Noel gasped when he saw the amount of blood pouring out of his sliced hand, dripping onto the floor and oozing down his arm.
Walter spun around at the noise and saw him crouching between the bars on the stairs. His face twisted into something demented. "Don't look at me!" he shrieked. "Get away!"
Noel was too stunned to do anything, staring at his father with bewildered eyes.
"GET OUT OF HERE!" he bellowed, lunging forward as if to chase down his own son and attack him.
Noel found his faculties at last and scurried up the stairs like a tiny woodland creature fleeing from a predator.
Walter stood in the hallway between the pantry door and the kitchen island, seething. The blood slowly drained from his vision and deep, whooping breaths drew in and out of his lungs. He looked down at his hand, which was still dripping profusely. He went to the kitchen and wrapped a tea towel around it, holding it tight with his other hand. He looked around, deciding what to do, then he made his way to the den.
He flicked the light on and went behind the bar, taking a bottle of alcohol and pouring its contents over his damaged hand. He winced in pain as the stinging liquid covered his wound, splashing on the bar below. Then he wrapped the towel around again, and put pressure on it.
There was a dull pulse in his temples, and he knew his anger wouldn't go away anytime soon. He eyed the bottle he'd taken out, then he fished behind the bar for a glass and poured some for himself. He tasted the vodka, which had gone bad, but he didn't care. He drained the whole thing down his throat and poured himself another.
Grocery Shopping
The morning rolled in like a lazy glacier drifting across an arctic bay. Noel opened his eyes and groaned. He didn't want to do anything, but he forced himself out of bed. He waited just before his door and listened for any sounds of his father. After what happened the night before, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to leave the room.
But his hand reached for the doorknob after hearing a little bit of distant noise downstairs and turned it. He crept into the hallway and headed for the stairs. The hall was much lighter now with the morning light coming through the windows of the house, washing away the horrifying scene he'd encountered with the woman in the white nightgown. It all seemed like a dream now, but he was positive he'd seen her. She gave him a terrible fright, and he wondered with a panic-stricken thought if she was the voice from the radio. Things were getting worse and worse in here, and he had to convince his father that they had to leave... somehow.
Noel started down the stairs and heard whistling from below. His face scrunched up in confusion, then he saw Walter walking around the kitchen, scrubbing the windows and whistling a happy tune. His hand was bandaged.
"Oh hey, kiddo," Walter said when he spotted him. He whistled his tune and placed tape over the bullet hole in the front window.
Noel's bare feet touched the hardwood on the ground floor. A draft came through the door next to him, and he shivered. He carefully eyed his father at first, then when he felt it was safe, he mumbled "Hi."
"Want some cereal?" Walter asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Okay," Noel said.
Walter looked again and saw the strained look on his son's face. He dropped the rag on the counter and approached him, kneeling and putting his hands on his shoulders. Noel instinctively recoiled, but he didn't move away. "Hey, listen kiddo, I'm real sorry about last night. I got a little carried away, and I apologize. I didn't mean to scare you."
"What happened?" Noel asked. "Did the man on the phone say he doesn't want the songs anymore?"
Walter nodded. "That was the gist."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, that means I have enough time to make you breakfast, I guess." Walter put on a weak smile and it quickly faded.
Noel felt a surge of adrenaline course through him. This was his chance; his father didn't have to stay here toiling away at the piano, so maybe he could finally convince him to leave.
"So you don't need to write those songs anymore?" Noel confirmed.
"Nope," Walter said. "It was a waste of time, it seems."
"So... we don't have to stay here anymore?" Noel said, searching his father's eyes carefully.
Walter chuckled. "I'm afraid so," he said. "Unless you found a pile of money in your new bedroom somewhere."
"But..." Noel searched around, trying to think of something. "But what about staying with Aunt Lisa?"
Walter stood up and went back to the window. "I always hated your aunt Lisa," he said over his shoulder. "Like it or not, we're stuck here. At least for now."
"But what will you do now?" Noel asked, exasperated. "How are you going to get money?"
Walter shrugged. "I'll think of something."
Tears stung Noel's eyes, but he defiantly wiped them away. He felt so close to getting out of here, but his father still wasn't budging. There must have been a way, and he was going to find it. He stood on the spot and thought hard about it, and it came to him. He realized that his father had always been absent whenever he had a terrifying encounter; he hadn't seen the monster in the kitchen, nor the woman in the hallway upstairs. He hadn't been there to hear the noise in the attic, or the voice on the radio. Noel's eyes widened. The radio...
He turned and ran upstairs, snatching it from his dresser, then he bounded down the steps and placed it on the counter next to Walter as he worked.
Walter glanced down at him. "What's got you so excited?"
"Nothing," Noel said. "I just want to listen to the radio."
"Did it work for you up there?"
"Yeah," Noel said. "But I want to listen to it while I eat breakfast."
Walter nodded, wiped off a bit of crud from the glass, then he tossed the rag in the sink and pulled the one box of cereal they had out of the cupboard. He retrieved the milk from the fridge and poured a bowl for Noel, fishing out a spoon from the drawer.
