"So, you know about the Estate?" I asked, prompting to hear whatever story he had to tell. "Yep, I know it" Willard began, "I don't care for the place much to be truthful to y'all, It's no good - the land has been cursed since man first set foot in this very town"

"What do you mean?" I pushed.

And thus his story began...

Well, for starters there are those stories that are fact and then there are stories that are of fiction. There's a bit of both surroundin' the Maybrick Estate. Now first of all it's probably best if I fill you in on a piece of Maybrick history. The Estate is built in on somewhat of a mass grave, the property was once an in'ersection between the main road into this town and another road that came from, and headed off into God knows where. Now, the early townsfolk, bein' a devout Christian community didn't care much fo' crimes against one another, and any crime was (funnily enough) punishable by death - where by the bodies of the accused were buried at the intersection. Some say the reason was to rid of the bodies just that far out of town, while others say that it had religious meanin' to bury sinners at the cross. The graves are unmarked but it's been said that the number of thieves, rapists, murderers, you name it - buried at that crossroad tallied into the hundreds, while from generation to generation the law remained unchanged. I say it went unchanged, however the punishment became all too familiar and didn't always fit the crimes. Some were sentenced to death fo' cussing in public while others fo' as little as sneezing in the wrong direction. Now y'may ask Who'd have come up with such a law to begin with? Well, the earliest record of foundin' members to this town were none other than one Jonah Maybrick and his wife Elisabeth who were said to have travelled from as far as Liverpool, England as far back as the 1700's but there ain't any records to prove that. I've been told that the leadership of this community was passed down from Jonah to his son and from his son to the next, and so on and so on from one generation to the next. All the while passin' the "rules of the land" on like some sadistic Chinese whisper. As some had predicted the population started getting smaller. Outsiders avoided town like the plague and insiders left town out from fear of bein' next on the chopping block. That really hurt the growth of the town. There wasn't enough trade from outsiders and farms were strugglin' with the lack of labourers. So 100 years or so ago, the towns leader at the time -Charles Maybrick held an assembly in the town hall with his wife Ellenor, to rally ideas on how to overcome their trade and population issues. Just about all that was left of the town attended but no one really had anythin' to contribute other than Mr Maybrick himself. He suggested that the town start growing grapes and berries and then usin' 'em to make wine to export to neighbourin' towns and also attract and sell to outsiders coming in to town. There was definitely a commotion over his suggestion, while some argued that alcohol was a sin and it would bring nothing but trouble, others rejoiced at the suggestion of celebrating the blood of Christ. Charles Maybrick was staunch with his ideas, and like most of his ideas he pushed and blackmailed his way to sway the decision of his people so that he could go ahead with his plans. Unfortunately for him, his people pushed back, starting with one young man by the name of Robert Ketch (whom was the grand pappy of the the Ketch brothers who run the hardware store). He silenced the townsfolk as he stood and looked Charles Maybrick in the eye and told him that the problem with their forsaken town was the Maybrick family itself and their cruel and unfair laws that were supposedly "Gods vision". Robert turned to the townsfolk for support, and it was support that he got. The people stood and agreed with outrage, once silenced by fear but now stronger knowing they had the support and strength from their peers. They'd simply had enough. From that moment the rein of the Maybrick family crumbled. Charles and Ellenor were said to have been beaten and forced out of town - they weren't welcome here anymore and would likely be jailed or worse if they were to return.

The morale of the town was much better from that moment. Robert Ketch was appointed as the towns first Mayor and he turned the place around completely. We lived with a degree of freedom, decisions and trials were made fairly in consideration for everyone. God wasn't forgotten, those who wished still attended church on Sundays and there was no backlash against those who wished to keep their beliefs private. The town flourished, so much so that eventually we had to start thinkin' about catering for the needs of people passin' by and stayin' in town to visit. So, we opened up this bar. It meant job opportunities for our women (if you know what I mean) and it attracted attention from all over. We had beer and spirits that never ran dry, all thanks to a weekly delivery from out of town.

Times were looking good

But the story doesn't end there

As the story goes, on the night that Charles and Ellenor were forced to leave town they went to the crossroads and prayed. Don't ask me who they prayed to - I don't have the answer to that, all I know is that their prayers were answered. But not by God. Nope, Charles and Ellenor's pleas were instead answered by the Devil. He appeared to 'em both as they knelt in the center of the crossroads. He was a mere shadow in the form of a man wearing a long dark cloak and wide brimmed hat upon his head, his presence brought on a chill that would put the coldest of winters to shame. Charles revered at the sight at first until the Devil spoke "I believe I can be of assistance". The Devil spoke with the perfect charm and elegance of the Queens English that calmed Charles quite considerably. "You are the epitome of evil Charles" the words rolled from the tongue of the Devil like a sonnet. Charles winced and spat a feeble attempt to be brave "I am a soldier of God". The Devil's eye glowed like hot coals as he laughed, "There is an army of screams beneath this earth that beg to differ Charles, you are murderer - no different to those you buried here, if not worse". The spirit within Charles began to break " Who are you, and what do you want" he yelled anxiously. The Devil hissed "My name is Asmodai, I am the embodiment of the sins you represent. I am your dreams and I am you're nightmares. I'm not here fo' what I want I'm here fo' what you want". Charles began mutterin' prayers over and over behind closed eyes as if to make it all go away " Your God isn't listenin' Charles" the Devil said manipulatively "what is it that you want?" he repeated. Charles stopped mutterin' abruptly and answered "revenge". The Devil hummed in agreement to Charles' response "Better Charles, much better" His voice momentarily bellowin' like the growl from an alligator, "And how would you like to exact your revenge?". Charles thought for a moment "The blood of Christ" He answered as if the thought had been implanted into his head. "That's right Charles, blood" The Devil applauded.

Now, the story varies at this point. Some are sayin' that the Devil drew the flesh and bones of the dead up from their restin' places beneath the crossroads and fashioned the Estate from them on that very night, other variations of the story say that Charles became possessed and built the house from scratch over a period of time, workin' non stop throughout the day and night. But what can be agreed on is that the fruits did grow and the wine did flow.

The bartender let out a creepy "mwoo hahaha" mimicking the same sort of laugh from a cheesy B-grade monster movie. He poured me another glass of wine, the word "blood" ran through my head as the wine flowed from the neck of the bottle like blood from a severed jugular. "There's jus' sommin' in it that makes it taste so darn good" Willard grinned.

"You can certainly tell a story Willard, that's for sure" I said as I sipped more wine, "there's just one part of the story that just doesn't fit with me though, how is it that you started serving wine made from a man that was banned from stepping foot back in this town?"

Willard winked and said "that m'friend is yet another story"

To be continued.......

Next issue: Darling Cadence