Damsels In Distress by Melissa Willingham (whitelam books .TXT) 📕

to me were to be seen and not heard. So, I existed without a voice of my own, at the mercy of my tormenters.

From the time I was first brought to the house, I sensed an ominous atmosphere within its domain. At night, I swore I could hear children crying. There was also a woman weeping and an angry man shouting.

But I never made out exactly what he said. Moans would filter throughout the gloomy rooms. I lay awake in terror some nights, praying for God's protection from harm.

If only my father had been the kind of man who could love his family. He worked from dusk until dawn and came home exhausted. He used to yell at my mother and slap her around. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He just wouldn't be satisfied.

If only my mother had been the kind of woman who could be brave enough to run away. She could have taken me far from this place. Then my father would have found something else to do at midnight, when his lust burned a fire in his pants.

Once he finished with her, his footsteps used to sound in the hallway, coming towards my bedroom. I always hid underneath my covers, so frightened of what he would do to me next.

They say there are ghosts lurking inside this massive manor and I believe it. I saw and heard them when I lived here. One of them, Penelope, a little girl my own age, spoke to me regularly. She told me that her father hurt her and her mother, too. They used to live in the house decades before we moved here.

She said late one night her father murdered her mother, in a blind rage. Then he ravaged Penelope's young body one last time and put her into an eternal sleep. After that, he turned his own gun on himself.

I am returning to Casa Del Mal, the House of Evil. The truth is hidden amongst the debris and crumbling fortress walls. Somewhere within the ancient dwelling I will find myself. For there is a part of me which was lost long ago and I must locate it.

Lurking amidst the murky, dank mildew of despair is an innocent child. Trembling and terrified of the man whose boots stomp in anger; whose fists pound in fury; the monster whose male appendage doomed the once fruitful womb of his daughter.

Suddenly, I open my eyes and I am in my old home. I'm not sure how I arrived here so quickly. I didn't even travel by automobile. It is almost like I floated in a disembodied manner to my destination.

To my surprise, I encounter a new family, who is moving into this foreboding mansion. Why would anyone want to live here? There is so much grief and pain, so much misery. God, please save the souls here.

Whenever I attempt to warn the family, they ignore me, like I'm not even present. All at once, it dawns on me that they cannot see or hear me.

Realization seeps in slowly like the fog lifting from the sea. I am a ghost, one of many who haunt this creepy place. Penelope is with me. Her same tragic circumstances became my own. Instead of good, evil beget evil. I haven't been dreaming of my return. In fact, I never left this house at all.

Thirty years ago, my world ended when my family and I died here. I must warn this family or they will fall prey to a similar fate, beyond the white, picket fence.

***

"Romance On The High Seas (The Captain's Prize)"

It was in the 17th century, somewhere off the European coastline. I paced the deck restlessly as I waited for the Captain to make his appearance above deck. I was kidnapped by a band of pirates, along with a dozen other wenches. We were hauled aboard a huge Spanish-designed galleon.

The swashbucklers each selected a mate from amongst us. They carried the lovely lasses below deck, to their private cabins. From where I stood, I was able to hear the sounds of those lost in intimate adventures.

I felt very uneasy, for I had been selected to be the Captain’s own prize booty. I was considered the prime choice and as such, must be especially reserved for the man in charge of the ship.

Though I knew there was little I could do to escape, I considered the possibility. I could try to row away, but they’d catch up to me. If I jumped into the blue surf below, I might become the next meal of the sea creatures that swam about hungrily.

As I pictured in my mind’s eye what the captain might look like, the picture I painted wasn’t pretty. He was probably mean as a rattlesnake and ugly as a freak of nature.

Undoubtedly, he must have a hook for an arm and a stump for a leg, like many captains usually did. If his crew bore any indication, he couldn’t be too easy on the eyes. The other ship mates were hideous.

I didn’t know how my friends were able to stand the sight of them, much less be handled by them. But, I guess the other wenches had little choice except to comply with their wishes. Just like me, unfortunately.

A sense of dread filled me, for I knew soon my mate would be coming for me, too. He’d take me to places I didn’t want to go. He’d do things to me I didn’t want him to do. Why me, dear Lord? How could I avoid such a cruel fate?

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching me. I held my breath in anticipation and fear. As soon as I saw the pirate captain who came to stand before me, I relaxed considerably.

He was actually very handsome and all of his limbs were fully intact. What a pleasant surprise!

“Ahoy there, young lassie! I be Captain Barrett Jenkins. Here, lemme have a look at ya,” he requested.

The long-haired captain with dark-brown curls slowly circled me, carefully appraising. A smile of acceptance and admiration spread across his face as he studied me.

I swallowed anxiously and waited for him to invite me to speak. I knew this was a sign of respect.

