Avenging Autumn: Seasons Change Book 1 of 4 Read online

  Avenging Autumn

  Seasons Change Series: Book 1 of 4

  By

  Derek A. Schneider

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2008 Derek A. Schneider. All rights reserved

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN:978-1-4343-7522-3 (sc)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2008903457

  1. Autumn Leaves

  October, 2006

  Autumn Writeman was leaving work late once again.

  She stepped through the double doors of the Write-man Bank building and into the cool night air. Fall had finally come to Indiana with the suddenness of a snapping twig under silent footfalls, in an October that had been unusually warm up to that point. It was less than two weeks until Halloween and it had been so warm that the leaves were late in turning. This night however, the trees were bright and colorful even in the dark and the bank parking lot was littered with foliage that sped across the pavement making a scraping sound that might make some cringe, but Autumn found it beautiful.

  A smile touched her lips at the thought of the im-pending holiday, and her husband’s childlike excitement as the night of tricks and treats approached. Benjamin Writeman (Benny to his friends) not only loved Halloween, he was also very fond of the time of year. He even managed to find a girl named Autumn to marry.

  Multi-colored leaves raced around her feet in the breeze and she was suddenly hit with a parade of childhood memories. Jumping in a pile of leaves her father had just raked up, helping her mother carve a jack-o’-lantern, going trick or treat dressed as Princess Lea, or Casper the friendly ghost, or Dracula’s bride. She supposed that she loved fall just as much as Benny.

  Standing next to her car door, Autumn began the nightly ritual of digging through her purse in search of her keys. Benny often made fun of her inability to throw things out, though she often complained that he threw out too much.

  Just as her hand closed around her keys a strange feeling came over her, as if just for a moment, it was well into winter rather than mid fall. She shivered hard and suddenly, a rapid flapping sound forced a slight scream from her throat. Turning quickly she scanned the area and saw nothing but the empty parking spaces behind her. Moving faster now, she slid the key into the door of the little black pickup and got behind the wheel, quickly closing and locking the door behind her. Autumn hated leaving work at night. The parking lot (and the building too, now that she thought about it) always gave her a creepy feeling that she couldn‘t explain. However, working late was a common occurrence this time of year, with Christ-mas shopping right around the corner. Of course that wouldn’t be a problem had she not been demoted two months ago, but the bills had to be paid and Benny hadn’t sold any paintings lately.

  The truck belonged to Benny, a little Mitsubishi that’s been through hell but just keeps on running anyway. Her car, which was only three years old, was in the shop once again. And of course, every time she did have a problem with her car, he would say the same thing; “I told you not to buy American.” He had told her this, but for some reason she couldn’t remember, she hadn’t listened.

  She keyed the ignition, threw the transmission into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. Soon afterward, Au-tumn had forgotten about the strange feeling that came over her and began singing loudly with the Dead Poetic CD Benny had left in the stereo. In their younger days, Benny and Au-tumn were what some people would call “Gothic”, and al-though their taste in music hasn’t changed a lot, the way they dressed and the way they thought about the world had changed immensely. After all, you can’t wear black eye makeup and lipstick along with buckle covered clothing if you’re going to be a “Financial Assistant” for a major bank and loan.

  She kept the black hair, though the clothing and make up were reserved for concerts and parties. Benny, for the most part, didn’t change much over the years. He kept the black hair as well, and wore it shoulder length, often hiding most of his face to give people the impression he was a brooding artist. In truth, he was a kind hearted joker that liked to keep his romantic side just between them.

  She pulled into the driveway of their old, two story house and shifted the little black truck into park. Getting out she smiled again as she looked out at the Halloween decora-tions that Benny had put on the front lawn at the beginning of October (the indoor decorations were put out in late August).

  There was the white sheet stuffed with old clothes and tied to a tree to resemble a floating ghost. There was the plastic skeleton lounging in a lawn chair and looking as if he’d had a few too many martinis. As she stepped onto the porch she noticed the shadowy ghoul that stood by the tree and…stopping in her tracks, she stared at the dark figure in confusion.

  “That wasn’t there before,” she said softly to herself. She opened the door and started to call inside for Benny, then remembered he was out shooting pool with his brother.

  She looked back at the dark ghoul for a moment and wondered if Benny had gone out and bought more decora-tions. Turning to walk into the house, her attention was imme-diately returned to the dark figure when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.

  The ghoul was now walking toward her.

  Autumn ran inside the house and locked the door behind her. Her heavy breathing was the only sound in the chilly darkness of the home. After a few minutes, Autumn edged toward the window and peeked through the curtain. The ghoul was gone. Was he ever really there at all?

  She was tired, very tired, and coming home to an empty house always made her feel a little jumpy anyhow. She took a few calming breaths and then walked down the hall to the kitchen. Flipping the light switch up, she began to step toward the fridge before she realized the light hadn’t come on. She tried the switch again, and twice more after that. Still no lights.

