Preamble to Whistler.
Some time ago, I was trying to explain to JD why I liked the night. But it’s not just the night, though I prefer the midnight hour. Early mornings are almost as nice, for everything is dark and quiet.
I told her about the opening lines of The Whistler and how I liked it.
All that made me think of a story and here it is.
And yes JD, I have been thinking about a story based on what you said you wanted. I think I have it thought out. I just have to figure out if I can write it.
GW
Whistler
By G.W. Hogg
©11-30-07
“I am the Whistler, and I know many things, for I walk by night. I know many strange tales, many secrets hidden in the hearts of men and women who have stepped into the shadows. I know the nameless terrors of which they dare not speak.”The opening lines from the radio show, ‘The Whistler’
I used to love hearing those lines as they came out of the radio. For I knew that I was about to hear a strange tale of a crime gone wrong.
I still think about the show, as I walk the dark, quiet streets at five in the morning. Foggy mornings are better, as I walk with the dog. You can’t see across the street and the cone of light from the streetlamps makes a wall of white that you can’t see through. In the distance, I can see a figure crossing the street. It’s a dark shadow among other gray shadows. Maybe it’s another early morning walker, or something else?
I always wonder what is going on in the quiet houses, on the next dark street. Am I missing something nefarious that is happening maybe just a block away? Is there a shadow moving in those bushes over there? No, it’s just a cat that my dog wants to chase.
The darkness just before daybreak is okay, for life is returning to the land.
It was different, that night I slipped over the wall of the cemetery. The fog was thick, so I knew that no one could have seen me.
Inside the cemetery, the ground fog was much thicker. It rose off the acres of damp grass and like a gray tide, swept in and covered everything. I dropped into it and was enveloped by the damp darkness.
It was fun at first, as I wandered past the silent gravestones. I had been here with high school friends, but during the last few months, I came here more and more on my own.
It was nice and peaceful, walking through the gray mist. I could see maybe fifteen feet around me. No one to bother me, no one could see me.
I crossed the gravel walkway and entered a small group of trees and bushes. There was a clearing in the middle with a little stone bench. A nice secluded place to sit and think.
Just before I pushed through the bushes, I heard a clink, the clink of metal on stone.
I froze and held my breath. Cemeteries are supposed to be quiet. I moved slowly to my left, where there was a thinning in the bushes. I eased myself into the gap, careful to let the small branches bend and not break. Slowly, I pulled the last few leaves away and peeked into the clearing.
At first, all I could see was the indistinct shapes and shadows in the gray mist. But then I realized there was a man standing near the bench. Leaning against the bench was a shovel. I continued to watch and realized that the man was slowly taking off his shirt. The bench was ten feet from me, the man was five feet beyond that. I was puzzled and thought it would be best if I slunk back into the bushes. Then I saw movement on the ground. The fog cleared for a moment and I realized that the indistinct white shape was a naked woman. Her body was squirming back and forth, but her arms and legs were motionless.
I don’t know why, but I slowly crept out from the bushes towards the bench. I didn’t even have a knife on me, but the shovel was close. The man started humming to himself.
I reached the shovel and carefully wrapped my hands around it, lifting it silently away from the bench. The man was undoing his belt as I lifted the shovel over my head. Two quick steps, the woman’s eye got wide and the man started to turn.
And there was a thunk as shovel smashed into his head. The man collapsed and I paused. The sound was just like on the old radio shows, I thought.
The man started to move and I raised the shovel and hit him again. He moaned and I hit him again. He twitched and had to hit him again, then again and again and again.
I stopped when the shovel handle broke. I stood there, panting. There was a bloody mess at my feet and my head slowly cleared. I looked around and saw the man’s shirt. I picked it up, wiped off the shovel handle and dropped it.
I saw a silvery shape on the ground next to the man and I picked it up. It was knife about a foot long with a strangely decorated handle and sheath.
When I approached the woman on the ground, I realized it was a young girl. She was staked to the ground and squirming frantically against the ropes that held her. The gag in her mouth only allowed a whimper, but her eyes were frightened and pleading.
“It’s okay. I’m not here to hurt you.” I said it as softly as I could. Her eyes said she didn’t believe me. I draped the shirt over her, then unsheathed the knife and carefully cut the ropes that held her legs. She tried to kick me and I rolled out of the way.
As I got up, she was still trying to kick me.
“God damn it! I am trying to help you!” I barked at her.
She still tried to kick me. I sighed. I got up and went to one of her hands. When I cut the rope she rolled over and frantically grabbed at the last rope binding her.
“If you promise not to attack me, I’ll cut the last rope.”
She stopped and looked at me. Then she reached up and pulled the gag out of her mouth.
