The Children of Black Brook

a Short Story by Kenn Crawford

Snow blanketed the night hiding most of the surroundings. The car heater’s steady drone that accompanied the rhythmic swishing of the windshield wipers sounded like a disembodied didgeridoo from Cadi’s native Australia.

She arrived mid-summer on Cape Breton, a picturesque island off the coast of Nova Scotia along Canada’s eastern seaboard. Cadi grew accustomed to the cooler temperatures despite the locals referring to it as a heatwave, but when the last of autumn’s colourful leaves had fallen, and old man winter made his yearly visit, Cadi wasn’t sure if she was visiting another part of the world or another planet.

Photographs of buildings and scenery covered in pristine, white snow did little to prepare her for the harsh reality of a Canadian winter. She quickly grew to hate winter and everything about it: the absence of color, bundling up in so many layers of clothing she could barely move, her nose constantly leaking mucus, and most of all, she hated the constant cold.

Her sightseeing trip around the island to take pictures for her friends back home in Australia seemed like a good idea, but as her Volkswagen Beetle swerved around another bend covered in black ice, she cursed herself for not checking the weather forecast.

Both hands gripped knuckle-white on the steering wheel, Cadi’s heart raced, and her breath came in short gasps when she remembered to breathe. Her eyes burned as she strained to see the road – the snow was falling too hard; too fast.

“I’m going to die!” Cadi’s mind repeated like a record with a faulty groove, warping time and reaction speed as her foot, untrained in winter driving, slammed the brake pedal when something on the periphery of her vision caught her attention.

The brakes locked, throwing her Volkswagen into an uncontrollable spin. Flashes of pure white and the absolute darkness of night chased each other in a whirlwind of fear. Snatches of trees and road, illuminated briefly by her headlights, blurred in and out of view, and that’s when she saw it.

She knew she shouldn’t have seen it, the car was spinning too fast, the snow falling too hard, but she did see it.

During a momentary interlude between the rotating views of white and darkness, it was as if the falling snow had parted, and time had slowed just long enough for her to see it… a child standing at the edge of the tree line.

Moments later, Cadi’s car crunched to a deafening stop.

Darkness enveloped her in a blanket of unconsciousness. The moon slid out from behind a cloud, flooding the car in cold, white light. Pain grabbed Cadi’s head like icy fingers, shocking her into wakefulness.

“Get up!” she heard a voice say as if from a great distance. “You should not be here.”

Cadi’s dazed mind struggled to recognize the voice. It was soft, childlike.

“Who is she?” another young voice sounded as Cadi struggled to maintain consciousness.

“Will he take this one too?” a third voice asked.

Cadi did not hear an answer, the scream that was building in her throat echoed through the still trees. She woke, kicking and thrashing at the emptiness. She struggled uselessly against the seatbelt that was cutting into her shoulder, pinning her to the seat inside the car like a helpless, overturned turtle.

“Help me!” she pleaded to the voices, “I’m stuck.”

“She better hurry,” another voice said, “he will be here soon.”

“Who’s out there? Hello? Hey, get me the hell out of here!” Cadi demanded as her numb fingers struggled to undo the seat belt. She finally heard the buckle snap and the roof of the car rushed up to greet her. She kicked ferociously at the window until it shattered. Crawling over broken glass she met the cold night air with relief and fear. The snow had stopped falling, the bitter wind had retreated, and she was completely alone.

“How long was I out?” Cadi wondered as she rubbed her numb hands together. Her eyes scanned the barren tree line, then the length of the road. She was alone.

“My mind must have been playing tricks on me,” she easily convinced herself. “I’m out in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way I saw a child out here. The voices were just figments of my imagin—”

“You should not be here,” the childlike voice cautioned her again.
Cadi felt like her insides froze. A scream caught in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. It was not fear, it was absolute terror.

Closing her eyes and begging it was only her imagination, she slowly turned. When Cadi forced her eyes opened several young children, the oldest not being more than ten or eleven years old, the youngest barely five, stood looking up at her.

Their faces were ashen, almost transparent, their clothes faded to a washed-out hue of gray, their eyes doll-like and lifeless. Cadi knew she was looking at something that only a few minutes ago she believed never existed.

“I’m already dead,” Cadi said out loud. The sound of her own voice did little to comfort her. These childlike things she did not understand were forewarning her of something far more treacherous, and she had only the sound of her quivering voice to ascertain whether or not she survived the crash.
“I’m already dead,” she repeated as her eyes scanned the absolute stillness of her surroundings and stopped at the car. It was empty. Her body was not in it.

“Maybe I’m not dead,” she said, a tiny sensation of hope welling up inside her.

“He will be coming soon,” the little girl repeated her warning.

Cadi’s hope left and fear found her again. She fell to her knees as tears slid down her cheek and fell frozen to the ground like tiny diamonds.

“He’s coming!” one of the children said before darting into the woods.

The others raced after him and faded into a wisp of emptiness. The little girl stopped at the tree line then turned to face Cadi.

“You cannot be here when he comes,” the little girl beckoned her to follow.

Cadi found her strength and ran to the little girl. Deep snow grabbed her feet and pulled her down. Crying and fighting the snow she inched forward.

“Hurry!” the little girl begged, “he’s almost here!”

With a final rush of determination, Cadi pulled herself from the clutching snow and rolled behind a large birch tree. She took a few deep breaths and slowly peeked out from behind the birch tree.

The shadow of what appeared to be a man, but far bigger than the tallest man she has ever seen, slithered over the deep snow towards her overturned car.

