Free Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Windspectre by Unknown

 
     
     
     
WindSpectre
     
    By
     
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
     
     
     
     
© copyright by Charlotte Boyett-Compo, May 2008
    Cover art by Kat Richards, May 2008
    New Concepts Publishing
    Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
 
     
     
     
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Prologue
     
  The old folks advise travelers planning on driving Route 44 near the Seekonk-Rehoboth, Massachusetts border late at night to keep their doors locked and never, ever get out of the car.
    “If you run out of gas or you get a flat tire, just stay in the car, and wait ‘til morning,” is the consensus of the locals.
    “It isn’t safe to venture outside your car, especially on a moonless night,” they warn. “Things have been known to happen out that way.”
    Bad things, they whisper.
    Things that can’t be explained even in the light of day.
    “Things you don’t want no part of,” the old folks hint.
    They tell the tale of a hostile apparition who appears to unwary motorists along that lonely stretch of highway. They say his eyes reflect the fires of hell and the sound of his laughter has the ability to chill the blood in your veins. One moment you might see him standing at the roadside, then, if your door isn’t locked, you could find him sitting in the seat beside you, his fearsome grin predatory and filled with lethal intent.
    “You can not escape him once he sets his sights on you and once you have become a victim, you will never be the same. You will see his fiery eyes glowing from every deepening shadow and you will hear his taunting laughter to your grave ….”
    But some say he isn't the evil thing of which the old folks tell.
    Some say he is a godsend and lies in wait for just the right person ….
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
    Cathleen Kaisand was tired. She had been driving all day and the headache piercing her forehead just above her right eye was agonizing. Every passing car light served to exacerbate the pain, the brightness seeming to stab into her skull. It didn’t help that a heavy rain was falling against the windshield and reflecting the oncoming lights, intensifying their brightness.
    She rolled her shoulders, twisted in the cramped seat in an effort to relieve the tightness bunched in her upper body. A dull burning sensation had settled at the base of her neck and her right knee felt as though a sharp needle was being driven into it. The long day of driving was beginning to take its toll.
    "I wish I could find someone to take care of me for a change and I didn't have to work," she mumbled. "Wouldn't that be nice?"
    The warm air from the defroster was beginning to make her sleepy and she was vaguely aware of a dangerous lassitude setting in. Between the monotonous sweeps of the wipers swishing away the pouring rain pelting the windshield and the bone-deep fatigue crying out for relief, she felt herself starting to drift off and jerked upright in the seat, opening her eyes wide to stave off the drowsiness.
    "You'd better find a place to pull off, woman," she said aloud.
    Glancing down at the radio faceplate, she winced, for it was close to midnight and she was still at least two hours from her destination. Yawning, she almost missed the rest area road sign.
    Thankful she didn't have to relieve herself, she was nevertheless annoyed the rest area contained No Facilities. Being able to get out and stretch, get a soda, and wash her face would have been nice. When the turnoff came into view, though, she felt a wash of relief flow over her. Just to be able to close her eyes for awhile, to get the migraine somewhat under control, was a godsend.
    The arcing curve of the rest area was barren as her headlights swept over the tall trees, encroaching shrubs, and three dented green litter barrels beyond