(The true stories about Bump City, Oregon,
as compiled in the Bump City daily newspaper,
Bump In The Night (BIT'N)
Included in this edition: · Die Laughing

Die Laughing
(The truth be told about the death of Lydia Wolfe!)
The 1st BIT'N File - - issue 2

Chapter Seven

     Cindy didn't want to believe that Lydia was in danger. The only thing she wanted to believe was that her feet were moving her out of the mansion.
But, thirteen-years-old or no thirteen-years-old, Lydia Wolfe was in trouble. Cindy had to do something. Taking a deep breath she cautiously moved into the darkened hall. The screaming had stopped, but the memory of its gargled echo drew Cindy back to the grand entry and up the broad, carpeted staircase.
     "Man oh, man, oh man! I hope I'm doing the right thing," she whispered wiping the sweat of her palm on her pant leg. Anxiously she continued up.
     At the top of the stairs Cindy stopped to get her bearings. She flashed the light around. On one side of the landing was an ornate oak railing that ran the full length of the open balcony on either side of the stairway. There were velvet-cushioned window seats built into the two windows on the outside wall. This is where she had seen Lydia and the ghost when she was hiding in the hedge.
     On the facing paneled wall of the balcony was a series of intricately carved doors, each with a polished brass doorknob.
     One-by-one, she opened each of the doors, and found that behind each was a large bedroom, furnished the same: a high-poster bed and a chest of drawers, and painted pictures on the walls.

     Oddly, the last bedroom she opened was different from the others. The canopy bed was replaced by bunk beds. Action figures were scattered about a child's desk. There were movie posters on the wall -- Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark. The room looked like any other boy's room from fifteen years ago.
     She closed the last door and stood there, not knowing what to do next. Where were Lydia and the ghost?
     Deep in thought, she was shocked when something big and furry rubbed against her leg! Cindy screamed and the flashlight fell from her hand, bounced across the carpet and finally rolled to a stop, the beam shining back at the paneled wall.
Spotlighted in the beam of light was a large white cat; bigger than any cat she had ever seen; it must have weighed twenty pounds or more. Its eyes glowed golden in the bright light, and its hair stood straight up on its arched back as it stared coldly at Cindy. Then its sharp, white claws gripped the carpet, as it began to move sideways towards her. The cat was stalking her, preparing to attack.
     "It's okay, big kitty, nice kitty," she whispered nervously. "Want some milk, a mouse, a side of beef?"
     But the big cat continued to mince forward, its eyes focused on Cindy, who was slowly backing up until she bumped into the paneled wall.
She was trapped!
     The cat inched closer and closer as a deep rumbling growl poured from its throat. Cindy, keeping her back to the wall and stretching out her arms for balance, inched her way along the wall at an angle she hoped was away from the stalking cat.
     Like steam escaping from a ruptured pipe, the cat hissed and crouched down, ready to pounce.
     Cindy slipped her backpack off her shoulders and swung it in front of her to act as a shield. As she reached her other arm out to steady herself, her hand pushed against the smooth wooden panel and she heard, a distinct click.
     The wall moved, and with a soft whoosh, it turned in and Cindy fell backwards into a darkened vault behind the panels.

     The wall snapped shut and she was wrapped in total darkness!

Chapter Eight

     Trapped in the hidden room Cindy could see nothing at all. She scrambled to her feet on the hardwood floor. Her flashlight was on the other side of the revolving wall, but fortunately so was the killer-cat! She was so scared she was barely breathing, and her heart was pounding like a bass drum.
     Slowly her eyes became accustomed to the dark and she noticed a light coming from somewhere behind her. She turned and squinted into the darkness. Above her head she could see the faint glow of a small, flickering light. It took her a moment to get her bearings and then as her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she realized that she was standing in a small room in front of a narrow flight of stairs that went up to the flickering light.
     She took a deep breath and then step-by-step began moving up the wooden stairs.
    Echoing from above she heard a whispery voice, "I've got you now, Lydia Wolfe!"
Tentatively, Cindy peeked over the top of the stairs. There, sitting on the floor in the middle of a long low-ceilinged room, was a candle in a shiny brass holder. Nearer to the stairs, with her back toward Cindy, her pearl-colored gown all aglow, stood Lydia.
     Beyond her, floating in the shadows just beyond the reach of light, a wispy shape hovered in the air like an animated feather. It turned, and then with arms outstretched it began moving forward.
     As it entered the glow of the candle's light Cindy could easily identify it. It was the ghost she had seen earlier in the window.

