legends of the creek

bloody bones
bloody bones
Henry Phillips was a hermit who lived alone in a decrepit shack far beyond the edge of town. Rumors were rife about the wild-eyed man. Some folks said that he was a magician who called upon the powers of darkness to wreck havoc upon his neighbors. No respectable citizen in town had anything to do with Henry.

Then one year a new family moved to town with a lovely daughter, Rachel, who caught Henry’s eye. He showered the maiden with gifts. Despite the gifts, Rachael fell in love with another, Geoffrey, a handsome young man just home from the war between the states. A week after meeting they eloped, leaving behind a stunned and angry Henry. 

When Rachael and Geoffrey returned from the elopement, they threw a big ball at the towns square and invited everyone in town. While Rachel was waltzing with her father, she heard a  clap of thunder. Lightning flashed again and again. Suddenly, the double doors blew open and a breeze whirled in, Henry Phillips loomed in the doorway, pupils gleaming red with anger.

Henry grabbed Geoffrey and threw him to the floor and drew a silver-bladed knife then casually cut the bridegroom’s throat from ear to ear. Rachel screamed and ran forward and flung herself upon her dying husband. Henry snatched the young bride out of the pool of blood surrounding her dead husband and carried her out into the thundering night. The sounds of thunder and lightning faded away as the alchemist disappeared into the night.

Geoffrey’s father and Rachael’s father gathered a small mob and followed the evil hermit, intent upon saving Rachel.  When they searched Henry’s shack, they found it completely empty save for a light, which shone from a series of mysterious globes that bobbed near the ceiling. Henry had vanished.

Search parties scoured the desert for days, but turned up nothing. Geoffrey was buried in the local cemetery, and the town hall was torn down and relocated to its present day location on Cave Creek Road. No one in town spoke about what had happened, and no one dared imagine what had become of poor Rachel.

Eleven years to the day after that horrific night, a timid knock sounded upon the door of Rachael’s parents’ home. When her father opened it, he saw a gaunt, gray illuminating figure on the stoop. Her eyes were dull with exhaustion and pain but the father knew without a doubt that it was his daughter Rachel! Her tongue had been cut out so she couldn’t speak.

But when she produced a knife from her tattered garments—the knife with a silver blade that he had last seen in the hands of Henry— the gleam of satisfaction in Rachel’s eyes told him that the crimson blood that c
 
oated the knife was the blood of Henry. The young lady’s apparition then slowly vanished as the father looked on and then down to his amazement there on the porch before him lay the knife.
 
 
 
 
 

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