The Death Mask

Chapter One

Distanced by 10.6 miles of a rural highway named Route 4, Sillmac has long been a neighboring community of the charming town of Mapleview. Mapleview was established in the 1830s, but it wasn"t until 1872, precisely, that the town of Sillmac established itself. As originally described in The Tree Goddess, Sillmac is similar to Mapleview as it has its share of restaurants, shops and even small museums for the town"s yearly tourists. But Sillmac is considered a prestigious area in comparison to Mapleview. Taxes are higher, housing with no set price. Whatever you ask for your home; it will definitely sell as no one can set a price on Sillmac.

The historical residences and places of business have been renovated to eliminate any appearance of decay and maintain that 1870s charm. And just like Mapleview, the town is surrounded by thick, forested wilderness. Many of the preserves have been improved to the point of qualifying as botanical gardens with paved, nature trails outlined in beautiful flowers; countless ponds with lily pads and meditational gardens at the center of flowing creeks.

Make no mistake about it; Sillmac is a town where the elite few reside. And it isn"t uncommon for those with happy stories of success and extreme wealth to live in Sillmac. Take for example married couple, Michael and Linsey, and their daughter, Paulette. Michael was founder of the now nationwide chain of hardware stores called Dickly"s Hardware. Merely opening his first hardware store in downtown Mapleview, Dickly"s hardware soon grew at an exponential rate which rewarded Michael the ability to purchase and own an enormous region of wilderness at the outskirt of Sillmac. In that region of wilderness; he had an enormous, castle-like mansion built for him, his wife and daughter to live in. The very center of the estate is what could be described as a miniature, forested mountain with that castle-like mansion sitting buried under thick trees.

But despite their great fortune, Michael and Linsey would soon see much misfortune on a morning in 1987 when their nine-year-old daughter, Paulette, had a terrible accident that would change her and the family"s life forever. Keep in mind that the family lived at the top of a miniature mountain. Paulette had the wild inclination that morning to coast on her bike down one of the sides.

On that morning, she ignored her instincts, feeling that overcoming her fears and venturing down the slope would have made her all the braver along with providing some much needed excitement. With only a gentle push over the edge, an overwhelming force of gravity pulled her faster and faster down the slope. There was no turning back for Paulette as the velocity rapidly increased. She maintained firm hold on the handlebars and stayed in control for a few seconds. But the child didn"t anticipate that the landscape would soon turn treacherous not more than halfway down the forested slope. A rocky formation with large, moss-colored boulders soon suggested a terrible danger. Naturally, she applied her coaster brake to avoid surfaces that could never be biked on—at least at a high speed.

Despite its reputation for a mild disposition, a timber rattlesnake was startled at the sound of Paulette"s back tire that scraped along the soil, kicking up dust while rapidly approaching. The snake had no choice but to strike at whatever danger approached. Its fangs pierced the bicycle"s front tires. Paulette had seen the snake"s attack and screamed just as the tire popped. She toppled over the handlebars and continued her high-speed descent in the form of somersaults. The only thing on her mind at that moment was whether or not the ugly snake was near. Of course the sensation of branches, occasional leaves and anything else touching her on the ground were believed to be the snake coming to get her. The young girl screamed while desperately trying to get away. This only added to her rapid descent of somersaults.

In reality, the snake lay injured near the bike and was the least of Paulette"s worries. She continued to somersault herself out of control until spiraling over a small drop which landed in a region of boulders. This final smash that was fueled by such incredible momentum not only broke her neck and damaged an area of her spinal cord, but caused injury to the posterior inferior frontal gyrus of her brain—more commonly referred to as Broca"s region (responsible for speech and language comprehension).

Young Paulette was a mangled up mess, unconscious and bleeding from the head. And how was she rescued in such an isolated area? Mothers have a keen sense of intuition. Linsey received an unusual surge of anxiety at the moment her daughter pushed off the hill. Within a minute her face flushed with a God-awful terror. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Paulette was in trouble.

“Paulette? Paulette!” The frantic woman ran along the outside of the castle-like mansion, desperately searching for her daughter. Had someone hiked up the miniature mountain to hide on the forested property with the purpose of abducting the young girl? Ironically, the easiest and most logical slope to hike down while wondering this was the one Paulette descended.

Linsey nervously cried and wiped her tears while hiking down the slope, all the while just knowing that her daughter was in grave danger. Was she descending the right slope? Should she have turned around and looked elsewhere? But some distance down the slope could be seen Paulette"s bicycle lying on the ground. Linsey quickly jogged downwards while calling out to her daughter. Finally reaching the bicycle, Linsey took notice of the injured snake that looked to have been run over by a tire. Maybe Paulette was bitten and now lay unconscious.