Noel climbed onto one of the high stools at the island and sat facing his father and the radio. He munched on his cereal, watching and waiting as Walter turned it on. A hiss of static came out, and Noel smiled, knowing that his father would soon hear the same voice that he did. And then they could leave.
Walter fiddled with it until he found a station, one playing all disco songs. He stared at it with a look of bewilderment, wondering why on Earth some station around here would play that kind of stuff, but then he shook it off and went back to the window.
The cereal crunched in Noel's mouth as he listened intently. Any minute now, and that terrifying voice would come over the airwaves. He glanced behind him at the stairs, suddenly frightened. The thought dawned on him that the radio could somehow summon that woman in the white nightgown into the house. But he calmed down, knowing his father would protect them, and that it would actually be a good thing; if his father saw the woman, it would certainly be enough to scare him away from the cottage.
Walter went back to whistling, ignoring the Bee Gees song coming through. He wiped off a streak of grease, then he ran the rag under the tap. The song played and played, but no more static came over it. And no voices.
Noel's heart slowly sank as the song finished off and the DJ announced the next one up. By the time they got to the third, his heart hit rock bottom. Rock bottom just like the two of them were now. A swelling depression came over him, and he didn't have the appetite to finish his breakfast.
Walter noticed his expression out of the corner of his eye. "What's wrong? Why do you look so gloomy all of a sudden?"
The song on the radio cut out suddenly and Noel looked up.
"We interrupt this broadcast to issue a warning bulletin for Wayne County. A large snow squall will be hitting the area within the next few days. I repeat, a large snow squall will be hitting the area of Wayne County within the next few days. We advise all residents of this area to adequately prepare. Stock up on supplies to last for a few weeks. Find shelter and stay where it's safe and warm."
The emergency broadcast ended and the radi
o went back to a song by The Pointer Sisters.
"I heard something bad was coming," Walter mused. "Didn't know it was coming so soon, though."
Noel stared at the radio incredulously, not believing that the woman's voice didn't come through. He lowered himself off the stool and hurried over to it, frantically fiddling with the tuning knob. The radio hissed and whined as static filled the speakers. But only static.
"What are you doing there, kiddo?" Walter asked.
"I'm trying to find her!" Noel said.
"Find who?"
"The woman! She comes on the radio. I heard her!"
Walter waited with his hands on his hips, but all that rang through the tinny speakers was the unpleasant crunch of static.
Noel began crying.
Walter pulled him away from the radio, attempting to hug him, but Noel broke loose.
"I know this is tough for you," Walter said, "but you've got to relax."
"I don't wanna relax!" Noel shouted through red-tinged eyes. "We have to get out of here! Can't we, please?" Noel searched for some kind of recognition in his father's eyes to his plight.
Walter turned from him and beheld the cottage. "We're staying," he said.
"But..."
Walter's eyes glossed over. "I like it here."
Noel gasped as if someone stabbed him through the heart. His psyche was in shambles, and he didn't know where to turn.
"You'll like it too," Walter said. "We'll make it work. You just have to trust me."
Noel sobbed. He opened his mouth, trying to refute him, but he couldn't muster the words.
Walter looked down at the list he'd been drafting up on the counter. "I'll tell you what. With this big storm coming, we'll have to stock up for a while... go to town, get some food and supplies. So why don't we head there right now? We'll get everything we need, and we'll get some decorations to dress the place up for Christmas. How does that sound?"
Noel didn't know what to do, and in his exasperation he only nodded.
"I knew you'd see it my way," Walter said. "We'll make it feel like home again. I promise."
By the time they were in the station wagon, Noel was bundled up and had his mittened hands sitting neatly on his lap, his lips tensely pursed. He didn't feel any better leaving the cottage, because the thought of being trapped there in a snowstorm for weeks loomed on his mind.
Walter started the car and shifted it into drive. The station wagon slowly rolled forward until he got some traction. As it lumbered away from the cottage, Noel twisted in his seat and looked at the dismal abode through the back window.
The little girl in the pink coat was standing next to it. She stared at Noel with her hands folded together against her legs. And then she shrunk in the distance until the station wagon veered around the corner and the trees blocked her from view.
Noel stared out the back window, haunted by the girl's appearance. Who was she? And why did she seem so keenly interested in them or the cottage? She had never been courageous enough to come up to them, only peering at them from afar. But through all the doom and gloom in Noel's mind and heart, for some reason he got a different feeling from her, like she was the one shining beacon in this dark sea.
She stayed on his mind for the rest of the trip, and he didn't say anything on the ride. Walter was quiet too, and he only announced "Here we are," when they got to the grocery store in town. It was in a little plaza with a liquor store next door and a hardware store across the street. It wasn't much, but it was all they were going to get.
They both got out of the car and headed into the grocery store. Walter grabbed a shopping cart and pulled out the list from his pocket. Noel followed him around as he put fruit, cheese, and some vegetables in the cart. By the time they got near the other end of the store, he stopped and turned to Noel.
"Hey, would you mind going back and getting some bananas? I forgot to grab them."
"Sure."
