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Seventeen
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Devourer of Souls Eighteen
EIGHTEENJake Burns was never seen in Clifton Heights again. The news broke in the churches that Sunday morning, the local pastors requesting prayer for James Burns because it appeared that his only son Jake had ‘run away.’ Kevin called me about it later that afternoon.Amazingly enough I felt nothing at all, initially. I’d returned from my journey along the railroad tracks Saturday exhausted, drained, my mind emptied. I passed a restful night after a quiet evening listening to old re-runs of The Shadow on AM radio while cooking hotdogs over the campfire with Dad and Amy.I knew Jake hadn’t run away (or at least I thought I did) but something had happened in my head on that long, mostly forgotten ramble along the railroad tracks. The terror had leaked away, leaving only vague images and impressions. I never shared with my friends what I thought I’d seen that night. I agreed with their assumption that Jake had finally decided to flee the domestic abuse all of us so tactfully never di
Devourer of Souls The Skylark Diner
THE SKYLARK DINERFather Ward closes the journal but doesn’t look up for several minutes as he taps its cover with a fingertip. His expression looks similar to the one I’ve always imagined wearing after finishing Gavin’s latest batch of stories: one of incredulous, amazed unease.Of course, neither Father Ward nor Fitzy has read many of Gavin’s stories. They apparently decided early on there was a limit to what they wanted to “know” about this town. It’s become understood that Gavin’s stories are strictly for him and I. This story, however, felt intended for Father Ward. At the very least, he figured so largely in it I believed he needed to read it.When Father Ward still hadn’t spoken after another minute, I broke the silence. “When’s the last time you saw Nate Slocum?”Father Ward glances at me, his expression thoughtful. “Months. Think maybe I ran into him at The Great American one day, buying groceries. We chatted briefly about nothing in particular. He seemed okay. I mean, not
Devourer of Souls The Man in Yellow
THE MAN IN YELLOW
Devourer of Souls One
ONE. . . so I’m not sure how this goes. ‘Forgive me Father, for I have sinned?’ Except I’m not Catholic. I’m not much of anything, anymore.”I leaned closer to the confessional grate, amused. Back when I was fresh out of seminary I might’ve offered a mild rebuke or advised the penitent to seek counsel at either the institution of their denomination, or from a professional counselor. However, after years of experience I’ve come to realize that sometimes folks simply need relief from their burdens. These days I’m more than happy to offer an ear, regardless of their denomination, or lack thereof.“That’s quite all right. You’ve come here because you need comfort. I can’t promise you freedom from pain in this life, or that I’ve any advice that’ll solve your problems. I can promise, however, that I’ll listen and offer you what comfort I can.”The man shifted on the cushions in the adjoining booth. “Thanks, Father. This isn’t a problem anyone can solve, really. It’s just . . . ” More sh
Devourer of Souls Two
TWOI grew up in Tahawus, a small town here in the Adirondacks. If you’ve never heard of it, Father, don’t feel bad. Tahawus didn’t have much in the way of . . . well, anything. At a population of barely a hundred, we weren’t exactly a planned stop on anyone’s tourist agenda.Which was okay, I suppose. Old Forge and Lake George are nice enough, but in the summers especially, their sidewalks are always swamped with city folks who’d decided on a “wilderness” vacation only to spend it browsing kitschy knick-knack stores jammed full of cheap novelty items. In Tahawus, we had none of that, so far off the beaten path. Hardly anyone from outside ever came to town, save occasional product deliveries to our small stores. Mostly, folks either graduated from Tahawus High, stayed there to raise families, or they left for college and never returned.We didn’t even have a police force of our own. The nearest state police barracks was over an hour away in Woodgate. We only saw them on their random
Devourer of Souls Three
THREEJuly, 1992“What’s that smell? Geez. That’s nasty.”Bobby Simmons stopped on the well-worn path in the woods behind Tahawus First Methodist, tripped his inhaler and sucked in a wheezing breath. I stopped and sniffed, grimacing at something that smelled sour, like a bag of week-old fried chicken I’d once found in our fridge. That, however, didn’t begin to match this stench, especially on a warm July evening. Whatever we smelled had been rotting all day in 70-degree weather. It was just off the path to our right, in the brush somewhere.Bobby took another wheezing hit from his inhaler, then a swig of his Dr. Pepper. He swallowed and squinted through fish-bowl glasses into the woods. “Wanna check it out?”I shrugged, following his gaze into the undergrowth. We were skipping Sunday evening church, like always. We’d slipped from the balcony during opening prayers, then cut through the woods behind First Methodist along a path to the gas station on Wolton Road. There we bought sod
Devourer of Souls Four
FOURWe made it back to church just as the final hymn rose into full swing. We ditched our empty soda bottles in the dumpster out back. Then we snuck around front, through the front doors, through the foyer and up the balcony stairs. Everything was going according to plan, until we peeked around the corner into the balcony and saw a man sitting in the front row who hadn’t been there when we’d left.Even sitting, he looked tall and imposing. His wide shoulders stretched his impossibly bright yellow suit jacket. Leaning just a bit farther around the corner, I caught the sunny flash of his pant leg and realized his whole suit was a blazing, almost nauseatingly bright yellow. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, chin perched on folded hands. He gazed down upon the congregation with a hungry, intense scrutiny. Like a predatory bird, I thought, stalking its unsuspecting prey.And then, slowly . . . he smiled.Tapping his nose with his index finger, on which glittered a ri
Devourer of Souls Five
FIVEBobby and I parted that night with very little to say, though at the time I’d thought that was because of the congregation’s rush to the parking lot after the service. Bobby got caught up with his family, me with Dad. Looking back, however, I realize that something had already started worming its way between us, which, of course, I didn’t know at the time.I tried not to think about those dead dogs and that weird altar thing as Dad silently drove home. Like anyone faced with something they didn’t understand, I wrapped it up in a little box and shoved it deep down inside me.We were always hearing about weird stuff like that, anyway. A few years before, folks had found dead skinned cats next to the railroad tracks behind the high school. Most kids thought the abandoned barn sitting in an old cornfield on the edge of town was haunted. A ghost girl supposedly haunted Bassler Road on the way to Clifton Heights.Every small town has its creepy stories. Even though our town was smal
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