A House Divided

By Mark Miner

In the mind of a killer, everything seems normal. In the actions of a killer, everything has a higher reason. In the eyes of a killer, anybody could be next.
Matt just wanted a normal, easy life. After ending a relationship with his partner, Matt moves back to his hometown. Albany, Oregon.
Matt runs into some old friends and some new friends. But Matts new friends are anything but friendly, theyre dead.
The body count builds, the truth comes out, and revenge is justified. But who ends up alive at the end?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 13, 2009
• ISBN: 9781477164518

Mark Miner

Mark Miner resides in Albany, Oregon. He has a PhD in Cultural Philosophy, and a Masters in Health Administration. The author has always been interested in the paranormal ever since he found out that his grandmother used to chase ghosts. Some define him as "eccentric".

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by Mark Miner.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4415-6314-9

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4771-6451-8

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

permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Special Thanks To:

PATTY LESTER

TONY MORRISON

ALLISON JONES

JOSHUA SULLIVAN

ROBERT STEELE

VENDETTA BROWNING

And to my lovely daughter;

ISABELLA ANGELIQUE MINER

COVER DESIGN BY:

3DART.COM

Prologue

August, 1983

Albany, Oregon

The air felt charged with energy. A storm was fast approaching casting everything in shades of gray. A sudden gust of wind carried the laughter of children, three to be exact.

Mikey was the leader. Simply because he could run the fastest, and because he held a certain authority in the group. Shortly behind Mikey was Bobbie, following him was Matt. They ran with the wind, feeling the power and excitement pushing them along. To these outcasts of the neighborhood, this was pure freedom.

Suddenly Mikey stops to catch his breath. Unbeknownst to the followers, their leader halted, forcing them to run into each other and fall to the ground.

What gives? gasped Matt.

Had to catch my breath, dork, Mikey said. Slapping Matt on the back of the head.

Hey guys, look! Bobbie yelled.

All three looked to the house they sat in front of, provoking different emotions in each. It was the Old Crittenden house. The most talked about house in the neighborhood, rumored to be haunted.

An eeriness sat on the house like a fog banking on a river. Luminous clouds as it’s backdrop, this deserted three story house practically made the urine flow in the bravest of men.

This was as close as any of the children had ever wanted to come to the house.

Let’s get out of here, jumping at the same time, Matt easily was in the lead.

What are you talking about?

Well, how can anything touch us down here? And besides, what happened here happened on the second story. So to tell the truth, we could check out the bottom part of the house at least. And still be safe. Mikey reasoned with an excitement in his eyes. Almost daring the other two.

Bobbie remained silent.

No way, you’re crazy, out of your freaking mind, Matt said too quickly.

Chicken, cluck, cluck, cluck.

All talk, no action, Bobbie stated as he turned and started walking towards the full porch of the house.

Wait! Mikey yelled.

For a few seconds Matt and Mikey watched as Bobbie marched up the steps of the porch, only to suddenly stop. Turning his head over his left shoulder, Bobbie silently mouthed out the word, ‘chicken’, then ran up the remainder of the steps onto the porch and through the unlocked front door.

Giving each other a look of unbelief, the two remaining stood in amazement.

Wh-what should we do? Matt stammered.

Go after him.

Slowly the two walked up to the house. Matt attempting to slip his hand into Mikey’s.

Knock it off! Flinging Matt’s hand from his.

Mumbling under his breath, Matt followed a step behind. As they neared the steps they stopped and listened. Nothing. A few more steps. Still nothing. Yet a few more…

Arr…

Bobbie screamed as he ran out of the door waving his hands in the air. In shock, but attempting to scream, the two near the steps were all but frozen to the ground.

Laughing hysterically, Bobbie pointed at their faces while trying to hold his side. Ah forget it. You should see this house, it’s cool. Not a moment more, and he was inside the house again.

Why do we bother hanging with that geek? Matt asked.

Who knows? But let’s check out the house, Mikey says as he grabs Matt’s hand.

As all three stood just inside of the door, their senses took over. The main room was immense. A cathedral ceiling supported what was once a crystal chandelier, now only draped with cobwebs. A grand staircase spiraled down to the left of the room. Thin layers of dust covered everything.

Chuckling to break the silence of awe, Bobbie said in wonder, Awesome!

Let’s check it out, Matt nervously said.

Taking charge, Mikey ordered, Bottom floor only, and we stick together. All three nodding without argument.

Slowly moving forward, they crossed the main room into the next. What appeared to be in the living room, held a fireplace huge enough to fit all three while standing. Windows lined adjacent walls, glaring at them as if curious at the young intruders.

Check this out! Bobbie exclaimed. Quickly he darted to the right of the room, he stood before a door. It’s probably to the kitchen, but look, it’s all nailed shut.

Wonder why?

Who cares. I’ve seen enough. This is getting stupid, Matt said.

You’re just scared, Bobbie said.

Right, and you’re the man of steel.

Matt’s right, we should leave before it starts raining, Mikey said humbly.

Running into the main room, Bobbie yells over his shoulder, Not until I see the upstairs.