  Looking around the room she noticed the microwave clock was dark, and the absence of that familiar refrigerator hum made the entire house seem as quiet as a graveyard at midnight.

  Movement caught her eye from the doorway to the dining room on the opposite side of the kitchen. It was the dark figure from the front lawn, the ghoul with the red eyes shining out from his deeply shadowed face. Had she noticed his eyes before? She couldn’t remember, at that moment eve-rything seemed dreamlike and hazy.

  Autumn turned and took two steps toward the door but froze when she saw that the man had somehow moved fast enough through the living room to block her escape. Without thinking, she darted up the stairs, ran down the hallway and locked herself in her room. As she ducked behind the bed, she reached beneath it and almost immediately found the wooden baseball bat that Benny kept there for just this type of situation.

  She laid there for a long moment with the bat held tight against her chest, listening for any sound from outside her door, but no sound came. Slowly, she got to her feet and peered out the window. There was no movement on the lawn, besides the Halloween decorations blowing slightly in the wind. She could see the Mitsubishi sitting in the driveway like a distant beacon of hope that seems impossibly out of reach. Oh, how she longed to be in that truck right now. She won-dered if she could drop from the window without breaking a limb, and if so could she make it to the truck without being seen, or at least caught by the stranger?


  Suddenly, she heard the noise she had been waiting for, only it didn’t come from outside the room, but from the dark corner across from her. Slowly, she turned and looked in the corner to see the same red eyes staring out at her from the shadow. A whimper escaped her lips as she brought the base-ball bat up into a swing position.

  The man finally stepped out of the shadows and Autumn was amazed to see that he was not a dark ghoul at all, but quite the opposite. His skin was very pale, his hair was long, falling mid way down his back, unnaturally straight and so blond it was nearly white. He was wearing a light grey suit that looked very expensive and in his right hand he bore a cane that appeared to be used for more of a decoration than any visible handicap. He walked over to Autumn and stopped two feet away from her, meeting her gaze with his calm, ra-diant, red eyes.

  “What?” Autumn whispered, the baseball bat waver-ing uncertainly in her hands, “What do you want?”

  The man only continued to stare at her, showing no emotion on his face.

  Autumn began to feel very calm, and very sleepy. The bat fell from her hands with a loud clunk as it hit the hard wood floor. She felt lost in his eyes, those bottomless red eyes. She had never felt so relaxed in her life.

  The man slowly raised the cane, resting the lower end in his left hand. The handle looked to be silver and was crafted into the shape of an Asian dragon. Wrapping around the hilt was a giant serpent that came up to meet the dragon face to face, as if some epic battle was about to begin between the two. Then, gently, he pulled on the handle and the cane came apart to reveal a long blade that was hidden within. He raised the blade high and paused for a moment, then brought it down across Autumn’s throat.

  Seconds later, Autumn died.

  2. Fall Arrives

  It was 1995. Benny was eighteen and had just re-turned home for the Christmas holiday after spending the last few months in Indianapolis attending Herron Art School. Aa-ron Trotter was the little brother of a friend Benny had had in high school and on his second day home, Benny received a call from Aaron who was looking for a ride to a girl’s house. Benny reluctantly agreed to give him the ride and soon the two of them were near the southwest edge of Triloville.

  “Okay,” Aaron said as they exited the car (which was an 86 Cavalier hatchback at that time), “I really like this girl so try not to make a fool of yourself.”

  Benny took a moment to reflect on the countless times he and Aaron’s older brother, Robert had been forced by Ma and Pa Trotter to drag the baby brother around with them everywhere they went, and how 99.9% of the time Aaron was the one who had made a fool of himself. “I’ll try to behave,” he replied sarcastically.

  At this time in his life, although the trend was going out of style, Benny was in full grunge attire. The holey jeans, flannel shirt, and long, unkempt, dirty blond hair (which would later become black).

  The house was an old ranch that was covered with fading red bricks and deteriorating roofing shingles and for the rest of his life, for reasons unknown, he would often think of the Christmas lights that hung lazily from the gutters, spiraling down the single post of the covered porch.

  Aaron pulled the screen door open and knocked on the worn wood of the front door. They stood there waiting in the cold for the door to open, but it appeared no one was home.

  “Did she know we were coming?” Benny asked

  “Yeah, I called and told her.”

  “You called ahead and told her you were coming and she left before you got here? That’s not a good sign, my man.”

  Aaron suddenly looked very worried and then pro-ceeded to knock harder. “She’s here, I know she is.”

  Benny opened his mouth to toss another verbal jab at his friend, but was cut off by the opening door. What greeted them was a seventeen year old Autumn Sanders and Benny was instantly smitten. Her hair was long and fiery red and rested against her pale skin like the burning sky at sunset in winter. She was wearing a Marilyn Manson shirt that looked to be two sizes too big, but draped pleasingly over her ample bosom.

  Benny’s taste in music was beginning to change at that point, moving from old favorites like Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, to some heavier bands he had heard lately like; Korn and Deftones, but he had yet to hear anything from Ma-rilyn Manson. He had always held to the notion that The Smashing Pumpkins were the greatest rock band ever and that would not change for the rest of his life.

