Steggman's Model: A Terrifying Novel of the Occult

By Rodney Powell and Chandra Powell

A broken man builds a statue like no other. A dark, ancient evil finds a home in the man's creation and weaves a web of terror no one is soon to forget, escape, or survive. A diabolical plot one hundred years in the making is unleashed by an international coven of witches in the city of Brinson, Louisiana. No one can explain the weird population exploding in Brinson, but it's not of people. Beware, Brinson residents. The crows are watching you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781636927824

Rodney Powell

Rodney Powell is a grandad who tells good stories. What more do you need to know?After reading THE PARDON, one friend said he was the "Christian Clancy." That's a stretch - about like building the Titanic and then labeling it "unsinkable." You can decide for yourself.If you've read THE PARDON, it's not a stretch to think that you'll really enjoy THE RANSOM.

Book preview

The Auction

Brinson, Louisiana

May 2002

S he’s splendid. Wow! Marilyn Cross yells out among the waiting crowd as the reveal of the statue was underway. The thick brown cloth was pulled off by the art gallery buyer Evelyn Craig as she smiles proudly.

Charlotte Ford needed inspiration for her paintings, and she was elated she had found it. It’s really beautiful. Antique. A special piece of art, she mouthed low to herself as her eyes could not leave the platform. Her heart jumped with excitement. Claps were given at the end of every bid, then a loud Here was heard. Charlotte knew she wanted it and needed it as she stared upon it.

‘Ten thousaaaand dollarrrs!" the auctioneer James Poole yells.

Here! Charlotte stood up excitedly.

Going once…twice…Sold to the lucky lady! He smiles. James Poole normally helps Evelyn Craig in the auction and was happy for Charlotte. He knew she would appreciate having such an art piece.

Oh, thank you. Charlotte smiles, and the crowd claps and cheers and nods in agreement to the success of an ecstatic Charlotte.

The older lady, Marilyn Cross, comes from behind Charlotte, tapping her on the shoulder as the next work of art is presented on stage. Charlotte notices Marilyn’s ring marked by a black crow and wonders why the woman celebrated so joyously when she herself lost the bid. I’m glad you won it, Mrs. Charlotte Ford. It certainly will change your life, Marilyn Cross says as she takes notice of Evelyn, and she walks away before Charlotte could ask her how or if she knows her.

She is interrupted by Evelyn Craig. Congratulations! I’ll make arrangements for delivery of your statue. It’s too heavy for you or your husband to carry it home yourselves, Mrs. Craig tells her. Charlotte smiles and agrees completely but is still looking out for the woman who knew her name. Charlotte pulls out her checkbook after a few seconds and writes a check for the full amount due, $10,000.00. She hands it over to Mrs. Craig and hugs her. Splendid! She is all yours. Evelyn smiles and hugs her back.

An hour passes, and a woman walks on the sidewalk toward the art gallery as she notices moving men loading the statue on the back of the truck with the advertisement on the sign on the truck, Best Buddy Movers. The eyes of the woman widen, and her mouth drops open and quivers. Her light-toned skin gathers chill bumps onto it as the wind blows through her thick big hair. Oh no. The woman stops in her tracks and looks at the statue in a panic. The movers look at her but are so busy they don’t think twice about questioning her. You two must get rid of this thing! she yells toward them as she points to the statue.

Look, lady, it’s not ours, okay? Hank gives an annoyed look at her.

She darts across the street, and car horns blow in unison from each of the lanes from both directions. She makes it behind a tree and looks toward the road and back across the street where the statue is being loaded. You are a crazy-ass broad! A car speeds off after the insult is given. The dress she wears blows behind her in the topsy-turvy wind. She looks up after hearing feathers flap over her and sees two black crows, dirty in appearance with cloudy white eyes looking down at her absent pupils. The crows extend their neck as if they smell her scent, and she backs up slowly. She thinks her mind is playing tricks on her as she hears the whip of the wind and her name is whistled, passing her ears: Beatrice. Beatrice was thirty minutes too late to the art auction due to her fighting her nausea the whole time going. After all the effort with no success, she returns the opposite direction home, never keeping her eyes off the black crows.

Charlotte, feeling like she is being stared at, turns to Mrs. Craig and the movers Hank and Tony. She notices Hank staring at her with a look of dread as she walks toward him but remains quiet yet suspicious. Well, she is mine now, and I’m taking her home. Both men smile, Hank uncomfortable as he looks away, with the thought of the strange encounter he has had with the woman a few minutes earlier.

Dinner Party

Charlotte Ford comes through the front door with a huge smile on her face. I went to grab some groceries after the auction, honey, she initiates the conversation with her husband. I have a spectacular dinner planned, and I’m inviting all of our friends over.

Ben Ford, only a towel around his body, grabs the grocery bag from Charlotte and places it on the kitchen table. What’s the occasion? he responds.

You’ll see. I’m so excited. Charlotte begins humming a tune and putting the groceries away.

