fall was coming to derry. growing colder. growing darker. kids go inside earlier. the wind’s no longer soft. sometimes i sit on my porch and watch the neighborhood go by. it’s a small street i live at, mostly populated by the elderly. the kind who never seem to stray far from their yard.
i’ve talked to a few, namely this couple that lives in a house across from me. a man and a woman, melvin and jackie. sometimes they’ll have me over for dinner. last winter, i watched their cat for them while they were out of town. we had a simple, neighborly friendship, nothing more. until three weeks ago. three weeks ago on melvin’s porch, we got to drinking. jackie had gone to bed an hour before. after drinking, we got to talking. i said that i was thinking of writing a book on derry, mixing historical accounts with my own childhood experience.
melvin grew quiet. took a long swig of his beer. even sober, he liked to get personal. drinking only intensified that. i knew that too. and maybe it was wrong of me to try to get a story out of him, but i figured it’d do no harm. “you lived out a little further, right? your father had that farm.”
“yeah,” i said. “a bit rural.”
“i don’t go there no more. haven’t in years. when we were just kids, there was this pond near your old place. me and my sisters liked to play there. did i ever tell you about the gold at the bottom?”
he hadn’t. “no. no, i don’t think you did.”
“it was a rumor. said some bandits buried their treasure there. and we wanted some of it. we didn’t have a whole lot growing up, so hearing that was neat. we wanted to try to find it. i asked my friend to come with me. his name was pete. we got two shovels from his garage. we walk there - me, pete, and my sisters, and go looking for gold. figured we could cut the corners, wear it down, and try to drain the water. but it started raining so we go home empty-handed. that night, pete says we should go again. you know, just to see. he wanted that gold real bad. i did too. we made a promise to split it between our families when we found it.
we get there and start digging some. it was a little scary at night, but not too bad. we were resting and had our feet in the water when pete started complaining, saying the night bugs were getting to him. they started getting to me too so i stood up to go and pete tried but .. but he couldn’t. said there was something holding onto his foot. i thought he was fooling with me and told him to quit it. he said it wasn’t a joke. something had him. so i grabbed him and started pulling and pulling and suddenly he started screaming! i never heard anyone scream like that. he was saying something to me .. said it hurts. he screamed it. we were both crying at this point. he was splashing, going crazy. i was so scared we were gonna fall in. i don’t know what i would’ve done if i fell in. finally, i pulled him out.
we fell back on the grass. pete was still screaming and crying, trying to sit up. pointing down. i looked .. oh god .. his foot was gone, mike. it was like a fish tore it off. he was bleeding all down there. i must’ve pissed myself because i remember feeling all wet. i got him up, tried carrying him back but it was too hard. i wasn’t strong enough. i told him to wait. said i was gonna go run to get help. but he didn’t want me to. didn’t want to be left alone out there. but i was so scared, i .. i told him i’d be right back and i ran even as he cried for me to come back. i remember that. i remember he was crying for me. but i ran. and i kept running until i saw lights and got to a house, got help like i said i would.
but when the officer got there, he said he couldn’t find him. said he found the pond but couldn’t find him. the whole town ended up looking for him. we couldn’t. we never did. said it could’ve been an animal attack. i don’t know. there were still some bears around then. the cops drained the pond and found nothing. no pete. no gold. they filled it in with dirt. his parents moved away soon after that. i never really got over that, mike. they all said it wasn’t my fault but i never really got over that.”
i searched my brain. peter wood. disappeared 14th of august, 1913. presumed dead. his body was never recovered.
melvin didn’t say anything after telling me that. only rubbed at his face and let out a long sigh. then he got up, said he had to use the restroom and went inside. didn’t come back out to the porch, so i took that as my cue to leave.
it’s been three weeks now and i can’t let go of that story. i had a nightmare a few days ago. it was summer. i was at the canal. i saw a boy sitting on the ledge, his legs in the water. when he lifted them, i could see the missing tissue and bits of bone. the water turned pink around him. he looked up at me, smiled, and winked.
jbbartram-illu
origamiaround
