"TALES FROM THE ASHES ARCHIVES"

Volume One...Issue Four...June 3, 2000

Published by "The Wizard of Odd"

-AND NOW, PEEK CAREFULLY INTO THIS ISSUE’S MAGIC BOX…-

(-All items are the sole property of Wayne Brown. Use of my properties without my express written consent, is against the law!-)

"NAVIGATION BUTTONS"

POETRY

"THE BLACK TRUNK"

by Wayne Brown March 1979

It had been four years now. Four years since Nathan had flipped his lid. Seventeen victims, all brutally raped and mutilated. Why? What had she done...or, what hadn’t she done? She knew of course. It wasn’t her doing at all. The psychiatrist had told her about schizophrenia and paranoia, but still...she had once loved him.

Jennifer Atwood eased the light-blue Chrysler to the right, and up the narrow, graveled driveway. Her daughter Tracey, sat patiently, holding "Mandy", her handmade rag doll and best friend.

"Mommy...is dis where we gonna live?"

"Yes, Tracey. This is our new home. 112 North Harriman Avenue, Saratoga Springs, New York. Do you think you can remember all of that?"

"1...12 Nort Herman Avenshoe..." She smiled confidentally.

Jennifer chuckled to herself. Her daughter was all she had, and she loved her dearly. Tracey had all of her father’s good qualities, and fortunately none of the bad.

She parked the car aside of the front porch. It was a nice old house, just right for Tracey and herself, with plenty of rooms, and remodeled to accommodate the typically modern American family.

"C’mon Honey. Let’s bring our things inside."

Jennifer opened the door for her little girl and grabbing a suitcase in each hand, walked to the porch of the two-story, multi-gabled salt box. Tracey followed, talking excitedly to Mandy, while struggling with her toy sewing machine.

Her mother fumbled with her keys and finally, after finding the right one, unlocked the heavy oaken door. They walked in and set their respective burdens on the glistening hardwood floor.

"WOW! Mommy! Dis is neat! What-cha think, Mandy, isn’t it nice?...Where’s our room, Mommy?...Where’s my room?"

"Follow me sweetheart, and I’ll show you."

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and turned right. At the end of the hall, Jennifer opened a door. It was a spacious room, with three large, sun-filled windows. Exotically painted birds flew gracefully across the winsome blue-pastel wallpaper. The hardwood flooring creaked, bidding welcome as they walked across the floor to open the panes. A large walk-in closet nestled against the west wall, was nearly as large as Tracey’s entire bedroom in their old home. The room was perfect for Tracey...a combination playroom and bedroom.

"Well Tracey...What do you think?"

"Oh, we loves it, Mommy! This room is...it’s the bestest!!! Isn’t it Mandy!?!" Clutching her favorite doll, she rocked back and forth.

"I’m glad you like it Pumpkin. Now come and help Mommy empty the car."

"...Mandy, too?"

"Yes, Honey...Mandy, too."

As the afternoon wore on, Jennifer thought more and more about her daughter. Her little girl had no friends, except of course for Mandy. She had no father and only half a mother. Jennifer had never gotten used to other men, after…after what happened. As a matter of fact, the only thing keeping her from that bottle of sleeping pills was Tracey, and that was a hell of a lot of responsibility to be thrust upon a five-year old. Anyway, maybe this new house and neighborhood, maybe this new life, maybe this time...things would be different. Of course, deep inside, she knew they’d never forget. No one would ever forget what her husband had done.

It was later that afternoon, while hanging Tracey’s clothes into the closet, that Jennifer discovered the huge, brass and black steamer trunk, tucked into the back corner. Apparently, it had been abandoned by the previous tenant. It was an antique, expensive and a beautiful utile thing, but it still gave her a strange and sudden sense of foreboding. She heard a knock at the front door and rushed downstairs to greet the caller. It was just someone asking for directions, but the distraction, coupled with her fatigue, was enough to make her forget about the trunk.

They spent the next few days settling in. Hanging curtains, placing pictures, and rearranging furniture, occupied their time to it’s fullest. Finally, on their fifth day of residence, Jennifer and Tracey were able to sit back and relax. The house was more or less in order. The house was now more or less, a home. They had eaten a light dinner, and the hour was growing late.

"Mommy...?"

"What is it, Tracey?"

"How come we don’t got no friends,...except for Mandy, I mean?"

"Honey, your Daddy did a very mean thing, and some people think...well, they...blame us for what he did."

"But we didn’t do anything Mommy. Why do dey blame us?"

"Because...some people think we’re,...somehow responsible, Sweetheart. It’s just the way some people are. Now, go get your PJ’s on, and get into bed...Okay?"

"Yes, Mommy..."

As Tracey ran from the room and up the stairs, Jennifer laid her head in her hands and cried.

Tracey readied herself for bed and suddenly discovered that Mandy was missing. She looked for her desperately, under the bed, in the toy box, in the dressers and then she checked the closet.

After admiring the steamer trunk, Jennifer in her haste, had neglected to lower the lid. Thinking Mandy might be in the dark trunk, Tracey leaned over the side for a better look. As she did, she accidentally fell in, the momentum of her body, jostled the precariously perched lid shut. Her screams could not be heard beyond her room, let alone downstairs.

Jennifer, extremely distraught with her loneliness, and exhausted from the long day’s labors, cried herself to sleep on the living room couch, totally oblivious to her daughter’s predicament.