Thirty minutes pass, and the art gallery movers Hank and Tony are almost at the Fords’ for the delivery of the statue. I haven’t been drinking. But I’ll say, that thing is creepy, and it looks like it’s actually looking at me, Hank states.

Tony glares at the statue and agrees. It definitely looks evil to me, Tony adds. They begin moving the statue into the Ford home after parking the truck backward in the driveway, taking a final look at it.

The movers depart, and Charlotte closes the door. Ben turns to look at the concealed statue curiously. It’s wrapped in a brown cloth, and a string is lined around it in three places to protect it from big bumps as it was moved inside the home. What is this? Ben asks. And how much did it cost us, Charlotte?

Please, Ben. No interrogations, honey, okay? Charlotte responds. Trust me. I’m thinking about art-gallery competitions in the future, and I needed inspiration. It will help us to have it more than hurt. Besides, it may inspire paintings good enough for art auctions too.

The Fords are expecting their friends to show up at 6:00 p.m. for dinner. The home is comfortable and cozy with beautiful ivory plants dangling about the porch and the ceiling at a door entranceway. Lightly playing music can be heard in the backgrounds. The stove emits heat and smoke, and the aroma of Louisiana spices is in the air. As she mixes the noodles with the spaghetti meat in the pot, Charlotte hums to the music playing while Ben walks toward the statue and pulls on the cover, trying to sneak a peek.

Ben’s whole body becomes limp and weakened as his anxiousness grows. He’s nauseated but looks on, and his gut is in an upheaval. He can’t describe how disgusted he feels about the money Charlotte spends on such a thing. He can’t get a good look as he tries hard to remain invisible as he violates his wife’s rules of not going near the statue. He immediately dislikes what he sees and dreads that this big thing is in the way and is occupying so much space in his home. There is something ominous about this thing, he thinks to himself as he inspects it. Charlotte, honey, let’s get a refund, Ben loudly asks but is drowned out by the music and the hums of Charlotte in the kitchen.

What, Ben? What did you say? she asks.

The doorbell rings, and Ben shrugs his shoulder in a never mind and waves his hands at her. He rolls his eyes as he is not looking forward to a reveal of the dreaded thing. Reginald and Rhonda Sinclair are standing at the door, smiling with a bottle of wine. Laissez le bon temps rouler! Reginald shouts to Ben.

Ben shakes his head and smiles and greets them. Well, okay then. Come on in. Ben moves back as they walk in.

Two hours go by, and dinner is served as everyone is eating and chattering and catching up with one another. Charlotte comes into the dining area holding a cake. Surprise, everyone, she says as she enters the dining area. The old friends chatter and smile as she walks in.

Rhonda smiles and asks, Okay, wow. What’s all this for?

Marvin Baker and Don Levy chime in. Is this for our anniversary?

Charlotte shakes her head and says, Not yet. Friends, this is the unveiling of my next inspiration for future projects.

Ben Ford looks on, not at all amused. Charlotte places the cake down in the center of the table and runs to the statue, now untying its packaging. Harvey Miles and his girlfriend Christine Bond look on anxiously at the surprise, amused at Charlotte’s giddiness. Now everyone looks at her. She revels in the attention.

Okay, we’re ready. What is it? Both of them are chuckling at this point.

Charlotte whips the covers off the statue. It is large and tall and unbelievable to her friends. Some begin to stand and approach it, giving it a touch or rub. Whew, Harvey Miles compliments it. It’s so lifelike. Look at how it looks.

Christine Bond is silent and then responds, It’s [she pauses] different. She glances over at Charlotte, half smiling and half smirking.

Oh my. I can see why you love it, Charlotte. Don Levy is eyeing it with one eyebrow raised over the other. Don approaches the statue, looking at it from head to toe. It’s old, antique. He talks until his voice fades and only the music could be heard in the background. Still, some were covering their faces, glances and stares apparent.

Ben Ford stands, noticing every reaction. Charlotte and Ben make eye contact. She walks over to him, smiling. It’s a hit, see? It’s going to change our lives forever, honey.

Ben receives a kiss from Charlotte and glances back at the statue. Yes, I’m sure it will, Ben says to her.

Unfortunate Fate

Hank, a heavyset Black man in his forties, and Tony, a White man in his thirti es, drive out to the Fords and are relieved that they finally are done moving the dreaded statue onto the truck. Hank looks at his hand while Tony drives down the two-lane highway. I cut my damn hand. I might need stitches too. Look. Hank attempts to show him.

Tony responds as he drives past a dead dog on the highway. You just now feeling that? he asks.

I know. I can’t remember doing it, Hank speaks as they pass the dead animal. He looks in the rearview side mirror and sees the dog’s body move, picking itself up off the road, its fur knotted and bloodied. What in the hell? Hank says aloud while Tony continues to drive. "Stop, Tony. I need to check the tires., Hank looks over to him.

Man, no. We have too much shit to do! he snaps back but pulls over anyway. What’s wrong? he asks. Hank jumps out of the truck, squinting toward where the dog was laying nearly half a mile away and looks around. Tony walks around the truck and checks each tire. Let’s go, Hank. Tony hits the hood before hopping in the driver’s seat. The engine sputters on the old truck, and they take off. What’s wrong with you, man? Tony asks.

