Blood Stained Glass

Callie and Cole left the city on most weekends to ride out into the lesser populated areas of their state. It was Fall and the colors were splendid shades of crimson, copper, brunt orange, and rust. Callie, a painter, often took pictures of local people and unusual places that sparked her artistry.

The city of Winston had a lovely town Square. It was decorated for a Fall Festival. There were people in stores and sitting on benches. But as you began to ride over the country roads, civilization was almost nonexistent.

Once in a while they would see an old gas station in a white-washed building. Callie had to stop so they pulled into an old Citgo. This one had a torn screen door and a Coca-cola chest on the porch. A mixed breed dog lay outside and a couple of men in worn overalls were chewing tobacco and probably swapping fishing stories.

Inside were boiled eggs, pickles and pigs feet in jars of a sticky liquid. They were for sale. Most places had the Confederate flag proudly displayed. People often asked where we were from and if we had kin here.

There were groves of apple and pecan tree along the winding roads. The smell in the air was burning leaves and apples. Occasionally there was a fruit stand with apples, boiling peanuts and cider. Riding through the area was a treat when you lived in a busy metropolitan area.

They almost missed the treasure, set far back from the main road, in the whispering pines.
"It's my dream home, honey, please stop," Callie pleaded.

"It's not for sale, babe. Do you see a sign?" Cole asked.

The house was a huge weathered Victorian that had seen much better days. There was yellow paint in places that spoke of it's former beauty. The wrap-around porch had exquisite beaded woodwork that was very fragile now.

It didn't appear that anyone was living there. Callie was great at this kind of adventure.

Cole figured one day the cops would arrest them for trepassing and throw their butts in jail. Then a deputy with too much time on his hands would torture them with a pistol, making them dance. That would end the excursions and he could watch football on television.

Callie would find the perfect house, take pictures and then put them under her pillow. Just like the tooth fairy, she thought money would magically materialize for the house in her dreams.
Cole figured this whimsical side of Callie was one reason he loved her. She would get so excited.

Cole knew if the owner had wanted to sell, they didn't have any cash. They could barely afford the rent on a one- bedroom apartment.

Callie wasn't in denial, she knew their situation. She was a struggling painter and Cole was a DJ for a small radio station. The dream house was a harmless game.
They parked the car.

"Babe, something special is drawing me to this home," Callie was saying.

They knocked, the door swung open. There was life here already. It was inhabited by bats, rats and spiders. Looking past all of that, you could tell it had been a beauty at one time with exquisite crown molding and silk wallpaper.

The living room ceiling had faded cherubs painted on four corners. Some of the furniture, period pieces, were still here. They were covered by dusty sheets. Unfortunately,the rats had eaten away at the upholstery.

Callie giggled, "The rats certainly have good taste".
She went on to say, "I could imagine restoring it, then sitting on the front porch with a Mint Julep in my hand. I would wear a white embroidered cotton dress, a straw hat with lavender ribbons. We could discuss the latest neighborhood news and serve cucumber tea sandwiches".

Cole then burst her bubble,"'Do you have any idea what it would cost to fix this place up? Even if I did most of the work myself?"

"I know but I can dream, can't I?"
They began to walk around, going from room to room. Callie wandered off by herself. Suddenly, he heard a ear splitting scream.

"What the hell?" Cole came running.
There was a yellow drawing of a body on the floor.
"Oh my God, someone was murdered here!" Callie's voice echoed off the walls.

Cole, "Let's just get the hell out of here, okay?"

They went back to the front door. The fragile weathered door was shut and would not open. A sense of panic was beginning to overtake Callie. She was sweating and shaking.

All of the windows on the first floor were locked and would not open. Everything that had appeared to be falling apart seemed to be stronger again. They tried the fireplace poker and a brick but nothing would break the windows or glass in the door.

They realized they had left their cell phones in the car.
It was hard not to be frantic. The two of them clasped hands tightly and ventured carefully up a staircase that was falling down.

At the top floor there was a stained-glass window that looked down on the foyer.
It was a coffin with a woman in it surrounded by dark red roses. What kind of person would want such a morbid piece of art?

Callie began to hyperventilate. Cole tried to calm her down but she was sure they were trapped in a monster of a house. It had changed, seeming to undergo a metamorphosis.

The house sounded like it was breathing now. They searched the top floor. All the windows were sealed and after trying to break them, they were becoming desperate. They checked for what might be an attic, but couldn't get the door to open.

Cole said perhaps there was a cellar. The two creeped carefully back down the steps. One of the steps gave way and Callie's foot was caught.

Cole managed to pull her loose but the ankle quickly swelled and the pain was extreme. She couldn't walk on it. Now Cole had to carry her. He put her down on the dusty couch and kissed her before she could complain.

There was a small door behind the stairway. It opened.
Callie was whimpering but remarked, "We are going to get out and then we will sell the story to People and make tons of money".

"Callie, please just hold the door and get the visions of money sugarplums out of your head, okay?"

Cole went down and investigated. He felt his way down the steps as they kept talking to each other. It was pitch dark and you could hear the scurrying of rats and mice.

"I see a small window and I am pushing it open. I think we can get through it. Be careful, Callie. Feel your way down here," Cole instructed. Then Callie heard a bang.
Cole reported, "The window closed but there is an ax right here. I am coming back up to get you, okay?"
That was the last time she would hear her husband's voice.

Suddenly, a strong wind pulled the cellar doors from her hands and she couldn't open it again. Callie, in full panic was screaming Cole's name over and over.
There was dead silence on the other side of the door.

Callie sank to the floor in tears.
The house was breathing harder and harder and now it had a strong heartbeat. She felt like she was inside a body.

Remember take deep breaths and think positively. Callie felt like she was suffocating, her chest was in severe pain. She felt something around her, a dark presence. The house wanted her dead, that much she knew and Callie was tired. She closed her eyes tightly and waited.


"The Winston Chronicle" newspaper:


Tragedy strikes at the Old Hunter House

An unidentified woman's body was found on the lawn of the Old Huntley Mansion. She has dark hair and brown eyes and appeared to be in her twenties. She had deeply embedded stained glass in her body. Without any identification, she will be known as Jane Doe.

There had been a stained glass window of angels in the house fifity years ago. The glass had fallen in many years ago. The mansion has been vacant and condemned. There were padlocks on all the doors and the police said there was no way someone could get in.

A search of the house didn't find any clues. There wasn't a vehicle parked close by and no witnesses to the event. Investigation will continue.