  The visit was short but it didn’t take long for Benny to deduce that Autumn had no interest in getting romantically involved with Aaron. This was a great relief for Benny.

  Triloville is an excellent town to visit in the fall, with its rolling tree covered hills and adjacency to Hoosier National Park in southern Indiana, any leaf gazers would be in heaven. The population sits at a little over 3000, but that number is projected to grow in the next few years due to several housing editions that have popped up recently and the car assembly plant that was being built about twenty miles away from the center of town.

  This particular Saturday morning was overcast and cold, yet the colors of the leaves somehow seemed brighter to Benny than any he had ever seen. He’s not sure exactly why he noticed this detail at the very moment his wife was lowered into the ground, but he couldn’t help thinking that she would love this day. To others it would seem dreary or sad, but that’s the way she liked things. It was the way they both liked things.

  By that logic, however, it only stands to reason that he should have been happy that day, because he felt so sad. It doesn’t work that way.

  Maybe the leaves weren’t as bright as he perceived them to be; perhaps the tears in his eyes were distorting his vision.

  The coffin reached the bottom of the hole that was to be Autumn’s final resting place, and one by one all of her friends and family picked a black rose (Autumn’s favorite flower) from one of the many bouquets surrounding the grave and dropped them in after her. Benny stood from his chair after everyone else had offered their condolences and returned to their cars. He pulled a black rose from the last few that remained and held it over the coffin. He hesitated a moment. Then, Instead of dropping it, he carefully placed it in the lapel of his suit. He didn’t know why he did it exactly, but he suspected if he dropped his rose in, it might symbolize letting her go, and he could never do that. After some time, he forced himself to turn away from the grave and walked back to the limo his father had rented and climbed inside.

  Benny’s father, Frank, and his brother, Jack, sat across from him in silence for the trip back to Frank‘s house, where a sort of after funeral gathering was being held. Of course Frank’s house was quite large and could comfortably hold the thirty or so people that attended. Frank Writeman was the owner of the small chain of Writeman’s Savings and Loans banks that were found throughout the mid west, the very same bank Autumn had worked for. Although Frank rarely stayed at the over sized house anymore, he often slept on a couch at his office building, of course no one knew of this but his oldest son, Jack.

  Frank looked at Benny as if he was searching for something comforting to say, but instead let out a deep sigh and slumped his broad shoulders. Benny noticed that his fa-ther’s thinning hair and neatly trimmed beard was much whi-ter than the last time he had seen him, but he was still in re-markable shape for his age.

  Jack Writeman was the owner of the Writeman Fu-neral Home, located right in the middle of Triloville, Indiana, which by the way, had done a beautiful job with Autumn’s funeral. A sharp contrast to his brother, Jack was shorter, broader, and kept his sandy blond hair short and neat, and his handsome face was always clean shaven, as his job required it. Even though Jack arranged funerals for a living, it was rare to see him in such low spirits. He’s usually a joker and a great drinking buddy, and Benny could only remember one other time he had seen him so down, that was at their mother’s fu-neral.

  The limo pulled up to the Old Man’s house (Benny and Jack had taken to calling Frank the Old Man even though he was only fifty-six) and the thre
e men climbed out. Frank walked to the front door, pulled his key from his pocket and walked inside to make sure everything was prepared for the guests.

  “Benny,” Jack called as Benny started up the porch, “wait up a minute, I want to talk to you.”

  Benny walked quietly back toward the car.

  “Uh…look, Benny,” Jack started, “I-I, umm sorry about…well you know, about Autumn,” he let out a deep sigh, “man, I am so bad at this shit.”

  “Really?” Benny asked sarcastically, “Maybe you should have picked a different line of work.”

  “C’mon, that’s not what I mean. I can run a line of bullshit with complete strangers, even shed a tear or two if I try real hard, but you’re my brother and Autumn was one of my best friends. I just hope that you were pleased with the service, I did my best to make sure everything went alright.”

  “It was great, Jack,” Benny said with a grin, “every-thing was beautiful. Thanks.”

  “Yeah, well, it was an honor,” Jack returned through misting eyes. He cleared his throat and continued, “Listen, after the squares leave, you can meet me on the back porch. I rolled a special fatty just for you.”

  “I’ll be there, man,” Benny turned and walked back to the front door.

  Inside, he was greeted by the usual assortment of aunts and uncles, giving him there condolences and advice on how to put this tragic event behind him. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand anymore of it, he was able to sneak away upstairs to his father’s study and get a chance to clear his mind.

  Forty five minutes later, Frank Writeman opened the door and poked his head inside to find Benny sitting on the window seat, staring out at the trees on the lawn.

  “There you are,” Frank said. “Leaves are beautiful, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah, Dad, they look great.” Benny answered quiet-ly.

  “Everyone is starting to leave, do you want to come down and say goodbye?”