I guess nothing, Hank responds. Hank looks at the trees now, and their leaves sway with the wind. Five minutes pass, and Hank comments, That woman should get rid of that thing, and it looks like her too. Don’t you think, man? he asks. The birds start to fly in the direction of the truck.

Tony drives but begins noticing them. A great migration? He ignores Hank’s question.

Hank looks at his hand and then at the birds. Look, damn, he says in a panicked voice.

A black crow hits Hank’s window, which is half opened, and flies over the truck. Other crows follow it. Both men follow the birds, looking up.

Tony quickly refocuses on the road. What the fuck, man? he snaps. What are they doing? he adds and looks to Hank.

Do they smell my damn blood or something? Did you see their eyes? Hank looks scared. Their eyes are white! He panics.

Before he could pull up the window, three black crows dive and fly in on him. The truck swerves, and Tony struggles to stay calm. The birds peck at every inch of their bodies. Tony swats at them then goes into full punches, and the truck hits a ditch and turns sideways and sticks securely in the mud. Hank begins yelling for help. Tony is quiet and slumped over the wheel. The crows pick his shoulder and now floods the truck compartment of the truck. Blood pours into his shirt. Both men are isolated and from the road, which would be hard to see until a stranger drives up to them. There are sharp and fast pokes at both men’s chests, one crow hitting Tony’s artery in his neck. His shirt is soaked with blood. The limping dog with maggots pouring from its mouth begins entering the thin space of the truck through the broken window on Hank’s side and bites into Hank’s flesh. He is weak and cries faintly before he is slumped over and quieted. The dog chews hard and fast. Maggots jump from its mouth onto his skin, crawling all over the dog’s body. Its eyes are white, and it is hungry, tearing at Hank’s flesh filled with blood. Five minutes pass, and the black crows are startled by a car engine pulling up at the ditch. They flee and leave the dog feasting—all except one.

Move, you son of a bitch! the woman yells and looks into the truck from afar. Oh my goodness, they’re dead! she yells, looking around for any help. A big brown German shepherd with matted fur jumps away from Hank’s dead body, and its eyes are like white marbles. Hank’s flesh hangs from the dog’s mouth. It stops near a tree, licking its mouth, and looks at the woman who is a dog-breed enthusiast. She knows it’s a German shepherd and knows to stay away from it. It’s mad. It’s unusual, she whispers as it runs off into the trees. She looks at her car phone, dialing the police. I need the cops now. It’s Joan Jamison.

Forty-five minutes pass, and the detectives Brian Powell and Valarie Hernandez are the first to come on the scene. Det. Powell was a dark-skinned Black man with a small mustache. Det. Hernandez was a short Puerto Rican lady with smooth caramel pigmentation. One other police cruiser pulls up immediately afterward. They see the truck and Joan Jamison pointing in the direction of the truck. She’s panicked. Look at that dog! she yells as she guards herself behind the door of her vehicle.

Detective Hernandez looks closer and sees the mangled dog biting into a man. Detective Hernandez looks at Detective Powell, surprised. He looks on and aims, shooting the dog in the head along with two body shots. It falls near the burning vehicle. It has apparently returned and dragged the body of Hank and began to feast. Tony’s body continues to burn as the fire-truck unit pulls up and extinguishes the fire. Joan Jamison looks in her trunk, grabbing a large blanket. She is saddened at what she saw and wants to go get the dog.

Ma’am, no! Don’t get near the dog, please! Detective Hernandez screams. The two detectives secure the scene, and Det. Hernandez stands in horror as she stares at the dead dog, not realizing her body is shaking all over. We will take care of this, she says.

Joan Jamison stops and places the blanket back in the trunk. Make sure it gets a proper burial, she says and gets in her car and drives away.

First Impressions

D inner was delicious, Harvey chimes over the radio as they drive home.

That thing is god-awful, Christine responds, her face in a frown.

The statue is quite unique. There’s a mystery about it though, he adds.

Harvey, take a shower. I couldn’t help but notice you were all over the thing. That statue must have felt violated, Christine teases. Both chuckling loudly now, Harvey continues the drive home.

Before leaving, Rhonda gives Charlotte a huge hug. Are you sure this is inspiration? Ben doesn’t look too impressed with it, Rhonda whispers to Charlotte as she shrugs her shoulders. Where did you get the statue from, Charlotte? Rhonda asks.

It was a bargain at the art auction that the buyer Evelyn Craig puts on a few times a year, Charlotte responds with a smile on her face.

I think she needs to grow on him, she adds. Once he sees what I start painting because of her and I sell an award-winning portrait, he’ll change his tune. Charlotte is sure of herself.

I hope so, Rhonda says. Reginald dear, we must go. Guys, we had so much fun. Thanks for the invite. Rhonda begins to leave with Reginald following behind with a nice buzz from the alcohol.

"Good