Off the Deep End: Harperville Horrors

A NineStar Press Publication

www.ninestarpress.com

Off the Deep End

ISBN: 978-1-64890-404-2

© 2021 Lizzie Strong

Cover Art © 2021 Natasha Snow

Published in October, 2021 by NineStar Press, New Mexico, USA.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at Contact@ninestarpress.com.

Also available in Print, ISBN: 978-1-64890-405-9

CONTENT WARNING:

This book contains discussions and depictions of child abuse, blood, gore, death, and mental manipulation.

Off the Deep End

Harperville Horrors, Book One

Lizzie Strong

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

About the Author

To Tyler Pomposello- because you said no one ever has, this ones for you. I hope you don’t hate me for the nightmares and madness <3

Prologue

I just need a few photos for her missing person’s file.

In a tiny house on a miniscule yard, at the end of a dead cul-de-sac, sat a detective with the missing girl’s grandmother. Levi Earlington perched himself on top of a dusty knitted blanket, feet crossed, hands full of photos of the girl. His locs were tucked neatly behind him and his button-down pressed expertly, even down to the seams. His clean suit covered up the bruises along his knuckles and hands. Multiple victim’s blood lingered underneath his nails. Levi raced to find any person left in this world who could help him find Queenie.

Estelle Lowe sobbed silently over a box as she dug through more Polaroid images. Her aged fingers trembled as she plucked out a larger photo at the bottom of the box. She gasped, a weary smile upon her lips as she stared at the photo. Levi could see through the back side of the photo that Queenie Louise Lowe was once a beautiful, young girl. No more than seventeen, with box dyed hair that hinted at a rainbow underneath thick black tresses, and a fake pink heart jewel upon her right cheek. Estelle tenderly handed the photo to him.

She was such a good girl, Estelle confessed in one breath.

Ma’am, we’re going to find her, I promise, Levi cleared his throat, raw from shouting into the storm.

Estelle’s face warmed, her lips curling as she closed the box over hundreds of other Polaroids. It was a shoe box with scrap booking paper expertly wrapped and tucked over it with a plastic jewel on top. It closed with a satin ribbon and a tag hung off the side: To Gran, to remind you when I can’t.

Levi placed the small Polaroids over the large photo on his lap. Queenie had been missing for more than twenty-four hours.

However, Levi did not have the heart to tell Estelle that he personally knew Queenie wasn’t dead, not yet. The truth would break the old woman’s heart. She smelled of baked goods, the kind that takes strong knuckles to knead.

Estelle clapped her hands against her thighs and pushed herself up to her feet. Levi’s mouth dropped open an inch to speak up but stopped. She shuffled around him in staggered steps toward the kitchen. He spun to observe her in the miniature kitchen just inches from the living room. She groaned as she bent to open the stove and retrieve the tray out of it. The air flooded with the scent of fresh cookies.

Levi leaned toward the back of the couch. Ma’am, we will find her.

I know you will try, dear, which is why I’m going to send you with these cookies. Nourishment for the troops. She gingerly placed the tray on top of the oven and twisted the knobs off. You know, the only thing I seem to remember these days are my recipes. And Queenie. Such a sweet girl. Shame really.

Ma’am? Levi clutched the photos to his chest. His hands and legs trembled.

Darkness swam in her old amber eyes as Estelle dropped a ball of dough onto the countertop. Her expression hardened like stone, her lips thin and her skin paled to the point of being nearly translucent.

Estelle kneaded soft balls of butter into the dough. She’s gone off the deep-end, you know? Her voice wavered, cracking at the end. Her right eye twitched. Estelle broke her porcelain composure to show cracks within her stony expression. Her eyes stormed with dark flecks of charcoal; the left side of her face drooped much like a stroke. Her features contorted, unable to match on both sides. Her jowls wiggled with effort as she fought for control of her own muscles.

Levi lurched toward her, tangling his feet in the couch. He toppled to the floor with a thud and the room darkened around him. The scent of baked goods tainted with sour milk in his nose. He turned his head. All the hair on his body stood up.

His chin scuffed the floor when he peered under the couch. Blood pooled upon the fake wood flooring. The fabric of the couch dripped thick, viscous liquid. Fingers broke through the underside of the furniture and broken nails and pieces of skin dangled from the couch, all pointed to the back. There, shoved behind the couch, broken into pieces, Estelle Lowe gazed directly at him with her skin strewn aside. Her jaw dropped with a terrifying click of her bones against the floor.

