The Girl in the Glass by Jeffrey Ford Page B
Authors: Jeffrey Ford
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Historical fiction, Historical, Historical - General, Fiction - Historical, Sagas, Suspense fiction, Swindlers and Swindling, American Historical Fiction, Depressions, Spiritualists, Mediums, Seances
Ads: Link
strap-hinge at the top; the bottom one was torn. The place was small, and looked like it had once been a toolshed or woodshed.
I made my way over to it, and as I approached, I called Miss Hush's name, a little more quietly than before. I heard nothing but silence. I stepped up on the cracked, moss-covered concrete block at the entrance. Anxiety was building in my chest. I reached out and pulled the crooked door back, and the leather hinge just sort of crumbled and broke. The door fell away, almost clipping my shoulder, and hit the ground with a crash. What meager daylight was left, rushed in, lessening the gloom. As the light poured in, a smell came out—a horrid stench of mildew and bad meat. There was a buzz and flutter as flies and moths rose from something lying on the floor.
I knew it was her before I could even focus on the pale form at my feet. There was the Barnes child, maggots in her curly hair, naked, and white as Lydia, a small square of material with a bizarre circular design on it covering her from waist to midthigh. She was staring hard with rotting eyes, and the sight of her made my knees buckle. Suddenly, the smell registered with full force, and my stomach heaved. I turned away from the door, tripped on the concrete block, and hit the cold hard ground with hands outstretched. I vomited, supporting myself on all fours. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but all I could hear above the buzzing in my ears was the wind in the trees, the sound of the leaves blowing along the ground.
The next thing I knew, I was being lifted bodily onto my feet and it was night. Antony whispered to me,
"Take a deep breath, kid." He let go of me, and I knew he was going to look in the shack. From behind me, I heard him give a giant sigh, and then say, "Jesus fucking Christ." An instant later he was beside me, arm around my shoulders. "Let's get out of here," he said.
"What about Miss Hush?" I asked.
"Forget her. This could be a setup," he said. "Come on, kid, you've got to run." He gave me a push.
"Move your ass."
I did. Once I located the trail, I broke into a sprint, running as if to escape the vision of the girl's corpse. Behind me, I heard Antony lumbering along, wheezing with the exertion.
We made it back to the car in only a couple of minutes, got in, and Antony started it up. He pulled away, tires screeching, without turning on the headlights. Rain started to hit the windshield. About a mile down the road, once we'd caught our breath, he turned on the lights and slowed down.
"You okay, kid?" he asked.
"No," I said. I tore the turban off my head and flung it in the backseat. There were tears in my eyes.
"I know what you mean," he said. He drove on for a few more seconds and then added, "This shit just got about a mile deeper."
SHARDS OF EVIL
U pon arriving home, I went immediately to the couch in the living room and curled up in the corner, my head on a pillow and my knees pulled nearly to my chest. Only then did I realize I was trembling. I still felt faintly nauseated, and every time I'd focus on that indelible image of Charlotte Barnes in death, the sensation would intensify. Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel Schell's presence enter the room. Then I heard Antony address him.
"Boss, we found the Barnes kid," the big man said in a voice so weary it came out a whisper.
"Bad?" asked Schell, and I could hear him sitting down in the chair next to the couch.
"Real bad," said Antony. "She's dead."
Schell made no reply. I heard Antony slump into the chair directly across the coffee table from where I lay.
"Lydia Hush?" Schell finally asked.
"Sort of," said Antony.
"Tell me everything," said Schell, and Antony did, beginning with when we pulled over next to the woods late in the afternoon. I listened, reliving the entire scenario, and as I drew closer to the shack in the retelling, I began to sweat. When it was over, I breathed deeply and opened my eyes.
"She led you to the body," said
I made my way over to it, and as I approached, I called Miss Hush's name, a little more quietly than before. I heard nothing but silence. I stepped up on the cracked, moss-covered concrete block at the entrance. Anxiety was building in my chest. I reached out and pulled the crooked door back, and the leather hinge just sort of crumbled and broke. The door fell away, almost clipping my shoulder, and hit the ground with a crash. What meager daylight was left, rushed in, lessening the gloom. As the light poured in, a smell came out—a horrid stench of mildew and bad meat. There was a buzz and flutter as flies and moths rose from something lying on the floor.
I knew it was her before I could even focus on the pale form at my feet. There was the Barnes child, maggots in her curly hair, naked, and white as Lydia, a small square of material with a bizarre circular design on it covering her from waist to midthigh. She was staring hard with rotting eyes, and the sight of her made my knees buckle. Suddenly, the smell registered with full force, and my stomach heaved. I turned away from the door, tripped on the concrete block, and hit the cold hard ground with hands outstretched. I vomited, supporting myself on all fours. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but all I could hear above the buzzing in my ears was the wind in the trees, the sound of the leaves blowing along the ground.
The next thing I knew, I was being lifted bodily onto my feet and it was night. Antony whispered to me,
"Take a deep breath, kid." He let go of me, and I knew he was going to look in the shack. From behind me, I heard him give a giant sigh, and then say, "Jesus fucking Christ." An instant later he was beside me, arm around my shoulders. "Let's get out of here," he said.
"What about Miss Hush?" I asked.
"Forget her. This could be a setup," he said. "Come on, kid, you've got to run." He gave me a push.
"Move your ass."
I did. Once I located the trail, I broke into a sprint, running as if to escape the vision of the girl's corpse. Behind me, I heard Antony lumbering along, wheezing with the exertion.
We made it back to the car in only a couple of minutes, got in, and Antony started it up. He pulled away, tires screeching, without turning on the headlights. Rain started to hit the windshield. About a mile down the road, once we'd caught our breath, he turned on the lights and slowed down.
"You okay, kid?" he asked.
"No," I said. I tore the turban off my head and flung it in the backseat. There were tears in my eyes.
"I know what you mean," he said. He drove on for a few more seconds and then added, "This shit just got about a mile deeper."
SHARDS OF EVIL
U pon arriving home, I went immediately to the couch in the living room and curled up in the corner, my head on a pillow and my knees pulled nearly to my chest. Only then did I realize I was trembling. I still felt faintly nauseated, and every time I'd focus on that indelible image of Charlotte Barnes in death, the sensation would intensify. Even though my eyes were closed, I could feel Schell's presence enter the room. Then I heard Antony address him.
"Boss, we found the Barnes kid," the big man said in a voice so weary it came out a whisper.
"Bad?" asked Schell, and I could hear him sitting down in the chair next to the couch.
"Real bad," said Antony. "She's dead."
Schell made no reply. I heard Antony slump into the chair directly across the coffee table from where I lay.
"Lydia Hush?" Schell finally asked.
"Sort of," said Antony.
"Tell me everything," said Schell, and Antony did, beginning with when we pulled over next to the woods late in the afternoon. I listened, reliving the entire scenario, and as I drew closer to the shack in the retelling, I began to sweat. When it was over, I breathed deeply and opened my eyes.
"She led you to the body," said
Similar Books
