HAUNT DAWGZ STORIES

GOING HOME

Mark wiped the sweat from under his wide brimmed hat with the back of his hand. He was almost done mowing his lawn on what was rapidly becoming another typical, hot Southern California day. He replaced his hat, and right before he continued mowing, his body tensed as he was startled. Approaching his home on the sidewalk was a woman, one whom he didn't notice when she was down the street, and Mark sees everything that happens on Moonrock Drive. In seconds, the woman was in front of Mark's house, and stopped walking. She brushed her graying, long hair from her face, revealing she was crying.

Mark shut off his lawn mower as he turned towards the woman. "Excuse me, ma'am. Are you alright?" The woman appeared to be about fifty years old, and was wearing a long, ankle length, dark gray dress. She wiped a tear from her cheek and turned to look at Mark. Her gaze drifted to the house, both upstairs and down. "Ma'am! are you okay?" The woman stopped looking at the house and turned her head slowly towards Mark. "Every time my eyes look at this house, it brings me back to that night...and I cry. I cry, and my heart gets heavy with sadness. Mark scrunched his eyebrows, wondering what this woman who appeared out of nowhere was talking about. A woman who knows

things.

Mark walked away from his mower and met the woman face to face on the sidewalk. "Ma'am, when we bought this house twelve years ago, the realtor disclosed their was a tragedy here, so we got a good deal on the price. No one ever elaborated on just what happened. We have lived here happily these past dozen years, and actually forgot that something happened here. Do you know what happened? Did you live in the neighborhood?" The woman went into a trance, looking at the sidewalk for a few moments, then answered. "Oh yes. I lived in this neighborhood. I lived here for twenty-seven years. I know very well what happened here. What happened in your house!"

Mark's mouth hung open for a few seconds as anticipation caused his heart to beat rapidly. He thought to himself, "Do I really want to know?" He took his hat off as he looked at the woman. "Please, do tell me what happened." The woman walked on Mark's lawn, and sat on a two foot high rock wall that circled around the Sycamore tree in Mark's front yard. Mark wiped the sweat from his forehead again, and sat next to the woman. She had an expressionless face, and stared at the street.

After a deep sigh, the woman finally spoke. "It was exactly twenty years ago today. She was a good wife, who, after years of trying, gave him their only child, a beautiful daughter. Mark stared at the grass, then looked at the woman. "Katie?" The woman's head jerked rapidly towards Mark. "How did you know her name?" Mark pointed to the side of the house. "Well, where we keep the garbage cans on the side of the house, the name Katie, along with a child's hand print, is etched in the concrete." The woman smiled. "Ah yes. Katie was a good girl. A kind, polite, caring child, whom her mother loved very much. The woman's small, boney hand pointed up the street. "Katie used to set up a lemonade stand on the corner during summer. She only kept enough money to buy ice cream from the truck that came around every afternoon. The rest of the money she would donate to the local animal rescue so the stray dogs and cats would have food." Mark cocked his head as if confused. "Ma'am, you said her mother loved Katie very much. She doesn't anymore?" The woman's head slowly looked away from Mark. She once again brushed her hair from her face and began to cry again. She took both hands and wiped the tears from her eyes and looked back at Mark. "She will always love Katie! Always! It was an accident, a tragic accident! It devastated this whole neighborhood!" A very curious Mark put his hand on the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you. But please, if you can, tell me what happened."

The woman looked at Mark, the street, then slowly back at Mark. "Well, Katie's mother, Heather, had been away for the weekend, taking care of her elderly father at his house in Calabasas. Her father was doing better that weekend, so Heather decided to come home early to spend at least Sunday afternoon with her husband and Katie. Heather stopped at the grocery store and picked up some chicken to barbecue for dinner, then headed home with a warmth in her heart, anticipating some much needed family fun time. The past couple of days has been stressful, as it is very taxing being a caregiver, especially since Heather's father wasn't usually in a good mood. You see...I'm sorry. What was your name?"

"Mark. "I'm Mark Bryant."