A scream broke through the silence in the tiny house, on a miniscule yard, in a dead cul-de-sac, waking up even the beasts slumbering below the surface. Detective Levi scrambled to his feet, alone in the house with fresh cookies on the stove and no grandmother in sight. Footsteps over warped wooden floorboards sounded from the back of the house.

Queenie Lowe slinked out of the shadows. Her finger raised to her lips as she headed for the front door. Detective, shh, she’s taking a nap.

Levi bolted after Queenie. The door swung open before him, and he tumbled out into the fog alone. The blood on the bottom of his shoes colored the gray concrete around him. Everything in Harperville cast in shadows and fog. His body trembled and fear gnawed at every neuron in his brain. Harperville used to be such a quiet town. That is…until the storm clouds rolled in over Rainbow Cove.

Chapter One

APPROXIMATELY TWO WEEKS PRIOR…

It felt so real.

Just stand right there, I need a good shot for my intro and the sunset will look nice on my skin, Queenie chirped, her fingers raking pieces of her hair into a sloppy ponytail. Her freckles stood out brighter against the pitch black of her hair. The hint of a rainbow peaked out from the back of her scalp, vibrant and neon. Unfortunately, a tangled mess most days.

She was there.

I know how to record a stupid video, chill! Tonya huffed from behind the camera. Tonya, Queenie’s friend, steadied her feet, camera pointed forward at the cliffside. She motioned with a free hand for Queenie to back up more into the setting sun. Tonya’s rectangular face pinched in fury.

Queenie stood in a silk robe, tied loosely around her waist to shield her from the soft breeze. Winter lingered in Harperville. The long coastline that practically surrounded their tourist destination town stayed chilly half of the year. Trees surrounded the backside to the cliff, a shifted hue of orange and yellow. The wooden rail framed the cliffside except for the one gate door at the tip.

It was such a pretty place.

Rainbow Cove was the biggest tourist attraction for Harperville. They said the dive from the top at sunrise and moonrise was magical, as the light just hit the stones. The cliffside that framed the rocky shores was made of compact gemstones; smokey swirls gave each section of stone a beautiful effect. Someone would dive from the top and observe the cliff as they descended. When the light hit it, it appeared to be like falling down a rainbow and into a pot of gold.

You ready, Queenie? Tonya adjusted her grip on the camera equipment.

The rain clouds rumbled, miles out of view.

Yup! Give me a countdown. Queenie cocked her hip. Her GoPro strapped to her throat like some high-tech choker. She planted her stance as Tonya put up a hand, her fingers tucked down steadily. At one, Queenie beamed and twirled her robe sash. Good evening, fellow Queens! How is everyone? I’m freezing my tush off out here at Rainbow Cove. Why? Well, Today’s-the-Day’s Joshua tagged me in the ice-bucket challenge. All AdSense from this video is going to charity! But come on, y’all know your girl is extra! So, who needs a bucket when I have a whole damn ocean! Yup! Your Queenie is about to dive into Rainbow Cove, and I’m about to give you a front row seat. So, before I jump, let me just go ahead and tag my girl Victoria from Stranger Tides and Twitch’s EeviePeevie. All right! Time to nut up or shut up!

Danger bit into the horizon, no time to stop!

Queenie ripped the sash open and goosebumps climbed up her flesh. She shivered as she tossed the robe off her shoulders toward Tonya. She kicked off her flip-flops and rushed toward the gate latch. GoPro on and recording, she pushed open the simple wooden door. As she flung the latch open, Queenie had mere seconds to see the bottom before gravity snatched her from the cliff.

They were still, like they were already dead.

No one would call Queenie Louise Lowe a daredevil, but she was not afraid of doing something publicly. Plus, it helped to have dived from Rainbow Cove several times in her life. She watched many tourists jump off from the top and even let her friend Frankie tackle her off the cliffside. This was the first time, however, that as she descended toward the water, her focus stayed on the water. Her body became an arrow, pointed straight down into a circle of cloaked figures. The sunset shifted. Nighttime abyss draped over the cove as the moon illuminated the rocky wall around her. Yet torches lit up the water beneath her.

They wouldn’t stop speaking that name!