The sunrise trickled into the spacious living room. It’s rays working themselves slowly towards the couch, until with light warm caresses, it raised the eyelids of the sleeping mother. She awoke with a startle. She had not meant to sleep on the couch, and Tracey…she had not tucked her little girl into bed.

Jennifer arose, stretching and yawning. A slight cramp had invaded her back, and her tear-stained face, reminded her of the breakdown the night before. She walked to the staircase, and looked up toward the second floor.

"Tracey...Tracey! Time to get up, Pumpkin. Trace...?!?" She climbed the stairs with sudden concern.

Tracey was not to be found in her bedroom, which seemed strange to Jennifer. However, she might have slept in her mother’s bed, expecting her to come up during the night Jennifer went to her room and found nothing. Where could she be? She was worried. She began to search the house frantically.

In the bathroom, alongside the tub, she found Mandy. She knew now that something was definitely wrong. Tracey would never go to bed without her best friend. In fact, she seldom let Mandy out of her sight.

After a long and agonizing search of the house, Jennifer returned to Tracey’s room and sat on the bed. Where could she be? All the doors and windows were locked, and Tracey couldn’t reach high enough to open them anyway. She had to be somewhere in the house...but where?

Jennifer had given up on calling out for Tracey long ago. She knew that her little girl would answer her if she could. No, there was definitely something wrong here. She searched her daughter’s room once again. Suddenly she remembered the brass steamer trunk. She raced to the closet, filled with nightmarish visions of Tracey suffocating. She fumbled with the brass hardware…and finally flung open the lid, and found...nothing. The trunk was as empty as when she first found it.

The Police Sergeant looked at her suspiciously, as she signed the release form., but Jennifer couldn’t care less about what other people thought anymore. All she wanted was to have her little girl safely back in her arms. She picked up her personal items, from the desk, and placed them back into her deer-skin clutch bag.

"We’ll call you if anything comes up. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and try to get some sleep, Mrs. Atwood. Oh,...and don’t leave town either...I mean, in case we should hear something."

"Sure..." She mumbled. Her eyes, though red from crying, still managed to leer at the suspicious policeman.

Jennifer buttoned her coat, and walked out of the station house to her car. She drove home and took a couple of sleeping pills and collapsed across her bed.

She kicked off her shoes, and crawled to the head of the bed. She laid her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes sobbing.

"Mommy, Mommy! Where’s Mandy? I want Mandy..."

Jennifer arose with a start, shaking her head to dispel the dream, but knowing that it wasn’t. Mandy was crying. She could hear her, as if through a haze.

"Mommy, where’s Mandy?"

It was Tracey alright, sobbing and crying for her raggedy friend.

"Tracey?...Where are you, Pumpkin? Come to Mommy!" Jennifer pleaded hopefully.

"Mommy, Mommy! I want Mandy!?!"

"Where are you, Sweetheart!?!"

...and then there was silence. As suddenly as they had begun, the voices stopped. Jennifer searched frantically for the source, but she could find no clue as to the whereabouts of her daughter. She laid back on her bed, sobbing hysterically.

The next four nights were the same. Tracey suddenly calling for Mandy, Jennifer desperately searching for her little girl, and then…nothing. Nothing but tired eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She hadn’t slept in five days. Even the pills didn’t help. She knew in her heart that Tracey was gone, but the voices kept on...

Dr. Drummond had been right. She knew what she had to do. She climbed the stairs and went to Tracey’s room. She immediately began packing her daughter’s playthings. Her little girl was gone, and it was time she faced the facts. Anyway, the children at the orphanage would enjoy Tracey’s toys. She packed hurriedly, so as to finish the distasteful task before she again fell into her sentimental reminiscences.

The stay at the hospital, these past six months had helped her immensely. She knew now that the voices she had heard were merely the manifestations of her guilt over her husband, and the disappearance of her beloved daughter.

She needed another box for the toys and so she decided to use the steamer trunk. She hadn’t really liked the damned thing anyway. She packed the black and brass receptacle quickly, with assorted toys and then, as an afterthought, when the trunk was nearly full, she tossed Mandy in on top of the other toys. She then closed the lid and left the room. Tomorrow she would call the orphanage and have them pick up the now unwanted playthings.

A few hours later, Jennifer took off her clothes and prepared for bed. She drew on her gown and walked into the bathroom. Reaching for the medicine cabinet, she extracted her tranquilizers and took the prescribed dose. When she returned to her room, she laid back upon the soft, satin sheets and closed her tortured eyes.

"Thank-you, Mommy!"

Jennifer opened her eyes and arose from the bed.

"Thank-you, Mommy for sending Mandy to me! We’re having lots of fun now!"

"Tracey, where are you??? Are you alright!?!"

"Sure Mommy! I was sad before, but now that Mandy’s here...everything’s fine!!!"

"Where are you, Tracey!?!"

"I gotta go now, Mommy...Thanks again!"

"TRACEY!!!"

Suddenly, Jennifer knew. It all made sense now. She raced to Tracey’s bedroom, and pulled the black steamer trunk from the closet. Excitedly, she threw open the lid.

The trunk was empty. No toys, no Mandy...nothing. A smile came to Jennifer’s face. She would find her little girl now. She would be with her darling Tracey. Yes, and Mandy, too.

She was smiling as she eased her body into the old, steamer trunk, closing the lid behind her, taking care not to catch the fabric of her gown between the hinged lid and the side of the black trunk...

-The End-

(I have made some minor grammatical changes to the original MS. -Wayne Brown)