     "No, no!" Lydia screamed as the ghost moved slowly towards her.

     As it moved through the candle, the wick flared, and it took on the recognizable features of a young man, with long whitish-blonde hair that parted at the center. It wore a loose fitting shirt, tucked into a pair of old-fashioned three-quarter legged breeches.
     As it slowly moved toward the old woman, its bare feet never touched the floor.
Closer and closer it came, twisting its features into one horrible face after another.

     When the ghost reached her it laid its hands on her ribs, and Lydia began to shake. Trapped, the old woman began to giggle and then to laugh and then laugh louder still. Then, like a puppet whose strings had been snipped, Lydia then fell to the floor.....
     ...dead!
     
      The ghost hovered triumphantly over the old woman's body -- a satisfied grin spread across its face.
     Lydia Wolfe twitched once as a wisp of glowing, blue mist floated up and out of her now useless body. The ghostly blue shape hovered there for a moment and then slowly turned toward Cindy.
     Like a wind catching a balloon, the mist in a 'whooosh' passed right through her.
Cindy felt a spicy tingle all over her body but oddly, she wasn't frightened. If anything she had the overwhelming urge to laugh.

     Then, the ghost was gone!

Chapter Nine

     Cindy's joy at having been touched by Lydia's 'soul-mist' soon turned to fear.
The killing ghost, still hovering above Lydia's lifeless body, turned and looked straight into Cindy's eyes - piercing her very soul. There was no doubt in Cindy's mind that she was to be the next victim.
     She screamed, and shaking uncontrollably, stepped backward into...
     ... nothing but air.
     Like a rag doll, she bounced all the way down the stairs to the bottom. Bruised and aching, she looked back up the stairway. There, still glowing eerily blue, floated the ghost!
     Scrambling to her feet and facing the wall, Cindy frantically ran her hands up and down the smooth surface, desperately searching for a hidden lever that would open the wall and let her escape.
     As she searched, she looked over her shoulder.

     The ghost was gliding down the stairs!

     Thankfully her hands touched a smooth, cool metal rod. Unsure as to what it would do, Cindy pulled down hard on the lever. She was relieved as the wall slowly spun to the side and she fell forward onto the carpet of the second floor balcony.
She was so scared she didn't even take time to get to her feet. Dragging her backpack, she scuttled her way across the landing to the grand staircase. Grabbing the handrail, she pulled herself to her feet and then fairly flew down the stairs.
Hitting the ground floor at full speed, she tripped and sprawled facedown on the carpeted floor. Without missing a beat, she picked up her backpack and was up and out the door, across the front porch and into the damp juniper hedge in a flash.
     "Man, oh, man!" Cindy gasped between ragged breaths.
     Had Cindy not been pushing her way through the brambly hedge, she might have seen the front porch of the old mansion glow a misty blue, as the ghost glided across the porch and then floated eerily back into the house.

