“You could sell this house. I know it. Just wag your tail,” Kenny said, getting out of his car and walking out onto the street. He wanted to position his car so that the couple he was showing the house to would not notice the canal until he led them over it. If that was even possible. He got back in the car and backed it up another couple of feet. When he checked again, he found no improvement.
His sigh should’ve shook the pillars of heaven. He was disappointed when it didn’t. It seemed only a sigh of that magnitude could clear his anxiety. He returned to his car, a brand new Lexus, he pulled out the nameless puppy and carried him across the lawn. On the porch was a large flowerpot. Mums had been freshly planted. Kenny set the puppy behind the pot.
“When they come up, do your thing. Give them those precious little eyes. That’s not too much to ask is it? And once they fall in love with you and the idea of a new puppy will have them thinking about this home as the place to raise you. Hell, if they ask I’ll sell them to you, but only if they are a nice couple. We’re a team. You’re in this as deep as I am. You could have a swell life this turns into a sale.”
The puppy buried its head in its paws and stayed behind the pot where it was placed. It figured moving away from the pot would get him hit again.
“Good, dog,” Kenny said. Then he trotted away from the porch, before turning and ordering firmly, “Stay, stay.”
The dog did not look as if it would disobey, and with an extra pep in his step, Kenny skipped across the canal (via the path) and stood at his car, looking both ways down the street and checking the time on his smartphone. They couple was not late.
He waited for five minutes more, and they arrive—five minutes early. Just as he had assumed they would. A lot of couples do that, they try to beat the realtor to the house in an effort to avoid any tricks. But Kenny was too smart for that—and too desperate. Normally, and originally, he had let people beat him to the Harmon house, but more than half had left before he could actually show them the potential of the property.
The couple was well dressed in the most casual of terms. The husband, tanned face with white lines announcing his fresh haircut. He wore a pink polo shirt, and white slacks. The wife was in a summer dress that reminded Kenny of one he beloved first grade teacher used to wear. He rarely saw women in dresses like that, Most had adopted shorts or pants unless the event was formal. Still, she too bore a pleasant and tan complexion. Even if her appearance would force Kenny to avoid making too much eye contact with her. She was distractingly attractive—and a husband might be keen and unappreciative of Kenny’s admiration.
“Good afternoon,” Kenny said.
“Mr. Ford,” the husband said.
“Kenny, just call me Kenny.”
“This is my wife, Marcy,” the husband said. He did not introduce himself, but Kenny had their contact information and though he feared slipping up, he said this first name.
“Well I’m glad you all could make it, Bill.”
“Will,” Marcy said. “No one calls him Bill.”
“Did I say Bill? I apologize. I sold a Bill a real nice home on Canal St., I think he was about your height,” Kenny lied. Then he cringed. Canal St.? Why would he say that? Sure, it was a street in the area, but why didn’t he just put up neon lights and one of the wavy balloon people car dealerships use.
“Wait is this it?” Marcy said.
Kenny put on the best smile he knew how to mimic and said, “I can’t wait to show you two inside, you will absolutely be blown away by this place. You two were living in Mechanicsville originally right?”
“Uh-huh,” Will said, walking cautiously over the canal. A piece of slate wobbled beneath his step. It had never done that for Kenny. WHY NOW?
“Well, for our anniversary, we wanted to try something different,” Will said.
“Splendid,” Kenny’s voice popped and he blushed as Will fought a fit of chuckles.
“Life gets so boring. The routine. Like hamsters caught in a wheel,” Will said inspecting the detail of a medallion above the chandelier. “Yeah, I’d really like to take the puppy and…”
Something fell in the other room. The sound was just enough that Kenny wasn’t exactly sure if Will had said what he thought he said. Puppy and that other word weren’t all that far off, and he was sure he was talking about the puppy. But why would he want to shove the puppy up his wife’s puppy.