But no, it was far worse than that! Imagine the shock of seeing your child laying face-first on a treacherous terrain of boulders with a small pool of blood running near her head. Would you grab your cell phone and call for the paramedics? This wouldn"t have been possible in 1987, even for the wealthy. There were no cell phones in people"s pockets in those days, especially in a deeply rural area. And although Linsey wished to run to her daughter, some part of her knew that every second counted! It was an adrenaline-fueled flight back up the slope that nearly caused a young woman a heart attack.

Broca"s region is interesting. Although we label the area responsible for generating speech and understanding language, it really isn"t. People who have sustained injuries and damage to this part of the brain have been able to resume speech some months later. It seems that other areas of the brain are capable of taking over whatever responsibility the Broca region has. And you would think that for such a young girl, Paulette would have restored this vital function of generating words. But nothing intelligible could be produced. With only grunts that soon turned to frustration, it was easier to maintain communication with the girl by playing charades and verifying a “yes” or “no” with one blink of the eyes or two, soon to be replaced with nods by the time she hopefully restored use of her neck.

As hoped, Paulette"s broken neck healed and regained the ability to move through therapy. But spinal cord damage from some apparent, blunt trauma during the descent had left Paulette unable to move from the neck, down.

Fortunately, Michael and Linsey"s wealth allowed at home therapy and some schooling from the finest teachers who specialized in disabled children. But no matter how much therapy was provided for forming sound into talking, Paulette was unable to create intelligible words.

* * *

This tragedy took place only several miles from where Amber lived and grew up. On that morning, Amber would have been a teenage girl of fifteen years old. In Sillmac, many of the homes are independently seated on acres and acres of untamed wilderness, just like Michael and Linsey"s home. But Amber"s parents lived in the beautifully wooded subdivision of Settler"s View that shared a street with other enormous homes that averaged a modest price of $950,000 to just over $1,000,000. This, of course, is being compared with much larger homes (like Michael and Linsey"s) that sat on thirty acres or more of wilderness that would go for… well; let"s just say much, much more!

You and I can only dream of owning a home in the Settler"s View subdivision. And people who live this sort of lifestyle must be very different from you and me. But don"t think for one second that Amber grew up to be a spoiled, little brat. Mother made sure that her daughter was a down-to-Earth lady who would have an understanding of those intangible things that are most important in life, while at the same time having an appreciation for what is simple and true. There was, however, one small, negative quality of Amber. The girl had a relentless drive with a Hell-bent intent to get exactly what she wanted. But don"t we all possess that quality of desiring what we want to some degree?

The word amber draws to mind a few things. One might think of a woman"s name or the fossilized tree resin that makes the precious stone found in jewelry, or perhaps simply a radiant fire. Amber is an interesting color. You cannot precisely identify one color as officially being amber as it includes various shades of orange. And when we say that a woman has amber-colored hair, it could be anywhere from a dark blonde, to a light brown, or possibly a light red.

With a name like Amber, one would expect her to have been born with amber-colored hair. But she wasn"t. Amber was born with strands of brown that grew into the most beautiful, long, flowing, light-brown hair that often changed shades throughout the years. Then again, I suppose at times that people might have considered her hair to be amber-colored, being that the color varies throughout different shades.

So just how did Amber get her name? While still in the womb; Amber would often accompany Mother for leisurely strolls through one of the forested paths in Sillmac where Mother had the lovely practice of talking to her soon-to-be newborn. She would stop to rest near an open creek and rub her abdomen while speaking out loud to the baby. This, she believed, would allow the unborn child to bond with her and maybe realize that there was a world outside. And maybe the child understood Mother. But Mother had so many questions—as many new mothers do during pregnancy. She knew the baby would be born a girl. But what would the baby look like? Who would she grow up to be?

One morning, Mother brought with a plastic bowl on the hike, and bent down to her special creek to fill it with water. The bowl was brought home, and the water saved for later that night.

While her husband slept in the late evening hours, she filled the water from the creek into a clear, quartz bowl; then brought it out to the backyard deck where it was set on the table with a candle behind.

An ordinary glass bowl filled with tap water would have been so unflattering in a moment of scrying. Aside from that, she wanted the water from her special creek where she and the baby shared a moment each day. Scrying, in case you are unaware, involves gazing into a crystal ball, or into water, with the purpose of seeking visions. Many find the greatest effect by gazing through the water at a candle flame, or observing the flame through the reflection in the water. It is the objective to put one"s self in a trance while maintaining a fixed gaze.

Gazing at the candle through a quartz bowl that was filled with creek water would have certainly had the greatest effect for visions of her soon-to-be-newborn child. It was truly a powerful moment of scrying. But the only vision seen was the most beautiful, brilliant color of amber. At that moment, Mother decided that her daughter would be named Amber.

