Remington Witch: A Teen Horror StoryHC Hammond / Horror
Copyright 2004 by HC Hammond All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
Third Printing, 2014
“I know why you are the way you are,” a male voice murmured into Page's ear.
It was Jackson. A strange guy, pale and malnourished looking, he had transferred to her high school at the beginning of junior year. He was a little funny in the head.
Until the summer just before senior year, she'd never really talked to him. Now it seemed like he was in all of her classes. Not that she minded, despite his weirdness, Page thought he was somewhat attractive. She closed her locker door and looked at him.
"Oh and why is that?" She asked, with mock ignorance.
Jackson straightened to his full height and smiled at her. At six feet, six inches, he towered over her petite frame.
"You know why."
When Page started walking to the cafeteria Jackson followed her down the hall like a lost puppy.
"Do I really?" She asked.
"I'm afraid I don't remember, could you explain the reason for me again?" Jackson stepped in front of Page, halting her progress.
“Because we're the same."
“Ooh," she said, "and what makes you so sure we're the same?"
“I just do," He responded.
Page contemplated him for a second, then stepped around him and kept walking. Jackson fell into step next to her and they continued on to the cafeteria together. It was a little game they played. Jackson would try to convince her of who she was and Page would pretend not to believe him. Of course, she would never admit to Jackson that she already knew. He didn’t have to convince her.
Jackson himself thought that he was the incarnate of some ghoulish creature or something. Basically harmless though, she didn’t have to worry about anyone believing his stories.
It all started last spring. Jackson had moved into her neighborhood last year, into the house right across from her. At the time, he was perfectly normal; he hadn‘t gone completely loopy, yet.
Page didn't like Jackson at the start. Sure, he dressed and acted like other guys at school, but there was something about him that crept her out. Page had a feeling at the time that it was some sort of act. Not only that, but Page got weird vibes whenever she happened to make eye contact with him. As a result, she studiously avoided him at school and tried not to go outside at the same time as him.
Page only saw Jackson outside of school occasionally and the glimpses she caught of him at his house gave her nightmares. Bad dreams about dead animals and night terrors really got to her. By the end of junior year, Page was barely sleeping and a touch neurotic.
"Hey, Jackson," A fellow student said walking up to them. "There's a guy at our table who wants to hear your story about the witch. Come on."
Page sighed. Mike and the other guys on the basketball team often made fun of Jackson these days. No doubt, that's what they were up to now.
"Okay. Can Page come too?" Jackson asked innocently.
"The lead creature herself, sure," Mike said overenthusiastically. Not wanting to cause trouble, Page went with Jackson and Mike to his table.
"Will, this is the guy I was telling you about, Jackson. Here sit down and tell us all about the creatures," Mike said. A few guys at the table snickered. Jackson sat down without seeming to notice.
He thought for a moment and then turned to Page. "Where did it all start at?" He asked. Page smiled at Jackson.
"The library, remember."
"Yeah, the library. One day last spring I went to the library to do some research..."
Jackson flipped through the card catalog quickly in search of the title of an ancient and dusty book. He was in a rarely visited back room of the library searching for information on the town's genealogy. The library's staff hadn’t transferred the information on the town's genealogy books when they started using computers.
The room was musty and the only light came in through several windows lined up in a row on the far wall. Jackson coughed when dust flew up from the card rack.
Where ... where could you be? He thought to himself. Jackson reached the end of the card drawer. He pushed it back in and pulled out the next drawer down.
Ah ha! There you are. Jackson tugged a card out of place. He scanned the card and put it back, closing the drawer.
His footsteps echoed in the tiny room as Jackson walked to a shelf against the far wall. He spent several minutes perusing it. The shelf contained books on the town's topography, minor history and ancestry. There were also a few large notebooks with random old pictures and political pamphlets distributed by mayoral candidates over the years.
Jackson grabbed the town genealogy and decided to pick up one or two of the notebooks as an afterthought.
This is good enough. Jackson sat down at a small table in the room. He flipped open a notebook, looking through it. Jackson was researching a local legend for a school project.
The legend stated that a long time ago, about the same time as the civil war. There was a woman accused of being in league with the Devil. The entire town formed a mob and had her burned at the stake without trial. It was said that as she was burning on the stake, she cursed the seventh generation descendants of the families who killed her. It was also said her eyes turned red and her spirit could fly out of her mouth and into another host, which was how she would do the Devil's bidding through another person.
Jackson was trying to find out what parts of the legend were true and what were not. He was also tracking down the families that were supposed to be at the stake burning and see who still lived in town.
So far, Jackson had been able to find out the details of the legend. The seventh generation of descendants, on the night of the spring equinox, would become wolves and be forced to do the bidding of the witch when she came back to seek her revenge. He also found that the supposed witch had a child and husband, whose descendants still lived in town, right across the street from his house.
Jackson glanced up from the book as the door to the room creaked open.
"Young man, the library is closing soon. I have to ask you to finish up." It was the librarian. Jackson nodded to her and packed up his things, slinging his backpack over his left shoulder. He picked up the Remington genealogy book and carried it with him. Jackson left the back room and walked to the checkout desk.
"Would it be possible for me to check this out?" He asked the librarian.
The woman glanced at him with an offended look on her face. She slowly put down a book she'd been reading in-between people.
"That is a reference book,” She shrilled, “I'm sorry, but you cannot leave the library with it."
"Oh. I'll just put it back, the-"
"The library is closing now. Give me the book and I'll take care of it," She said, holding out her hand.
"Okay." Jackson slowly handed her the book. Jeez. Act like I'm going to steal the book.
He turned to leave and jumped when he almost ran into Page, the girl who lived across the street from him. She looked just as surprised as he felt.
"Um, Excuse me," She barely whispered. Page handed a book she was holding to the librarian at the checkout. The woman took it and began to type something into her computer. Page glanced at Jackson nervously, furrowing her brows. "You still researching that legend for school?"
Jackson took a step away from her and nodded. "Yeah."
"I suppose you’re trying to find out if my ancestor will possess me and seek her revenge on the town this year at the Festival of the Spring Equinox?" She asked quietly.
Page furrowed her brow, chewing on her lower lip. She took her book from the librarian and walked off in a hurry. Jackson stared after her.
"Is there something else I can help you with young man?" The librarian asked him.
Jackson turned to the librarian. He shook his head and left.
"Dad, he really creeps me out." Page said, as she turned away from the television.
Maxwell Remington grumbled at his daughter. He speared some chicken on his fork and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly. He usually ate dinner late, because he didn't get home from work until nightfall.
"Don't worry about him, honey. It's just a book report. Everybody knows that the curse of the Remington Witch is just superstition," Page's mother said.
"I guess, but he's still creepy."
"If I were you, I'd be spending some time on my own report. If your grades don’t improve your going to be grounded during the festival" Maxwell muttered in between gulps of chicken. Page didn’t respond to him. Her father had been, to put it mildly, grumpy lately.
"All right," Page got up from the couch. “I’m getting ready for bed. Goodnight," She said and started upstairs to her room. Behind her Page heard a muffled goodnight from her mother.
In her room, Page pulled some nightclothes out of her dresser and went to the bathroom down the hall. She changed clothes, brushed her teeth and