Kenny propped his smile up with his cheeks, hoping it would stay put even though his eyes now drooped at the discovery that the couple already had a puppy and would not be won over by his puppy. At least that’s what he thought Will had said.
“Come, come, I don’t want to over sell it, but just wait until you see this entry way!”
“That’s what we’re looking for, honey,” Marcy said with a wink and nudge, “an entry way.”
Kenny looked away and tried his best to paralyze the smile on his face. They would be impressed. He knew it. He just had to get them through the damned front door.
Kenny sauntered up to the porch, glancing over his shoulder as the couple delayed their progress. They seemed to be focused on the mums and the grass trimmed too deep next to the concrete of the canal. He had asked the owners to tidy up the yard, but it looked like something a first grader would do with a pair of scissors.
Sometimes, Kenny really hated how much deception was at play—as if people lacked the imagination to see past an unkempt yard or a cluttered living room to see the potential that they could bring to a place. Older couples seemed to do this fine, but young couples like Will and Marcy—they needed a picture perfect, blank slate.
Luckily, Kenny thought, the inside was absent of any and all furniture.
He paused at the door. Fumbling with the lock box.
The puppy looked up at him, as if to ask if it could come out from behind the flowerpot.
Not yet. Kenny glared.
Kenny almost started tapping his foot—but that’s bad form. He wore his smile instead.
The couple reached the steps.
“A puppy!” Marcy said.
“Does that come with the house?”
“Yes,” Kenny said. “If you want it.”
“Doesn’t it belong to somebody?”
“I don’t think so, I don’t see any tags.”
“It’s a stray. I bet this place is loaded with…”
Kenny jumped in before Marcy could say anything more. “I don’t think so. I believe it belongs to a neighbor. I saw a sign for puppies down the road. I’m sure it just wandered off. A good sign that it likes this place, though, don’t you think so.”
Kenny recovered like a downhill skier trying to climb down a pine tree.
“Is it locked?” Will asked.
“Oh, no. I have the combination, it’s just.” Kenny cursed himself under his breath as he opened the lock box and retrieved the keys to the front door. “Now, just imagine the possibilities,” he said, swinging the front door open.
The puppy ran in.
“Better hurry,” Will said, “looks like that pup wants to claim this place first.”
Kenny feigned a laugh. He was taken aback as Marcy sniffed…she sniffed him as she entered the house. He checked himself. He hadn’t started perspiring yet—but now that he thought about it—shit. He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his head.
Just like the fucking house.
Upon entering the house was a large marble foyer. A massive and ornate banister that curved to the second floor. The steps, stained with a dark shine. To the right of the door was a small pony wall, with a glass cabinet below.
Will and Mercy didn’t stand there for a second to appreciate the craftsmanship. They took off to the back of the house where the dated kitchen would surely give them little cause to saunter to the left and explore the two-storied master suite.
But they didn’t stay in the kitchen long either. They turned and addressed the wallpapered but elegant formal dining room.
“It’s big,” Will said. His v
oice echoing.
“We’ll never have that many guests. It’s not the roaring ‘20s anymore. It would take a lot to get a séance going,” Mercy said snidely.
Will laughed. Kenny withdrew. He would do this if they were into the house as well. At this point, he should only contribute where there are questions or missed observations. At least that’s what his mentor had taught him.
“The place must be haunted,” Marcy said, her steps echoing into the adjacent room.
Kenny tried to laugh it off, but Will had not followed his wife into the other room. He stared right into Kenny’s eyes.
“It’s not haunted yet,” Will said, unblinking.
Kenny shrugged it off with a smile and waved towards the next room.
“It will be.”
Kenny stuttered his feet. What did he just say?
“I’m going to kill Marcy in this house. It is perfect.”
Kenny swallowed and couldn’t get any response out except, “You l-l-like it?”
“It is perfect,” Will said and then walked into the next room. “Does it have a basement?”