So many hopes for her daughter in that powerful moment: Amber would be a most-beautiful woman throughout her life. Perhaps her heart would be great, loving all those around her with a nurturing air, and yet a sense of untamed freedom that would enable her to pursue her dreams, even bring a certain magic into her own family as she would be the very source that kept the home alive. These were the hopes that Mother had for her baby while little Amber resided in the womb.

As a girl, it certainly appeared that Amber was growing up to be all that Mother hoped for. But despite her imposed modesty and earthly beauty, Amber had an unusual gift that was learned at an early age. Amber had the power to get anything desired. It wasn"t like a young girl who begs mommy and daddy for that new toy, soon to be those expensive jeans or that new car. The world is full of these high-maintenance, bratty women who have learned to get what they want through badgering and rude behavior. No, Amber remained well-mannered in the face of Mother and Father while keeping knowledge of this unusual gift to herself. She found a true power behind fantasy in which she would harness and channel every emotion she could find and direct it towards her desire until it finally materialized in reality.

She learned just how powerful this gift was on a summer day at the age of eleven when thoroughly fed up with a girl her age who lived next door. Michelle was terribly envious of Amber and hated her to the very core. Being that she despised Amber, she often made critical remarks of just about anything Amber did and said. Amber would laugh and have fun with her friends and then suddenly close off and shut down once Michelle entered the picture. Nothing out of the ordinary could be done and said when in the presence of Michelle. And even while Amber remained still and quiet, Michelle found it appropriate to call out Amber"s sudden disconnect.

On that summer day, Michelle"s mother had taken the young girl to the beauty salon for a makeover and hair styling. Now these were merely girls who would enter sixth grade in September. And keep in mind that although it"s a common practice in modern times for those with extra money to take a child to a beauty spa for a makeover, it was a rare occurrence in 1983. But being that this was the prestigious town of Sillmac, it was appropriate for eleven-year-old Michelle to be treated to a makeover before a family barbeque that was to be held later in the afternoon.

Seeing Amber outside with a group of mutual friends, Michelle approached everyone with a lively greeting, and definitely showed off her styled hair.

Amber was polite as always and was sure to compliment Michelle"s hair. “Your hair looks nice, Michelle.”

“What"s that, Amber?”

Amber repeated herself. “I like your hair; it"s nice.”

Being terribly envious of Amber also included envy towards her natural beauty and her long, brown hair. Michelle"s styled, fresh-out-of-the-beauty-salon hair was finally proof that she was superior. As the spoiled child that she was, Michelle harshly replied with a tone a voice that suggested her simple statement to have deeper meaning. “Uh… Thanks!”

It was an indicator for Amber to shut down and close up before receiving a dose of verbal and critical abuse.

But Michelle felt her point hadn"t been made clearly enough. “Hey Amber, why are you suddenly so quiet?”

“I don"t know; I don"t have anything to say, I guess.”

“Don"t have anything to say? Do you know what I think? I think you"re jealous of my hair.”

It was the most ridiculous thing Amber had heard. “What?” Although she was polite to compliment Michelle"s hair moments ago, she secretly felt that it didn"t look right on an eleven year old girl, not to mention the over-applied makeup.

“That"s right; you"re jealous. Who here thinks that Amber is jealous of my hair; just plain jealous of me?”

Somehow, Michelle swayed their mutual friends into her way of thinking as everyone took turns replying, “Me!” Then poor Amber would have to hear her friends proclaim how they truly liked Michelle, and if Amber wasn"t a friend of Michelle"s, no one would be a friend of Amber"s.

Now alone that summer afternoon, Amber angrily sat in her bedroom, gazing from a short distance through the open window that provided a clear view of the activities of Michelle"s backyard. How she hated Michelle in that moment, feeling that punishment was long overdue.

Inside Michelle"s home, her older brother by five years sat in his bedroom, listening to an audio assault of shrilling death metal that dictated all sorts of acts of violence. He lounged in his comfy chair while relaxing to the soothing music, and reading an article from Soldier of Fortune magazine that described how to make homemade C4 explosives. Where-as most teenage boys hide Playboy magazines under the bed, Danny maintained his hidden stockpile of controversial Soldier of Fortune magazines that were forbidden by Father.

Suddenly, Mother"s voice could be heard from downstairs, “Danny? Danny!”

He softly cursed and quickly hid the magazine. Then he ran to the hallway. “What?”

“You need to go outside and start the barbeque!”

