Where The Leaves Wither

By Alan Hight

What terrors prowl a Virginia plantation in the dead of night? Join Jarel and his best friend, Ivy, as they uncover secrets regarding her aristocratic ancestry as the walls of oppression close in around them. Whispers of ghostly activity, phantom children, and little Sarah's incessant sleepwalking pervade this 19th century estate. Will the joyous event of the autumn season, the Everard debutante ball, suffer from these paranormal activities? Beware, dear reader, of what you may discover past the dark shadows of the midnight hour...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Hight
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393755722

Alan Hight

ALAN FREDERICK HIGHT has written many works since his early childhood, but Where The Leaves Wither would be considered his debut novel.  Currently, he is a Registered Dental Hygienist in the state of New York while he writes upcoming books in his NightLight series. Book #2, Beyond The Darkness Dreary is set for release in July 2020. Alan (# 5318) is one of only 11,000 hikers to have ever completed the Hike Peaks of the Adirondack Mt. Range. He plans to complete the Appalachian Trail in 2023 and is also an avid golf, surfer, and runner.

Book preview

BOOK REVIEWS

This book is an amazing , edge-of-your-seat page-turner! The plot is engaging, the characters well-crafted, and the 19th century time period highly accurate. This is an author to keep an eye on.

~ Courtney D.

I WAS INSTANTLY PULLED into this book and thrust into the life of Jarel and his closest friends. This book had adventure, mystery, death, and even a bit of puppy love. It's a great story that will continue to have the reader biting their nails with suspense and all of the plot twists tie up wonderfully in the end. Looking forward to the sequel!

~ Cynthia R.

A DEFINITE MUST FOR any reader's collection. Jarel is an amazing lead character, showing strengths and faults as he haunts down demonic activity. This was a novel I truly enjoyed reading during the pandemic, ha, ha

~  Nikki U.

NightLight Books

100 West Main Street

Ilion, NY 13357

Copyright © 2020  Alan Hight

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

DEDICATION

For my mother, Mary Susan, for letting me type my tiny handmade books at your workplace when I was eight. Stories of sharks, bogeymen, and ufos galore were my original rough drafts and prepared me for the writer that I am today.

EPIGRAPH

Hebrews 1:14  

Are they not all ministering spirits sent forth to serve for them who shall be heirs of salvation?    

1: TWILIGHT TREK

Dark amber clouds, chased by distant rumblings from the western sky, streamed and billowed overhead.

You have to hurry. Jarel stood in the middle of a lengthy field, waving his arm. Or we’ll lose her for sure.

I’m tr-trying, Ellis shouted, but I can’t r-run any faster.

Yeah, slow down. Loren, a schoolmate, held his eyeglasses in place while jogging across the dying grass.

The three teenagers were trailing Ivy, a slender raven-haired girl, who quickly bounded out ahead of them. She was Jarel’s best friend and had coerced him into a secret escapade on her grandparents’ plantation.

Where are you taking us? Gusts of wind stifled Jarel’s voice and threatened to whisk away his bandit cap. His wool jacket rippled about wildly, and he raised his hand to prevent the lower loose ends from flapping against his face.

Jarel watched the flare of Ivy’s lantern shine across the border of a gloomy forest. A winding path entered a copse of oaks, and the boys were careful not to twist their ankles on hidden outlier roots when they approached. Shifting boughs creaked violently as if warning them to proceed no further. The musty odor of tilled earth blew in the air, and curled leaves tumbled upon the terrain, emitting dry crackles around their feet.

You th-think we should be doing this? Ellis said. We aren’t supposed to b-be—

Shh! Ivy raised a stern finger and stared at the tendrils of fog rolling over the withered grounds. Its silent creep made the scraggly trees appear as wraiths drifting along the timber floor. She turned to her brother. Concentrate on articulation, Ellis. You are not pronouncing your words properly.

Sorry, he responded, I keep forgetting.

Jarel brushed aside his long unruly hair. "What’s in there?

Now what pleasure would that bring me to just tell you straight out? Ivy rendered a sly smile. No, you must come and see for yourself. The girl’s slim legs, fitted with tight trousers, vaulted her into the depths of the woodland. The boys tried keeping pace with her as the pursuit went on through the tunnel of crooked branches.

Ivy soon stopped before a broad building and held her kerosene lamp high for a full view of the exterior wall. An ebony mausoleum stood nearly six feet tall and had a rectangular construction that extended further into the thicket beyond. She approached and rubbed her nimble fingers over the polished stone until they found their hold within ashlar crevices. With sturdy feet, she scaled the facade without any difficulty. 

