The Farm House

THE FARM HOUSE

By

Tim A Hicks

Published by: Tim A Hicks

ISBN: 978-146592-473-5

Copyright © 2010 by Tim A Hicks. All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Front cover designed by: Randy Patterson

Illustration by: Katie Hicks

All rights reserved. No part of these pages, either text or image may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, storage in a retrieval system or retransmission, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to:

I would like to dedicate this book to my wife, Mary and our two lovely daughters. I could not have done any of this without you! I would also like to dedicate this book to my Mom and Dad: Thank you for all your love and support!

Contents

Front Matter

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

About Me

My Newest Book

THE FARM HOUSE

Chapter One

Well, that’s it then, Bob said as he wearily removed his glasses. I can’t believe he’s gone. You know, Paul, I feel like it’s my fault that all this happened.

Paul leaned forward and said, Hey, we’ve been through this a thousand times already. You did everything that you possibly could to get him out of there. It’s not your fault that he was too stubborn to leave.

I know, it’s just that in the back of my mind, I feel that I could have done something more, that’s all.

Bob eased himself from his highly-polished walnut desk and turned to look out the window. His law office was located on the twelfth floor of a twenty-story office tower that overlooked the ocean. It amazed him that he ever got involved with the old man to begin with. It seemed like just a simple thing at first: this guy comes into the office to get his affairs in order, the will is written, witnessed, and the bill is sent... end of story. Yet, there was something about the man that spoke to Bob. Was it that unique New England accent or the fact that there seemed to be some sort of urgency in the way he was going about settling his affairs, he could not decide. While Bob stared at the sailboats plying around the bay, he remembered that first meeting like it was yesterday:

Hello Mr. Sanders, please come in and make yourself comfortable.

Thank you, and please call me Steve.

Okay, Steve, what can I do for you today?

Steve settled in his chair and said, Well, I need to talk to you about getting a will set-up. I've never done anything like this before, so I'll need you to walk me through the entire process. Also, there's some urgency to this, so if we could conclude this business today, that would be great.

I leaned slightly forward in my chair and studied the person seated in front of me. Steve was fairly tall at 6 feet 4 inches and seemed to be in pretty good shape. Not much fat on this 60-year old frame; actually, he seemed to be in good health

I asked, You know, I'll be happy to help with this, but is there a specific reason for the urgency?

Looking somewhat uncomfortable, Steve answered, Yes, but without going into too much detail, let’s just say that my current housing situation isn't the greatest.

Alright, forgive me for saying so, but if you can afford to come to this firm and you have the resources requiring the necessity of a will, shouldn’t you be able to simply move away to a safer area?

Chuckling, Steve replied, Believe me, I wish it were that simple.

Leaning back in my chair, I asked, I see here that you live in Vermont, what made you decide to drive all the way up to Maine to come see me? Not that I'm complaining, mind you, just curious.

Steve looked over at me and said, Well, to be truthful, I was having dinner with one of my old army buddies and when I mentioned that I was thinking about having a will drawn-up, he recommended you. He said you were very intelligent and trustworthy. So, I decided to come and see if he was right.

Laughing, I replied, Well, I'll do my best to live up to your lofty expectations. Now then, shall we get started?

So, turning back to the work at hand, I continued the process of drafting the will. It was during the natural course of the interview, that it soon became apparent that we had a great deal in common and soon became friends.

It wasn’t until a few months later that I discovered the truth about the farm that Steve lived on. We were having dinner at the local steakhouse, when I decided to ask Steve about his unique living situation. In between bites of my steak, I asked,

You know, when you first came into my office and told me the reason you wanted to fast-track your will, I was very intrigued as to what your situation was. Now that we know each other better, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind elaborating on your problem?

Although he had been expecting this question to come up, Steve was still debating as to whether or not to tell me about his problem. After all, I could very well write him off as a nutcase.

You know, Bob, I've been trying to decide if I should tell you what’s going on. I know that we've become good friends and I do trust you a great deal, but I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear the whole story.

I set my wine glass down and said, You’re right, Steve, we're friends and because we are friends I want you to now that I'm here to help you; not just legally, but as your friend. I would like to be able to help you, but if you feel uncomfortable telling me, I’ll understand.

Thanks, Bob. That means a lot coming from you. I’m just afraid that if I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy. Give a minute to think about this, would you?

Hey, no rush. Take your time.

I took the opportunity to grab a french fry and another bite of steak. Boy, they really do a great job on steaks at this restaurant and the French fries are just fantastic. I remembered the first time that Steve and I came to this restaurant and I ordered my steak with fries, instead of a baked potato. He had a great time kidding me about it. Now, as I look over at Steve's plate, there are French fries, instead of his beloved baker.

After a few minutes, Steve had come to a decision to tell me the whole story. So, over the next hour, Steve went step-by-step through the entire situation. I listened with rapt attention and my steak, what was left of it, seemed almost forgotten. As he continued, a thousand questions seemed to flood into my mind and it was all I could do to not interrupt.

When Steve was finally finished, all I could say was, You’re kidding, right?

Steve replied, I wish I was, buddy, but it's just as I've told you and I am at a loss as to what to do next.

Well, I can think of one thing…leave!

