The Corn Man

Robert M. Riley

Description

A terrible grain hauling accident leaves a town with an unbelievable mystery when the body of a tractor driver, Chester Johnson, mysteriously disappears after the crash. The very same day, Chester’s wife Maryann, vanishes from sight. All of their affects are left in place at home. Police reports come up blank in their investigations.
Enduring for thirty years this enigmatic moment develops into sightings of a yellow-green eyed ghost, fitting the description of the deceased, roams the corn rows and back roads.
At the same time this elusive specter walks the prairie and back roads, the ground begins to tremble beneath their feet.
Descendents of Chester and an old friend Robert Kelly, a physics Professor, are besieged by questions to which they have no answers to.
Later the Professor discovers a strange meteorite with inconceivable properties causing the good Professor to rewrite physics in his own mind.
Everyone begins to wonder what is going on beneath their feet.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Adventure (Guyana)
• Adventure
• Thriller
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 28 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798823004237
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Corn Man
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Robert M. Riley
 
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2023 Robert M. Riley. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse  03/21/2023
 
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0424-4 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-8230-0423-7 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023905544
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this book to my paternal Mother
Jacqueline Virginia Loundon.
Contents
Dedication
 
At first glance
Farmers of the round table
He Was Right There
Lori’s Cafe
Recollection
Candy’s Tap & Grill
A Tear in My Eye
My old friend
Meeting of the Minds
Damp and dark passages
All is revealed
Breaking ground
At first glance