Cloaked figures, each with a torch in one hand and a dagger in other, hovered in a circle over the water’s surface. Water crashed into their sides. Choppy waves and thick foam licked up the rocky cliff. The cloaked individuals stood unphased, their voices growing louder.

It’s so cold at the bottom!

Their chants found her ears, their voices bellowing up the side of the cliff. In a blink, the sky rumbled. The full moon lifted high into the sky. Queenie broke the surface of the water at the height of their chant.

A darkness unlike any other seen on earth, a devouring abyss.

The ocean muffled all sound and dragged her deep. Her legs were caught in the current. Her attention remained glued to the surface as it rose higher above her outstretched hand. Red water crashed into her. The undertow ripped her to the base of the cove. Panic subsided to cold fear as her feet touched smooth rocks. The rainbow illuminated by the moonlight, tainted red, broke apart in her vision as cloaks sank into the water. Her veins froze as daggers shot through the water around her. The bubble of air around her broke. Sliced to ribbons by the blades as they embedded into the rock below. As water flooded her system, her panic returned.

Queenie launched up into the water, the surface miles above her. Something with the suction strength of a black hole ripped her back to the base of the cove. Her skull cracked against the rock. Black spots filled her blurry vision of red.

A new beginning, one no one has seen before, a last chance to return.

The first face of one of the cloaked individuals passed by her in the water pinched in horror. The ocean pinned Queenie against the rocky bottom, unable to lurch away as bodies settled over her. Her lungs gave out before her GoPro.

Within the deep, the rumbles of chaos begin. Upon the surface they return, where there is no mercy.

★

She drowned in the darkness within her head. The sounds of waves crashed around her. A sliver of moonlight broke through the abyss, waking her. As the waves calmed, she floated up through the dream. Warmth filled her system, like a warm blanket directly out of the dryer onto cold toes. Then her eyes fluttered open, and she awoke at home. A romance novel was glued to the side of her cheek, and drool dried on the pages.

Queenie lurched forward in her bed; sweat drenched the sheets in a pool around her. When she pulled herself away from her bed, she peered down at herself in pajamas. Not a bathing suit, not at the bottom of the cove, not pinned down under bodies in bloody water. A nightmare, obviously, left a film of sweat and ick across her skin. There was no scent of sunscreen or sea salt on her skin, and her hair even felt washed. Queenie ran her fingers through the length of her messy bed head to the rat’s nest at the back of her scalp. There was no crack at the back of her skull; she didn’t even feel a papercut.

The thud of her book woke her up to the world around her. Queenie bent down gingerly to pick up her recent obsession: Below the Surface by Kinsey LeMay, a sweet romance between two marine biologists trapped in an underwater base that is attacked by a giant squid. She ran her fingers over the front cover, the raised text in a shimmering turquoise. She settled the book back against her bedside table as she pivoted from it.

Sunlight trickled through her heavy pink curtains with crystals sewn in to add a bit of fantasy in her life. Her cat pajama pants, rolled up from sleep, pinched her ankles and stomach as she shifted to get up. Queenie had only a moment to collect herself when the text alerts rolled in. Tonya was first, Theo and Frankie next, Leia last, as their group message went off. Strange, as she always beat them in the morning. Queenie prided herself on being the early bird.

She opened the messages as she stripped off her pajamas. Tonya asked if anyone else was up for lunch at Denny’s. Theo sent a pancake gif that danced, then Frankie put a thumbs up. Queenie stopped from typing at the sound of footsteps against the wooden hallway floors. Her mother was awake.

She put her phone down, message unsent. Queenie peered out her bedroom door and down the hall—the bathroom was unoccupied. She brushed her teeth and changed into jeans and a simple T-shirt. When she took one last glance in the mirror, her hollow reflection stared back. Queenie faked a smile, unable to make it reach her eyes. She scowled, slithering from the bathroom and back into her bedroom. The screen of her phone lit up with new messages. She pocketed it, flipping the switch to silent.

Queenie investigated the halls for her mother. Her purse remained on the counter, and the car keys were not in their usual place on the kitchen table. Her shoes still stood at the front door.

The scent of coffee wafted around her, warming up in the pot. Queenie knew better than to drink it before her mother took her first sip. Instead, she opted to slip out onto the back porch.

