Tom's Tales

By Thomas P Peviani

IN LOVING MEMORY OF TOM PEVIANI

- was a loving husband and a great father.

Tom had live

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: Mar 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781953699589

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Thomas P Peviani.

Cover art by Jessica Fernandez Peviani.

ISBN 978-1-953699-56-5 (softcover)

ISBN 978-1-953699-57-2 (harcover)

ISBN 978-1-953699-58-9 (ebook)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America.

Book Vine Press

2516 Highland Dr.

Palatine, IL 60067

Contents

The Night Visitor

Epilogue

The Snowstorm at the Sawmill Passage

The Castle on Morehead Bluff

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Strange Visitor on the Mountain

Photo Gallery

The Night Visitor

After much thought and prayer, my decision to put pen to paper and to reveal this story was quite taxing. However much real or embellished, it is, to the best of my knowledge, what I remember coming from a six- to seven-year-old mind. Some may find it understating to handle, that is to say, not scary or frightening but so horrifying and mentally blowing that I had tried to forget about it and the best part of my life. Get on with my life.

Nevertheless, all things being as they are, my story must be told, to the best of my knowledge, in an attempt to expose in part or fully whatever happened to me, in an attempt to bring closer to a profoundly terrifying time in my life one summer.

It was 1966, on a beautiful summer’s day, after many hours of swimming, bike riding, and becoming an expert glider aboard my new steel roller skates in the church parking lot next to our house. My dad and granddad had just finished a wooden go-cart, and my sister and I could not wait to go home and put it down our long driveway, which was next to our house. In the half-crescent driveway in front of the house with a long straightaway going all the way back to the garage at the end southwest corner of our lot. Our house was set in front for about 3.5 acres of land in the suburbs of South Pasadena. Nothing could have prepared me for the ordeal that was about to become the half-missing and the half-horrifying chapter in my life that was about to unfold.

The go-cart was very fast as I was being pushed by my elder brother around the corner down the straightaway toward the garage. Sparks flashed as I pulled the friction brake. It was getting late. The light from the back porch shone across the concrete stairs leading up to the back porch. Suddenly the door opened with my mother saying, Dinnertime. Both of my brothers and sister scampered up the stairs, and then there was a loud slam as the door shut, leaving me sitting there alone in the dark, and as I gazed into the night sky, strange wind was blowing across the top of the trees.

Gaping up into the summer night, a strange feeling came over me as if I was being watched by someone or something, so I jumped out of the go-cart and ran up the stairs only to find out that the door was locked. Pulling on the doorknob, I yelled, Let me in, let me in! My mother was scolding my brothers and sister. Be nice to your brother, as they all laughed. The warmth of the inside of the house quickly covered me along with my mother’s understanding smile as she directed me toward the kitchen table with hot tomato and grilled cheese sandwiches. They were my favorite and all lined on my plate to devour them.

We have just moved to our house a few weeks prior, and at over 5,000 sq. ft., it seemed massive to my small frame, and the high ceilings with rounded corners at the top seemed to stretch out and fade into the darkness forever. Our family dog lay motionless as he slept quietly in front of the refrigerator. He was a basset hound and my best friend.

To bed, to bed, sleepyhead, time to go to sleep, called my mother. The back staircase wound up to the right and straight to the top. It was narrow, and the ceiling was vast and empty above me. The wooden floor creaked under my feet as I ran and jumped into my bed. I could still hear my family talking as their voices echoed up from downstairs, and they seemed a mile away. I longed to be down there with them, but being the youngest, I was always put to bed first. The satisfying creak of the stairs meant Mommy was coming up to tuck me in and say my prayers. My mother would sometimes sing to me as I went to sleep, knowing I had some apprehension about moving in this big old house.

I was warm and comfortable as I slept. The cold air grazed my cheek as I woke from my sound sleep. The strong smell of cinnamon filled the air, and the window was open, and the curtains softly floated in the night breeze. Looking across the room was a short little being with a large head and a skinny body. Its eyes were large ovules with an angular head and shiny black. I couldn’t move or run out of the room. All I could say then was My, what beautiful eyes you have, trying to be polite. My pet, Cecilia, has eyes like yours but much smaller and not all black. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you—don’t be afraid, I said as it came closer and closer.

It said, My name is Inkeedow. I must have fallen asleep, and its words seemed to penetrate my mind. I wanted to yell or run, but I was paralyzed, and I remember a cold breeze on my back as I floated out the window.

The next day I woke up feeling tired and confused. The steel sash window was closed but not locked. I was certain that I had locked the window. A few days before, the lock had a long handle; and when pushed down in the locked position, it could not be opened from the outside. My father had told me that steel scathe window and lock is the best ever made. I had been concerned after finding out my room was the one at the end of the long hallway opposite side upstairs from my parents’ room. I noticed my pajama sleeve had been torn with a piece missing. My arms were sore, and I had a pounding headache. It was hot and smoggy that day. I stayed in and played chess with my sister.

Later that day, I asked my mother if she opened my window this morning. She said she has not been in my room all day. I was very tired and went to bed early that night. I still had a dull headache.

Wake up, Tommy. My mother’s sweet voice spoke to me. Henry, the hound dog, was barking outside. Something is going on outside, and I want you to come downstairs with me. I felt relieved going down the wide staircase of polished walnut and oak, so solid and strong. My mother’s soft hand held tight as we walked across the expansive polished parquet floors to sit on the living room chair. She said, Listen. A low vibration seemed to vibrate the house and then shook everything everywhere. Earthquake! My mom said, We will be all right, Tommy. Don’t worry. The brick and masonry wall stood fast, and the shaking had stopped.

My dad was on a business trip in San Francisco for the weekend. He had called to see if everything was all right the next day. I wanted to tell him about what happened, but that sinking feeling of disapproval and shame would take over, and I wasn’t sure about what really happened. And when I thought about it, my head would trouble me with pain.

Well, another hot summer’s day had gone by. Not much fun and dreading the nighttime, not knowing what to expect. Would my night visitor come back, or was it all a bad dream? This time I checked the window lock were tight every window upstairs. My sister helped me. When we got to my room, the window was open; the moon shone through the thick glass and bathed the polished oak floor with warm moonlight. My sister looked at me and said, No way. I am not going to close it. I am getting Mommy.

We both darted down the stairs to find my brothers watching and laughing, and they quickly said, It’s too late for you to be up. Mommy is taking her friend home, and we’re in charge, so go to bed now, and don’t bother us or you’ll be in trouble!

Well, my window is stuck open, and the cold breeze is going to bother my sleep.

Okay, okay, my eldest brother said. I’ll take care of it. He was big and strong. His shirt barely fit over his muscle from. His shadow cloaked