Autumn Chill

By Dave Stone

A boy and his dog, what could be more natural than that, but when my dog mysteriously dies, along with a few others, it is soon determined that they didn't just die, but they were outright killed! This information stunned me. Who could do such a dastardly thing?

A boy and his friends is a natural thing too, and mine were loyal and true. So off we go to find this...person, but where do we begin? We huddle and muddle and scratch our heads. Eventually our focused deliberations shine a light on a suspect or two, so under cover of darkness we begin our quest. We have no idea what this search will reveal, but it won't be much longer until we're up to our necks in mystery, trouble, and a dark underbelly of the town that we had no idea was even out there, and now that we've cracked its surface we're not at all sure if we can find our way out. But whatever happens we're determined to see this thing through, not only because of our friendship, but also in remembrance of my poor little dog.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dave Stone
• Release date: Jul 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301220397

Dave Stone

Dave Stone is Senior Pastor of Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, Kentucky, where he preaches Truth to more than 21,000 people each weekend. He and his wife, Beth, have three children: Savannah, Sadie, and Sam, and a son-in-law, Patrick. Dave believes the most practical way to spread the gospel is through moms and dads who model a genuine faith for their children.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Mitzy

Mitzy Van der Horn was a twit. Oh it wasn’t so much that she was obnoxious, unpleasant, or anything like that—not even simply annoying. It was more like she was, well, kind of stuck on herself in an uppity kind of way.

Chunk, my sidekick and very best friend, had hated her since the sixth grade, ever since she had ridiculed him during a seventh period dance. He had simply asked her for a dance, that’s all, when she’d made some sarcastic comment about his shoes. Stunned, Chunk gaped defensively at the logger boots he had worn since the second grade—didn’t everyone? Now suddenly and unexpectedly awakened to the fact that logger boots were not really all that cool, he looked back up at his antagonist with a sheepish grin.

Her eyes caught his. Where’s your Blue Ox? the princess asked with a crooked smile. Her friends laughed heartily, amused at the mockery of her hapless victim.

Chunk, taken by surprise, stood speechless and still, frozen to his singular spot on the cold hard floor. Then suddenly the room seemed very warm, and a revealing tint of crimson rose up from Chunk’s neck, quickly covering his astonished face. He stood awkward and silent before the oh-so-cool girls, who slowly turned and sauntered away, giggling stupidly like the fools that they were.

Now, two years later, Mitzy wore short, short skirts, colored her eyes in shades of allurement, and shaved her legs in a daily routine. She was increasingly famous for kissing and hugging on the back row of the movie theater with a sundry assortment of older boys, who had no compunction in training her up in the promiscuous art of love and affection. And she was certainly not timid, in any sense of the word, in driving off with these older boys in their chariots of passion formed of rubber and steel.

Mitzy was hot, I guess, in a cheap kind of way—but I knew better. I had watched her eat a booger during a midday quiz in our fifth grade year, and that’s the kind of thing you don’t easily forget. It happened during a history test. She sat in a desk on the very front row. I sat three desks back and one to the left. With heavy eyes, I raised my head from a lethargic slumber, just in time to watch her pull something long and wet out of her left nostril. She jerked her head around to see if anyone was watching, but I lowered my eyes in innocence, pretending not to see. Then, believing that the coast was clear, she sucked that thing into her mouth before a person could say, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it.

Hot? I didn’t think so.

Chunk had been waiting patiently for two solid years now to get even with the little snob, and had finally come up with a plan. He had learned somehow that Mitzy had a starry-eyed crush on a boy from the high school named Jimmy Downey, and that is all that he needed to know.

The phone rang twice before she answered, Hello, this is Mitzy.

Mitzy? Jimmy Downey, here, a voice said calmly. What’s up?

Mitzy’s heart pounded. She gripped the phone tightly. What could she say? Jimmy Downey! Did he really know she even existed?

Uh, Hi Jimmy, she stammered, just uh, hangin’. (And then her evil brain kicked in) Just wishing I had something to do, you know? The boy responded quickly, Mitzy, we need to talk—in private. Can you meet me?

Of course, she answered eagerly. Just tell me where!

The park, in twenty minutes? he said. You know, that little park right next to the cemetery.

Sure, sure—anywhere, Mitzy answered, but what’s up Jimmy?

I’ll explain when we get there, he answered. We’ll need to be careful, but it’s important—trust me.

Sure Jimmy, she whispered. Her head was spinning and her heart pounded in her chest. The giant pine, in the middle of the park, he said. That’s where you’ll find me.I know that tree, Mitzy said, the one with the old bench beneath it?

Exactly, he said, and one more thing Mitzy, could you maybe uh, wear that one perfume of yours? You know—that special kind.