As the companions came off the path, the first drops of rain drummed the autumnal leaves above them. Although lightning streaked the sky in violent snaps, the womb of the enclosed woods insulated them from the outer chaos.

Ivy, what are you doing up there? Jarel asked.

The girl stood atop the flat roof acting rather pleased with herself. I want to show you what I found yesterday. I finally got to search this section of the Twining Forest without Kajika spotting me.

Loren and Jarel glanced at one another with muddled expressions.

Kajika is the head farmhand, Ellis explained. "He used to be a sl-slave and yells whenever me and Ivy are out here exploring. He threatens to t-tell our grandparents about our snooping. The pudgy boy looked up at his sister. Are we supposed to climb that thing? I c-c-can’t. Remember my swollen foot?"

You came out here plenty fine, she answered brusquely, but if you are troubled by such an injury, you can remain behind and miss all our fun. Just make sure to yell when you see savage Indians lurking about. Pastel light, filtering through the canopy, illuminated her sassy grin.

Without further debate, the friends helped each other clamber the slick wall until they were standing beside her.

With lantern in hand, Ivy bent low, bringing them into a huddle. The doors to the crypt are crushed to rubble, and I thought this was the safer way inside. The girl’s words jumbled together with her growing excitement. Follow me, and watch your step. 

Sharp grooves spiderwebbed most of the roof’s surface, and broken birch branches, that had once crashed upon the building, provided similar obstacles. While Ivy advanced easily into the center, Jarel became ensnared among the many twigs. In frustration, he snapped each barb snagging his shirt before joining her.

There, look closely. She pointed at a wide opening near their feet. That casket is split across the middle. 

Jarel peered down into the inner depths of the mausoleum and saw a coffin. The woodgrain of the surface was dingy with age, and vivid studding along three metal bands gleamed in the lamplight, imparting hints of master craftsmanship. Thick dust accumulated upon the marble base, indicating its prolonged lack of disturbance.

Earlier, Jarel was certain that Ivy was being ridiculous with her endeavor. Now, however, the enigma was revealing itself right before his very eyes. A thrill sparked within him; what mysteries lie hidden in this ominous place?

Ellis and Loren crouched behind the pair far more concerned with the raging storm. Flashes of light blazed images of thorny bush monsters around the clearing, instigating their fears.

Jarel squinted. Who’s buried here?

"The crypt plate is nearly unreadable, but the engraved letters spell out Bowdre, Ivy said. They must be a relation to us for only those of prominent name can be interred on this land. The plantation has been operating for nearly ninety years. Ammiras Everard, our great-grandfather, had this estate built in 1791, according to our family chronicles. Her eyes gleamed. I did see metal objects inside the box—swords or guns perhaps. I had only a brief period in which to slip away from the manor, so I could not suitably inspect them."

Before Jarel could respond, Ivy dropped down to the stone floor. His stomach lurched. Uh, maybe you shouldn’t...

Bending into a catlike crouch, she crept over to the foot of the coffin.

...do that. He stretched his torso into the cleft to get a better view.

My goodness gracious. The girl twirled in alarm. "They are gone." 

What’s wrong? 

The weapons. Her head swiveled about as if expecting the cache to be outside the casket. Someone has stolen them.

A horrible scream ripped through the forest. Startled, Jarel lost his balance and flipped into the crevice, falling headlong towards the concrete floor. His backside smacked the hard surface, and he laid there with a groan.

Are you all right? Ivy sprang forward and rubbed her hands over his body. Have you broken any bones? 

Jarel grimaced but said nothing. Black dust swirled through the air, leaving a bitter grit inside his mouth. He spat out the sandy grains and filtered further breaths with the crook of his arm.

Do not budge for the moment. Ivy patted his shoulder and stepped decisively onto the corner of the coffin. "My brother is scared silly, and I must see what they are fussing over. If Ellis isn’t in trouble, then he will be after I get through with him." She jumped to the ledge and eased herself out of the tomb.

As Jarel sat there, he had a chance to study the interior of the crypt more intimately. Most of the masonry was hidden by the absence of light, but he noticed crude cultural designs sketched across the walls. A strange reek lingered, and there was an unsettling feeling that he wasn’t alone. Anxious sweat beaded his forehead while his eyes darted at menacing shapes in the corners of the room.

The girl’s sleek form reappeared at the ceiling. They must have run off. Try to get up, and give me your hand.

