BLACK MASS -- CHAPTER ONE
It is a funny story how I become what I did in life. I am the type of person that shoots straight per say. I have to see it to believe it type of person. I am the one that doesn't risk a loss. Would being like this cost me my life? You be the judge.
My story begins in the small town of Logan, West Virginia. It is a small town, possibly a few thousand people if that. I was excited to move there because I was looking for a change. My wife has just passed and I had to get out of our old house in Nashville. I had a brother that lived near by and I felt that his company would help me overcome my emotional behavior. I loved my wife. 32 years is a long time.
We first met when we were both ten years old. I remember she was a tom boy. She could play football better then anyone of us. She was an old tough girl. We were both originally from Pikeville in Kentucky. We both grew up on the farm and our families honored tradition. Sadly, two months ago she finally lost her battle with cancer. I miss her everyday. If you ever saw someone suffer from cancer, you know it's not a sight to see. She was gone long before she passed. She only lives in my heart.
Even though I wanted to move close to my brother, I couldn't pass up the deal I received on the house I bought. I learned that this small town already saw its best times. Logan boomed in the late 1930's to the 1990's. With the new mall up the road prospering, town is very quiet these days. The former owner of the house told me my house was built in 1867. I never lived in a house that old. He never spoke of the history of the house, but I really didn't give it second thought.
On my fourth day in the house, I finally finished unpacking. I hate moving. I told my brother I wouldn't do it again. If I had to, I would leave all my stuff behind. You don't realize how much you have until you move or pack it up. I am a pack rat. I can't help it. I love collecting coins, money, paintings, much less anything of value. I guess I act like I am going to take it to the grave with me. I still felt uncomfortable in a new place. You spend so many years sleeping next to someone, when they are gone, you really don't sleep much. Since she has passed, I might get four hours a night. It takes some getting use to for sure.
Like I said before, I am straight minded. I have a sense of humor, but I take things seriously. My house has an upstairs and a downstairs, a two story house. All my belongings fit downstairs. I had only been upstairs once. I am still trying to figure out this new stove at this point. I am still unfamiliar with the house. I have done watched my t.v. show for the night, so I decide to explore a little bit. Hey, I am 67 years old. This is exciting to me. I don't get out that much.
When I was on my self tour of the house, I found some old letters in the bottom of the living room closet. The papers were dated from 1872-1874. It was a great find. I love history. It was papers from a personal journal. The man's name was Jacob Wiley. There had to be a hundred of them. Some of the letters were written to a girl by the name of Estelle Maynard. Upon finding the basket of letters, I noticed a loose floor board. I pulled out my pocket knife and pried the wooden floor panel up. I saw a small velvet ruby box. My heart pounded as if I were running. I opened up and I couldn't believe what I has saw. It was a necklace. It wasn't just an ordinary necklace though. This necklace had all kinds of different colored jewels. It looked like something a queen would wear. "How lucky can I be," I thought.
The next morning I traveled to the local pawn shop but it was closed. My brother was out of town and I didn;t know anyone else. Curiosity was abroad. I couldn't figure out how it was never found. I figured that it may be worth nothing. It looked to elegant not to be worth something. The letters that I found and the necklace perhaps are related. Maybe it is a jewel from the 1800's or earlier. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep that night. But it soon became apparent that the necklace wasn't the only thing keeping me up.
I kept my bed downstairs so I didn't have to climb the stairs for anything. As I was laying there watching my favorite show in the world "House", I heard someone walking upstairs. I heard footsteps. "All my God, I'm getting robbed on my first week in town!" What our the chances?" I sit quiet as a knot on a log. As I paid close attention to every detail of the house, I heard nothing else. I didn't know what it was so I called 911. I ran outside, well I went outside as fast as I could to wait on the officer. A few minutes later, the police came over and searched the house. Two officers walked upstairs as I waited with another officer at the bottom of the stairs. "Are you ok sir," he firmly asked. "I believe so," I replied unknowingly. One of the men asked me to come up stairs to see if I noticed anything gone. I told him that I didn't have much of anything upstairs. As I looked around, I noticed everything was in place. "Did you know your windows are nailed shut Mr. Richardson?" the officer explained. "I did not sir," I answered surprised. Everything was in place. No windows busted, nothing missing, and no sign of forced entry. It didn't make me feel any better either. I know I heard someone up here. "It doesn't look like it," the officer said looking at me like I was crazy. "If you need us again, just let us know." "Don't hesitate." My stomach was turning as they pulled out of the driveway.
What was I to think? I know what I heard. I heard freekin footsteps walking across the upstairs bedroom. Now the cops believe their newest citizen is crazy. I guess I perfectly blend in with the rest of Logan now, or so I was told. I missed the last episode of House and now all the info commercials are on. It can't get much worse then this. Or perhaps, maybe it is just the beginning.