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Storyteller's Cabin |
Well this really made Chuck roll his eyes. He'd heard the stories about the Blue Girl ever since he was a kid. She was about as real to him as Bigfoot.
"You know, the reason BJ's scared of the Blue Girl is 'cause he's seen her," said the old timer, noticing Chuck's skeptic smirk. "He was up at the bridge one afternoon just as it was getting' dusty dark, gatherin' a few arrowheads he'd uncovered. When he stood up to put them in his bag, he saw a little girl out of the corner of his eye. She was wearin' a pretty Sunday dress, perfectly dry and not a wrinkle on it. But her hair was soakin' wet!"
"He started to take a step toward her to see if he could help her, not knowin' at the time who she was, when all of a sudden - poof! - she vanished. Then she suddenly appeared again about ten feet in front of him! Then he saw the bluish tint of her skin, and he knew exactly who she was. So he took off runnin' and prayin'."
The old timer paused to take a quick sip of his beer before continuing.
"A lot of mill workers claimed to have seen the Blue Girl up there at night thru the years, walkin' along the creek bank. She seems to want something, but no one's sure exactly what. She's still seen from time to time by folks who go up there at night, romancin' and whatnot. But nobody 'cept the museum guy ever said she'd come near them. He says he'll keep diggin' down there, but only in the daytime. There ain't no amount of gold, or priceless Cherokee artifacts, that'll get him down there after dark."
Chuck laughed again, patted the old timer on the back, paid his tab and left. He reckoned if that old man was going to tell him a Blue Girl story, he was probably lying about the gold as well. For all he knew, the old man had spray painted a creek rock.
But as he drove toward home, Chuck's "get rich quick" mind starting buzzing. What harm would it do to try digging up at Poole's Mill Bridge, he thought. If everyone's so scared of the Blue Girl, I can go up there at night and have the place to myself. If I don't find anything, all I wasted was a little bit of time. Beats spending another night in front of the TV, he thought.
So when Chuck got home, he grabbed his shovel, pickaxe and flashlight from the tool shed and roared away in his truck. Twenty minutes later, he arrived at the old covered bridge. Carefully looking for signs of anyone about, he parked his truck in a cluster of trees where no passing motorist could see it. He then grabbed his tools and marched down to the creek to find the old millstone.
Now finding what remains of the old grist mill is hard enough to do in the daytime - at night it's darn near impossible. Chuck cursed to himself as he slipped and stumbled along the creek bank, his shoes and pant legs sinking into the sloppy mud. He then made his way onto a pile of rocks. Certainly the millstone can't be far, he thought.
"Whoa!" Chuck yelled out as he slipped off the bank. The flashlight flew out of his hand, and he tumbled into the cold water, banging his knee against an underwater rock. Shouting out a long string of cuss words as only a former soldier can, he reached underwater, grabbed the big rock and threw it angrily into the trees.
Chuck saw his flashlight shining in the grass beside the creek bed. He grabbed it and looked at the damage to his leg. His pants had a small hole at the knee, and blood trickled out of a minor scrape. He knew he'd have a deep painful bruise in the morning.
Chuck pointed his flashlight back at the creek. In the spot where he fell, he swore he saw something glisten under the water. Could it be gold? His heart beat faster as he jumped back into the water and dug around where he had removed the underwater rock. And sure enough, he found gold - but not the gold he was expecting.
In his hand was a small, golden, heart shaped locket that looked like it had been buried in the creek for years. He noticed a clasp on the side and twisted it. Inside was a deteriorated, old-timey photograph of a Mama, a Daddy and their beautiful nine-year-old daughter. They were frowning and tired looking, like folks always look in those old-timey pictures. They were dressed in their Sunday best, the little girl in a pretty dress with a big bow.
Then Chuck's flashlight suddenly went out, plunging him into darkness. Dammit, he thought, what timing. What could possibly go wrong now?
But Chuck hadn't lost all of his light. A strange glow was emanating from behind his back, growing brighter and brighter. Maybe the moon had come out from behind the clouds, he thought for a moment. But then he heard a sound that chilled his blood - tiny footsteps splashing in the water behind him, growing louder and louder as the eerie bluish glow grew stronger and stronger. He took a deep breath and whirled around...
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