Chapter Ten

     Freaked, Cindy dragged herself and then her backpack through the wet scratchy branches of the hedge and back out on the sidewalk. She stood there bathed in the light of the street lamp, gasping for breath.
     Pulling her arms through the straps of the backpack, she was about to throw it over her shoulder, when something bumped into her legs. Thinking it was the ghost, she spun -- a scream caught in her throat.
     But it wasn't the ghost.
     It was the gigantic white cat, and the cat wasn't threatening to attack her. It just stood there, its fluffy white tail erect, big eyes blinking at her.
     And then the cat meowed, but not a 'typical' kitten kind of meow. It was a loud, deep-throated "Burrrnow!" Then it bumped its head against her legs, again.
     Sure she wasn't being followed by the ghost, she leaned down and patted the cat on its head. "You must be Lydia's cat," said Cindy, and then remembering that she had just seen Lydia killed, added, "or used to be."
     She put her hands around its massive chest and picked it up. The heavy body curled in her arms like a big fur coat. She stroked its white head, petting the fur along its back to the base of its tail. The huge cat stretched its body in her arms and loudly began to purr.
     "What'll become of you now that Lydia is dead?" she whispered to the cat. "And what am I gonna do?" But she already knew the answers: she had to call the police about what she saw in the mansion tonight, and she had to take the cat home.
     "Mom and Dad will understand," she said, looking down at the big furry body in her arms, and then quickly added, "I hope."
     At first the cat squirmed in protest, but as Cindy's arms held tight, it relaxed. Cindy hurried down the deserted Park Avenue, stepped off the curb, and crossed Main Street to the parking lot of Bump City's famous dyslexic restaurant, Salty's Chish and Fips, a small fish and chip café that had been open long before she was born.
     There in the flickering light, she stepped into the narrow, open phone booth. The phone book was shredded and was fanned out like it had grown too big for its cover.
     She set the cat on the little ledge below the phone and shoved her hand into her too-tight jean pockets looking for some change.
     Without finding any money, she propped the phone receiver between her ear and shoulder and dialed 9-1-1.
     It rang several times, and then a woman's voice answered professionally, "911, what is your emergency?"

     "Lydia Wolfe was just killed on the third floor of her mansion!" Cindy gushed and then hung up.

Chapter Eleven

     Hurriedly, she gathered the cat in her arms and quickly duck-walked down the sidewalk and started to cross Sutter Boulevard at six corners. She stopped as a car, tires noisily splattering water from the rain, drove by, the occupants anonymous to the night.
     With the cat gripped tightly in her arms she hurried across the wet glistening pavement to Myrtle Lane, trying to put some space between her and the estate. She was reassured when she heard the distant wail of a police siren.
     Nervously, she hurried up Thorton to Adams, then across her wet lawn, alongside the house, and into the backyard. She readied herself for a confrontation with her mother, when she would be forced into confessing that she had lied about going to the library.
     She opened the screen and slipped in through the backdoor, slowing the normally loud slam of the screen door with her foot, and moved into the kitchen.
She was surprised to find that no one was there. All the lights were off in the house and everything was dark, save for the light above the stove.
     "Where is everybody?" she muttered. Her dad was supposed to have come home earlier from a trip to Seattle and her mom was hopelessly addicted to late-night television.
     As she walked by the refrigerator, she saw a note held to the door with her mom's favorite magnetic mushroom:

     Cindy,
     I've gone to bed. Your father missed his flight and is spending the night in Portland.
     I'll talk to you in the morning before you go to school.
     Love,
     Mom

     Cindy gave the big cat a squeeze and sighed with relief. She wouldn't have to confront her mother about the cat.
At least, not yet!
     Her damp jeans 'whisking' loudly, she shuffled to her bedroom. No need to wake her mother now. Quietly opening her bedroom door, Cindy slipped inside and quickly closed the door with a soft click.
     She flipped on the light and put the cat on the floor.
     The cat meandered under Cindy's desk and, using its powerful big hind legs, leapt onto the dresser, and from there hopped onto the bed. It moved to the center of the bed and plopped down, curling into a big ball of white fur.
     "It seems you approve," Cindy whispered as the cat settled. "Now you stay there. I'll be right back."
     Closing the door so the cat would stay in the room, Cindy went back to the kitchen. She stared at the phone trying to decide if she should call the police back and give them all of the information. She stood there batting the thoughts back and forth in her mind. "Should I?" "Shouldn't I?"

