John paused to drink some coffee. "Mr. Federmann was born in the area, the son of German immigrants. He established the farm with his young wife around 1850. In 1852, when she was near term with their child, he threw her down the well during a fit of rage and let her drown."

"I've heard that one before," I said.

"Then you know when they pulled her body from the well, she had given birth there, but the baby's body was never found."

Kaylee grabbed my hand. "No, I didn't know that."

"They tried to suppress it at the time. It was bad enough that a townsman killed his pregnant wife." He sipped his coffee. "And the story of Mother Goodie and her five children?"

"There's a rhyme about them," I said. "Mother Goodie and Old Man Feros who carried off her kids."

"You know that one?" He recited it anyway. "Old Man Feros carried the five away; Tail pinned on and donkey voice a bray; But how should I remember them by? Poor Mother Goodie cried out in dismay; To which Old Man Feros did quickly reply; The right hand o' each for yourself, I say! In 1910, she reported her children missing. After several years and much searching, they were declared dead. It was only in 1955 when she was moved to a hospice to die that the buyers of her house found a macabre altar in her attic. It was decorated with the mummified right hands of her children, but she died before she could go to trial for murder."

"But the bodies were never found," I said. Another town legend.

"Do you know who Old Man Feros is?"

"Alicia said he was a..." The confused memory of Confederate soldiers talking about Feros mixed with the poem and Alicia's voice.

"A donkey," John said, finishing my sentence.

"A donkey?" Kaylee asked.

"No. No, he's not," I said.

"Oh, but he is. Or was. Feros was the name of Mother Goodie's donkey she last saw walking off with her five children."

I thought I might be sick. Something was very wrong here.

"There is also the story of Jeff Smith and Lisa Walker. Todd's best friend and Jeff's girlfriend, last seen driving into the lake off a steep hill in the summer of 1977. Bodies never found in a car with the windows up and doors shut."

"Weird things happen over a couple hundred years in any town?" I asked, searching for a reason.

"Some weird things, perhaps. You don't need me to tell you the Walters brothers' story, but there are at least two more neither of you know about. During the Civil War a small group of soldiers who were probably scouting established camp outside of town limits. The town was much smaller then. I tracked down the mayor's wife's diary from then and she mentions soldiers staying by the Tobacco Crick."

We shook our heads. We'd never heard of it.

"The stream doesn't exist anymore, but it ran along 12th Street right past the Apple Mart and high school. The whole area was swampy, and it became a pond when it reached Cherokee Street. They had to drain the land to build the mental institute."

"And the soldiers?" I asked. "Confederates?"

"Yes. According to records I was able to dig up and some town gossip the mayor's wife faithfully noted in her diary, this group stayed a couple of days waiting for orders from their regiment. But when the orders came, the soldiers had disappeared. How's your coffee?"

Neither of us had touched it.

"Want the last story?"

We both nodded slowly.

"The worst one, as far as numbers go, is from the Riverbend Behavior Health Center when it was still known as the Allbury Mental Asylum. In 1931 while the paint was still drying, a fire broke out in the patients' wing."

"Everyone knows that story. The man who set it died along with twelve other patients," I said.

"The official report states that Joey Taylor set fire to his room and it spread, destroying over 20 rooms, and killing thirteen people including himself."

"He was insane. They should have been more careful."

"But they were careful. I found the nurse who was in charge that night and asked him about it. He was overseer when two other men strapped Joey to his bed and said goodnight. There was nothing to burn in his room."

"An accident." It was possible the crazy man got his hands on a match and lit his own mattress.

"And the twelve other people? There were no bodies. Not a single scorched bone was found," John continued.

"So the bodies were burned beyond recognition. It was a massive fire and I doubt Depression Era forensics was up to snuff at the time."

"Not all the missing persons had rooms that burned. Well, in the official report they did, but according to the man I spoke with, no," John said.

"He could have been old and senile by the time you found him," I said. This had not happened in the same building where my mom worked now.

"Are most of the missing people or bodies kids?" I asked.