Bret knew there was something wrong in the area he lived in. He could sense it. Something inside him touched off a burglar alarm in his own mind, revving up his senses to a plateau of unrest. He put himself in check, as he always does, thinking it was a senior moment.
Bret sometimes models himself after his grandfather thinking he was going to inherit some of the traits he had concerning bad hearing. He remembered though, his grandfather only had a hearing problem; not such things as dementia. He was thinking he is going to inherit more than a hearing problem.
He already had 2 cups of strong coffee and he wondered if this was giving him the jitters. His wife would say yes. She would say he drinks way too much coffee.
Every time he turned around he was confronted with something invisible to him. Something he could sense but couldn’t see. He began to wonder if his age was contributing to him, a false sense of awareness.
Bret was up early starring out his kitchen window looking eastward to watch the sun come up. It was late January and the air outside is a bone chilling zero. Fortunately there was no wind or blowing snow but offered no comfort to the standing temperature of biting cold.
After breakfast, he stepped reluctantly out into the cold watching his breath hang ridiculously still in the frigid air until it disappeared. He thought about the weather reports he’s been keeping track of concerning a Alberta clipper dipping down from the North. The clipper is delivering an unforgivable frigidity to the air. Bret in his own thoughts felt, this is the coldest he’s ever known. He felt the cold is so strong it penetrates right to the core of his bones. He almost threw his hands up in the air; changing his tune about fixing his combine out in the field.
Bret cradles another cup of coffee, number 3, in both hands to warm them. Bret’s eyes dart to one side in thought, thinking about his wife and the gloves she would say, should be on his hands. Then, his eyes descend to the floor and back to the horizon. He stands there for a moment watching the sun edge over the horizon. He stares tolerably at the sun. Its rays rip away the shadows and dissolve the dark. Bret hopes between the sun’s warmth, as little as it is, and the hot coffee, will give him the strength to walk the distance to his combine. His combine wasn’t very far, it was within walking distance. But in the frigid cold it can be a daunting walk.
In addition to this unseen feeling Bret is having; reports of a green eyed ghost being seen by a few people, sparked rumors in the community of Chester Johnson’s ghost is walking about the stubble fields and back roads of Minonk. Chester Johnson is Bret Johnson’s grandfather. Bret wonders if the strange sightings some are seeing and the creepy feeling he is having are related.
Bret thinks loudly, talking to himself. His thoughts battle over comments made by some of the town’s people about his grandfather. At times over coffee, some of Bret’s closest friends alert him about some of the comments made by the locals. Bret in frustration gets up from the table and walks away quietly. His eyes descend to the floor as he clenches his fists in anger. His farmer buddies see this as he walks away. They know he’s fed up with all the stories.
A deep emotional wound has resurfaced in Bret from the past. Like a hot poker it daggers his heart once again as memories erupt from the past and rekindled in thought.
“Why do they think this guy is my grandfather? Bret is talking to himself aloud; his right hand gestures in frustration. I haven’t seen this guy. I haven’t seen him at all. Why do they think he is my grandfather? Some say he looks a lot like my grandfather.”
Bret’s eyebrows bent angrily. In Bret’s mind, he believes these comments are a spillover from thirty years ago, when his grandfather came up missing after the accident.
“All of them have nothing better to do than dirty up somebody’s reputation by spattering convoluted stories about my grandfather. I guess if they are talking about him, they are leaving someone else alone.”
In addition, Bret’s grandmother came up missing the very same day Chester Johnson had his accident. No one knows where she went. This was emotionally ripping for the immediate family. So many unanswered questions writhed up in Bret and his family.
Bret frequently goes to the hardware store uptown. He can sense a drape of silence when he walks in to get supplies. They want answers to question he knows nothing about. At one point he almost lost his temper at the hardware store, slamming his keys down on the counter, when he overheard them talking. After the patrons heard the clatter of his keys, signifying to them to shut up, was enough to quiet them. He had enough.
Bret’s hearing is that of a dog’s. If they don’t think he can hear them, he can. Somehow Bret’s hearing has become as sharp as a magnifying glass in comparison to the average individual. Bret is at odds as to why his hearing is amped up. He figured as he got older this would get worse. Not the case. His grandfather had a hearing problem which was his only physical malady. Bret figured this was an inherited thing and he was in line to have the same problem, his dad and grandfather had.
Bret eyes descend to the frosted flooring of his patio deck, wondering if they all forgot his grandfather. They all forgot on how well loved he was. Some of them don’t know his grandfather because they were too young or weren’t even born yet. Those who did are so easy to forget him. They have forgotten all of the things he’s done, for so many going through hardships. It hurts in knowing how much he did for so many of the town’s people. It hurts, knowing how easily they dismiss memories of him. They have forgotten him. Bret settles his thoughts.
Bret by nature is a somber man. He is as cool as a cucumber and it takes a lot to get his dander stirred up into a whirlwind. It is well noted among many of his friends is Bret’s power of composure. Instead of getting angry at the drop of a hat, Bret will stand back and analyze his thoughts and reason with them. Bret’s mother, Belinda, use to say, “Nothing has ever been accomplished by losing your temper.”
Bret takes a sip of his coffee. The steam rises in front of his face. His eyes try to peel away the steam from his sights as he tries to peel through the many thoughts in his head.
Bret stands there adrift in thought. He daydreams about the current events taking place when, the mysterious creepy feeling, shrouding his senses, returns like an overdue bill. It comes and then it goes. Bret can feel it. It is in his gut and he can’t shake it. For the last few days a profound quiet has seated itself over the entire area. Even though the air is so still and cold, he feels there is something else causing the quiet. The best way he describes it is by calling it a presence. Bret also explained it to his wife as it being like a quiet wave unannounced, intrudes upon him when he least expects it. To him it feels like someone bumping him invisibly without warning. Because of Bret’s mysteriously enhanced hearing, he is able to hear ridiculously out of the range of normal hearing.
Bret side tracks in thought. He thinks about the ghost sightings in the area. Some say the ghost is only being seen during the day, not at night; weird to say the least. One would think a ghost, if it is a ghost, would haunt at night. Then, Bret thought, haunting by night was most likely developed by the filming industry. The ghastly practice of scaring would be show goers seems to frighten people the most because their eyes have nothing to lean on in the dark and, the mind can play awful tricks on the senses.
This is not the case. Even though the day is bright and sunny, he is still seen quite clearly and well defined as reported by some. He does not appear as a semi-transparent specter or a white sheeted figure flowing through the air.
Bret many times before doubts what he is experiencing. He thinks his age is the cause of his thoughts going astray. His closest friends and his wife would beg to differ. They would say Bret is an extremely smart man and very aware of his world. The thought of him losing his mind is out of