     Taking a deep breath, Cindy dialed 911 again. She waited until the operator answered and then spoke in her deepest, most anonymous voice. "Uh, someone should go to the old Wolfe mansion. There has been uh, an emergency. I think she's dead. There's a secret door that opens when you press on the third panel on the landing wall. And, "she paused, "she was killed by a ghost!"
     Cindy quickly placed the receiver back in its cradle on the wall.
Satisfied she had done the right thing, Cindy opened the refrigerator door and removed a carton of milk. She rummaged through the cabinets for a bowl and filled it with milk for the cat.
     As she turned to put the carton back into the refrigerator, she stumbled over a large lump on the floor. The carton of milk nearly flew from her hands as she did a wobbly two-step.
     "Burrrnow!"
     "What?" Cindy laughed, looking down at the tile floor. It wasn't a lump, it was Lydia's cat. Somehow it had slipped out of her room, which Cindy thought odd. She could have sworn she had shut the door.
     "That's weird," she whispered opening the refrigerator and placing the milk carton on the top shelf. "How did you get out?"
Scooping the big cat up in her arm and grabbing the bowl of milk, she went back to her room.
     The door was still closed.
     "That is strange," Cindy said under her breath looking at the cat. "Oh, I know. You must've been right on my heels when I went out the door. Probably slipped out before I shut the door, huh?"
     Satisfied that is what happened, she juggled the cat and the milk and was able to open the door with only a few drips of milk on her jeans. She crossed the room and put the cat and the bowl of milk on the floor by the bed, and walked back to the door and closed it.
     The cat lifted its head, opened its mouth in a gigantic yawn, but didn't give the bowl of milk a second glance.
     "Not hungry, huh?" said Cindy as she knelt beside the bed next to the cat and scratched behind its ear. The cat purred, a deep rumbling in its throat.
     "I think you need a name, gentle giant." she said, chuckling at the cat's enormous size. "How about if I just call you that? Gentle... my Gentle Giant."
     Gentle seemed pleased with the name and swished its long white tail. It licked its paws and looked up at Cindy,

     "Burrrnow!"

Chapter Twelve

     The sun flooded through the window and Gentle swished its long white tail, as it batted at a loose curl hanging from Cindy's forehead. When she didn't respond, it stood up and nudged her with its big head.
     "Burrrnow!"
     "Huh?" Cindy muttered sleepily.
     "Burrrnow!"
     Cindy woke up with a start.
     "Wha..." she mumbled pushing her head back into the pillow as she looked into the cat's face. "Oh, I forgot. Gentle!"
     And then her eyes opened wide as she remembered all that had happened last night.
     "Man-oh-man! That means the rest of it wasn't a nightmare. It was all real. Lydia Wolfe is dead!" Cindy shuddered.
     Gentle gave her a look of indifference, and sat back on its haunches.
     "Burrrnow!"
     "And what am I gonna do with you?" Cindy sighed. "I've gotta go to school."
     She threw back the sheets and padded barefoot to the dresser, pulled out a T-shirt, and a clean pair of jeans and with them bundled in her arm, opened the door and went down the hall to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and then got dressed, all the while trying to figure out how she was going to tell her mother about the cat.
     It wasn't going to be easy. Not easy at all. She hated not telling the truth, but did stretching the truth constitute a lie?

     She knew the answer to that -- a lie is a lie.

