FanStory.com - Wendigo's Storyby jim vecchio
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Part 5
Stray Goat On A Risky Hill
: Wendigo's Story by jim vecchio
Book of the Month contest entry

Characters:
Oliver Wendigo, known as Cowboy, who is gifted with visions, not of his own control, It was revealed his visions are often mingled with one or more past and/or future visions in the background.
Police Detective, Art Geiger, who previously worked with Wendigo on a case.
Sergeant Edward Mars
Anna Karena, whose persona is Karenina, a news reporter venturing into news investigation; old friend of Wendigo.

LAST TIME: Karenina took Wendigo on a tour of the WNAB Radio Station. They met Matt And Maury, the “Sunshine Boys”, internists who have been dabbling into a bin of forgotten tapes.

As Wendigo walked out into the city, something tingled inside him, intrigued him about Matt and Maury…..

Geiger walked out into the gloaming and once more felt the need to return to that rickety old bridge where he had recently searched for clues with Geiger and Karenina.

He followed the same impulse that led him here often. He felt closer to her here.

Lord, forgive my tears. I miss her so much! Lord, you know how lonely I am without her.

Too many years had passed since he held that hand. The sign had long been torn down, but he could still see its message clearly:  Welcome To Pleasure Beach Amusement Park.

He could hardly view himself as the same individual who stood there, that day, amazed. Muscular, wavy light hair, topped by the ever-present cowboy hat, the lines had not yet appeared on his face.

You recall the rumor that the park would be closing soon, and you wanted to relive some memories of your boyhood.

Calliope music from the carousel bade you onward. As you neared it, you caught your first sight of her.

Petite, blonde flowing hair, glasses three sizes too big, and looking oh, so vulnerable in that instant.

You quickened your steps, but she had run off into the midway area.

She tried to hide to the rear of the shooting gallery, but found you were already there.

“Oliver,” she said.

“You, too? You…have a gift?”

“Please don’t read too much of my mind. I couldn’t stand it!”

“I don’t do minds,” said Oliver, “I get…impressions…and I know you need some comfort right now.”

This odd meeting of  you two was not as any other first encounter. Right away, you knew you could trust one another, so she offered you her hand.

"How about a cool drink?” asked Wendigo.

“Are you reading my mind again, Oliver?”

“I told you, I don’t do minds.”

Lord, I feel I could reach out, and her hand would come into mine, and the thrill of holding her close to me that first time. Please, Lord, it’s more than I can bear…I…”

You find yourself, saying out loud, “I love you…

You sat side by side on outdoor stools.

“You know, this isn’t fair. You know my name. What’s yours?”

“Jean.”

Please, Lord, let these visions disappear! I’m not strong enough!”

Then, Wendigo remembers there is nothing The Lord can throw in his life that He won’t strengthen him to overcome. He settles back into his memories.

They walk into the Dance Hall.

Oliver bows, touches her hand and asks, “Will you join me in a dance?”

“Yes,” she responds. “I…I know I’m…safe with you.”

That first dance. A fox trot…just like…

Suddenly she is aware of a pair of angry eyes from a corner of the hall. She shivers, bolts for the door.

Oliver ran after her, reaching and comforting her in a gentle embrace.

“I’m sorry, Oliver, I…”

No words need be said. You know, she has suffered at the hands of men.

“Jean, I ask nothing. I just feel alive…more alive than I’ve ever been…just being with you. I won’t pry. I…”

“Yes, I know,” she responds. “I know you’ll never hurt me.” Adding, “You’re not like the others.”

The calendar pages flip quickly through your mind. She now has come to your family homestead, a large farmhouse on 30 acres of land in rural Connecticut, bounded by picturesque, steep mountains.

As always, she rests in the room adjacent to you. You lie on your bed, hoping to control your thoughts. That your feelings won’t be known to her.

You fall asleep. Her face dances within your mind. The softness of her skin. Her scent, more fragrant than the meadow wildflowers, her lips, they promise a taste sweeter than honey…

You are awakened by her presence by your bedside.

“You…Your brain, and your heart, they called out to me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jean. I couldn’t help my thoughts. I would never…”

“I know,” she says quietly. “And I know you’re a good man. I just want you to know, I will freely give you…”

The pages turn once more. Jean has consented to be your wife. Those next three years are the happiest you’ve ever been.

You remember that winter, when you and Jean tore through the snow on those snowmobiles, joined by children from the area. It made you want…

“A child! We’re going to have a child!”

“I promise to love you and be a good father, but…”

“Oliver, I have something I have to say to you.”

“Yes, and I’ve got a confession, also. You go first, darling.”

“I was never completely honest with you. You were the first kind man I’ve ever known, and was afraid...”

“Jean, you know I love you with all my heart. Please never be afraid to speak freely to me.”

“It’s everything. Everything about me. You know why I’m called ‘Jean’? It’s a sick joke!”

“I feel it now, something, something from your past..”

“I told you, I had no real family. I lied about the foster homes. I lived most of my early life in a laboratory. The men, they, they experimented on me. On my genes. DNA information is within the human gene. Hence my name.”

“Is that how you gained your..”

“My power? Yes. They did things to my mind. That’s the result. When I ran off, they sent men to follow. They may do so again.”

“I will protect you, don’t worry, Jean.”

“But, what if my child…? Oh, let’s not waste time worrying and enjoy these moments while we have them.”

“Tell you what, love, let’s go conquer that old mountain up there!”

“Okay, Oliver,” she giggles, “Last one up is…well, try and read my mind!”

“I don’t do minds.”

As you run off towards the mountain, you slip and fall. Jean takes advantage of the situation to sprint up the jagged rock and hoist herself onto a ledge, peering down at you.

So much like a stray lamb on a risky hill, you think.

Your games over, you return to the kitchen, where Jean fixes some hot chocolate.

“Say, Oliver, didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?”

“I suppose this should wait, but honey, I’m feeling rather guilty right now.”

“Why, my sweet? You’ve done everything a good husband should do!”

“I haven’t, Jean, I haven’t.”

“What else is there? You’re a good man, a faithful, loving husband, now you’ve given me a child to bear, what else could a woman want?”

“A provider!”

“Oliver!!! How can you say that? You’ve provided me with a good home, with everything I could have wanted in life!”

“Sure, and all out of my inheritance. What kind of an example would that be to our child? A man needs to work..”

“Oliver, I can see now inside you, what you’ve been trying to say. You have a gift, and are neglecting it. If you don’t need money, at least you want to use that gift for good.”

“Thank you for saying it for me, Jean. I promise I’ll always take good care of you and the child no matter what.”

“Have you decided how you will use that power? Or shall I read it from your brain?”

“Hon, I’ll tell you. I’ve been reading in the papers about that Callaghan case. I think the police could use my services on that case.”

“If that’s what you feel you need to do, Oliver, do it with my blessing!”

You go to the Police Station. You meet Geiger. The two of you strike up an unorthodox investigation.

As you are gone, they storm your home. The labmen.

Jean grabs a kitchen knife and there is a struggle. They attempt to restrain her. She plunges it through the hand of one. The other pulls the knife from his hand and maintains a hard grip as she attempts to force her way from him and stumbles into the blade.

“The boss ain’t gonna like this,” says the one with the wound.

“Scram!” says the other, “Before her man gets back.”

You’re back at the bridge. Trying to use the present to conceal the horror of the past. You cannot bring yourself to set eyes on that blood-soaked corpse once more.

You bow to the ground, crying.


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