Legacy Written

Alex perched in her favorite cushioned chair on her deck, reading. It was a lazy, cool October evening, Alex's favorite time of the year. Her new backyard haven was nothing but a small yard surrounded with an immense forest. Alex gazed at the wondrous scenery; trees beautified with multi-colored leaves swayed in the autumn breeze. The rustling sound of the leaves brought a soft smile to her delicate face.

The fall season was flattering to her. She felt more at peace and more alive this time of year. She felt more like herself.

Alex turned her attention back to her job at hand, editing her new novel she had just finished writing. She began to read a paragraph, but slowly closed her manuscript that she kept in her own personalized binder. Thoughts of her research emerged. Had she written the biography as a true account? The unpleasant ending of the biography did not satisfy her. Her genealogy research did not change the facts nor did it dispute any of the old tales. She was determined to put an end to the gossip and let the silly legend die with her ancestors.

Alex sighed. Visions of the characters, her family, started to probe her mind. She was far too young to remember much about any of them. All she knew was that her family's torment had become a small town's haunted tale. She despised any implication that a family could be possessed by evil spirits. Her writings dismissed such a ridiculous notion. Although, several family members were rather eccentric, she found nothing, nor could she bring herself to believe in a supernatural aspect.

Her adoptive parents had been so loving, and did their best to shelter her from the ridicule of simple-minded folks. The stories seemed to have died until Alex purchased the old farm place, building her home after her parent's death. She was baffled by the way the people treated her. She was an outcast in her own hometown. She hadn't expected such a negative welcome, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. She had been drawn back to her roots, almost like she had been summoned. Rumors had flown through the small town like a raging wild fire. She had heard many of them, whispers in crowds as she passed by. Alex just knew that her book, if published, would settle the dust once and for all.

She thumbed the corners of her hopeful first publication, thinking about her grandfather, Bo Williams. So many people believed that this bizarre man with an erratic demeanor committed Familicide-Suicide* because of some demon or black witchcraft. Alex had mentioned this in her writing, and of course, blamed the theory on dim-witted commoners with a taste of rivalry over the family's wealth. Her writing attempted to show a family grief stricken by a severe mental illness. That's the only explanation she could come up with, considering the limited evidence and her disbelief in the unknown. It was also an explanation that gave her some sort of comfort.

Alex turned her attention back to her novel, staring at the type written pages. The wind had picked up, blowing her wavy blonde hair in her face. She tucked the short strands of hair behind her ears and began reading again.

"Alexandra."

The sound of her name being called out sent chills down her spine and she remained frozen, listening. Where had it come from? Who was calling?

"Alexandra."

Her name was whispered once again as if the wind carried this ominous voice through the trees.

"Alexandra."

The voice was getting louder, sounding more like a hiss than a whisper.

Alex stood up, carefully placing her manuscript in the chair.

"Who's there?" her voice quivered, "Who are you?"

"Alexandra!" the unfamiliar voice shouted.

Alex grabbed the binder and darted in the house, locking the door behind her. Panic stricken, she slowly backed away from the door. Her heart raced her breaths were deep and rapid as she trembled in fear.

She kept backing up until she found support from a wall, hoping it would steady her wobbly legs. She intently kept her eyes focused on the door in disbelief. The windowpanes began rattling throughout the house but she didn't take her eyes off the door. She couldn't.

"Alexandra," the voice called out, softer now, but closer.

"Who are you?" she screamed, "Leave me alone!"

A dreadful sensation descended upon her as a gush of cold air brushed passed her. She frantically spun around looking at the wall as the wallpaper began to take on a life of its own, breathing, pulling itself from the wall with a violent crackling sound. She dropped her novel, pages came loose from within and fluttered across the floor. In an instant, the pages began pulling themselves back together by a pair of invisible hands and the ghastly scene petrified her. Paralyzed, she stood, staring as sweat seeped from her pores. Everything was suddenly back in order and the pages began to flip to the very end. Alex's horrified gaze was set on her manuscript as a blank page started to reveal words, then sentences, all written in red. Written by an unseen source, scratching its scrawls with an eerie wail.