Jarel scrambled to his feet, gingerly climbed the casket, and extended his arm. Ivy yanked him across the roof like a thrown rag doll. The force of his leap dislodged the lid, making it clatter upon the floor. Fresh waves of dust rolled everywhere.

The boy struggled to his knees and adjusted the hat that now smothered his face. He crawled back to the opening and coughed from the dust cloud escaping from the hole. A bolt of lightning zipped overhead. He gasped—a face was staring back at him! A blanched skull with empty sockets was supine inside the coffin, and its mocking grin drove a shudder up his spine.

Ivy, he said in despair, let’s get out of here.

But the girl continued to scout the building’s perimeter as if she hadn’t heard him.

A flitting image caught Jarel’s peripheral vision. Barely visible, a white shape moved among the tree trunks. He was transfixed by the vague profile gliding away, and he gave a determined blink to clear his mind. Was someone out there? The boy refocused his gaze, trying to penetrate the inky darkness. Then he spotted it—the curved figure of a young woman. The silent apparition turned immediately in his direction as if sensing his presence. Transcending the distance, he saw her mournful eyes sunken within a solemn face; it spoke of painful years and memory.

Tears welled in Jarel’s eyes, and a pang of angst overwhelmed him. Who is this lady, and from what torment was she suffering?

I think they’ve fled to the rose garden, Ivy cried out.

Jarel snapped from his trance, and the specter dissipated.

Come on. We must return to the manor. The girl snatched the lantern handle and jumped off the edifice, landing neatly in a sprawl of leaves. She waited impatiently for Jarel to reach her before they raced away from the mausoleum at top flight.

When Ivy and Jarel broke the cover of the forest, they were greeted by a formidable storm. On their left, the farmland rolled away in chewed columns. Lightning lit up the harvested fields, revealing bound haystacks, straddle row cultivators, and sulky plows. Up ahead, like a beacon of safety, a sprawling antebellum mansion anchored the fore of the Everard property. A luster of minute dots twinkled from several of its rounded windows.

The friends dashed through the stinging rain until they reached the veranda—a sweeping extension deck behind the main house. Here they rested, dripping wet and gasping for breath.

Ivy noticed Jarel shivering. Let’s get inside before you catch a cold, but we mustn’t be discovered doing so.

The teens made a final scan of the grounds but saw no sign of the missing boys amid the flashes of light. They trotted around the corner of the manor under the protection of a whitewashed overhang and came to a small wooden door.

Can’t we use the same exit from before? Jarel asked.

Trouble would be waiting in the study, she replied. I spied my grandmother in there.

Ivy twisted the brass knob, and they cautiously entered. Relief softened the intensity of her face as she led Jarel into a narrow tunnel. Sconces hung along the stone walls, and its torches were lit at intervals, forcing shadows to hide within the bends of the passage.

This leads to the library, she said. Grandpapa showed us this in case of emergencies, and I kindled the way just for our adventure.

The friends hurried along until they reached a similar door at the other end. Ivy nudged Jarel through and into a small alcove where, inches in front of him, a thick wool curtain blocked his progress. 

Five steps to your left, she whispered.

Jarel fumbled along until he found a crease in the material and then pushed his way into a stately chamber. Lining each wall were prominent bookcases separated by royal blue damask drapes. The shelves were stocked with an assortment of leather tomes, and precious knickknacks intermittently divided these works into their respective subject matters. Elegant reading chairs were positioned at casual angles, and stained-glass lamps rested nearby. A crystal chandelier hung from the recessed ceiling, shining its brilliance on the whole of the room.

Wow, I’ve never seen this part of the house before, Jarel said.

Given a week you couldn’t possibly absorb the frippery. Ivy clasped his arm and ushered him across the plush carpet.

Just then, a stark male voice spoke out from an adjacent corridor. We cannot suffer another harvest like last year. The sonorous tone heightened as it drew nearer the library. This makes a decade of decline with no end in sight.

Ivy yanked Jarel behind an overstuffed chaise just as two men entered the room. They approached a cherrywood drawing desk where the older gentleman, dressed in a double-breasted black suit and white bow tie, rifled through various items on the tabletop.

I haven’t a clue on where it is, Frederic, he continued with agitation. Dash it to ribbons if I misplaced those documents again.

Frederic, wearing the same regal attire, chuckled in spite of himself. Under the circumstances, Father, I do not blame you for becoming rattled. The ball has claimed everybody’s attention these days. Do you think Miss Ada had, he paused with insouciance, "well, anything to do with shifting papers around?"

