The Weeping Woman

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Amanda Ashley
This is a prequel to "The Oujia Board" I'm writing about Tammy who haunted Church Cemetary.

Submitted: August 21, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 21, 2019




The Weeping Woman

By: Donte-Highwater

September 20, 1969

It was a crisp and cold night when Sirens blazed down the darkened street. Police cars kept piling up at Hope Road. The swirls of red, white, blue, lit the night. A woman walking her dog came across a young woman dead along the side of the road by The Church Cemetery. Officer David Miller happened to be in the area when an All Point Bulletin came through the CB radio. Officer David Miller took the receiver from the dashboard called into dispatcher that he's on his way to the scene. David's unsure of what's in store for him when he gets there. This is his first call to a homicide scene. All that he is told to do is tape off the area where the body is and just wait for the detective to show up. At twenty-seven years old David finds himself being a babysitter to a corpse.

 Church Cemetery sits on Hope road it's a low traffic secluded street without lights for miles. It's a hot spot for teen lovers to neck. David slows his squad car down and flashes his flashlight on the right side of the road looking for anything that could resemble a body. Just the thought of that sent chills down his spine. He pulled his police car over closer to the edge of the road with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on the flashlight combing through the side of the road. David sweeps his flashlight slowly looking for a body that's probably nearly frozen. He scans again and sees a pale-grayish arm sticking out of the ruff along the side of the road. It's still and lifeless David swallows hard as he slowly rolls his squad car near it. The speed is more like a rolling stop than parks his car two-feet away from the body. He flashes his flashlight on the victim. She’s a young woman that looks to be in her early twenties. She looked to be stabbed ten times to the chest. Her eyes have a look of shock them them. Did she know here attacker? David thought to himself. Her wrists have bruises on them. He taped up the area and let other police officers know what he found. He made sure the officers didn't touch anything until Detective Harold Kremwill showed up. 

The blustery winds picked up some since David arrived onto the scene. It was a kind of cold that cut right through you, waiting made it even more difficult. Officer Miller sat in his squad car looking through a frozen windshield while taking out his thermos of hot coffee. He poured some in his thermos cup started to write up his report. In a small town like this, it's unlikely to run into a murder case. You'll get calls for disturbing the peace, mostly when two neighbors are arguing. Have you seen my dog or cat, calls? Or a kid might have stolen a candy bar from a store. Things like that. And yes you'll get a call that a body is found in a house, but it's always due to natural causes. 

David thinks about all this to himself as he writes his very first homicide report. The windshield cleared up as the car warmed up with the soft hum of the motor. A blinding light lit the inside of David's police car. He stopped and looked only to find Harold Kremwill drove to the scene. He wore a fedora with a trench coat. He looked like something that came out of an old detective show. 

Harold opens the door to his Buick.

“Harold, you finally made it. This is some messed up shit that we have here,” said David.

“So I've heard. Where you first to arrive? What did you see?  I want this out of the papers. There's no reason to start a panic until we know for sure what's going on. Do I make myself clear?”

Officer David Miller looks at Harold and smiles.

“ Crystal clear, sir! I'm glad to see you tonight.”

"Yeah, it's been a while hasn't? Well, next year is my last year. I finally signed the papers that my wife wanted me to sign. When are you going to make the jump to detective?"

“ I like working in the trenches you know that. Somebody's gotta stay and do the heavy lifting while detectives come in to take all the glory,” said David

“ Then all  the more reason to join us. Christ sakes you got a gift David use it. Yeah, it's all about the glory,” said Detective Harold.

“Thank you, sir. I do have something the show you. I believe that she tried to fight back against her attacker. Her wrists are all bruised up. Not to be funny sir, but I saw what looked like brush burn marks on her wrists as well, almost like an India burn.”

Officer David and Detective Harold walk over to the body of the young woman. Her eyes still open as her mouth frozen in one position. Her skin has a bluish-white tint. Her blood pool around her now starting to freeze.

 David points to her wrists, which shows bruises and brush burn marks.

“So, what do you think happened when you see wrist markings like this one?” Said Harrold.

“Yeah, I knew you would quiz me on this. It's not the wrist burns or bruising that shows signs of struggle.”

David takes out his pen points to the wrists, which shows what appears to be handprints and shows Harrold where the hand placements match the friction and the bruising.

“Yep, I saw that too. You'll make a hell of a good detective. So what else do you think we should look at? Come on, kid, lighten me.”

