Mark Richard Luther - The Indian Ridge Stories

The Indian RidgeStories

By

Mark RichardLuther

Copyright 2014 byMark Richard Luther

RichardTarbox

NO Said RichardTarbox awakening from a deep soundless sleep, he threw the sheetsoff the bed. He laid there in a tight fisted fetal position on thememory foam mattress. His hazel eyes filmed over with panic. Hisface pale white as if leeches had fed on his blood. The rhythm ofhis heart is controlled by quick short breaths. Richardssemi-muscular body is bathed in sweat. A gray ghostlike full moonwith its firefly glow piercing through the mini blinds of thebedroom window. Shapeless lights dancing with the floating dustthat settles on the bare hardwood floor. Richard sat up crossinghis legs in a yoga position on the queen size bed. His shaken handssearching blind for a dry side of the bed sheet, wiping the sweatfrom his forehead, he squints, blinks and finds it difficult tosee.

Richard Tarbox hasbeen haunted by these cold frightening nightmares since childhood.The night terror begins with a funeral in progress. Family andclose friends arrive to pay their last respects; each mourner isclothed in black hooded cloaks. Their faces overshadowed bydarkness, standing in a u-shape line around the coffin. Thestreaming misty rain splashing water droplets on top of the coffin,a dark shadow man holding a bible, opened in the middle. His lipsare moving, his vocal cords produce no sound. Darken silhouettesmoving in quick flashes. The coffin descends into a six foot hole.Each mourner approaches the grave, throwing a single black roseinto the dark hole and ghost walks into the colddarkness.

The caretakergrips the handle of the shovel with his left hand, placing hisright hand on the neck of the shovel. He bends his body, thrustinghis arms forward, throwing the muddy dirt into the grave. THUMP!Rocks and sand are caked together, sticking like mud pies on top ofthe coffin. He throws another shovel full of the muddy dirt intothe grave. Richard Tarbox feels the coldness as he stares into thelifeless darkness in front of him. His eyes adjusting to thebleakness of the dark inside the coffin, Richard hears loud noisescoming from above, the sounds of rocks and sand hitting the topsurface of the coffin. Richard Tarboxs fear of being buried alivehas surface to become reality. He panics, punching, kicking insidethe coffin. I AM ALIVE. CAN ANYONE HEAR ME.I AM ALIVE.GODDAM IT.?He said in a loud voice. He hears a couple more thumps hit the topof the coffin.

Richard tilts hishead to the side then turns his head from one side to another tolook around his master bedroom to gaze at the oil paintings that hehad painted many years ago, when he first started out as an artist.The paintings range from still life, landscapes, and seascapes thatare hung on his bedroom walls. The paintings are framed andaccented with real gold leaf.

Richard turns hishead quick to the right, staring at the clock radio thats on awooden night stand near his bedside. The time is one thirty in themorning.

1973, thats theyear Indian Ridge, a small town located in central New York had itshottest summer on record. Richard Tarbox returns home from swimmingat the lake with his friends Tommy Thompson and Bobby Burns. Heswings open the screen door that closes quickly behind him, keepingthe flies and bumble bees from entering the house. Richard stormsthrough the main front door like a gangbuster. He hops and skipsdown the hallway.

Richard RaymondTarbox. A skinny boy with sandy blonde hair cut in a militarystyle. He stands at a height of four feet, one, with smiling hazeleyes that twinkle when he laughs, a small scar under his bottom lipthat he had received from a car accident six months ago.

Luther, look overthere! Richard said punching him in the side of the rib cage.What the freak? What was that for? Luther said pushing; punchingwith all the strength that he could muster from his little body.Brother Richard was thrown forward, hitting the back of the frontseat, getting back up he was ready to fight once more. The two ofyou better knock it off or someone is going to get hurt! Theirmother said looking over her shoulder at her sons. She turns backaround, slamming on the brakes, stopping short to avoid hitting acat that darted across the street. Richard Tarbox went flyingforward, his front teeth went through his bottom lip. His brotherLuther walked away from the accident without injury.

Richards nose issmall and slender. Hes wearing a white T-shirt, handmade bluejeans shorts and wearing white sneakers without socks. He hearscrying and sobbing coming from the kitchen. He enters the kitchenfrom the hallway. He sees his Mother sitting on a chair, hunchedover the table, her face buried within folding arms. Her longauburn hairs are spread out like a Chinese fan covering her arms.The breakfast dishes havent been removed from the kitchen table.Richard hurried over to her, putting his arm around her shoulders.Mom, why are you crying? Richard said in a whisper. His mothermoved her head up slow, opening her watery red eyes. She scans thelength of the kitchen, until she saw her sons familiar face. Shegazes at him than she gives him a smile.

Her name is StellaJanine Tarbox. A thirty year old beauty, she stands at a height offive feet, four. Soft spoken, a voice thats soothing like a hotbath. Stella straightens herself up in the kitchen chair, wipingthe tears from her eyes with the palms of her hands. Mom iseverything okay? Richard said leaning his head down to see hismothers face. Her mascara had been smeared from wiping the tearsaway. Mom, whats wrong? Why are you crying? Richard said againwith his voice cracking as he spoke. Stella composed herself,running her hands through her auburn hair getting it out of herface. Stella cleared her throat. She puts one arm around her sonsshoulder, leaning into the side of Richard, squeezing him tighterwith her one hand. Well Richard I have something to tell you. I amtrying to find the right words and the words are not coming easy tome. Stella said grunting with a sigh of anguish. Mom just comeout and tell me already. Richard said getting impatient with her.All right all right. I will. She said removing her arm fromhis shoulders. Stella Tarbox runs her hands through her hair oncemore. She began rubbing the front of her legs with both hands.Richard Tarbox heard his mother clear her throat once again, shetakes a deep breath. I have some bad news about your grandfather.What about gramps? Richard said his eyes widen, letting the tearsslide down his cheeks. He stared with a blank gaze at her. Yourgrandfather died in his sleep last night. I am sorry Richard. Iknow how much you loved him. His mother said in a quivering voice.She tried to back the tears. I dont understand, I talked to himyesterday he was fine. Did anyone tell Luther? Richard saidlooking down at the kitchen that hasnt been mopped in two days. Hehid his face in his hands. Yes your aunt Annabel has told him.Richard, we cant predict the things that happen in our lives.Stella said pushing the chair away from the kitchen table. Shestood straight up, turning in the direction of her son; RichardTarbox has disappeared from the kitchen. Richard, honey where areyou? I know you are upset, we all are, and hes my father. Stellasaid looking inside the pantry and glanced into two large storageclosets. She left the kitchen to continue her search throughout therest of the house. Richard if you are here, please answer me!Stella said like a mad woman. Richard heard his mother calling;from the sound of her voice he knew that shes upset. Richardstepped out from his hiding place. I am here upstairs in my room.He said. His eyes rolled down to see the hardwood floor. Richardhoney what kind of emotions are you feeling about the death of yourgramps? Stella said with a hoarse voice. I dont know what I amfeeling, I just dont know mother. Richard said speaking in a loudvoice from his bedroom, standing inside the entrance of thedoorway. I feel the same way but I think its more shock thananything else. Stella said walking into the living room where theshades are drawn keeping the summers heat at bay.