Shaking his head, Steve just looked at me and said, it’s just not that easy; I can’t just walk away from this. That farm has been in our family for over 400 years and I can’t just pick-up and leave. Surely you can understand that?

Reluctantly, I agreed, Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from, but we’re not talking about having some mouse infestation; what you’re telling me here is just unbelievable. Isn’t there anything that you can do?

Taking a sip of his wine, Steve just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Actually, Bob, I do have an idea, but I don't know whether or not I can pull it off.

Yep, that’s when the real adventure began and now it looks like it’s going to start all over again, except this time with someone who knows nothing about what to expect. This time, an innocent will be swept-up into the madness.

While continuing to watch the sailboats drifting along in the bay, Bob said, Well, what’s done is done and I need to get I touch with his nephew.

Bob turned around and looked at Paul with a determined look, and I WILL warn the boy.

Paul looked shocked, Whoa, wait a minute there, Bob. Why do you want to do a stupid thing like that? He’s just going to think your nuts. Besides, he’s in college, right? There's no way he'll want to pull-up stakes and live there. What’s he going to want with an old farm, anyway?

Look Paul, Bob insisted, I don’t care what he thinks of me, but I will not have his welfare on my conscience. Yeah, he'll most likely sell the place and that will be that, but what if he doesn’t? I still have the responsibility to tell him.

Bob walked over to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. Well, rank does have its privileges. Swirling the drink around in the glass he turned back and looked Paul in the eyes, I don’t care what he thinks; all I know is that I want to be able to sleep at night. Let’s go ahead and write the contact letter. The sooner we get this over with, the better.

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Chapter Two

Eric was alone in the house. The eleven o'clock news was on and there was some story about a guy who raised a record-sized pumpkin and was exhibiting it at the fair. When they ran stories like that, you know that it was a slow news day. The cat, Elsa, was doing her usual routine of sitting and staring at him; that cat wasn’t good for much else…what cat was? When the news was over, Eric realized what happens next: bedtime. He knew that he would have to go to bed, but the thought frightened him, and he didn’t seem to know why. It could have something to do with the fact that he would have to turn-off all the lights and try to sleep in this dark, empty, and let’s not forget, BIG house. It was a well-known fact that when the lights went out, the ghosts came to life. Everybody knows that!

Elsa, will you stop tearing around like that! You had all day to play, there’s no need to start going crazy and running around the house…

He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw what Elsa was doing. That stupid, brain-damaged cat was sitting at the base of the stairs and staring. As Eric sat there and looked at her, Elsa started growling and hissing into the dark stairwell. The feelings that washed over him were ones of fright and dread. Thinking that the stupid cat might have seen or sensed something in the house, he knew that drifting off to sleep would not be an option until he went and checked things out. So, he got up out of his chair and did what any normal person would do: he opened the front door. He didn't do this so he could run outside, but to give himself a sense of security. He knew that beyond the front door lay the neighbors and safety. It never occurred to him that the front door was a full 30-feet from the staircase. However, in this case, it's the feeling that counts.

Eric slowly turned from the front door and started for the rear of the house. Elsa, what do you think you're doing?

As Eric neared the staircase, turning on every light within his reach, he saw that Elsa’s fur was standing on end and that her growling grew louder. When he got to within a few feet of the stairwell, Elsa started to back away, spitting. It suddenly grew very cold in the hallway and Eric sensed something else; it was a feeling very hard to describe; the bottom of his stomach started to twinge and his heart began to beat faster. Eric felt the presence of evil and it seemed to be coming from the stairwell in waves. It took every ounce of strength his body could muster, to go those last few feet.

As he turned to look into the stairwell, he comforted himself with his own voice by talking to Elsa, It's okay Elsa, there’s nothing up there.

As he looked up the curving stairway, he heard the sound of a creaking floorboard from above him. Elsa, always helpful, took off and headed for the laundry room at the other side of the house. Something was upstairs, yet he knew that no one else was in the house. The floorboard creaked again. There was definitely something walking around up there and for some reason he could not explain, he knew that whatever was up there was not human. Looking over his shoulder, Eric noticed that the front door was still wide open and there was a clear shot to the outside.

Suddenly feeling brave, Eric looked back up the stairs and yelled, Hey, you don’t scare me you stupid ghost!

All of a sudden, an inhuman howl roared and the sound vibrated throughout the entire house. It didn’t come from just upstairs, but from all around him.

Running for the front door, Eric turned back and yelled, Come and get me, you stupid jerk!

Immediately he heard the sound of heavy footsteps at the top of the stairs. Continuing to run for the door, Eric noticed that he was not really running at all. It felt as if something, like some invisible hand, was pushing against him and slowing him down. As the footsteps behind him grew louder, he also noticed that they came from the direction of the basement as well. Eric tried to run faster, but it was like running through quicksand. The howls and the footsteps grew nearer from all sides, yet the front door seemed to remain just out of reach. The overpowering sense of evil was pressing down on him and making it harder to breathe. The howling grew deafening, the footsteps closer, the fear overpowering. Almost there, the front door is within reach. As Eric reached for the door, something touched his shoulder and as he turned around, he saw a sight that made him…

BZZZZZZZZZZZ, jolting awake to the sound of the alarm clock, Eric reached over and shakily