“No, crawl space, the water table here…” He couldn’t shake what he thought he had heard Will say.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s disappointing. Basements are a nice trope I suppose. But then people would be wearier of that, eh?”
“Uh, huh?”
“Attic, it has an attic though right?”
“Yes, sir. Finished too.”
“Finished?” Will shook his head.
“Yes, a wonderful in-law type suite is up there, not as nice as the master suite, let me show you.”
“Of course, we saw pictures online,” Will said. “It’s not like we’ll get much use out of it.”
“Do you travel for work?” Kenny asked.
“No. We’d spend most of our time here, but I mean. I suppose people would want to move in because of the master suite. That’s good. That’s what we want.”
Kenny wasn’t sure if he was hearing anything right anymore. Sure there was a tiny echo and Will spoke with a deep rasp in his voice. But it wasn’t a thick accent or anything.
“I bet she’ll die in that tub. That’s all she was talking about.”
“Oh, yes, the tube, absolutely to die for. Full Jacuzzi tub. Seats two very comfortably.”
“Like a honeymoon suite, I bet.”
Kenny smirked. “You have to see the space. A California Queen is the only thing that’ll look proportionate in that bedroom.”
“I don’t need a fucking bed. I told you. I’m going to fucking kill her.”
Kenny heard it that time. There was no mistaking it, unless he had slipped from the slope of sanity.
He led Will into the master suite. His smile—gone.
“This—uh—is it.”
“Renovated recently. Not like the rest of the house. People came and went?”
“My understanding is that they moved to Maryland to be closer to John Hopkins.”
“Cancer,” Will said.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Wasn’t anything in the water? Old house like this? Asbestos?”
“No, all of that was removed sometime in the 90s. I have documentation. The house was gutted.”
“That explains the fucking kitchen. You know my wife is always yapping. She wants to die somewhere nice. Would it be wrong to kill her in that kitchen? You think she’d forgive me for that?”
“I—uh.”
“Relax. I’m not going to kill her in the kitchen. I love my wife. You ever have a ghost give you a blow job?”
“What?”
“It’s in that kid’s movie. The one with that Ackroyd guy. You know it.”
“Ghost—”
“Nah, that’s that Swayze movie. Wait, are you a fag?”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“That’s what she said. So I killed her.” Will chuckled.
Kenny bit his tongue. He didn’t know if the man was joking or not. It certainly wasn’t in good taste.
Then he spotted the puppy staring at him in the doorway. He wanted to punt it far away.
“Seems weird. If you were to sleep with my wife, I’d have to kill you too. But a puppy. I’m okay with her loving something like that. Doesn’t even keep me up at night. Whatever.” And with that, Will walked off into the bathroom.
Panic filled Kenny. He really is going to kill his wife!
Kenny watched, unable to move. He even wore his fake smile, unable to wipe it away, he’d fought so hard to appear amicable that it was stuck. Just like parents always warn their kids, you keep making that face…
Will glanced back at Kenny through the crack between the hinges and the door to the bathroom.
No!
He was going to do it!
Will lurched behind his wife, his hands raised to her neck.
“No!” Kenny darted into the bathroom. He slammed Will through the glass door of the shower. There was a tiled seat. It was there that Will’s head struck. Not once.
Kenny slammed it against the ledge repeatedly. Blood slopped at his feet. Once he’d done it once, what did it matter, he thought. He would explain it all. He saved that woman.
He saved her.
Kenny stopped. Disgusted at the way a human head can cave in, how flimsy a skull actually was.
His eyes shuttered. He could barely look at Marcy, but he had to explain to her that he saved her.
When he mustered the gaze, he saw that she was not screaming or crying.
“H-H-he was going to kill you,” Kenny said, shaking uncontrollably.
“What? No. Are you mad? Will would never try to kill me.”
“No, he said it. He told me. He kept saying he was going to.”
Marcy shook her head. Why was she smiling? Why wasn’t she running away then? Kenny had just murdered her husband—though he knew it was in defense of her.
