Free Rogue's Hollow by Jan Tilley

ones. Staring at Travis, he smiled and pushed a small red button on the side. A faint noise began. It was the sound of a baby crying.
    Stepping back, Travis tripped over a log and lost his balance, almost falling over. He regained his footing and shook his head in confusion. “What is this thing?”
    Malachi squatted down and began working on the machine. He cleaned off the detection lens with his handkerchief and brushed leaves off the top with his hand. “This is my baby, Travis.”
    “Strange looking baby.” He chuckled, as he tried to wrap his mind around it.
    Groaning as he stood up, Malachi braced himself against the machine. He wiped his brow with the other side of his handkerchief and found an old tree stump to sit down on. He knew that he’d have to start at the beginning. “Have a seat, son.”
    Travis made his way over and found an old log to sit on. Malachi wasn’t sure how to share this secret that he’d kept for all these years but his gut told him that it was time. “I grew up here, son. I’ve lived here my entire life. Rogue’s Hollow was a real hopping town when I was a kid. The mill was in full swing. Folks all had jobs and we were a tight community.” His mind wandered and he smiled, recalling the memories from his past. Snapping back to reality, his eyes met Travis’s. “Those were the good old days.”
    Fidgeting on his uncomfortable stump, he continued, “I was just a kid when the mill closed down and the hard times set in. It became a different place. Folks moved on looking for work; very few stayed behind. Mama and I were part of the hold outs. Our roots were here and we just couldn’t walk away. She converted the mill into a general store, but was barely able to put food on the table. It was tough.” His mind wandered off again, lost in thoughts of harder days. “Many a night, I would lie in my bed listening as she cried herself to sleep in the other room.” Malachi hung his head, fighting back the memories of his mother’s pain.
    His attention shifted to Travis and he watched him nervously play with that thing in his mouth. It was obvious that he also was no stranger to painful memories. Trying to lift the mood, he redirected his conversation. “But, then it all changed, my friend. One day, out of sheer boredom I found myself at this very spot. It was dark, on a spooky, full-moon night.”
    Malachi’s bright eyes began to sparkle with excitement as he spoke. Uncontrollably, Travis began to shake his leg, and fidget on his log seat. Leaning in closer for added drama, Malachi’s eyes pierced right into him as he continued, “I heard voices. There was a young couple, down stream at the bridge. I could hear them plain as day. He was trying to scare her, taunting the baby to make its presence known.” Malachi giggled, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.
    Travis’s big brown eyes searched the old man’s face for details. “What’d you do?”
    Malachi smiled and paused, drawing out the tension. “I began to cry little baby cries. Soft at first, barely noticeable. They didn’t hear me, and then the girl grabbed her fella’s arm and told him to hush. I did it again.” Malachi slapped the knee of his blue jeans and belly laughed. “You should have seen the look on that guy’s face. It was hilarious, Travis. He was more scared than she was I think. They took off like a bat outta hell.”
    Wiping away laughter tears from his eyes, Malachi sighed with delight. “It was the funniest thing ever. And that’s where it all began. The next weekend a whole slew of them came here, hoping to hear the cries of that poor baby. Business at the store doubled. I couldn’t remember Mama looking that happy in a long time. That day it became my mission to scare folks, to stir up business and keep this old town alive. And, it worked too.”
    Travis shook his head and grinned. “You sly fox. That was genius.” His attention shifted back to the machine. “So, this thing is what you use to