“Who are you?”
“Just a guy who went for a walk. Now, can I cut the rope without you hitting me?”
“Sh…Sure.”
“Okay.” I walked over and cut the last rope.
She scrambles away from me and I didn’t move. She picked up the shirt and put it on. I didn’t move.
When she realized I wasn’t going to do anything, she buttoned up the shirt.
“Now, let’s get you out of here.”
She nodded, then walked over to the dead man, looked at him for a moment then turned to me. “He was…He was gonna…he was going to…” Then she burst out crying. I walked over to her and put my arms around her and let her cry until the wracking sobs subsided.
She pulled back a little from me. “Thank…you.”
“You are welcome. Can we go?”
“Sure.”
I let her go and she let me go, then she grabbed my hand. I led her out of the clearing, keeping to the wet grass. Gravel would hurt her bare feet.
“Where are your clothes?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know where I am.”
I almost told her, but thought better of it. “I’ll have you out of her in a few minutes.”
“Okay.” And she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
I let go of her hand and took off my faded green jacket. I helped her into it and she grabbed a hold of my hand again.
The wrought iron front gate was too tall to climb, but the wall next to it had concrete planter boxes that we could climb. I made it to the top of the wall, reached down and pulled her up.
“Just hang on to my arms, like this.” I showed her how to grab my wrists. “I’ll lower you down and then you’ll have to drop the last few feet. Okay?”
“Sure.”
She was light and I held her easily as I lowered her towards the ground.
“Okay, it’s just a few feet. I’ll let go of your wrists. You let go when you’re ready.”
“Okay.”
I let go and then a moment later she let herself drop. She collapsed to one side, then slowly got to her feet. I swung myself over the wall, hung for a second and dropped.
As soon as I stood, she grabbed my hand again.
“Come on, there’s a service station at the end of the block. There’s a pay phone there.”
It was brighter here, with the streetlights and the fog was not as thick. The closed service station was still lit up. No cars on the road at this hour. Bright, quiet and well past midnight.
I fished a dime out of my pocket, put it in the slot and hit the ‘O’.
It rang once and was picked up.
“Operator.”
“Operator, I need the police.”
“One moment please.” Click, ring.
“Police department, Sergeant Buckler.”
“Sergeant, I am at the corner of Valley Road and Main. There is a girl with me who was attacked by some man. And she needs help.”
“Listen kid, this had better not be some joke!”
“There is also a dead man in the cemetery. I had to smash his head in to save the girl.”
“What?”
“There is dead man in the ‘Remembrance grove’.”
“What’s your name kid.”
“That doesn’t matter. Please send someone to help her.” I hung up the phone. And turned to the girl. “The Police should be here soon.”
“You’re leaving me?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
“Why?”
“I am not supposed to be out at night. Mom and Dad would be pissed.”
“But, but, if it wasn’t for you…I’d…”
“Be dead, or worse.”
“Worse…”
“But you’re gonna be okay now, you’re safe.”
“Who are you?”
I heard sirens in the distance, a bunch of them. “Whistler.”
“Whistler? That’s you’re name?”
“It’s close enough.”
“I’m Sue.”
“I am glad I was there to help you Sue.” I gave her a big hug and she held me tightly. The sirens were getting closer. I pulled back from her embrace and let my hands slide down her arms until I held her hands, then I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You’ll be okay now.”
“How can I thank you?”
“You just did, you’re safe.” I let go of her hands. “I have to go.”
“Your jacket?”
“Keep it, you need it.”
I turned and ran back to the cemetery. She yelled a thank you.
The planter boxes in the front of the cemetery were higher than the ones inside. I easily made it to the top of the wall. I turned and looked back at Sue. Even a block away, I could see her waving to me. I waved back just as four squad cars squealed around the corner. Two of them stopped next to Sue and the other two continued towards me. I waved once more to Sue then dropped back into the cemetery.
I ran for a while through the fog shrouded cemetery, then slowed to a walk. No one would see me now. The lights from the police cars would create a white wall that would also hide me.
I paused at the top of a rise, next to the wall and turned. I could see their lights as they drove up to the grove. Too far away and they weren’t looking for me yet.
As I climbed my tree that hung over the wall, I heard more sirens approaching. Everything was being taken care of, as it should be. I dropped to the wall, then rolled off the wall, hung for a second, then dropped to the ground. A quiet two block stroll and I was home.
I still have the strange knife, locked in a case and kept in the bottom of my desk. Once in a while I take it out and study it. I wonder about the evil that I stopped and wonder about the evil had already been done with it.
I stopped walking at night, but I still like to walk in the darkness of the early morning. The early morning feels better. The sleeping are about to wake and the dead have crawled back into their graves.