"Good question, yes. The ones from the institute were eighteen or under, and two of the soldiers were fourteen. So many inexplicable disappearances, attacks and accidents, but no witnesses besides Alicia."

"There were the people who saw Jeff drive the car into the lake."

"From a distance. From the bridge, actually, which is pretty far from Broken Stoop Shallows. But those shallows are fairly close to the Federmann Farmstead."

"Do you have a theory? Do have any idea how this all adds up?"

"No. I only have one statistic that makes Allbury stand out in the crowd. For our population, we have a surprisingly high number of inhabitants who live at or go to the mental institute for treatment. In fact, a town Allbury's size shouldn't have a nationally renown institute. Isn't that curious? Is it the town that created the institute out of need or the institute that created the need?"

"Most of these incidents have nothing to do with the institute," I said. "I don't see how there could be a conspiracy to make people crazy."

"What about the scratching? What about Alicia Kincaid covered in bites? What about the number of people living here, especially those born here, who have hallucinations and hear things in the woods, in the walls and in their cellars late at night. I don't have any problems. I'm not bothered by any of those things. But my sister is."

He leaned in far too close and I could smell his coffee breath on me. It was time to go.

"Thank you so much for having us in, Mr. Kopf."

"You are both bright girls, but you might not want to try and find answers to these questions. There is a lightness around you both and your presence fills the room. Jemma used to have that same lightness until the whispering and scratching shredded her mind."

"I think we should be going," I said. Kaylee nodded vigorously in agreement.

"If I'm not mistaken, your mother works at the mental institute. I see her there sometimes. Did she ever tell you why the patients are afraid of room 39?"

I had gone cold through every limb. "No."

"I've been wondering. My sister won't tell me. Before you go, I'd love to show you my collection of artifacts from the superstitious age of monsters. It is very important to Jemma and might of use to you one day."

He went to one his cabinets without waiting for our answer. Kaylee and I tiptoed behind him, curious.

He put a worn, leather case on the cabinet and snapped it open. Pulling out a sharpened wooden stake he grinned at us. "My arsenal of weapons against the demons who hound my sister."

"Are you trying to tell us there are vampires in Allbury?" I asked. Kaylee grabbed the back of my shirt, fidgeting.

"It could be anything or nothing. Which is why my collection is rather eclectic." He made a sweeping motion over the case and I peered inside. Many items came straight from the movies and graphic horror novels, but others surprised me: wooden stakes, home-made silver bullets, acorns, salt, a horseshoe, blue beads, steel scissors, a cardboard hand with an eye painted in the middle, an Native American dream catcher, jade pendants, several crosses, hooks and sculpted animals in bone, square shaped Celtic knots and more items I didn't recognize immediately.

"A sort of monster repellent box," I muttered. "What about river stones with a hole eroded through it? Do you know if it protects the owner?"

"Ms. Hadder, would you like to know the one thing these items have in common?"

"If I say they're effective weapons in your combat against your sister's demons, would I be on the mark?" I asked hopefully.

"Every item here is seemingly as useless as the next. But she finds the scissors work the best. So I gave her a pair like these. In my opinion, it is her belief that keeps the crawlers away."

"They let you give your sister six inch stainless steel scissors at the mental institute?" Kaylee piped up behind me.

"It's kind of our little secret. She only uses them to keep the crawlers out of the lines and her closet. And before you ask, no, I can't move her from the institute. I don't have power of attorney and supposedly, she's getting the best care in the country. She can't move and I won't. So many ties keep all of us trapped in this town. Have you noticed? Lastly, Ms. Hadder, would you tell me what you see now, in this room? Do you hear anything unusual?"

"I only have problems on the day the brothers disappeared. I hear the traffic outside, that's all. Inside, there's nothing unusual besides your very striking antique furniture, and a ton of china. I can't believe you found entire sets where every piece is broken or chipped," I said, trying to joke.

John closed his leather case. "Look at the china again."

"Brook," Kaylee whispered, "none of it's broken or chipped."

***Some of the stranger stories from Allbury have been brought to light by John's investigation skills. Will it help Brooklyn find the Walters brothers? Thanks for reading!!!***