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"Tell us a story," Tim asked Jerry, the scout troop leader. "Please."
"I don't know too many stories," Jerry replied. "What kind of story would you like to hear?"
"A scary one!" Several boys shouted.
They were sitting by a fire outside their tents on a patch of barren land that was believed to have once been Hyde, Massachusetts in the Fall of 1984. The October wind howled blowing sand onto their roasting marshmallows.
"Okay, you asked for it, you get it," Jerry chewed on his marshmallow before adding, "It's about this exact spot we're sitting on. It's called, The Wailing." He got the attention of all thirty-five boy scouts and his assistant.
"The Wailing first came to Hyde in 1830. It took two people then, but nobody thought their disappearance had anything to do with it. The widow, Lady Samps was well over eighty and half-blind. She could have walked over the reef and dropped into the sea below. Though her body was never found, that is how they believed she died. As for mister Phelps, he had been thinking about leaving Hyde and talked about it on several occasions. He must have decided to leave then.
"That was in 1830. Hyde, Massachusetts. Population 37, after the first Wailing. The people of Hyde named it, the Wailing when it came the second time in 1844. An ominous cloud cover hovered over the cape that October. A cold wind howled as the waves beat against the reef where the surf slapped against the rock with a crackle, almost like a whip, before breaking down in diminishing foam."
The wind howled again and the boys squeezed close to each other as the waves hit the reef. They shuddered at the whine of a dog in the distance. The fire crackled as though laughing at their nervousness.
"Through the streets of Hyde, the wind whistled," Jerry continued, the light from the flames dancing eerily on his bearded face. "As it strengthened, blowing away the fallen leaves, cans and clothing from the lines, the howling changed to a wailing sound. The unmistakable wailing voices of Lady Samps and mister Phelps clearly rang out as the wind passed through town." Jerry paused to throw another log on the fire. Thousands of sparks rose from the fire scaring some of the boys.
"Some said they never heard the wailing of Lady Samps and mister Phelps," he carefully stuck a thin stick through another marshmallow and placed it near a smokeless flame. "They were only afraid to admit it for fear of being labeled wackos, you know, like people who see UFO's but never talk about it. Absolutely everyone in Hyde heard the Wailing."
Jerry paused to chew on the marshmallow. The boys waited tensely.
"Before that evening, the population had been forty. Now it had been reduced to thirty-seven. Jack Mendel, barely fifty, mister Tobias believed to be over ninety and Lady Cornel, his faithful wife, were nowhere to be found the next day. Mister Tobias is supposed to have said, on several occasions, that when his time for rest came, he would walk out into the woods and die there never to be buried. He believed that he belonged in the woods and his remains would feed the trees and animals out there. This was only a rumor but now some believed that he had taken his poor missus with him into the woods. Nobody bothered to go look for them."
The wind whispered insistently. Tim glanced nervously at the woods. Was Tobias and his faithful wife still there? He shivered uncontrollably as he imagined their corpses being eaten by wild animals.
Jerry opened up a fresh bag of marshmallows and packages of chocolates and graham crackers.
"Anybody for more?" he asked. A dozen little hands reached out. Fear creates hunger. "Sort of like popcorn at the movies," Jerry added handing them out. Tim roasted a marshmallow and sandwiched it between slices of chocolate which were in turn placed between crackers. The ultimate outdoors snack.
"As for Mendel," Jerry brought them back into the story, "Well, he usually went fishing alone until after dark. His boat might have capsized and it being nighttime, he might have drowned out there on his own. Nobody blamed the Wailing.
"Lady Theresa Cossia was only five at the coming of the first Wailing therefore nineteen at the second. A young, beautiful woman who should have concerned herself with finding a suitable husband to make a family, Theresa instead worried about this strange wind that had come to her town twice and claimed five lives, or so she thought. Something had to be in that wind be it a lesser evil or Satan himself, Theresa was certain there had to be a supernatural force in it. People just don't disappear into thin air. And what about all that wailing?" Jerry paused to rekindle the flame. Tim felt something on his neck and instinctively slapped it rather forcefully hurting himself. This was creepy.
"Upon the third coming of the Wailing in 1858, Theresa, then thirty-three, urged everyone not to have any children in the next fourteen years. If the population was thirty-seven when the Wailing returned, it would not take anybody then it might cease coming back. Nobody believed her or even listened to her. They never believed that the Wailing took anybody in the first place.
"The Gribbs had twins in 1862. The Moores had a baby girl in 1865, and the Bartleys had a son in 1869. When the Wailing came back for the fourth time in 1872, it took, as Theresa had predicted, four people, including one of the Gribbs twins. Still nobody believed her. There was probable cause for the disappearance of all individuals. Probable excuse."