Cadi’s eyes scanned the area trying to see what manner of creature could cast such an image but only saw the shadow move across the snow and shroud her car in such darkness that even the moon was defenceless against it.

“Who… what…?” Cadi asked, her body shivering from fear and cold.

“Shh,” the little girl warned her as the shape appeared to turn in her direction.

Cadi’s breath caught in her throat.

“It’s coming for me,” she thought, “it’s coming for me.”

The sounds of little children giggling and playing rang through the trees followed by a deafening cacophony of terror. The sound vibrated Cadi’s body, her head and soul screamed for mercy.

“My friends lured him away,” the little girl said, “but he shan’t be gone long. Come, follow me.”

Cadi felt a wash of dizziness flood her body as she tried to stand.

“Hurry,” the little girl begged.

Cadi stumbled after her. How nimbly the child weaved through the trees and thickets. Stopping momentarily to catch her breath, Cadi noticed the young girl’s feet never left an impression in the snow, her arms and legs passing through the trees and branches as she weaved through the dense forest.

“I must be losing my mind,” Cadi thought as she inhaled deeply and set out to catch up to the little girl that moved like a phantom.

“Where are you taking me?” Cadi asked as the girl disappeared behind a large spruce tree.

“We are almost there,” she heard the child answer as Cadi slowed to a walk. Her gasping breath blew tiny puffs of steam in the chilly night air. Cadi broke free of the thick branches and stopped mid-stride, her unblinking eyes surveying dozens of crumbling and forgotten tombstones.

“What is this place?” Cadi asked, still trying to catch her breath.

“Black Brook Cemetery,” the child answered with a tiny smile before adding, “home.”

As if running to escape a terror she could not see, following a child that never left footprints and passed through branches had not already thrown Cadi’s thoughts into a whirlwind of fear and confusion, her exasperated mind now faced a new riddle.

She had seen plenty of old graveyards, even took a few photographs of interesting tombstones on her travels around the island, but this place, lit ominously by the pale moonlight, sent a chill that resonated deep into every fibre of her being. The trees and grounds surrounding the graveyard were blanketed in thick snow, but the graveyard itself was bare. It was as if winter’s icy fingers dared not touch the hallowed grounds.

The cacophony of terror shrieked through the trees.

“He’s coming!” the little girl shrieked, “follow me!”

Cadi’s legs, and determination, found their strength again and she ran to the little girl who walked through the wrought-iron gates of an antiquated plot.

Pointing at the tombstone the little girl announced, “Quick, hide in there!”

Cadi’s arms strained at the weight. The cacophony grew louder. Closer. With a panicked burst of energy, powered by pure, unadulterated fear, she forced the tombstone from its earthly bonds and jumped inside the black hole.

“He can’t follow us here,” the little girl’s voice announced, unafraid of the complete absence of light.

Trying desperately to follow the voice, Cadi stumbled blindly forward, roots and boulders snagging her feet with every step.

“Who are you?” Cadi asked, still fumbling to find her way. “Where are you?”

Ahead of her, a tiny spark of bright light illuminated her path and then broke into two parallel lights.

“The light,” the little voice instructed, “head towards the light.”

Cadi turned to look behind her at the sheer darkness. The cacophony screamed in her ears, forcing her mind to react.

“He is the dream stealer,” the little girl explained bluntly as more childlike shapes gathered around her. “We are the children of Black Brook.”

“We want to keep the dream stealer away from you,” the voices proclaimed in unison.

Cadi screamed as dozens of tiny hands reached for her. The brilliant lights grew stronger, forcing Cadi to stop fending off the children’s groping hands so she could shield her pain-filled eyes. The cacophony rang in her ears, vibrating her body.

In less than a heartbeat, recognition of the sound raced through Cadi’s mind.

“Noooooo!” she screamed with bulging eyes.

Officer Burke sat back in his patrol car and thumbed the microphone, “We have an 11-44 out by the old Black Brook cemetery. Looks like the driver of a Volkswagen Beetle fell asleep at the wheel and slammed head-on into oncoming traffic.”

“Is the 11-44 confirmed?” the radio squawked back.

Burke looked at the small Volkswagen compressed beneath the massive transport truck as pools of frozen blood covered the icy road.

“That’s affirmative,” he replied, “she’s dead. I doubt she even saw it coming.”

Books by Kenn Crawford

FICTION

• Dead Hunt: Some Things are Better Left Dead

• Code 900: A Derrick Stone Crime Story

• The Saga of Bayou Billy

CHILDREN’S FICTION

• The Misadventures of Mallory Malo: A Ghost Story She’s Dying to Tell You

• The Princess Knights

NONFICTION

• The Covid Chronicles: Personal Pandemic Stories from Around the World: 2020

• How to Write & Publish Non-Fiction: a Self-Publishing Guide for First-Time Writers

• 10 Things I Learned Shooting Short Films: A Reality Checklist for First-Time Filmmakers

FILM MAKING TOOLS & JOURNALS

• The Indie Filmmaker’s Shot List: Create Film and Video Shot Lists

• The Indie Filmmaker’s Storyboard Book: Create Storyboards for your Indie Film or Video Shoot

• Did I Roll My Eyes Out Loud? A Gratitude Journal for Pissed Off Women

• The Five-Minute Gratitude Book: A Journal to Teach Children to Practice Being Grateful

COMING SOON TO AMAZON

• 1811 – The Sequel to Code 900: A Derrick Stone Crime Series

• Hold Onto Your Shorts – a Collection of Thriller and Horror Short Stories by Kenn Crawford

For more information, click this link:

kenncrawford.com/books

Copyright © 2021 Kenn Crawford

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents portrayed are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is purely coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with those of the author.