Passion Fire! Sure, I’ll be glad to. How would he know about my new perfume, she wondered? Maybe it’s as good as the salesgirl said it was.

I’ll be wearing a hat, Jimmy said, a baseball cap. Watch for me. There was an awkward pause before he finalized the conversation, See you then, honey. The line suddenly clicked and a buzz filled her ear. Mitzy was in a trance. Honey, he called me honey she thought dizzily. He must really care. She hurried into the bathroom to splash on her wonderful new perfume. She dabbed it strategically in all of the right places and spent a frantic five minutes primping and painting as best as she could. It was important to her that the night would go perfectly, and a little preening would ensure that it would.Her body tingled with anticipation. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. Jimmy Downey—who would have thought? She grabbed a sweater, took one last glance in the mirror, and rushed out the door.

Chunk placed the receiver back in the cradle and grinned. His eyes shone with a pernicious satisfaction. I smiled at him and grinned back.

Looks like I finally have a date with the infamous Mitzy Van der Horn, he said. I nodded agreeably, returning his smile. I grabbed the phone and made one more call, trying my best to mimic the voice of the singular Mitzy—and Jimmy Downey was on the other end. Then we grabbed our hats and hurried out the door. Chunk had waited two long years for this fateful event, and we certainly wanted to be on time.

Chapter 2

Grave Consequences

It was a cool autumn evening, but Mitzy was lost in thought. Her mind raced as she pulled her sweater tighter around her.

Jimmy Downey, Jimmy Downey, Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Downey, she sang softly as she walked quickly down the sidewalk. What a heavenly name.

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, Downey, she whispered again as she click, click, clicked through the crisp night air. A dark and competitive feeling came over her as a recent memory of Jimmy with Heather Olsen went through her mind. Jimmy and Heather had been seen together on more than one occasion, and she knew she must meet this challenge head on. What if he tries to kiss me, she thought. What will I do? It must be right the first time or there might never be another. Her mind whirred as thoughts of stratagem raced through her head. Visions of kisses, famous kisses that she’d seen in the movies, danced through her mind. Romance, yes, it must be romantic. That’s right, romance will do the trick. Then instantly she recognized her mistake. No! That’s not it, she thought frantically. Boys don’t like romance, girls do!

Just last summer, in a brief but torrid account of physical appreciation, Sid Christopherson had taught her how to kiss. That experience, coupled with several others over the ensuing months, had done nothing but reinforce what she already knew, boys like to kiss, but they like to kiss hard and fast. She had sometimes felt like Sid was squeezing the life right out of her. Her mind temporarily went blank, but then the answer suddenly came to her. Soft, she thought, I’ll be soft and willing. He’ll take me in his arms and do with me what he will. A smile crept over her face.

As she neared the park she glanced down and admired her body. She was not ashamed. She held in her stomach and smoothed her pants. Jimmy Downey would be hers.

She glanced ahead and there he was, sitting on the bench beneath the giant pine, right where he said he would be. The brim of his ball cap shadowed his face, but she had little doubt that his eyes were upon her, as she sashayed towards him in the pale but revealing light of the ample moon. Suddenly, and for no apparent reason, Jimmy rose from the bench and walked briskly away. He strode up the grassy hill, glanced back over his shoulder, and then disappeared into the darkness beyond the jagged iron gates of the old town cemetery.

Mitzy was confused, but then it dawned on her. What could be more private than a darkened cemetery? It would be almost romantic—indeed, it would be very much so. If that’s the way Jimmy wanted it…. She smiled and quickened her pace as she followed him up the grassy hillside.

Visions of Jimmy flitted through her mind. His glorious white smile was imprinted on her brain, as was his black curly locks. Jimmy was afraid of nothing, let alone a measly old cemetery. She hurried up the hill, eager to meet with her man and excited to find what this evening might portend.

The scent of Passion Fire lingered faintly in the crisp night air. She wobbled up the hill as the spikes of her shoes bent and trembled unequivocally against the softened rise of the hillside grass. She stopped before the iron gates, pausing instinctively. A little-girl-feeling of fright briefly came over her, but the excitement of her imminent encounter with the infamous Jimmy Downey more than compensated for her juvenile alarm. She boldly stepped inside of the double gates and into the romantic shadows of the moonlit graveyard.

A cat, large and yellow, crossed her path. It was bony, it was ragged, and it was scarred by battle. It sat itself down and eyed her casually. The light of distant street lamps reflected dimly in its greenish eyes. The old cat aimlessly sauntered through the front gate. Its tail waved back and forth in a haughty gesture of farewell as it walked casually away.

The tranquil attitude of this homeless cat, in some strange kind of way, endowed Mitzy with the self confidence she needed, as if she wasn’t really here by herself.