The moon rose as though from the sea; large, round and red like blood. A wolf howled in the woods. The boys were frightened.
"Through the years, Theresa became obsessed with the Wailing. 'You got to believe me', she begged her neighbor, Lady Allison. 'These winds do not kill people, they take their souls and destroy the bodies. They will forever wander in limbo not living, not dead. Do you want to be like that?' 'I don't want anything to do with the Wailing,' said Lady Allison. I hear nothing, I see nothing.'"
Jerry paused to check whether any of the boys was tired. They were all wide-eyed. He smiled but in the firelight, it looked like a sneer to Tim. Was it?
"Theresa could have left Hyde, of course, but she didn't as she was sure the Wailing would follow her anywhere she went. Hyde was her home. So she stayed and waited for the year when the population would be thirty-seven at the coming of the next Wailing. Years went by and still the population was over thirty-seven. Forty-two in 1886. Thirty-nine in 1900. Forty-three in 1914."
Fourteen plus fourteen equals twenty-eight, Tim added. Twenty-eight...
"Theresa was ninety-one in 1914," Jerry interrupted Tim's math. "She knew that she did not have much longer to live. She had to put a stop to this evil wind before it got to her. She filled her house with religious relics to ward of evil including at least ten bibles, paintings of Jesus, numerous crucifixes and a six-foot tall cross that was blessed by the local priest. Still, this was not enough for her. If only the population remained constant... if no children were born. Theresa was one hundred and one yet strong enough to move around and count Hyde's inhabitants. By now she could kill if she had to just to make sure there would be thirty-seven people in 1928."
Twenty eight plus fourteen equals forty two...
"Then some young girl got
pregnant. She was probably fourteen or fifteen years old. Too young
to conceive, Theresa thought. How she hated that girl. In 1925,
the girl bore a baby boy. A month later, Lady Theresa walked over
to congratulate the girl. She could still walk with the aid of a
cane."
Jerry threw more logs on
the fire raising a myriad of sparks that looked like fireworks. A
beautiful sight for the youngsters except for Tim who was asking himself
the most important question:
Is this fiction or is it real?
Forty two plus fourteen equals fifty-six...
"The baby died from suffocation that day," Jerry seemed to enjoy all this. "It had smothered itself with the bedding. But, as we all have guessed, sweet Theresa did it in. She had to reduce the population to thirty-seven. This was the first burial in Hyde in over a hundred years. Everyone attended the ceremony.
"Theresa was one hundred and five years old in 1928. The population was thirty-seven and she was ready for the Wailing. Though unable to walk much now, she sat and waited. The wailing would come and go then she would die peacefully."
Who was Jerry? Tim asked himself getting paranoid. He did not know much about him, only that he had come to their school a year ago to take over as scout troop leader after mister Forbes passed away. There were only twenty-five scouts then but Jerry made sure he recruited ten more. Where did he come from? The wind getting stronger.
"The Wailing was right on time in October of that year. The first wave was the usual one; light and eerie. Upon finding no extra people, it returned in a more fiercely destructive manner. The little church by the hill was the first to come down in a fury of a wind possessed, more powerful that a tornado. The shopping center was next with the grocery stores, the bakery and the barber's. All the houses were torn down next, miraculously leaving the inhabitants intact and unhurt. Livestock was slaughtered as though for some bizarre sacrifice."
Jerry had suggested this place for camp. This was not the usual camping ground. Tim clutched onto his clothes in the chilly wind.
"The third wave came for the people. It began from the end of town farthest from Theresa taking every single human being with it. Theresa had been wrong. Keeping the population at thirty-five induced total destruction instead of the peace she had hoped for. When it reached Theresa, it worked on her slowly and painfully. First it tore her clothes off then picked flesh of the bones the way birds of prey would. When all was left were bones, it disintegrated them to dust and swept it away."
Fifty-six plus fourteen equals seventy, Tim counted. Seventy!? That was the year...
"It is believed that even today, should you walk the site of the now defunct Hyde, when the time is right after every fourteen years, you can still hear the Wailing pass by in search of souls. Among the wails is a piercing scream. That of Lady Theresa Cossia."
Tim was born in 1970 and he was fourteen years old.
The wind was really strong now. Sounds. Wailing sounds. When he heard the scream from that wind, he and many others turned to Jerry just in time to hear him laugh wickedly then vanish into thin air. He had suggested this place for camp, Tim thought as he screamed and struggled to his feet with the crowd.
It was everywhere. Nobody could escape.
The Wailing was upon them. It had taken over.
October, 1984. Thirty-five boys and two men vanish without a trace. Probable excuse? For whom?
Eighty four plus fourteen equals ninety eight. 1998
