THE GHOST BY THE GAZEBO

by ambien

Sometimes Death leaves a fragrance behind for a long time, a memory of the event, that lingers forever in a place that no words can describe.

LURKER-MIDI

The Gazebo had been built in 1934 by a man named Larson Tiles. It was later said that Larson had been viciously attacked, stabbed and robbed at the Gazebo while fishing nearby on the bank of the Trinity River.

The Gazebo is nestled on the banks of the Trinty River, right outside the town of Liberty. The Trinity River meanders lazily through the small town of Liberty and provides the town folk with some pretty large catfish. Occasionally it overflows it's banks and recks havoc on the roads running outside of the town. The town is rich in Texas history and is located in the thick pineywoods of southeast Texas. The musky smell of moss hanging from the trees combines with the sweet smell of sweet gum, magnolia and pine that line the river banks. This was the place Larson chose to build his Gazebo.



Caitlan Shank, a petite brunette with big blue eyes, worked as a secretary for the Liberty Herald from 1971 to 1975. A fresh air freak through and through, and an avid photographer she loved to stroll through the local area, taking in the sunshine and the lovely sites when time permitted. Among them was the town Gazebo. The structure was nothing more spectacular than a wooden gazebo that provided a picturesque asylum for Caitlan when she needed it. Word was it, that someone had been murdered there in the summer of 1965. People of the town talked of the murder and some said it was haunted with the ghost of Miss Reba Davis. Reba had been engaged to a local boy named Tom, and was supposed to meet him at the Gazebo. She was three months pregnant and they were to be married soon. He had found her body at the Gazebo on a dark October night, She had been stabbed 25 times with a hunting knife and was floating knee deep in the Trinity River. Tom later left Liberty for college upstate and never returned. It is said that visitors unknown to the area, who happen on the Gazebo on dark cool nights speak of hearing unexplainable moaning, crying and eeiry sights of a woman, matching Reba's description, wearing a long white dress. The town people know better than dare venture near the Gazebo on a cool foggy night.

So long as she kept her eyes opened, Caitlan thought the Gazebo was safe enough during the day. At night, though, it was an different place entirely. There was something sinister about the place on a cold dark night. There was a cold chill on warm nights, cries forlornly heard. An eeiry fog seemed to hover over the Gazebo and shroud over the entire landscape sculpting the trees into weird shapes.

It was on an October night near the 15th that Caitlan had stopped by the Gazebo around 6pm. She wanted the setting sun background for some pictures of a story about the Gazebo she was doing for the Liberty Herald. Having trouble with her camera, she had lost track of the time. She had also been daydreaming of her upcoming wedding to Steve Harrington a prominent elected official of Liberty. His wife had died in 1968 and he like her was lonely. It was around 8pm she suddenly realized how alone she was. It was getting dark fast and a chilling fog had begun to creep onto land. An icy hand gripped her stomach as she stared into the sinister shadows. The moss hanging from the trees moved with the wind and gave an eeiry movement to the scene. Maybe stopping by here so close to dark wasn't such a good idea after all! She quickly started packing it in.




For reasons Caitlan couldn't fathom, Reba Davis intruded into her mind, and she shuddered with dread. To her left she heard what she thought to be a small muffled cry and thought it might have been an injured animal. Morbid thoughts of death teased her mind. She felt crippled with fear and oblivious to everything around her. She could hear soft foot steps approaching the Gazebo. Her heart was racing and she had suddenly become drenched in cold sweat. Caitlan turned seeing a shadow near the river bed beckoning her to come closer. She felt compelled to move in the direction of the wispy figure in the long flowing white dress. She had wandered why anyone would be wearing an evening gown here. "Hello, Cindy," it said from the darkness, its voice low and raspy like dry leaves skittering over pavement. "I've been waiting for you." It motioned for her with a long boney finger. A diamond ring glistened from the third finger of the left hand. "Hurry, before it's too late" "I need to tell you something important," the voice rasped. Blood trickled from the corner of the woman's mouth. Fear gripped Caitlan but her feet wouldn't move. An icy chill seemed to go through her. Suddenly a hand weilding a bloody knife appeared out of the shadows, Caitlan flinched. Caitlan didn't recognize the face holding the knife, but she recognized the voice. A voice familiar. An agonizing fear surrounded her heart. She heard the voice calling Reba's name. Reba was crying and backing away, pleading! Caitlan heard the male voice calmly say to Reba, "You're not going to ruin me,"" I can't let you, you little slut," "I love my wife and my son." "Tom must never know the truth." "Why did you have to get pregnant, you stupid bitch?" Caitlan started inching back away from the grisly scene but not before she heard the whacking of that knife. Whack! Whack! Whack!








Fright swept through her like an evil wind as visions of murder ran riot in her brain. For a terrible moment, she froze to ice. The ghostly hand hovered in the moonlight. Scared out of her head, Caitlan gulped spastically and stared saucer-eyed at the shadow. Abruptly, the phantom lurched forward, revealing its, contorted, bloodless face. "Die, bitch!" it screamed in a shrill voice. Suddenly, two hands lunged out for her. She broke free, stumbling back on the soft grass. As she lay there she saw the evil face of the phantom disappear in the fog of the Trinity River.



No one ever knew of Caitlan's harrowing ordeal at the Gazebo. For you see, Caitlan became Mrs. Steven Harrington one month later. Caitlan had grown up in a poverty stricken home on the outskirts of Houston and Steven gave her that big house upon the hill she had dreamed of owning.



Caitlan awoke from her nightmare drenched in sweat. She was still hearing that voice in her dream, screaming, loudly "Die,bitch!" She had this nightmare about once a week since the incident. The voice in the dream that terrified Reba so long ago. The voice she now realizes belonging to Steven Harrington, Tom's father. The voice she recogizes now as the voice of the man sleeping at her side now.

by ambien

(all names are strictly ficticious)

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