"Well Mark, Heather arrived home from the grocery store, opened the door, and found them on the couch. Not her husband and Katie, but her husband and...that woman!

Heather suspected her husband of cheating on her, with his sudden business trips, and now her suspicions were confirmed. Heather dropped the groceries and felt nothing but bright red rage in her soul. She ran for the kitchen where she opened the upper cabinet, retrieving the gun that was there for protection. The woman jumped off the couch, put her hands up, and sprinted past Heather, running out of the open front door like a track star. Heather's gaze was not on the strange woman, but on her beloved husband. Neighbors say they heard Heather scream before they heard the first shot. Heather's hands were shaking with an unimaginable hatred inside her. It took two shots to strike her husband, as the first bullet missed, smashing through the sliding glass door to the backyard. Heather stared at her newly dead, cheating husband for a moment as she stood there shaking with her heightened emotion. After about ten seconds, she snapped out of it. Through her tears, she called out, 'Katie? Katie sweetie?'" She had no idea where her precious seven year old Katie could be."

Tears started to cascade from the woman's eyes. Mark put his hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to continue, ma'am if you don't want to."

"No, it feels better when I talk about it. It was such a traumatic thing for this neighborhood!"

"Alright, continue when you're ready."

The woman brushed her tears. "Heather sprinted up the stairs, however, did not find her daughter. Heather looked in the garage. Nothing. She opened the broken sliding glass door, and walked into the backyard. She found Katie laying on the lawn near the swing-set. She has found her on the grass before, as Katie had a habit of going too high on the swing-set, falling off. Katie was laying face down. Heather ran to her thinking, 'I hope she didn't break her leg again.' Heather grabbed Katie's arm and turned her over. 'Katie! No! No!' Heather began crying and shaking uncontrollably, as she found her Katie to be dead of the errant gunshot. After a minute, Heather picked up Katie, and laid her down in her bed and placed Katie's stuffed bear under her arm."

Mark took off his head and scratched his head. "Wow! I never knew!"

The woman nodded. "As Heather headed for the front door, she stopped for a moment in the kitchen and left a note for the police regarding what happened, including her rage that left her temporarily insane, and where Katie could be found. She ended the note by writing, 'A life without my cheating husband is one thing, but a life without my precious Katie would be unbearable.'"

The woman began crying again. Mark again placed his hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am, if the story is too much for you, you don't have to continue. I get what happened here." The woman looked at Mark, not showing emotion. "No, there's more. I must tell this story to anyone who will listen. The truth must be known!" She wiped her eyes once more and looked up to the Sycamore tree. "Heather ran to this very Sycamore tree, and stepped up on top of this rock wall we're sitting on. She disconnected the extension cord at the base of the tree that lit up the tree at night. Heather placed the extension cord around that branch, and the other end around her neck, and stepped off this wall, hanging herself for all the neighbors to see how tormented she was."

Mark stared at the woman, speechless for a few seconds as his stomach began to hurt, then he shook his head. "Wow! The realtor certainly didn't tell us any of those details. Not that it would have necessarily kept us from buying here...we did get a fantastic deal. But...wow! Thanks for sharing the story with me. Now I finally know the history of this place. You know, my youngest daughter has told us she plays sometimes in her room with a friend that we know is not actually real. The woman's face lit up smiling. "Katie!" Mark replied, "Well, who knows, it could be my daughter's imagination that tends to run wild when she gets bored. After all, I don't believe in ghosts or anything like that. The woman smiled. Thanks for sharing the story," said Mark. The woman looked at the grass. "Your lawn looks great!" Mark smiled. "Thank you, it's a lot of work." The woman continued her walk down the sidewalk, and Mark re-started his lawn mower.

He looked at the sidewalk and didn't see the woman. "Man, she must have walked away quickly." Mark pushed the mower for three steps, then shut off his mower and stared down the street. He thought, "There is no way that lady could have walked out of sight yet." His body felt a wave of chills as he had a sudden realization. He whispered to himself, "Thanks again for stopping by...Heather. We'll make sure Katie enjoys her time at our house, and we'll let her know her mother loves her very much!"