I Died Once

by darkjade68

My Self Published Novella, “I Died Once

(Prologue-Chapter III)

I Died Once CoverPrologue

Mady was a Dark Child…

She often sat alone in her bedroom, on the floor, sorting through this or that. Generally some sort of pharmaceuticals.

It’s good that she was never allowed to own a cat… or a fish… or any other sort of domestic animal, as they would have likely ended up at the end of some sort of experimentation… with drastic results.

It’s not that she’s “mean” per say… No.

It’s more that she’s disjointed, an outcast really, from her own home…

From her mother’s heart.

Yes, Mady is a dark one, but what else was she to be in a world devoid of light.

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

STATE OF MURDER

I sat alone. Legs crossed in my short black skirt in the waiting room of yet another know-all, fix-all, quack of my mother’s finding.

I am a fifteen year old girl, five foot eight, lean, dark haired, blue eyed, with skin not as fair as I might like.

I crossed my arms tightly, feeling the softness of my dark blue sweater, a gift from my father’s mother at Christmas some two or three years ago.

My father. What a joke that is. A pilot in Africa, they say. How nondescript.

“Caroline Monroe,” the nurse called out.

I pretended not to hear her. Besides, my name is Mady. My mother’s, mother’s, mother’s name. Madeline, that is.

“Excuse me miss, are you Miss Caroline

Monroe?”, the nurse spoke as she leaned over me.

“Mady,” I replied.

“Oh yes, your mother mentioned you go by Mady.”

“Nice of you to listen,” I spat, rising from my seat and grabbing my small blue rhinestone bag. A gift from a cousin, well, actually, I took it.

The next two or so hours were filled with many, many questions asked by the uninterested Doctor Spiner, and let’s face it, who cares what the answers were. In the end it would all be the same.

“Now Caroline…”

“Mady!” I replied adamantly.

“Oh yes, your mother mentioned that you prefer your middle name.”

“Did she, now,” I sighed.

“Now Mady, I want you to take two of these pills twice a day.” He handed me a large bottle. “They will help you to relax.”

On the long ride home, and going anywhere with my mother was a long ride, I stared blankly out the window, which was open slightly. Discreetly, I would drop one pill after another onto the outside road. Plink Plink Plink

When we arrived at my mother’s home, a large estate left to her from her industrious father, I quickly made my way up the long, winding stairs, “Now Mady…,” but not quick enough.

I turned to face her. Now, my mother has a long faced countenance, and over dresses for every occasion. On this occasion she was wearing a ball gown. “Yes mother,” I replied.

“Betsy is preparing a fine dinner; do be back down in no more than 15 minutes, will you darling.”

“Okey Dokey.” I turned away.

“Your father and I shall be going out.”

I turned and faced her once more. “Fred is not my father.”

“Oh Mady, must you be so…”

“Honest? Yes,” I interjected.

“I was going to say…” she started to say, but I was already up the stairs and into my room. Slam!

As I sat alone in the dark staring at the ceiling, I could hear Betsy quietly enter and set a tray of food on my desk. She always did; she wasn’t so bad, but she wasn’t worth staying for.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a big fluffy roll, how delightful. Tommy would really like this.

Just then a small pebble struck my window, as it did every evening at this hour. I opened my window to see Tommy Wilkens standing down below, as he always did. I quickly lowered the food tray down to him, and then back up once he’d emptied it.

“Thank you, Mady,” he whispered just audibly enough that I should hear him.  I waved to him as he snuck off to his home some one or two miles down the road.

Tommy’s family lived in a back shack on the Johnson’s estate.  His father was their gardener, but they were very poor, being at the receiving end of the tight fisted Johnsons. I had fed him for years. Who would feed him when I was gone?

When midnight struck, I made my way to our large pool in the back, beyond Mother’s roses. Before the pool, I stripped down completely. Why ruin a perfectly good set of flannel pajamas? And dove in…

Under the water it was beautiful and quiet. Above, I could see all the brilliant stars. Now, I’m a decent swimmer, so this may take a few minutes, as drowning one-self is tricky business.

That’s when I heard the scream.

 

CHAPTER TWO

MOTHER NO MORE

Slowly, I brought my head out of the water and peeked over the ridge of the pool. My deep blue eyes pierced through the darkness and into our living room.

Fred looked to be holding one of our ivory horse bookends. He sat it down and grabbed my mother’s feet, as she lay motionless on the floor. What happened next is a bit of a blur, but I believe he wrapped her in her favorite African rug, a gift from my mysterious father.

He then made his way to my room. He looked to be holding a gun. I watched, frozen in shock and horror.