693 Hourton Lane, a one-story house on the top of a deep hillside, was a massive cliffside construction. Her home loomed over the rocky shore a mile down the road. Their home was a simple house on the peak of the hill, bought on a homicide detective’s salary. The late William Lowe purchased the house back before any of the other houses on Hourton Lane were built, for a cheap price. He often worked on it prior to his untimely demise, making it the steadiest house on the hillside. Kelsi Lowe worked as a middle school English teacher, currently in her planning week prior to school’s reopening. The last weeks of Christmas break had nearly wrapped up, leaving Queenie only two days before she, too, returned to school.

Queenie pulled the glass storm door shut behind her and stepped to the right of the door. The steps to the two-foot porch led to a lower porch down the cliffside. She enjoyed the way the salt air bit into her cheeks early in the morning. A slow breeze licked at the side of her moist arms as she leaned over the railing. Queenie didn’t have a back yard, just a steep rocky hillside. A sharp cliffside dropped to a rocky valley within ten feet of the lower portion of the split-level porch. It all ended at her favorite part, the sea. She loved how it crashed along the rocks, how it smelt, how the spray tickled her skin at any time of the year.

She closed her eyes and took a big sniff.

Oh, I wouldn’t do that. An unfamiliar voice broke through her concentration.

Queenie jumped in her skin and spun to her right. 693 Hourton Lane had been full for thirteen years, but 695 Hourton Lane had been empty for the last six. No one wanted a house built that close to the cliff, even though it was beautiful. The back side was made entirely of large windows which overlooked a rocky, misty sea. A split-level porch connected the house with the cliff.

On the porch’s lower level sat a teenager with messy hair dyed a murky green—the person who had just spoken. Mist from the ocean mixed with the shadows of the porch blurred them from Queenie’s vision. She couldn’t tell who they were until they stepped closer. Dressed in a pair of ratty jeans and a thick black hoodie with a blurry text logo long ago washed off. A bucket of slimy squid sat by their flip-flop covered feet. When they stepped into the light, they appeared androgynous.

Queenie flashed a smile. Ah, thanks for the warning. She held out her hand to her new neighbor.

Instead of shaking her hand, her neighbor cupped her hands and brought Queenie’s fingers up to their pale, pink lips. They had a round face, clear skin, beautiful lashes and thick brows that did not match the dyed hair.

Queenie blushed. The stranger grinned from ear to ear as they dropped her hands.

What’s your name? They stood up straight, hands poked into their pockets.

Queenie, she gasped. Her knuckles tingled at her side.

They laughed. Fitting. Seriously, what’s your name?

I am serious! Queenie pouted and put her hands on her hips.

Their lips curled. Well, I cannot even judge, my name is—

Queenie didn’t catch the name. As if her ears stopped working at the exact moment they spoke. Their name disappeared in the sound of a strong gust of wind that roared along the cliff. Her neighbor’s hair flew up around their cheeks. They fought to push their hair away. Queenie caught sight of green orbs that lit up in the morning light.

A sharp pop echoed in Queenie’s ears, and the tingles returned. The volume of the world doubled, muffling the words her new neighbor spoke. The memory of her nightmare returned swiftly and took over all her senses—crashing waves, chants, the flood of water into her ears and nose. The taste of blood on her tongue debilitated her. Queenie gagged as her hands flung to her nose and mouth. Her stomach flipped and twisted into a knot.

Dream…

Her neighbor blinked hard, her expression pinched in concern. You all right? Is it the squid? I can put it away?

Uh, yeah! Totally. Thanks, um … She didn’t catch their name. Her brain scrambled for a collection of sounds, a vowel or anything really. Every second she scrambled for words and her anxiety rose. Was this the dream? Or was the dream affecting her? Panic spiked in her veins, hot and sharp as her heart raced. Then she blinked, and the feeling evaporated suddenly. She knew their name Do you mind if I call you Lulu? Your name’s kinda long.

Her neighbor winked. You can call me anything you like, beautiful.

Mmm, flirting with the new neighbor? Flattery will get you everywhere. Just checking, what are your pronouns? Queenie leaned her elbow on the porch’s railing and put her chin on her hand.

I don’t normally use any other than ‘omnipotent god’, but I’ll take she/her. Lulu mimicked her. Her gaze, colored a brilliant jade, glowed with whimsy. She cocked a brow.

Queenie couldn’t help but think how lucky she was to have a new neighbor. A flirty new neighbor.

Although she had romance on her mind, Queenie glanced away.