No, he responded flatly, she is too responsible. I’m the damned fool destined for mayhem, it would seem.

Do not let this nag your mind. Frederic clasped his father’s forearm. You have prospered for years innumerable and provided for your family our entire lives. Let us return to this evening’s dedicatory meal. I believe your granddaughter has some announcement of bearing to declare. After all, sixteen is a glorious time in the life of a young girl.

The elderly man appeared nonplussed. Yes, I suppose tonight does take precedence over my affairs.

Both men turned and walked out of the library, leaving the friends to their hiding.

Ivy tugged Jarel’s collar, pulling him close. Whenever we visit the manor, my father tries to settle down Grandpapa in matters of the estate. The entire house has become flustered with this particular harvest. She extinguished the lantern and slid it behind a tall glass cabinet. You and I must reach the dining room before someone suspects we were missing.

What about Loren and your brother? he asked.

The girl’s eyebrows knit. I hope they’ve returned, or we shall have hell to pay.

Ivy and Jarel hurried down elaborate hallways until they reached the banquet. Maroon panels of the accompanying lobby were lined with alabaster wainscoting which exhibited an ambience of richness and comfort. A silver-framed mirror, decorating the far wall, set a modish tone for the evening.

Each of the invited patrons waited in the foyer for a steward to escort them to their chairs. Once seated, the retainers were politely complimented. The pair arrived in time to see hors d’oeuvres being served on an immense mahogany table.

Jarel scanned the assembly but didn’t see Ellis nor Loren among them. Ivy, did you notice anything weird at the crypt?

No, I did not. She pursed her lips. What made you bring those boys along with us? My brother is eternally feeble, and Loren could have gotten himself hurt.

Jarel frowned, not knowing how to answer her question. Ivy had entrusted only him with this caper, but he brought his two friends along in spite of that fact. His anxious nature always seemed to cling to the comforts of companionship. I guess I wasn’t thinking.

The girl sighed. I wish you had more faith in me. Haven’t I always kept your best interests at heart even after what happened to you those many years ago?

Before Jarel could respond, a venerable woman, dressed in a purple bustle skirt with flounces and frills, was pushed towards them in a wheelchair. White hair, lifting high from her forehead, cascaded upon her shoulders in twisting plaits. Darling child, how— She balked as her attendant brought the vehicle to a halt. Why, you are all wet. Change out of those dressings at once. You will catch your death!

Ivy bent forward and kissed her cheek. Yes, Grandmum. I was planning to.

You were outside in this weather?

I must have lingered too long at the stables brushing Hollylove. 

Smudges of dirt dot you like a ragamuffin, the woman exclaimed, and that is not the appropriate clothing for dinner. Where is your gown?

Oh my, are those rubbered wheels? Ivy pointed at the sleek rollers on the sides of the infirmity chair. With her grandmother’s attention diverted, she gave Jarel a jocular nudge to his ribs.

That is correct, my love. Conveniences are hard to find in rural Virginia, and I had them specifically shipped from England in time for this gay event. She proudly stroked the circular protrusions. I am too delicate to operate them myself, but they’re there in a pinch when in need.

You faithfully serve the fashions of the day, Grandmum.

Is this the new beau invited to your special dinner? She raised her lorgnette, peering at the lanky boy.

Hello, Mrs. Everard, Jarel said awkwardly. We’ve met once before when I was just a kid. I attended one of your Christmas parties with my dad.

Oh? That must have been a jolly time for you. The matriarch beamed an exuberant smile and leaned in close to her granddaughter. "I thought there were supposed to be two young men here tonight."

Yes, Grandmum. Ellis was giving our friend, Loren, a tour of the gallery. They must have gotten themselves lost.

With wide eyes of alarm, the woman’s head craned the room as if a calamity had befallen them. No, no, that won’t do. They must be found at once. She instructed the attendant to steer the chair over to her husband, who was enjoying an aperitif amongst a group of colleagues.

Jarel watched their hasty departure. I think we’re in trouble, but I don’t understand why.

Ivy sighed. That is because there is no way to explain their disappearance without my admitting to skirting house edicts.

Huh?

Silly boy, Ivy smirked, I am referring to our strict rules. Guests are never allowed to wander the estate grounds, and with an overnight stay, they must be chaperoned.

Ivy, we have to return to the mausoleum and look for them, he said with exasperation. Loren and Ellis could be lost deep inside those woods. What if that lady took them?

Pardon me? Her eyes narrowed. Of whom do you speak?

Jarel watched the torrential rain running in rivulets down