’ll get ya out of Mississippi ain’t nothing left here for ya but trouble. Get up to the Carolinas.” 

Minutes later hot ambers were popping as flames raced across the ceiling,” now that’s a fire…not like them pathetic fires they burn on them crosses they burns on folk’s land,” he said as they ran from the burning shack.

“Looks like you is in luck…got yourself a way outta here best get going… ya owe me one… see ya in the next life. I’ll be watching over your descendants like I watch over you…jus like I promised.” 

Barely escaping with his life that fateful night decades later he never understood what happened or saw anything like it again.   

As the years turned to decades the old colonial sat alone coveting its secrets.  Empty and abandoned its history was incomprehensible as incomprehensible as the investigations into the sheriff’s demise; an unsolved murder that continues to remain a mystery.  It was said that the man’s reputation for being vindictive and cruel enforcing the law as judge jury and executioner had been his own down fall.   Some say his hate for old man Tanksley’s grand daughter was fueled by the wealth she’d inherited along with her strong personality and character resisting the man’s unwelcome advances.  It was whispered she had a predisposed affinity to attract ancestral spirits.  She also had a reputation; one that the sheriff should have heeded instead of scoffing at things he didn’t comprehend.  He allowed his arrogance to rule his better judgment that fateful night three decades ago.

Fictitious claims of disturbances were often used to gain access into a residence.  That was common practice for the sheriff who thought himself above and beyond the law he swore under oath to protect and uphold.

It was a hot and smoldering night walking back from the cemetery, “good lord even with the sun going down it’s still hot as fire,” she said to herself wiping sweat from her face walking up the path to the house. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the sheriff’s car,” ain’t nothing worst then a rattlesnake that won’t no for an answer.”  She hurried to the house locking the door behind her.  She could hear the heavy footsteps making their way toward the door. Then all of a sudden the door came crashing open.  His cigar’s stench was strong and pungent similar to his body odor.  The large man glared at the woman.  She returned his glare with defiance,” get outta my house and get off of my land,” she growled thru gritted teeth.

“Listen here missy we can do this the easy way or the hard way…your choice,” he said unbuckling his belt buckle.  Her breathing became rapid with the muscles tightening in her face.  She felt as though her blood was boiling inside of her as her vision blurred out of focus before blacking out temporarily. When she regained her composure again she could hardly believe her eyes. “Where’d he go,” she said looking down at the pool of blood.  She noticed something in her hand she wasn’t holding before, “what on god’s earth is this,” she said dropping the badge into the pool of blood spilled out in the floor where he once stood.

Bewilderment settled over her throwing her into a world of confusion with the room spinning almost out of control. 

“Well best to get a hold of yourself it won’t be long before someone come looking for’em. Let’s get a move on,” he said smiling.

Shock and disbelief clutched her as she looked on to a figure that looked as if he came from another era of time.  “Ol peckerwood had it coming…he won’t be bothering no more colored folk or anybody else for that matter. I had a little run in with his descendants some time ago me and ya great grand daddy burnt up everything…they ain’t find hide or hair of anything.  Well jus do this a little different this time…this will be a crime scene they’ll never figure out,” he said as everything vanished except the pool of blood around the sheriff’s badge.

 All that remained of the old abandoned colonial house was a blood stain that marked its territory as a crime scene to an unsolved mystery.