Then, Marcy struck herself, just above her breast. Her smile flicked off, then back on.
“What—what are you doing?”
“You’re right. I don’t think it’ll bruise. Smack me.”
Kenny shook his head. “What in the hell is going on?”
“It has to look like self-defense. Like you struck me first, and then murdered Will when he tried to defend my honor. Then…” Her smile stretched in an inhuman way. Her mouth was a wide as a gecko’s—no—unpleasant like a great white shark. Her teeth weren’t unnaturally sharp, just the K-9s.
“I’m going to bite you. You can pull my hair.”
“You, lady, are fucking crazy.”
“Promise? They say that’s what it takes. One must be unhinged from reality. The mind is like one of those jeeps roaming the African safari with tourists. You just need a couple of them, a couple strands to get off the jeep and touch the lions. Then you can really be one with nature.”
Kenny bumped into the molding around the doorframe. It caught him right behind the ear. He jerked forward, grasping the spot.
Marcy kneed him in the groin. She grabbed his shoulder and dug her knee in. He shoved her off. She slammed against the wall.
“Stand up, hurt me a little. It’s okay. I love pain. It’s old hat though. I loved pain. I want something more now. I want to know what the other side is like. A bet a girl has never asked you for that. Does that turn you on?”
“Get the fuck away from me!”
The puppy sprinted into the room, nipped at Kenny’s ankles—not bit! The damned thing had teeth and it severed the tendon in his ankle. He keeled over, screaming in agony.
“And the dog!” Marcy shrieked. “That’s right. This is such a great narrative now. The police will love it… and the campfire tale. The couple that went into that house were murdered by a greedy real estate agent. The woman raped, while a small puppy bit at the bastard’s heels.”
Kenny kicked the puppy. But it was right back on all fours, yapping and trying to bite him again.
Marcy shoved him out of the master suite, into the foyer
. She shoved him once more. This time, he fell backwards his head striking the ponywall. Then splattering blood all over the marble foyer.
“Well, he went down easy,” Marcy said. “Unlike some people I know…” She looked around in the air. “Did you hear that? I was making a swipe at your love making, Will.”
Then she tapped her foot and clicked her tongue.
“Here, puppy, puppy.”
The puppy jumped into her arms.
“Such a good boy. You know that? Mommy’s little sweet heart. Oh, I hope Daddy saw what you did. Now…” She held the puppy up so she could gaze into its eyes. “I’m going to give you a treat. I want you to lick it real good. If it’s weird, we won’t do it again. But I need a good reason—for the narrative.”
Marcy sat down on the floor, and lifted her dress. She thought of all the preparation. How Will, had insisted on a big house with a nice echo. How they searched and found so little places worthy of their eternity. They didn’t want something overly dramatic, but not some cookie-cutter home in the suburbs. They wanted a house that people would remember—a house that people would talk about—a house that people would cross the street to avoid.
“I can feel it!” Marcy screamed, her legs squirming on the wood floor. She cocked her head back. “I’m smothering it.”
The puppy whelped and shook beneath her dress.
Marcy bit her lip until it bled. She began to climax. “Are you helping? Are you there, Will? Oh, Will!”
The house creaked. As haunted houses are supposed to.
Marcy stopped. The lump beneath her dress made no more sounds. She looked around and then whispered, “Did it work?”
More like the spray from a squirt bottle than a sound, she heard a voice from a distance so far off it might’ve come from outside. It told her what she wanted to hear. It told her everything that she wanted to hear.
“It worked? Oh God, Will, it really worked?” Marcy yanked the puppy out of her dress and jumped to her feet. “We have a puppy, too? I’m going to go slit my wrists in the tub. I’ve always wanted to haunt a Jacuzzi tub.”
THE END.
Keep up with Sara Green via…
http://www.brideofchaos.com/authors/sara-green/
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9 Tales Told in the Dark 21 Page 11