Helltown - Jeremy Bates

HELLTOWN

A WORLD’S SCARIEST PLACES NOVEL: BOOK THREE

JEREMY BATES

© 2015 by Jeremy Bates

FIRST EDITION

The right of Jeremy Bates to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the , Designs and Patents Acts 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

All the novels in the World’s Scariest Places series are set in real locations. The following are excerpts from the Wikipedia “Helltown” entry:

There are many legends regarding Helltown. The most popular ones regard Satanists and an abandoned house in the middle of the woods. Others regard the Boston Cemetery and the Boston Mills Road bridge, which is believed to be a crybaby bridge.

Stanford Road

Stanford Road, nicknamed “The Highway to Hell,” features prominently in Helltown’s myths and legends. A steep hill and sharp drop-off on the road, leading to a barricade, is known as “The End of the World.” There is no longer a barricade at the end of Stanford Road with a road closed sign. All of the houses and “Helltown” regalia have been removed. Trails for the Cuyahoga Valley National Park have since been put in place. The only remaining part of “Helltown” is the paved road which leads up the hill.

The School Bus

There was an abandoned school bus along Stanford Road near the End of the World that was supposedly haunted; at night a ghostly figure smoking a cigarette could be seen inside the bus. The bus has since been removed.

Satanists

Satanists have been said to practice rituals involving animal sacrifice at a Presbyterian church off of Boston Mills Road. Decorative fascia boards on the church had what appeared to be upside-down crosses carved into them. These fascia boards were removed sometime in the early-to-mid 2000s. It was also reported that groups of black hooded figures, apparently Satanists, tried to stop occupants passing through Boston Village at night in cars by blocking the road. More recently, the myth has included the KKK in the place of Satanists. It’s also said that an escaped mental patient roams the woods at night looking for victims.

Mutants

A rumor persists about the town being the site of a chemical spill or a chemical plant explosion in the area. Usually, a butane plant is the cause. This is often used to explain the local legend of the “Peninsula Python,” a gigantic snake that wanders the area’s woods.

1987

PROLOGUE

“Abby doesn’t need a man anymore. The Devil is her lover now!”

Abby (1974)

Inside the mold-infested abandoned house a brass Chinese gong reverberated dully, followed by liturgical music mingled with electronically produced effects. The door at the far end of the room opened and a large woman emerged clothed in the customary habit and wimple of a nun. She held a cased ceremonial sword in one hand, a black candle in the other. The deacon and sub-deacon, both clad in floor-length robes, black and hooded, appeared next. The high priest came last. Unlike the others, his face was visible, the top of his head covered with a skin-tight cowl sprouting horns made of animal bones. He wore a black cassock and matching gabardine cape with scarlet lining. His eyes were dark, shimmering, though his long bushy beard was far from Mephistophelean.

The procession congregated a few feet in front of the altar, the high priest in the middle, the mock-nun and deacon to his left, the sub-deacon to his right. They all bowed deeply, then looked down at the naked woman who lay atop the holy table. Her body was at right angles to its length, her arms outstretched crucifix-style, her legs spread wide, each limb secured in place with ropes anchored to iron eyelets in the floor. Her pale white skin contrasted sharply with her brightly made-up face and ebony hair. The number of the beast, 666, was scrawled in blood across her bare breasts. On the wall above her, painted in red, was the Sigil of Baphomet: a goat’s head in an inverted pentagram within a circle. A large upside-down cross hung directly before the face so that an eye peered ahead from either side of it.

The organist switched to The