Midnight Marauder

By Adriel Chevalier

The greatest conquering hero of all time is Love. With love comes commitment that can often confuse and offend others if they fail to understand that is a choice for the best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adriel Chevalier
• Release date: Sep 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005182175

Adriel Chevalier

Adriel Jacques Chevalier descended from a French family that migrated to the Netherlands before immigrating to the United States. His family's vocation centered around the jewelry and watchmaking business for generations. However, Adriel was never adept with handling the delicate parts of tiny machinery. Instead, he turned his interests to the software industry that was just becoming popular in his young, adult life. He found that logic and problem solving better suited his skills, and he excelled in his field.Adriel's elder sister had taught him to read and write at the age of three. Due to boredom suffered from structured learning, he sought to educate himself from his youth. In his adult life he spent decades studying ancient history and various writings, mostly centering around Christian and Judaic literature. Some of his studies he opted to conduct in the pre-translated, original language to gain a clearer understanding.Always frustrated with the structure and politics of organized religion, he sought relationships according to the instruction of the Messiah, "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in their midst." Adriel recognized that the Messiah's name was synonymous with his authority, which is Truth, and that any group larger than three brought annoying problems.Adriel and his fellows departed from the mainstream teaching of the established religions and embarked on a journey that led them on a quest for intrinsic Truth. Through many enlightening revelations and miraculous experiences, Adriel came to recognize that much of what is taught today concerning the Creator and his anointed one is rubbish. He forsook the erroneous cliches, rhetoric and discrepancies of the religious culture and embraced Truth, which is available to any man anywhere at any time.Although it was contrary to Adriel's belief system to share his findings in a rhetorical document, in his latter years he decided to envelop them into works of fiction to be enjoyed by others. He has developed several stories with elements of actual experiences and enlightenment for others to enjoy and ponder.

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Adriel Chevalier Books

False Antichrist - 2016

The Gold of Ophir - 2018

Noah’s Portal - 2019

Zanzibar - 2020

The Precinct Murders - 2020

Where the Chips Fell - 2020

COVID-21 - 2020

The Templar Secret - 2020

The Geneticist - 2021

Midnight Marauder - 2021

The Ribbon Maker - 2022

The Seven Peals of Thunder - 2022

MIDNIGHT MARAUDER

Adriel Jacques Chevalier

Copyright © 2021 Adriel Jacques Chevalier

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 9781005182175

To the Reader

I grew up in a haunted house. I have disclosed this to few people in my life due to unbelief. However, the hair raising experiences that I had often suffered caused me to flee my house on some occasions. This story includes many of the experiences that I encountered, but it is a work of fiction. Names and places have been altered, and any resemblance to those living or deceased is merely a coincidence.

CHAPTER ONE

King of the Haunted Hill

ROBBY STOOD IN triumph with his hands in the air on top of the small hill beside my house. I’m king of the hill!

No, you’re not, Tommy challenged as he charged up the hill to tackle Robby to the ground.

As they grappled on the grassy knoll, I took my place as the king of the hill. Once I claimed aloud that I was king, I was attacked by Tommy and Robby as they dragged me to the bottom of the incline. We were wrestling and laughing, and this was one of our favorite games to play in the evenings after it cooled off from a day of sunshine and hot, humid weather. None of us had air conditioning in those days, except my dad had bought a window air conditioner for my older sister because she complained that she couldn’t fix her hair properly with the high humidity. She was going away to college next year, and I had plans for that contraption.

It was the end of summer vacation, and most of our mornings had been spent in the shade of the maple trees that lined the sidewalk along our street as we donned our holsters and six guns to pretend we were in showdowns with one another. We had cap guns, and usually the one watching the competition would judge who won the duel. If the cap failed to discharge, or our gun wasn’t pointing at our opponent, we lost. The year was 1961, and most of the TV shows that we watched were westerns in those days. We would pretend to be different characters as we challenged one another to a quick draw. I was usually Billy the Kid, and Tommy claimed Doc Holliday for himself. Robby had a Texan influence, so he opted for Jim Bowie because he had a huge rubber knife strapped to his side.