When he reached my room, he didn’t turn on my light. He simply fired three shots into my bed.

We had no nearby neighbors, so no one was likely to hear the shots, or see the flash of gun fire from my window. No one, that is, but me.

After this, he went back to the living room, picked up my mother, who was wrapped in the African rug, and carried her out the front door. I assume he put the body in the trunk of his car. He then drove off.

In a trance of a sort, I got out of the pool, grabbed my pajamas, and went inside the house. I hesitantly made my way into the living room, holding my pajamas in my arms. There was a small amount of blood on the floor, and I was dripping water.

I quickly made my way to my bedroom where my bedding and mattress had been ripped up from the gun shots. I put some clothes on, sat down at my desk, wrote a short note, and put it in an envelope. I then opened a wooden box, said to have been sent from my father from Africa.

From inside the box I took out a scrap of paper, which had an address in Africa written on it.  I copied the address onto the envelope.

I then ran outside and put the note into the mail box. After this, I went to Tommy’s home. He said I could stay with them while I waited. And wait I did.

I simply told his parents that our estate was being fumigated and I didn’t want to stay in a hotel with my mother and Fred, who was actually my stepfather.

What a shock it must have been for Fred when he returned and found my body wasn’t there. He favored himself a hunter, and so I would imagine the hunt was on.

The first few days the police came, I avoided the house while they searched for me. After which, I would make my way to my mother’s estate, hiding in the bushes near the long half circle driveway.

How did he explain it? Originally, his plan might have been that my mother shot me and then disappeared, but what now? My mother and I simply left town?

And what about my mother’s body? If her money is what he’s after, how could he place the body somewhere they could find it, and still hope for her inheritance when I am still missing? He must be very stressed right now, very stressed indeed. With this, I smile slightly.

After a week or so of doing this, I had gotten into a bit of a routine. A simple breakfast with Tommy’s family, and when I say simple I mean boxed cereal, followed by a journey from their home to my mother’s estate where I would lay behind the bushes and watch Fred tear out of the driveway in his little silver convertible that my mother bought him last Valentine’s Day. Happy V-Day Fred.  Each time he’d return, skidding into the long curved driveway, and rush inside the house.

Poor Betsy was let go at some point.  I don’t think Fred wanted anyone else around. To be honest with you, Fred wasn’t all together that couth. At this point, I think he became the primary suspect, as detective’s came and went frequently.

CHAPTER THREE

And Then He Came

And then he came…

On the eleventh day after my mother’s death an old pickup truck arrived in the driveway of my mother’s estate. An old man drove it, and in the passenger seat was a man in an old brown leather jacket wearing a hat pulled down over his face. When they got out of the truck, I noticed the passenger’s pants and boots were also very beaten and worn down.

Fred ran out to the driveway, arms flailing, assuming they had taken a wrong turn, or something. I took a bite out of my apple. This was getting good.

The man in the hat pointed at the back of the pickup truck, and the old man responded by taking out what appeared to be a wrapped rug, threw it over his shoulder, and headed towards the house.

At first, Fred tried to stop him, but then followed him in. This is when the man in the hat looked over my way and motioned for me to come quickly. Somehow, he knew I was behind the bush. What should I do? What could I do? Before I knew it, I was sprinting towards him. He quickly opened the passenger door, shuffled me to the passenger side floor, and shut the door.

Suddenly, I heard Fred’s voice as Fred and the driver returned to the truck, “Well, certainly appreciate the rug.” It was the first time I had heard it since the night he killed my mother.

Terror filled me, my heart started to beat rapidly, and I began to sweat.

“Who did you say sent it?” Fred asked the driver of the truck.

“A man called Sam Monroe from Africa,” the old driver replied.

“Oh, okay, well thank you.Can I get you two gentlemen a drink?” Please say no, I thought to myself.

“Nope, we’ll be on our way,” said the man in the hat. He had a notably soothing voice, which seemed to calm me a bit. The huge knife on his belt didn’t hurt either.

“Very well, thanks again,” I heard Fred say, and we left.

The old man never looked down at me curled on the floor, as if the man in the hat had told him to expect a visitor. After a while, the man in the hat looked down at me. “You can come up now,” and so I hesitantly moved onto the seat between the two men.

“How did you know I was in the bushes?” I managed.

“In Africa you must always be watchful of things in the brush.”

“Africa?”

“Yup, and that’s where we’re headed.” He then did the oddest thing. He stuck his hand out, “My names Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

Chapters IV, V & VI

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2 Comments to “I Died Once”

  1. I downloaded it from Amazon a while back. A pretty good read.

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