Bobbie, no!

Mikey sighs, then hangs his head in frustration.

Mikey, let’s just go.

Not without Bobbie. Stay here and I’ll go get him, okay?

You’re crazy. I’m going with you.

Fine.

Briskly walking towards the staircase with Matt in tow, Mikey keeps his ears open for any sounds of Bobbie running upstairs. Concerned that he hears nothing, Mikey yells out, Bobbie come on, let’s get out of here.

Walking up the staircase was a slow process. Half way up, Matt’s hand is yanked out of Mikey’s.

What gives?

Mikey looks back and notices bewilderment on Matt’s face. What’s the matter?

I—I can’t move. I mean, I can’t move forward.

What? Just take a step forward.

It’s like there’s a wall here.

Matt puts his hands in front of him making circular motions like an amateur mime.

Mikey looks down and notices that Matt is standing on a dark stain on the stairs. What’s that? Mikey is pointing at Matt’s feet.

Matt slowly looks down and notices the stain.

Holy shit, we’re out of here! Mikey yells.

Running up the stairs and getting to the landing he sees Bobbie out of the corner of his eye. Bobbie is standing stiff in the middle of the hallway, as if frozen to the spot. Both boys are looking in the same direction, at the end of the long hallway.

Bobbie, come on… slowly.

Keeping his eyes on what is apparently an invisible young boy, Mikey tries to reach forward without moving his feet and grab onto Bobbie.

The young transparent boy at the end of the hallway is gesturing with his arms in a fluid motion for them to leave.

With all the courage he could muster, and a little bit of urine in his pants, Mikey takes off back down the stairs.

Taking two steps at a time, Mikey grabs onto Matt and pulls him down the rest of the stairs and out of the front door. With hell at their heels, the two boys run with all they had down the sidewalk and back into the charged air.

The ghost boy glides down the hallway, keeping his eyes on Bobbie. Without warning the boy was on Bobbie in an instant.

CHAPTER ONE

February, 2003

Wichita, Kansas

The light of the world speeds intensely by and sense of things are outlined exactly. You’re sure of who you are on a strong bright day after a storm when the smallest falling leaf is stabbed with self-awareness. The wind makes a sound in the trees and the world comes into being, and the spider rides the wind-swayed web.

It happened this final morning that they were here at the same time, in the kitchen, and they shambled past each other to get things out of cabinets and drawers still a little in dream melt, and he ran tap water over his hands and closed his eyes to breathe.

Roman sat with the newspaper, drinking his coffee. It was his coffee and his cup. They shared the newspaper but it was actually, unspokenly, his lovers.

I want to say something, but what.

Matt ran water from the tap and seemed to notice. It was the first time he’d ever noticed this.

About the house, Roman said. Something I meant to tell you.

Matt noticed how water from the tap turned dirty within seconds. It ran clear and then in seconds turned dirty. Curious in which he’d run water from the kitchen tap, he’d never noticed how the water ran clear at first and then went dirty, or maybe it hadn’t happened before, or he’d noticed and forgotten.

Matt crossed the room to go to the cabinet, and reached up for the cereal and took the box to the counter, the mostly brown and white box, and then the toaster thing popped and he flipped it down again because it took two flips to get the bread to go brown. Roman absently nodded his acknowledgment because it was his toast and his butter and then he turned on the radio and got the weather.

The birds were at the feeder, wing beating, fighting for space on the perches.

Matt reached into the near cabinet for a bowl and shook some cereal out of the box. He rubbed his hands dry on his jeans, feeling a sense somewhere of the color blue.

What’s it called, the lever? Matt had pressed down the lever to get Roman’s bread to go brown.

Matt listened to reports and called the weather number frequently and sometimes stood out front and looked into the prairie sky tasting the breeze.

Yes exactly. I know what it is, Roman said.

Matt went to the fridge and opened the door. He stood there remembering something.

Matt said, What? Meaning what did you say, not what did you want to tell me.

Matt crossed to the cabinet and took down a box and then caught the fridge door before it swung shut. He reached in for the milk, realizing what it was Roman said that he hadn’t heard about eight seconds ago.

Every time he had to bend and reach into the lower and remote parts of the refrigerator he let out a groan. He was too trim and limber to feel the strain and was only echoing Roman mimicking, groaning his groan, but in a manner so true to his form, it was his discomfort too.

Now that Roman remembered what he meant to tell him, Matt seemed to lose interest. Matt didn’t have to see Roman’s face to now this. It was in the air. It was in the pause that trailed from his remark of eight, ten, twelve seconds ago. Something insignificant. Roman would take it as a kind of self-diminishment, bringing up a matter so small.

Matt went to the counter and poured milk over the cereal and fruit. The lever sprang or sprung and Roman go up and took his toast back to the table and then went for the butter, and he had to lean away from the counter when Roman approached, his milk carton poised, so Roman could open the drawer and get a butter knife.

There were voices on the radio, like Spanish, sounded.

Matt poured milk into the bowl. Roman sat down and got up. Roman went to the fridge and got the orange juice