Hot afternoons were usually spent on Robby’s porch while we played board games and enjoyed Kool-Aid popsicles that his grandmother had made. Robby’s parents were divorced and lived in Galveston, Texas. He was often away from his parents at his grandparents’ house, which was three doors east of mine. Sometimes, he would attend the Catholic school in the fall if he didn’t have an opportunity to return to his mother due to her battle with mental illness. His younger sister, Katie, was the main stability in his life as she was shuttled back and forth between Galveston and Indianapolis with him. Katie’s left foot was turned in, and she wore a brace on her leg to help correct it.

Tommy lived directly across the street from me. It was an urban neighborhood, and we had everything available within walking distance. Groceries, drug stores with soda fountains, pizza parlors, dry cleaners, drive-in restaurants, bars, dance studios, doctors, a public library, parks, and just about anything you could imagine were nearby. The neighborhood was predominantly Catholic, and I was the only Protestant on our block. The Catholic school, St. James the Greater, was next to my public school, Emma Donna, number 72, just a few blocks from my house.

Many of the businesses aligned Shelby Street, which was a dividing line between classes of families. Poorer people lived east of Shelby, and we seldom went over there due to gangs and bullies. However, we had no shortage of bullies to the West either. Navigating my way home from school often forced me into alleys and cutting through neighbors’ yards to avoid getting punched or knocked to the ground. Their goal was to make you cry, and if you held out, the punishment just got worse.

On cooler days, we would search for empty soda bottles to take to the local grocery. We used the bottle deposit refund to buy candy or cupcakes. There was a hill left over from construction by the street next to the Catholic school two blocks away that was overgrown with trees and weeds. It was usually loaded with bottles that were tossed from teenagers as they drove by in their cars. We could always count on twenty to thirty of them to be found there. Once we cashed in the bottles, we would peruse the candy display to choose our favorites. It was often difficult to choose between the Hostess Twinkies, Suzy Q’s, Snowballs, or Baby Ruth, Pay Day, Snickers, Three Musketeers, and a myriad of other sugary items.

Sometimes, we would venture five blocks northward to Garfield Park to go exploring. We were curious about the iron bars that covered an opening in the side of a hill to some place mysterious. Despite warning signs posted for polio, we usually stopped at several spots to play in Bean Creek that wound its way through the park. Occasionally, we wandered westward to the railroad tracks that led downtown alongside the park grounds. We would often put pennies on the tracks to be smashed to the size of a quarter by an oncoming train. My mom and dad naturally didn’t know that we were doing this, or I would have gotten grounded and forbidden to come to the park without supervision.

We often called ourselves The Three Musketeers, but Tommy and Robby would argue over who was to be d’Artagnan. I had to remind them that he wasn’t one of the Three Musketeers, according to the novel by Alexander Dumas. They could choose from Athos, Porthos, or Aramis. They assigned Aramis to me as I was the best looking. Tommy was the largest, so he was Porthos. That left Robby with Athos. We had makeshift swords that we had fashioned from poles, and we sometimes dueled in Robby’s backyard on cloudy days. It’s a small miracle that we didn’t poke one another’s eyes out, but back in those days safety wasn’t much of a concern. There were no bike helmets, seatbelts, or carseats. Even one of my Mattel revolver cap guns shot out plastic bullets when I fired it.

It was beginning to get dark, and the fire flies were starting to flash all around us. We spent several minutes catching them and letting them go. Suddenly, my mom called to me, Gerry, it’s time to come inside for a bath. You have to be full of chiggers.

I called back to her as she stood on the front porch. Can Tommy spend the night tonight?

If it’s OK with his mother, that’s fine.

Robby was heading home to pack his suitcases because he was leaving early in the morning for Galveston. Otherwise, we would all be huddled in my room together tonight making up ghost stories. However, I had a real story of my own. My dad was out of town at a jewelry convention in New York. Otherwise, I would never have invited Tommy to spend the night. My mom and dad argued incessantly. Within five minutes of my dad walking in the back door after work, he and my mom would be screaming at each other over nothing. This would go on for twenty minutes until one of them slammed the bedroom door. Then, after about ten minutes it would start all over again until we settled down to watch TV after supper in the evening.