Her eyes had now adjusted to the darkness, enabling her to peer deeper into the shadows of the graveyard. And there he was—her date, her man. His darkened figure rose up straight and firm midst the wistful shadows of the ancient headstones.

Jimmy, she whispered. Jimmy, is that you? He raised an arm in recognition and whispered back in a welcome response, Mitzy, honey—over here. And he walked a little further into the graveyard.

Mitzy was on fire. Honey! Once more he’s called me honey. He really must like me!

She hurried into the graveyard. Romance enveloped her mind. She didn’t know what Jimmy had on his mind but she was hopeful that she could guess. This is my night, she whispered into the cool night air. Jimmy will be mine, and he won’t be sorry."

Suddenly, Mitzy stopped. She now realized that she was standing dead center in the middle of the old cemetery, and she was very much alone. A dog barked in the distance. A breeze whispered through the markers. She froze, unmoving and still. She was as just another statue rising up in the graveyard. She listened earnestly and peered around her, feeling a wee bit nervous and somewhat reluctant to move one way or the other.

Jimmy? A night-bird called from a tree.

Jimmy? Leaves rustled in the evening breeze. Shapes and darkened shadows seemed to shift and move.

Jimmy? Crickets chirped in the nearby park.

Suddenly, doubt crept into Mitzy’s mind. Jimmy Downey? She didn’t know him from Adam. What did he want—really?

She shivered uncontrollably, and then slowly stepped back. Shadows reached outward from ancient tombstones. The winds of the night whispered secrets from long ago.

She backed up, turned around, and moved slowly towards the front gate.

Then something caught her eye, it was something bright and green. Luminous words seemed to summon and glow from a nearby headstone. The eerie green light was strangely alluring, beckoning her forward with a seduction she didn’t entirely understand. What was it—a name? Wait, just a minute, it said Mitzy—Mitzy Van der Horn! It was her name that glowed out from the glowing headstone. That’s right, it was her name and nobody else’s. Shocked completely from her sensibilities, she backpedaled from the terror before her.

Lightheaded and confused, panic overtook her. She turned and fled through the moving shadows, stumbling helter-skelter through the darkened night. The spike of a shoe stuck firmly in the softened ground. The slipper popped from her foot with impudence and a callous disregard for Mitzy or anything about her. She quickly kicked off the other and sprinted barefoot to the old iron gates.

Unannounced, a large dog barked from a nearby headstone. Frightened, Mitzy veered off to her left. She hurdled the corner of an open gravesite, but then overcorrected and fell backwards into a wet pile of dirt. Like an overturned turtle with legs in the air, she flailed and thrashed, helpless to break free from the embrace of the moistened sludge.

But finally, break free she did, and without hesitation she scrambled up and over the moistened mound, as the vociferous dog barked loudly behind her.

The gates of the cemetery loomed up before her. She sprinted fearfully for the welcome safety of the city park and the warming sanctuary of the lighted streets beyond it. Unexpectedly, the gates began to close before her. She didn’t have time to question why. Fearful of entrapment, she ran even faster. Now almost to the gates, she rounded the last headstone and stepped on something totally unexpected. She had set her foot down firmly on someone, or something’s softened underbelly. AAArrrggghhhhh! This person, or creature, or whatever it was that she’d placed her foot on moaned out in surprise. She hopped back and stared. The thing sat straight up. Its hair blew wild and free in the cold night air.

Mitzy, almost paralyzed with fear, clenched her fists and screamed: once, twice, three different times. Finally, the sheer terror of it all forced her to move again. She fled through the gates and into the park. Relief coursed through her being as the cemetery faded behind her. She rushed down the hill towards the sidewalk. A car was parked next to it, its engine purring, its headlights piercing the night. Mitzy, completely frantic, ran towards it, seeking help from its owner, whoever it might be.

Jimmy Downey and Heather Olsen snuggled together, leaning against Jimmy’s car. A girl approached them from the park. She ran awkwardly, stumbling towards them in barefoot desperation. She staggered to a stop and spoke in a frightened and broken voice, Jimmy, Jimmy, oh Jimmy Downey. I’m so glad that you’re here! Jimmy gazed at Mitzy with questioning eyes and an open-mouthed gape. Mitzy, putting forth a heroic effort to pull herself back together and recover some semblance of her own respectability asked, What is it Jimmy? Why did you ask me to come here?

Heather glanced at Jimmy, and Jimmy rolled his eyes in disbelief. What are you talking about, girl? he asked Mitzy. You’re the one who asked me to come here!

Mitzy stared, openmouthed, at the handsome couple before her. Then gradually, little by little, it began to sink in. She had been set up. Somehow, someone had made her the patsy. She felt like a chump.

Do you even know who I am? she asked haltingly, as she tried to hold back her tears.

Sure, everyone knows who you are,