     She went back to her room and opened the door a crack to check on the cat. It was still sitting in the middle of the bed. "You wait right here," she whispered as she carefully closed the door to her room.
     When she got to the kitchen Cindy realized, to her great fortune, that her mother wasn't awake yet. She grabbed the milk carton from the refrigerator but then remembered how Gentle had ignored the bowl of milk last night. She put the milk carton back, and instead ripped back the plastic wrap covering a plate full of her father's special I am the only one that can eat this smoked salmon and took a few chunks of his favorite treat. He wouldn't miss a thing -- he was in Portland.
     "Okay," she thought, "I've got food for the cat. What else? Oh, wow! Kitty litter! Even cats have to go to the bathroom. This could be a problem."
     Cindy was a great problem solver; and her mind raced toward a simple solution.
She opened the cereal cupboard beside the refrigerator, and pushed aside her favorite cereals until she had a clear shot at the big, unopened box near the back of the cupboard -- her dad's cereal -- BIG CRUNCHY BRAN BUDS. The cereal looked like kitty litter and the one time Cindy had eaten it, she thought it tasted like kitty litter. If Gentle had to do a bodily function, the cat would just have to use her dad's cereal.
     Leaving the box sealed, she laid it down on the counter, cut the front open and pulled back the flaps to expose the gritty cereal. It did look like kitty litter.
     "That should work just fine."
     She took the salmon and the box of 'litter' back to her room. The cat had breakfast, and a place to do its duty; everything was going to work out fine. She grabbed her backpack, filled it with her schoolbooks and again carefully closed the door to her room and was rewarded by a distinct 'click'. She only hoped that Gentle would be quiet enough so her mother wouldn't hear. She would explain everything to her later tonight.

     She got to school just as the last bell rang. As she slipped into her seat for her first period History class the Queen of Mean, Muffy Gilmore, who had slithered up to her desk like a snake, confronted her.
     "So," Muffy whispered sarcastically, "do you have the picture of our little ghost?"
     The teacher, Mrs. Kapovich, was passing out blue test workbooks and was eyeing the two of them suspiciously.
     Under her breath, so as not to be heard, Cindy muttered, "Look, Muffy, I saw a ghost... but I didn't get the picture."
     "What a bunch of Spam!" Muffy sassed back. "This is just another of your stupid ghost stories from third grade!"
     Mrs. Kapovich worked her way to the two girls and handed Cindy a workbook as Muffy went snickering back to her desk.

     The hour, as well as the test, dragged on and on. Cindy finished early, as she usually did. She sat there looking over at her rival, feeling as though she had to do something to convince Muffy that she had indeed seen the ghost last night. She resolved to tell her everything. After all they had been childhood friends and maybe Muffy would let bygones be bygones.
     As the bell rang at the end of class, Cindy moved over to Muffy and in a rush told her what had happened: the hedge, the old house, even her witnessing the murder of old Lydia by the ghost!

     Incredulous, Muffy stood there just staring at her and then like a cow she bellowed, "Yeah, right, Cindy. Sure you saw a ghost kill Lydia Wolfe! And I'm Barbie! Look at me, I'm a fake, plastic doll!"
     Embarrassed beyond words, Cindy thought to herself, "Partially right!"
     Billy-Buck Buckwalters, the son of Farragut County's sheriff was sitting on his desk as Cindy told her story. In support he butted in, "My dad told me this morning that Lydia Wolfe was found dead in her mansion late last night. He said there was something about a possible murder!"
     Muffy looked at Cindy, wondering if what she said was possibly true...
...and then laughed, "You are such a lying dweeb! You only heard about Lydia Wolfe dying on the radio or something. What a loser!" She loudly slammed her History book closed.
     Cindy's face was flushed and she muttered, "But, but, Muffy, it's true! I was there. I saw her die!"
     But the president of the Word Whackers wouldn't let it go. "Yeah, right!"
Frustrated, Cindy walked away.

     Like a pyromaniac with a book of matches in a field of dry weeds, Muffy fed the wildfire of rumors such as: Cindy was hallucinating on drugs and was seeing things.
Throughout the morning, everywhere Cindy turned she heard muffled snickers. By late in the afternoon, the ghost incident was all over the school.
     She had never felt so embarrassed in all of her life.
     By her fifth period Health class, Cindy had given up trying to defend herself, and was beginning to doubt the incident herself. As she sat in the back of the class, lazily pushing her pencil up and down the desktop, she tried to not think of her sixth period class -- Journalism. Not because she didn't like the course. She loved it. But Muffy Gilmore was in the class, and Cindy knew it was going to be an ugly hour.

     She was brought back to reality as something bumped against her leg...
...something soft... and furry.

     "Gentle!"

E-Mail Thadd Wolfe