Tommy and I said our goodbyes and watched Robby trudge toward his house. I knew he hated to leave again. I looked over and invited, Hey, Tommy, go ask your mom if you can spend the night! My mom is making Chef Boyardee pizza, and we have Nehi drinks too. There’s grape, orange, raspberry, cream soda, and we have Mason’s root beer.

Man, you guys are rich, aren’t you?

I gave Tommy a puzzled look. Rich? Heck no, we aren’t rich.

I was totally oblivious to the fact that my lifestyle was more opulent than my friends. Our diet and clothing were obvious signs that my family was better off than most in our neighborhood, but to me it was normal. Rich people lived in mansions, so I certainly wasn’t rich in my opinion. However, in retrospect, my apparent means was most likely what provoked many of the bullies.

I finished my bath and got dressed before I sat on my front porch awaiting Tommy to see if he could spend the night. Soon, he emerged from his front door with a small bag, and I jumped up in excitement to have a friend stay overnight. I opened the front door, and Tommy smiled over at me. I can smell that pizza. Thanks for inviting me. Tommy looked around. Where’s your sister?

Oh, she’s spending the night with one of her friends that’s going to the same college next year. I knew that Tommy had a crush on Cherise, my sister, even though she was seven years older. We were at the age where we were starting to notice girls, and my sister looked like a Playboy Playmate. Sometimes, Tommy would ask if I had seen her naked, but I answered by punching him in the arm.

We sat at the dining room table while my mom dished up our pizza and gave us a choice of two sodas each. I grabbed the raspberry and grape, while Tommy snagged the orange and a root beer. We gobbled down our cheese pizza and slugged our sodas as we laughed and talked with our mouths as full as we could get them. My mom began to reprimand us when we started oozing the pizza out of our mouths, which made us laugh even harder.

After our pizza, we headed into the bathroom. We shoved each other from in front of the mirror as we brushed our teeth. I was using extra toothpaste because Crest had a tube that was shaped like a rocket. Once the toothpaste was gone, you would put vinegar and baking soda inside and seal the cap before setting it upright on the sidewalk. It would explode and send the rocket into the air. At least it kept me brushing my teeth regularly, even though I was wasting toothpaste.

We changed into our pajamas and sat on my floor to play cards. Neither of us was sleepy, and we kept our voices down so that we didn’t disturb my mom. Before long, she began her nightly moaning. Geez, Gerry, is your mom all right?

Yeah, she does that every night. My dad snores while my mom moans like she’s in pain. I know it sounds bizarre, but to tell you the truth, it’s one of the more soothing sounds in my life. It’s one of the few times that my mom and dad aren’t screaming at each other.

Well, at least you have a dad. Mine died when I was a baby. A couple of hours passed, and we heard the Westminster chime clock that sat upon the stereo console in the living room, as it announced every quarter hour. It was just after one thirty when I heard the familiar sound. Tommy’s brow furled as he whispered, I think someone’s in your house. We could hear footsteps as my mom continued to moan in the background.

I gave a sigh and confessed. Our house is haunted. I hear footsteps all the time.

Maybe your sister came home, Tommy challenged.

I shook my head. No, I can recognize footsteps for everyone in my family. This is a ghost.

Tommy’s eyes grew wide. Does it ever come into your room?

So far, it hasn’t. Sometimes it flings our doorknobs as it turns them and lets the spring loose.

What does your mom and dad have to say about it?

They never hear it. They’re always sleeping. It doesn’t happen when they are awake.

Have you ever told them?

No, because I know they wouldn’t believe me.

Has Cherise ever heard it?

I don’t think so. I’ve never mentioned it to her because I don’t want to scare her.

How come you never told me that you live in a haunted house? Doesn’t it scare you?

Well, I doubt that anyone would ever believe me, and yeah, sometimes it scares me to death. Shhh, it’s right outside my door.

I could see Tommy begin to tremble as we sat in silence. After a few moments, we heard the specter walk away toward the back of the house. My gosh, Gerry, have you ever seen it?

No, I haven’t. It usually happens at night when my bedroom door is closed. It never seems to open doors. I have heard it in the daytime once when nobody was home, but I went running out of the house.

Well, this would have been nice to know before you asked me to spend the night.

It’s not going to hurt you, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody about it.