One page written, then another. Alex was motionless; terror ripped through her soul. The red ink glistened, showing off its ruby freshness. A stench filled her nostrils and she covered her face with her hands trying to keep from being strangled by it. She finally sank to the floor with the last word written. The cover slammed shut, its chapter written. She leaned against the wall and brought her knees to her chest. The binder swiftly slid across the floor to her feet. She made no attempt to pick it up.

An hour had gone by before she had the nerve to move. The hour had gone by eventless, and Alex was trying to convince herself that she was going insane, none of this could have happened.

She slowly picked up her manuscript and flipped the pages to the demented scribbles she had witnessed. The red ink resembled blood and had smeared between the pages. The ink itself held a foul odor, not of which she had smelled earlier, but an odor of death. She shuddered at the thought, but reluctantly began to read.

Retribution.

"I am known by many names; Apollyon, Beelzebub, Diablo, Lucifer, Old Nick, Satan, Serpent, and The Fallen Angel.

"A deal made with me should never be taken so lightly. Sign my contract he did, in his own blood. Lavished with wealth and sinful desires, he failed to live up to his part of the agreement. For I only gained one soul from this unworthy contract, and yes, that one soul was Bo Williams. Although, he promised me another, one of his own blood, I have not been paid in full.

"When he took their lives they were still pure, untouchable by me, for they bore not my mark before their death. He had left a child behind, knowing God protects all children.

"Senseless, though, children grow into adults, and are tempted by me. I was cheated once but I will collect a soul that his blood flows through. I've easily placed my mark upon Alexandra, for she sinned and not once repented. She is mine for eternity. It is written. Written, signed and sealed by the greed and lust of Bo Williams.

"With payment within my grasp, I've made another barter. One lost soul is another's gain, and ultimately, my prize.

"Dear Alexandra, I'm your Prince of Darkness. I'm your eternity."

Alex rabidly ripped the pages from its clasps; tears flooded her anguished eyes as visions of the towns people emerged pointing fingers and demanding her exile from existanc.

"No!" she screamed, as she tore another page from within the binders clutch.

She watched in vain as each page vanished before her eyes only to reveal another chapter. It was typed and one she had not written. She squinted her eyes, looming over the mysterious chapter. A shrieking sound escaped her throat realizing what she was before her.

It was a chapter about Alexandra Williams, the sole survivor of Bo Williams, who committed suicide. A woman tormented with the sins of her grandfather. Slashing her wrists, she had slowly bled to death.

Alex sobbed, smashing the book closed.

"Nooooo!" she cried. "I made no deal! It's not fair! I was a child!"

In desperation she tried to shred the pages. She struggled with the paper, but it would not tear. She threw the manuscript against the wall and it crashed onto the floor. She slowly crawled toward it, sobbing. The letters on the cover faded with a sizzling sound. Her body violently shook as smoke rose and new words began to form. Her eyes grew wide with terror as another name appeared on her manuscript...Author Drew Finch.

"Arrrrrrr!" she screamed as pain shot through her wrist. Her body jolted and she was thrust on her side as blood ooze from its wound. She quickly applied pressure to the deep cut, squeezing her wrist tightly. She let out a blood curling scream as the skin on the other wrist was slowly sliced by an invisible weapon, leaving a gaping cut.

"God, help me!" she screamed.

"He can't help you now." The words were not spoken, but breathed.

Alex curled her body in a fetal position, screaming for mercy to her Savior. Her life was slowly slipping away. Images of her childhood began flashing before her eyes, and she called out to them, yearning for each of their moments in time. She felt a hot dampness on the back of her neck. A gurgling sound pierced her eardrums, and she knew it was expelled from a pair of sinister lungs. Reluctantly, she rolled over, peering into Hell's vulturish gaze. She closed her eyes not wanting to look into the inferno of Hell any longer. A haze settled upon her as she gasped for each breath.

"Help me. Dear God...." were her final words.

Alexandra Williams passed away, a slow gruesome death. She left this world knowing that her written words were stolen from her, as was her precious life.

~~~~

Six months later, Drew Finch, a destitute author, was ecstatic when he learned that his new novel, Legacy Written, The True Williams Biography had made the best sellers list. It had been an easy write. He had said he would do anything to accomplish his goal of being a famous and wealthy author. He had even written so in his own blood.









*Familice-Suicide - Homicide of one or more family members by someone who commits suicide afterwards.