"When you get them, bring them to the front of the store and wait for me, okay? I'm just going to go get a few supplies from the hardware store. And a little surprise for you, too." He smiled and ruffled Noel's hair.
"Okay," Noel said apprehensively. Walter left, and Noel wandered off back to the produce section. Having never grocery shopped on his own before, he had no idea what to look for and grabbed a bunch of bananas at random. He brought them back to the cart, putting them in, then he reached up for the handle and carefully guided the cart to the front of the store.
He waited until Walter got back, but that proved to be a long time. Other customers passed by him and his cart tucked to the side of the small store. He watched them go, and some of them glanced at him with a fretful eye. One man approached him and asked if he needed help. Inside, Noel wanted to scream for the man to save him and take him far away from this place. But he shook his head no and the man went on his way.
The door at the front opened and Walter came in, looking refreshed. "Got the bananas, champ?" he asked.
Noel nodded.
"Good," he said. He took the cart through one of the checkouts and paid for everything, and before Noel knew it they were back in the car heading to what was horrifyingly now his home.
The drive was utterly depressing, though Walter had a smile on his face. There was a perfect dichotomy between them, laid out ironically; Noel used to be the happy one before his mother died, and Walter always had his struggles with resentment and anger due to his work, or lack of it. And now it was twisted around like so many bad dreams.
When they got back to the cottage, there was no sign of the girl, though Noel wondered about her.
"Help me get this stuff out of the car, will you?" Walter asked.
Noel just nodded without a word as he climbed out of the passenger seat.
"I'll get the stuff in the back," Walter said. "Grab the bags in the back seat, okay?"
Noel opened the rear door and grabbed what he could, then headed for the cottage and waited for Walter to unlock the door. They both got inside and set down the bags they were carrying, then they returned to the car.
Noel grabbed more bags from the back seat, and Walter took a box from the trunk. They put them down on the floor inside, Walter tucking the box behind the kitchen island, then they returned and emptied the rest of the car.
Walter shut the door to the house and they took off their coats. He fished inside a bag he'd set on the kitchen island and pulled out a bundle of Christmas lights he bought from the hardware store, holding it proudly up to Noel. "Ta-da!" he said. "What do you think? I'll put these up and it'll be just like old times."
"Mommy always put those up," Noel replied.
Walter's eyes sank to the floor in shame. He opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say to that. "Just leave all this stuff right there. I'll take care of it." he kicked off his boots and disappeared into the downstairs bathroom, leaving Noel in the kitchen.
Noel knew nothing could ever be like old times, no matter how much Walter tried to patch over an irreparable hole with a Band-Aid. Nothing would ever bring his mommy back.
He looked around at everything they bought. It would be more than enough to stock up for a few weeks, and he shuddered again at the thought. He caught sight of the box peeking out from behind the kitchen island, and curiosity took hold of him. He slowly walked around the island and peeked inside. He gasped.
The entire box was filled with bottles of alcohol; the bad juice.
Visitors
Noel sat on his bed mindlessly flipping through a comic book. He had explored the guest bedroom across the hall from his and saw that it used to belong to a little boy, probably about the same age as him. Scattered on the floor were G.I. Joes, Lego, comic books, and other toys much more suited to him than anything in the room he was in. He wondered at first why his father hadn't put him in this room, but he did realize that his room was a fair bit bigger.
He reached the end of the comic book and closed it, completely disinterested at the moment in the adventures of Spide
r-Man. He could hear piano notes drifting up through the floorboards. Where the notes were bouncy and energetic before, they had taken a decided shift now to a more melancholy sound; morose. Noel sighed.
His mind had been racing all morning. Racing with who on Earth that local girl was, what was wrong with this house, and how to convince his father to leave. The answers to those questions didn't come easily, especially the last one. But he was determined to find a way.
No sooner had he tossed the comic book onto his bedside table than he heard the floorboards in the attic above him groan.
He stared up at the ceiling suddenly.
The groan stretched across it, stopped, then went in another direction. He listened closely, and this time he was sure he heard the squeak of an ungreased wheel. At first his brow furrowed, but then revelation hit him.
He shot out of bed at once and ran downstairs; all he needed to do was show his father an anomaly as it was happening. That was the only way to convince him. If Walter could see what he saw, hear what he heard, he knew that would be enough.
When Noel stood at the threshold to the game room, he saw his father sitting at the piano, his back to him. A glass filled with amber liquid sat on the ledge above the keys. Walter didn't turn around.
"Daddy?" Noel said.
Walter's fingers danced along the keys, creating his sad sonata.
Noel stood in the doorway for a moment longer, then he entered the room. He came up on his father's left so that he could be seen. He rested his hands on the edge of the piano. "Um... Daddy?"
Walter turned his head slightly, but he didn't look at Noel, nor did his fingers stop playing. "Hmm?"
"There's a noise in the attic," Noel said. "I heard it, just now. There's something up there."
Walter turned his head forward, staring off in the distance. There was something strange about him, and Noel feared that the bad juice was making him act funny again. But when Walter opened his mouth and said, "It's just the wind," there was no scent of it on his breath.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 24