How do you know it won’t hurt me? You don’t even know what it is.

I don’t want to know what it is. This is why I don’t like horror movies. It makes me wonder what roams my house at night.

How often does this happen?

Oh, I’d say about three times a week, maybe more sometimes. I’m kind of used to it, but it still creeps me out.

Well, those were definitely footsteps, and your mom is obviously sleeping because I can hear her. If Cherise didn’t come home, then maybe you have a prowler.

That’s one of the first things I thought too, but my mom and dad lock this place up tight at night, and there’s never been a sign of someone entering. The footsteps finally subsided. Look, I might know where this thing is coming from, but you have to swear to never tell anyone.

Tommy raised three fingers. Scout’s honor, I won’t tell anyone.

When I was a baby, my parents had their bedroom and the family room added on to the back of the house. It was built over a crawl space. A few years ago, my dad decided to break through the block wall in the basement to try to extend it underneath the family room. He finally gave up after running into a huge boulder. There is a gaping hole in the basement room that he used for a darkroom when he was into photography several years ago. We keep that door closed, so you probably haven’t seen it when we play ping pong down there. I’ve always had a sense that there was something evil lurking in that hole.

Oh, great! I think my ping pong days are over. I can’t believe that you’ve never told me this.

Geez, Tommy, it’s no big deal. Just act like it didn’t happen. That’s what I do.

Yeah, well, I need to use the bathroom. It’s kind of hard to act like this didn’t happen. What if I run face to face into this thing?

That never happens. The bathroom is right next to my bedroom, and the footsteps are gone. You have nothing to worry about. Tommy wasn’t about to leave my room. He kept fidgeting, and I was afraid that he would end up peeing all over my floor. Finally, I offered, Do you need for me to walk you to the bathroom? I could see that his embarrassment was greater than his fear, and he made a quick dash to the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the toilet flush, and he slipped back into my room.

I was getting sleepy, but Tommy was wide awake. I finally dozed off on my bed as he sat on the floor with a pillow pulled tightly against his legs and his knees to his chin. I had no idea how long he sat awake on the floor, but when I awoke, he was curled up asleep with the pillow under his head. Not knowing how much sleep he had, I tried not to wake him when I went to the bathroom. However, when I returned, he was getting dressed and packing his bag. He was ready to go home. The sun was just coming up, and I ushered him to the front door. He didn’t say a word as I unlocked the heavy wooden door and let him outside. He scurried home across the street, and I didn’t see him for two days.

It was now the weekend, and my mom wanted to take me shopping for school clothes and supplies. I hated these biannual excursions to the department stores. We boarded the Shelby Street bus to head for the Circle downtown. I wanted to go to the top of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument, but she said that we didn’t have time. We always started at Ayres, then over to Blocks, and sometimes to Wassons, if we couldn’t find everything that I needed. After hours of trying on clothes and shoes and having my mom fuss over me in front of the store clerks, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. We caught our bus on the Circle to return home as we were loaded like pack mules with my new school duds.

After dropping all of our bags in the family room, she escorted me to the drug store on Shelby Street a block from our house to get my supplies. Luckily, I coaxed her into getting a Cherry Phosphate at the soda fountain before we searched for my fountain pens, notebooks, writing paper, pencils, erasers, and ink cartridges. Our shopping trip was such a success that she bought me a Baby Ruth candy bar before we left the store. Somehow, it seemed to make it all worthwhile.

We had been in school for almost a week before Tommy began warming up to me again. I had regretted asking him to spend the night. This was one of the reasons that I didn’t want to tell anyone that I lived in a haunted house. It was a very unpopular thing to do, and I knew that it could drive friends away. However, that evening, Tommy wanted to talk about his experience at my house that night. We sat on the front steps of my porch, and he looked over at me. You know, I really got creeped out that night I spent at your house. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. First, I don’t know how you live here without telling others about it, especially your mom and dad.

You don’t understand, Tommy, my mom and dad argue enough as it is. The last thing I want to do is give them more reasons.

Don’t you even want to know what it is that roams your house at night? Have you ever tried to hide and catch it wandering around?

"What do you think? You were afraid to use the bathroom, much less try to catch this thing. It has been going on for years. It