Start the barbeque? That was a terrible mistake! Mother was unaware that Danny had the nickname of “Pyro”. He had a secret, makeshift shack in the woods where he stockpiled a collection of homemade napalm in old mason jars. Has the reader ever made napalm?—dropping Styrofoam into a jar of gasoline to make a flammable gel that sticks to walls and burns for a long time. Danny was the master of doing this. He would act out his soldier of fortune fantasies by sneaking a jar of napalm to one of the neighborhood parks after dark, and stick it to the playground equipment to be ignited and burned for hours. He once attempted the construction of a pipe bomb by filling a pipe with hundreds of match heads. Fortunately he lacked the technique of effectively sealing the pipe at both ends which would have caused a serious explosion if done properly.

Danny had no reason for his pyromania other than something to wildly decorate his reputation with. He was a rebel without a cause. And on that summer day, he was being asked to start a fire in the barbeque!

Danny cracked a most disturbing smile along with a terribly devious look in his eyes! “Sure Mom!”

Mother continued, “And use the big one, Danny. We"ve got a lot of guests coming today.”

Watching through her window, only Amber was aware of the teenage boy who burst out into the backyard and quickly dragged the large barbeque near the pool where it was nearly overflowed with charcoal.

While this was happening, Danny"s sister, Michelle, played a rowdy game with her friends as they chased each other around with water balloons. At some point, little Michelle called out, “Hey, you can"t get my hair wet! I just got it done!”

At that moment, Amber thought to herself, “You"re going to wish that your hair got wet!” Then she recalled every rude and mean thing Michelle had ever said. Amber let her emotions build up while remaining still and silent. To her, the emotions were flashes of energy that discharged in the air as she began to fantasize with all her heart, wishing for her thoughts to finally come true.

While this happened, Michelle"s brother held two bottles of lighter fluid upside-down and heavily sprayed the charcoal, crisscrossing back and forth while calling imaginary people, who lived in the charcoal, obscene names and demanding that they die.

But Danny"s game had to be briefly interrupted as the charcoal needed to soak up the lighter fluid. He would return several moments later and drop the bomb on the enemy village.

In the meantime, Amber sat completely motionless and absorbed in flood of harnessed, negative emotions. She maintained a fixed gaze on that little b***h, Michelle, while fantasizing the most horrific tragedy.

One could call the new game between Michelle and her friends, water balloon tag. For you see, Michelle found the perfect gool and it was located at the barbeque. No one could throw water balloons around the barbeque. Of course remaining on gool for too long was no fun! Michelle would soon run away to be further chased by rowdy girls with water balloons.

Sometime later, Danny ran out of the house with a box of matches. He was an expert of making what he called, “fireballs”, which involved striking the match against the rough surface of the box while simultaneously flicking it into the air. The end result looked like a projected fireball that continued to burn as it hit the ground.

This “fireball” technique was going to be his missile launched at the enemy village. But before launching from the air, perhaps it was best to add more lighter fluid to ensure that those bastards scorched upon impact.

A responsible adult would have never taken lighting the barbeque to such an extreme measure. Even more, a responsible adult would have never stood six feet away while further drenching the charcoals with fluid. It was in this moment when his younger sister had run past to receive a heavy spray of lighter fluid to her hair.

Michelle was outraged, “Danny!”

“What? Get out of the way, stupid! What are you playing by the barbeque for?”

The other girls weren"t outraged like Michelle, and instead whipped a couple water balloons at her. This resumed the desperate game of water balloon tag as Michelle looked for a place to escape. She was still concerned about the heavy amount of lighter fluid sprayed on her head. But she hadn"t considered the danger it presented.

And then a “fireball” had been launched that glowed towards the sky and quickly returned to hit the target. While this happened, Michelle ran back to gool for safety. Although Danny may have been six feet from what was about to be an explosion, little Michelle stood one foot away from the barbeque, and was short enough to be even closer to the destruction.

The barbeque nearly exploded with a violent eruption of flames that reached four feet in the air. To make matters worse, upon initial explosion, a wind blew the flames in Michelle"s direction so that her entire head and face became engulfed in flames. The combined lighter fluid on her hair and any chemicals used at the beauty salon served as an accelerant that quickly set her head ablaze.

Instinctively, she ran away from the explosion but was soon aware that her head remained on fire. And this wasn"t a case of someone"s hair simply burning; this was a roaring, twisting flame that violently danced around her head. She screamed in horror, all the while the sizzling and popping of her hair and scalp could be heard.

The brave soldier-of-fortune now ran towards the house in tears to get help. This wasn"t supposed to happen! He was responsible for cooking his sister"s head, and there would soon be Hell to pay.

But Father saw everything and ran outside. “Jump in the pool! Michelle, jump in the pool!” He ran towards his daughter who was horrified and in shock, obviously confused and not thinking of the sensible thing.

By the time little Michelle had been thrown in the water, her scalp was cooked and included many boils. Only patches of charred strands of hair remained. Finally, justice had been served!