“I think we should look into scraping underneath her fingernails. There could be skin from her attacker and look for other hair follicles.”

“Well, shit, you did it! son. Look, like what I said earlier. Keep this out of the press! I mean it! No need to stir things until we know what's going on. David. You did a hell of a good job I'm proud of you.

A car swerving out of control on the road. He smells of cheap  alcohol. He looked like he’s been in a fight with someone, looking in the rearview mirror and sees a darkened figure sitting in the back seat, quickly crashes his car alongside the road. He got out of the car screaming, waving a bottle of liquor in his right hand, running as if his life is in danger. He takes the bottle and drinks more from it and wipes his mouth with the other. 

“I  killed you! Leave me alone!”

He takes the bottle and throws it at something. He runs looking behind him feeling tired his shirt covered in blood. There are scratch marks on his forearms. His long hair in a chaotic mess. All he wants is to be left alone from whatever is following him. He has no clue who's chasing him. He stumbles tripping over himself, then a car with its headlight flashing its brights at him. The car pulls over. It's his wife waving to him to get in. He opens the front door throws himself in the car.

The wheels spin causing a smell of burning rubber and a cloud of dust, the car takes off.

“John, are you okay, John?”

John Screams to see his wife bloodied and pale staring right back at him

The next morning John awakened by the smell of coffee. He’s home and doesn’t remember how he got home, curtains drawn down to block the sun. John hears footsteps coming up to his bedroom door. The sound of the doorknob squeaking as it's being turned. The door opens. John’s eyes are blurry due to his hangover.

“Honey, how do you feel? I brought you something from the kitchen. I took off from work today. We need to talk,” said his wife

To John the voice sounds familiar to him, but it’s not the sound of his wife. The form that stands holding the tray looks unnatural to him, like a ghost of some kind.

“John, are you okay, sweetie, John?”

It's the sound of somebody from the grave haunting him!

“Please leave me alone, Please!”

The darkened figure walks closer to him with what seems like a thump and a drag.

“Shhh, sweetie, but I have something for you John. You killed me John. Why did you kill me? I lov-.”

John sprung out of bed knocked the tray out of the hands of the dark figure. He grabs whatever’s taunting him since last night. He feels his hands on the throat choking the very life out of it. The unknown figure thrashes its arms at him. He can barely hear the words. 

“Wake-up, John, Wake-up!”

With one loud gasp of air, he finds himself back in bed sweating shaking. His wife looks at him afraid to be near him. John puts his hands to his face sobs. His wife Jessica sits the tray down on the nightstand and comforts her husband.

“I need help Jessica, I need help,” said John

Jessica lays him back down kisses his forehead.

“You need to stop drinking! This is it, John! I can't take living with you like this. What happened to you last night? Hmm?”

John sees his bags packed as if he's going away for a while. He looks at Jessica. She throws a pamphlet at him. Shady Meadows. 

“You're going today or I'm leaving you. Jesus Christ, you're an asshole!”

Jessica picks up his shirt from last night with blood on it. She threw it at him. She falls to the floor sobbing unable to breathe.

John sits on the edge of the bed sees all the cuts and bruises on his arms. He's tired of not remembering anything from one night to the next. He cries.

“I'll go, please don't leave me. I need you so much. I'm sick. I'll do what it takes.”

Jessica has her face covered with her hands. John slides himself off the bed onto the floor. Every part of his body hurts. He slowly slides his way to his  wife. The sobbing sounds more intermix with other emotions. John's heart thumps hard and loud almost deafening. Still, he slides himself closer to her, sobbing sounds more like laughter. Jessica slowly starts to rock back and forth making what is now more of hysterical laughter. John puts his hands on her wrists trying to gently pull them off of her face. Jessica’s  body shakes. She grabs John begins to forcefully kissing him. She pushes him back with her hands on either side of his head.

“John, I loved you. You killed me.”

John sees blood starting to seep through his wife's shirt. He's not looking at his wife Jessica anymore. John sees another woman's face over his wife's. Her eyes are glazed over with no life to them. Her face is a blueish-white with bloodied lips. She smiled at John then slowly faded away revealing his wife Jessica's!

“John, what's the matter? You looked as if you've seen a ghost.”

Jessica holds her crying husband in her arms as she comforts him.

It didn’t take long for the news to break of a young woman in her twenties stabbed then discarded not much as a thought. A picture flash across the  tv screen asking if anyone has information please let the police know.


© Copyright 2020 donte-highwater. All rights reserved.

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