“Ye be a mite pretty, me curvy wench. What name be ye called by?” he asked me.

“I answer to Millie Patton, Captain,” I responded.

“Millie, the wee filly,” he pronounced with a hearty chuckle. “Ye’ll do rather nicely. Come with me.”

He took my hand and led me along the deck, to a small set of stairs. We descended below deck, arriving at a narrow corridor. He opened one of the doors and ushered me inside. “This be Captain’s quarters. Ye’ll reside here with meself.”

I peered around, taking in the comfortable atmosphere. The lush furniture, sparkling jewels and a large table spread with a sumptuous feast. “Lovely room, sir. It suits my fancy greatly.”

He nodded, pleased with my approval. He pointed over to a treasure chest brimming with fine gems. Picking up a bunch of flowers, he handed them to me. “Me gift to ye, luv.”

His romantic nature appealed to me. I accepted them gratefully. I curtsied and replied, “Much obliged to ya. Mighty fine presents, indeed.”

All at once, the sounds of moaning could be heard. When the captain caught sight of my fearful expression, he smiled at me understandingly. “Not to worry, lassie. There be plenty o’ time for samplin’ each other’s wares. Me wanna get to know ye first.”

I relaxed visibly. “Right, sir. I thank thee kindly.”

 With that assurance, I returned his grin. I realized with the utmost delight I was going to like this unexpected romance on the high seas, after all.

***

"Walking Me Home (The Ghost Light)"
 

My name is Lorelei Jones. I have an incident I'd like to share with you. This is a frightening occurrence that happened to me when I was a girl of sixteen. The year was 1925. We had to walk to and from school in my community. There were no buses in my area to fetch kids and return them safely home.

Being an only child, I made the two-mile journey to and from the old schoolhouse by myself. Mainly because Papa left before dawn and didn't return until nightfall. He pulled long hours at the saw mill to support his family of three and one on the way.

Occasionally, Mama asked me to run an errand after class. When this happened, I was late getting home. The sun would be setting, as dusk crept in. I wasn't afraid because I felt comforted by the ghost light that appeared near the railroad tracks. It followed me from school, until I safely reached home, and then it disappeared.

Some said the unexplained light belonged to a young railroad worker named Timmy Taylor. He was murdered while working alone one night. He died five years before I was born. But, it seemed he watched over me every evening. It was as if, in a sense, he was walking me home.

I spoke to him and prayed to God out loud, as I made my journey homeward each day. There was a feeling of oneness between me, my ghostly protector and my Creator. Some people doubted Timmy's existence. They laughed and said there was no such thing as ghosts. Yet, I believed in him and I knew in my heart he walked with me.

Early one morning when I headed out for school, Mama handed me my paper sack lunch. She placed some money into the handmade satchel she'd sewn together for me.

"Honey, please be careful out there. That evil convict, Brutus Smith, escaped from prison last night. He might head for these parts. I couldn't bear for anything to happen to you," she cautioned me.

Nodding my head, I replied, "I'll be fine, Mama. Please, don't worry about me."

 Later that afternoon, when school dismissed, I made the trek over to Baker's general store for some grocery items. Mama wanted me to carry them over to her sister Ethel's house. My aunt was sick and couldn't go to the store. While there, I overheard people chatting about the escaped prisoner.

"Yeah, I hear Smith killed five men and two women," Harvey Dobson said to his buddies. "He's mean as a dang rattlesnake."

Leonard Vestus chimed in. "Why, he ain't nothing but a murderous thief. He'd just as soon kill you as look at you."

I shivered at those remarks, despite the fact that it was reasonably warm, fall weather. The line was particularly long, so I ended up having to wait a while. After gathering up my groceries, I ventured into the fresh, early evening air. It was just starting to grow dim.   

I stayed with my aunt Ethel for nearly an hour, listening to her complaints about not feeling well. She warned me, "You watch out for that convict on your way home."

"I will keep a look out, Auntie. Now, let me fix you something to eat," I suggested.

 I put her food up, and then prepared hot soup for her. She only ate a few bites before pushing it away. Once she fell soundly asleep, I left for home.   

I glanced around noticing how dark it had grown. I'd never been detained this late and felt anxious to get to the house. The talk of the prisoner made me a bit edgy. I kept peering from one side of the road to the other, to make sure no one lurked along the roadway.

I relaxed a little bit whenever I caught sight of the ghost light by the railroad tracks. It followed me while I walked, lugging my satchel on my shoulders.

For the first mile, things were relatively uneventful. The occasional car drove by or an animal, such as a rabbit or cat, shot across the road. During the second and final mile of my trip, I began to feel uneasy. I had the distinct sensation of being watched.

Thoughts of the bad man who broke out of prison came to my mind again. I hastened my steps a bit more. I tried to shake off my nervousness. But