The Unseemly

Chapter 1 - Pathway to Hell

Part One - The Discovery

Chapter One - Pathway to Hell

The horror, which would not stop for another thirty-three years--if it would ever stop-begun, the death of a small child would begin a curse, a curse that, as far as the townspeople knew, always existed. A darkness that's been hidden deep for centuries, perhaps longer than that. There's a rooted hunger, like a vampire starving for that next drop of fresh human blood and flesh, an empty bottomless pit of despair, some would say.

A slightly worn penny loafer, along with a bloodstained plaid shirt, would be the first clue found in the Pathway to Hell the night of 6th of July, 1958. It was more relaxed on that odd summer night, colder than usual; it was a different type of cold; a chill that happened ever so rarely. If anything, it had its own presence, transmitting its own dark atmosphere- the night no longer belonged to the people; it belongs to them.

The town folk said it was the month of the Transcendental. It doesn't often happen, maybe every thirty-something years. Not a word was ever spoken about it in this small town called Granite Bay. The elders would share cryptic tales to scare their grandchildren, stories of missing children, and missing body parts. All innocent folklore to scare the young into doing daily house chores. Everyone knew it was real; of course, they knew it was real; they knew it was beyond real in some sensible way. In fact, the people of Granite Bay have been feeding it throughout time unknowingly--unwillingly. Feeding it with their petty lies, either big or small-good or bad. People say it was created from fear, and that's how it feeds. It is a dark force- the dread of the unknown-began the curse of Granite Bay, fear and death of an innocent.

Granite Bay, once called, Dudleytown, is a small town on the outskirts of Connecticut. Until the mid-seventeen hundred, the land of Dudleytown was damp, with a thick and uninhabitable atmosphere. In 1747, Gideon Dudley bought a piece of land from Thomas Griffis to start a small farm. Griffis (one of the original founders) sold Gideon farmland, and this would be the start of what is now renamed Granite Bay. Gideon and his daughter would break what they believed was a family curse with newfound soil unburied beneath the surface. His two brothers, Barzallai and Abiel Dudley, from Guilford, Connecticut, also purchased land nearby, expanding their lands and creating an active community. A few years passed, Martin Dudley joined him from Massachusetts, moving to the area but was from a different family line. He later married Gideon's daughter. A few years later, Dudleytown was converted from mainly forestland to the number one farmland. This would not go without a high cost. A local rumor that locals frequently shared was that the founders of Dudleytown were descended from Edmund Dudley, an English nobleman. He was beheaded for treason during the reign of Henry VIII. From that moment on, the Dudley family was placed under a curse that followed them across America. This curse is blamed for instances of crop failures and mental illness in the village. It was covered in thick forest, and the ground was strewn with rocks. The nearby mountains also heavily shadowed the area, so it would receive little sunlight. The woods were later dubbed with the ominous name of Dark Entry Forest, now called The Pathway to Hell.

Amidst the forest and rocks are tales of ghosts, demons, unexplained mysteries, curses, and a rich history that dates back to America's very beginnings. The rebuilt town, Granite Bay, brought in other families and was suddenly thriving for the first time in many years. Legend says; witches escaped from Salem after the trials. Many were injured and died upon arrival. Once safe and the deceased ashes were appropriately scattered, along with the proper farewell magical rituals for safe passage to the afterlife, the land was blessed with the ashes of the fallen. In 1727, a massive earthquake would wipe out what was left of the witches of Salem. People say one survived; the Seer foresaw the event and chose not to return home to warn her community of the tragedy that was soon to arrive.

The Seer returned after the earthquake to find the village completely broken apart. Body parts were scattered amongst the debris and broken tree branches—skulls of children located in the crumbled building of an old school now burned to rubbish. One survivor remained to give the seer a message; "With time comes the true death, and time is never promised. This lands times up, with a chance of no compromise." With those words, the man sacrificed himself, cursing the land.

By the early 1900s, Granite Bay was utterly deserted in certain areas. Barely noticed by the remodeled town a couple miles away, the remaining homes began to fall into disrepair and ruin, and soon, the forest began to reclaim the village that had been carved out of it. But while the curse was ignored and suppressed over the years, it marked several cases of insanity for an isolated region that was already riddled. The ghostly tales began to surface in the 1940s. It was at this time that kids and thrill-seekers would visit the ruins of the old village. Many began to speak of strange incidents and wispy apparitions in the woods at night. Strange creatures, reports of outbreaks of insanity and madness, along with missing children, would ripple through this town every thirty-three years. The place is often thought of as tainted somehow, as if the ground has somehow spoiled here, or perhaps was sour all along, long before the Salem witches.

Chapman Street was the main road that went through the small community of Granite Bay. Almost every main road connects to Chapman Street at some point. From there, you had Allen Street, which consisted of all the same model houses, white fences in the front yard, and a model red door. Wickerwood Valley branched off Allen Street and wrapped around the small town, always ending Chapman Street where all the neighborhood kids would meet at the park after school or church. There were a few other eccentric street names the pompous people created over the years. There were old roads forgotten over time, repaved history so people would forget about the gruesome past of Granite Bay. But there is only one path that leads to the forgotten fields; this is part of town considered low income. This is where the old village still remains; untouched by time, unlucky for the folk living in that parts-few did, hell only one family. Some say that is where the curse was started, the heart of it all, The Pathway to Hell.

Ten years old, Douglas Ford had just left his friends after a day of breaking glass bottles in the abandoned warehouse off Allen Street with friends he made from grade school. He had met an older boy who stood up for him in gym class. This boy soon showed him around the town and kept him safe from the bullies. Tommy Chimney was his name, but everyone called him Chimmy, which Douglas thought to be strange but funny. Before meeting Chimmy and his gang, Douglas' walk was never a problem before, that was before Chimmy filled him in on all the stories about the Pathway to Hell, which was fake, there go; so were the monsters, Douglas was sure of this. He always heard the tales his grandpa talked about the beast in the woods; he was ten years old, for God's sake! He knew fact from fiction, monsters aren't real, even though they still scared the shit out of him.

The Pathway of Hell was only one mile in the distance, two houses stood livable, and all were empty but one; this was occupied by any brave, willing citizen. Douglas and his family happen to be those citizens. Douglas lived at the end of the path; of course, nothing was ever easy for Douglas. He would continue passing by many abandoned homes that are now tarnished from time. He was used to this by now; he's been here for almost two years now. He always sprinted home that was nothing new, but something felt eerie this particular evening for the young boy.

"Douglas, please help!" A familiar voice chants from one of the abandoned houses on his left. "Sam? Is that you? Douglas whispers back, unsure if he was loud enough. "Where are you, Douglas? I need your help, hurry!" As he approaches the old decrepit door,? Most he pauses; he quickly remembers- Sam is dead. Sam was his younger sister; she died four months before his family moved to Granite Bay. Her death was ruled unknown by the coroner, but Douglas knew the truth; he was there for it all. No one would believe him.

He hears her call for him again, this time he can't resist, and follows the voice inside- maybe this is really her. "Hello? Sammy, are you there?" Douglas calls into an old home that once was alive and graceful many years ago. "I'm over here, brother, come find me," the estranged voice breathed. Douglas agreed, and the unkempt door slammed shut behind him, snatching him from his worn-down penny loafers.

"You found me, Douglas! Now you can stay with us forever."