The Double Wide on the Lake
I may be the writing nurse but I am also a psychic, palm reader and medium. The following story is true. It is a rewrite with even more details. Hold on to your skin..
I was called once again by the City Paranormal Society to consult on a case they were asked to investigate. A Mrs. Cooper who lived on a nearby lake had been having many disturbances in and around her double wide trailer home. My friend, Cindy, from the society, explained that Mrs. Cooper was not able to sleep at night from the noise coming from the master bedroom. Her back door would slam and lock itself. Her favorite clear tumbler would be placed in the hallway at night. Her daughter’s framed picture was shattered.
“Is two o’clock good?”
“Yes, Cindy, you know where I live, come pick me up?”
“OK, Bye.”
To make things move along quicker, I began my calm sitting. My eyes were closed. I reached out and there she was. The pretty little girl Hanna, sat enjoying her tree swing. Mrs. Cooper is her grandmother.
At two o’clock I stood looking out the apartment window watching Cindy’s truck make its way over the slow bumps.
“Hey girl. Good to see you again!”
Cindy was very obese. She always wore an odd application of eyeliner and dark red lipstick. Her long stringy black hair was parted in the middle and it swayed wildly because of her compensating gait.
“Hey.” Cindy didn’t bring her recording devices or energy detectors. We wouldn’t need them on an initial visit.
I locked up and bounced down the stairs in my jeans and solid blue tee shirt. Cindy didn’t mind me drinking a beer or having a smoke while riding shotgun in the truck. She never seemed to notice how different we appeared.
“I saw Hanna.” I paused. “She was on a tree swing.”
The truck swerved. “That is Mrs. Cooper’s granddaughter! Hanna!”
I said, “There is fear. There is rage. It’s not clear yet but I’m on this.”
It didn’t take long upon the narrow black top roads. We were surrounded by overhanging trees as we neared the double wide home set back off the road. The driveway was pale brown dirt. In the front yard the large oak tree branches swayed in the breeze.
Mrs. Cooper was standing in the yard. Cindy opened her door and went to greet her.
I smoked another cigarette feeling for the spirits. What did they want me to see? Who was doing the talking? I confidently sensed Marcos.
After introductions, Mrs. Cooper opened her front door atop the few cement block steps.
“Come in.” She was sixty-ish and stocky with short salty blonde hair. Dressed in leggings and flowery shirt, she motioned towards the curved couch. Her blue eyes and worn face seemed to say, “Don’t look at me and just listen.” She badly needed a dentist.
She repeated what we had heard about the noises, slamming door and tumbler in the hall.
She stood motioning for us to follow to the bar surrounding the kitchen. Mrs. Cooper opened her laptop.
She said, “I recorded all night to see what was making noise. Look! Did you see that?!”
On the screen a darkened, swirling, teardrop shaped shadow bounced off the room walls of the master bedroom. The room was dimly lit with a small table lamp on a night stand. The bed filled the room.
“Do you mind if we walk around?” I said. “Is this the room?” I knew where it was.
Mrs. Cooper had the look of shock when I told her of Hanna. The swing was old and unsafe and had recently been removed.
Cindy and I entered the master bedroom. I tuned in to Cindy’s open mind; I’m sure she was doing the same.
I was drawn to the windows; one facing the road, the other was at the far end of the trailer.
In some areas of both windows, bright calking slightly overlapped fresh paint.
“This is where de fight start!” Marcos said in a heavy Hispanic accent. “We tear this room apart! I ran outside. Denny, he follow me.”
“I’m going outside Mrs. Cooper,” I said. Cindy and Mrs. Cooper followed.
A canal of murky lake water made its way near to the trailer only on this side.
I saw once depressed tall muddy grass was springing back. It also appeared that time was removing the traces of truck tires leading into the water.
Again Marcos spoke. “He beat me. I fall on ground and hear the truck to come. He push my insides out my mouth. I in de back yard.”
Mrs. Cooper followed us to the side of the home but she would not go in to the back yard. She said nothing.
As we walked to the back yard I told Cindy about Marcos. She was silent. I wasn’t sure why but her face was in agreement. Just at the water’s edge a fire pit made of stone was raised above the ground a foot or so. It was full of black scorched tree limbs and unrecognizable debris.
Mrs. Cooper strained to hear our words. She cupped her face and rubbed her arms.
Cindy lowered her voice, turned away and said, “Her son is Denny. His wife claimed he was abusive and she left him. Hanna’s mother allowed visits here at grandmas.”
I continued, “Marcos was her new lover, an illegal Mexican man.”
“I was good to them!” Marcos interjected. “Denny was drunk. I come to pick up Hanna to her mother. He crazy! Son of bitch he kill me! I am here! He put me under fire pit. She will no say!”
Cindy and I could feel the anger from Marcos.
“I slam de door. I bang on walls! I no give them rest! She get drunk too with de tumbler full of devil’s blood.”
We walked back to the trailer.
Mrs. Cooper had gone inside. She prayed her murderous son would not be revealed. Secretly she thought if the psychics can’t figure it out, her boy would be safe.
“What do you think?” Mrs. Cooper said.
“Well,” Cindy said, “We’re really not sure.”
Mrs. Cooper said, “It really was my son’s idea, we heard about you guys. Thanks for coming.”
Riding home in Cindy’s truck felt strange. I said, “He was an illegal. No detective in this town is going to touch that.”
“You’re right. I heard Hanna’s mother took the child away and Denny has not been back as of yet.”
“Did you see her face? She’s so protecting Denny. She knows what he did. But she doesn’t know we know.”
Cindy and I decided to keep it at that. What else could we do? We didn’t want Denny to come looking for us.
Marcos can bug the shit out of them all he wants.