New
Bedford Incident
Zvi
A. Sesling
One never knows if it is
fate, that pseudo spiritual thing
that too many believe in, among whom is Miles Coleman, who while at one of Curt
Bellings’ parties met Katherine Wells who was coming out of the kitchen with a
Stella Artois in one hand and a vodka concoction in the other.
“Good stuff?”
Miles looked and sounded his stupid best. He
was dressed in a purple shirt and jeans, green and black sneakers. Katherine,
on the other hand, had on what could only be described as a pre-Halloween
costume starting with a pointed cap, black blouse and slacks, high heels. She
looked every part the witch she professed to be, especially on the All-Saints
Day celebration.
One year she went to Salem
for Halloween dressed like the
Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz and won first prize. Miles had
accompanied her and danced a victory dance with her in the ballroom of the
Hawthorne Inn. Then they shared a room,
but not a bed in the hotel before he drove her home to New Bedford.
“Next year I am going
to really do up my house,” Katherine
informed him as Miles drove along Route 6 and then to Katherine’s house on
Latimore Road. She exited the car,
thanked Miles and added, “Come down for Halloween, my house will be decorated
inside and out, I’ll be decked out as one of the Salem witches who was hanged.
There’ll be lots of kids ringing the door bell and you can help pass out the
goodies. I’ll even have an outfit for you. They come pretty late sometimes, you
don’t have to worry about driving home at night or worry about the booze laden
drivers.”
The thought of a night at
Katherine’s was an exciting
thought. Miles quickly agreed and went home thinking about Katherine going all
the way with him hoping the Hawthorne Hotel was a prelude to a big night which
he hoped would be how she ended the night. He wondered what he would wear. What
her house would look like both outside and inside. He remembered she had six
black cats and wondered how they fit in to Halloween festivities.
Ten days went by too slowly
for Miles. He gulped down meals
to speed up days and went to sleep early in order to get through the night to
the next day. A day out he called
Katherine to confirm his joining her for Halloween.
Katherine sounded a bit
sour, but said she was really
looking forward to his sharing her favorite night with him. She told him to
pull into the driveway and park in the garage and close it so the neighborhood
kids wouldn’t soap or shaving cream the car.
As the enthusiasm
welled up in him he went to his Cadillac CTS4 and drove to 666 Latimore Road and
stopped for a minute to admire the house.
It was covered with a giant spider web. There were three twelve-foot
skeletons on the front lawn, along with a dozen or so carved pumpkins with lit
candles inside. There were ghouls and ghosts attached to the edifice, spooky
sounds, flashing lights and giant spiders on the screened front porch where
buckets filled with candy were placed for the children to grab a handful or
more.
When he rang the bell, he
was greeted by a red-faced witch
with a black conical hat and black clothes from neck to toe. Even her shoes,
which were pointed, were black.
Inside the house was another
thing. Bats with wings spread
hung from the ceiling. A Frankenstein statue stood in the foyer and a Dracula
sat in a recliner in the living room. Throughout the house the half dozen black
cats wandered freely. There were paper plates with doll heads glued to them
with red paint to simulate blood dripping. More spooky sounds echoed throughout
Katherine’s home.
Knowing Katherine, Miles
was not scared or even feeling
nervous. She offered him a tour of the three-floor home, including her bedroom
which contained a four-poster bed with a spider web for a canopy. There was
also a cuckoo clock which had an owl instead of a cuckoo. The walls and floor
were painted black and a
small shiver climbed his spine as he stood there.
“Amazing,” Miles uttered in
awe of what Katherine had done.
“My favorite day of the
year. Halloween is my religion. I’m glad you like the decorations. Come to the
basement and I’ll show you the rest.”
Miles followed her down
three flights to the first-floor landing and then down a narrow, twisting
stairway to the basement that was dimly lit by a few white bulbs that allowed
for some vision. The floor was all earth, dusty with wooden tombstones.
“You’ve outdone yourself,”
Miles said.
“Those are real, there are
bodies under each one.”
“You’re kidding, of course,
why would you bury people in the basement?”
“I killed them,” she
replied stone faced.
Miles turned to look at
her. The last thing he saw was a red axe about to enter his neck.
Katherine spent a few minutes
dragging the body to an open
grave and shoveling dirt over the body until it blended and then placed a
prepared tombstone on top.
As she walked up the stairs
to the first floor she admired the dirt on her shoes and outfit and how it all
had a look of authenticity.
Oh Mighty Satan, I have
served you well, she thought as the doorbell rang and the yelling of
children could be heard.
Xxx
Zvi
A.
Sesling, Brookline, MA Poet Laureate 2017-2020. He edits Muddy River
Poetry Review is author of four
poetry books and three poetry chapbooks.
His Selected and New Poetry will be published by Big Table Publishing.
