Wolfhowl Mountain

by Dian Cronan

  Today is my birthday! I am eleven. She says that She is so proud of me today because I am growing into a lovely young woman who cares about Her and who makes Her happy. To Her, I am the most wonderful gift. I am glad because I try very hard to make Her happy and proud.

  As a present, She has presented me with a dollhouse! It’s wonderful! It was sitting on the floor of the playroom when I woke up this morning. I know that She worked very hard on it. It looks exactly like Her, down to even the tiniest detail.

  I remember the dollhouse in the attic, the replica of Wolfhowl. It had to be the same dollhouse Emily played with almost a hundred years ago. I’d just assumed Liam had found it himself, but maybe… Could it have been a gift?

  She even made me cake! – No candles to blow out though. There have never been any candles. Fire is too dangerous.

  It was a wonderful day outside today – I think. I could see the great blue sky and white cotton ball clouds through the windows. Normally, I’m not allowed too close to the windows for too long. Someone might see me and come up the hill to investigate, which means that She and I would be separated, and I don’t want that. Once, I lingered in the window too long and saw the caretaker and his boy as they took care of Her lawns. For just a moment, the boy looked up and caught sight of me. I ran away instantly, but I was not fast enough. Before I knew it, they were inside the house!

  I felt all mixed up. I was filled with the fear of being discovered and separated from Her, but at the same time, I was very curious. I’ve never talked with another person before, or even been in the same room as one. Would the caretaker and his boy be friendly? Would the boy play with me? Or would they think I was some intruder and haul me out?

  I didn’t have the chance to find out. She immediately herded me into my room and into the little door in the turret. She told me to stay very quiet and I had to stay in there for quite a long time while the caretaker and the boy searched Her. Eventually they left, and I was released.

  But today, I did ask if I could go outside on one of the upper balconies. I only wanted to feel the warm air and a breeze. I swore I’d only go out for a minute and only on the back of the house where no one could see me, but She said no. We can’t take chances like that, She said.

  But perhaps next year. Maybe when I am twelve She will let me. Maybe then, She will see that I am careful and can be trusted.

  Maybe.

  Letta turns the pages and finds the next dog-eared entry. As she reads the words on the page, I picture Emily Lenore, as if from an old black and white movie. She’d sit at the long, empty table and work through the pages of a handwriting book. She’d huddle in a corner of the drawing room reading and writing in her diary. She’d spend hours in the huge playroom with her dollhouse and one lonely doll. She’d sit in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair a hundred strokes and dreaming of exploring the Amazon or the Pyramids of Giza.

  She’d sit alone at the dinner table, wishing there was someone to talk to. She’d crouch near a candle and play a game of solitaire by herself, wishing for a friend to play Old Maid with. She’d wish for something more than a musty old house holding her hostage, and telling her the world was much too dangerous for her to go out into.

  And somewhere deep down, her rebellion took seed.

  Today I won a small battle. I feel guilty because I know that She is angry with me, but She will forgive me. It was so exciting! It was worth it.

  I spend a lot of time investigating the house, though I know it like the back of my own hand. Sometimes She will hide gifts for me, and we’ll have a little scavenger hunt, but that isn’t what we did today. That isn’t what I did today. Today, I broke the rules. Today, I went outside!

  It was just before sunrise. I could feel the heavy, regular rhythm of a house asleep and I snuck upstairs. I snuck into the attic in stockinged feet. I moved slowly and carefully, and I found myself inside the attic, crawling up the spiral staircase to the door in the ceiling. So many times, I have dreamed of sneaking outside to see what the rest of the world is like – and today I did!

  I slipped through the door in the attic before She noticed, and found myself on a curious little platform with railings around it. From up there it was like being on top of the world! It was windy and my hair was in knots by the time I came inside. I looked down on the town below and stared hard at each of the buildings and trees, trying to memorize them all because I know that I will never be allowed up there again.

  And the most glorious sight of all was watching the sun slip up on the horizon, waking the trees and the birds – and what beautiful songs they sing! The colors were beautiful and speckled, like a kaleidoscope. Even though it was chilly, and I was freezing (of course I don’t have a coat because I don’t need one since I’m never outside), I waited until the sun was all the way up and starting to warm my skin before I came inside.

  But, before I left, I saw the most wonderful thing. Despite Her assurances that She is teaching me all I need to know of the outside world, I saw something I did not understand. It was shiny and small, but also very far above me so I know it must have been huge. It was some kind of tube soaring through the sky...like a bird made of metal. I was fascinated! What must it be like to be inside of such a contraption, and to imagine how much of the world you could see from up there... For the first time, I felt a real jealousy of those who could live in the outside world. To be like them, to be free to do as you please... How thrilling!

  Of course, She was very angry and I was punished. She has locked me in my room and says I must stay locked up here for a few days, until I’ve learned my lesson. She was so worried, so afraid. What if I had fallen? What if I had been seen and taken away? How would I feel about my little accomplishment then?

  She said so many ugly things to me, and I began to feel ugly myself for what I had done. I didn’t mean to worry Her. I didn’t mean to make Her angry. But I am starting to feel like a fly in a jar, suffocating and begging for air. I love Her, but how long can She keep me here like this? How long must I be Her prisoner? If I love Her, then I must stay. That is what she says. But if She loves me, shouldn’t she let me go? Shouldn’t She want the best for me? For me to be happy and fulfilled?

  And there it is, that seed of rebellion. The house had planted it despite all Her efforts not to. This is the moment Emily Lenore II was lost to the house, the moment both the house and Emily knew they would eventually be separated.

  Deep beneath the floorboards of my bedroom, I feel a small tremble.

  “What was that,” Patty asks, alarmed.

  “Shh!” Shane hisses, oblivious.

  “I’m going to skip ahead some,” Letta says. “After she turned thirteen she really started to get kinda hateful.”

  She thinks She can keep me here. She thinks reading about the outside world, reading about the science of aviation will placate me. She thinks it will handle my curiosity about the outside world. But She is wrong. It only makes me want to see it more.

  She senses this in me. I know it because She has become stricter in Her rules. I can’t go near any of the windows anymore – she has forbidden it. She has boarded all of them up, save for one in my room. And this I am only allowed to peek out of at night, and only if all the lights are out and there isn’t a full moon.

  Every once in a while, someone will come to see the house. A prospective buyer here and there, and always I am hidden in one of the turrets. In fact, that’s where I’ve written many of these entries. It’s where I’m writing this one right now. No one ever seems very interested in Her though. She’s slowly falling into disrepair. She’s starting to look ugly. I doubt very much anyone would really want Her now.

  She keeps me busy and distracted with lessons, and homework, and books, and hobbies. She tries to tempt me with that ridiculous dollhouse, as if I am only a girl and not becoming a woman. She doesn’t understand me. She doesn’t understand me at all. And how can She? After all, She’s just a house.

  There’s another rumble, a
nd this time Patty and I aren’t the only ones who feel it.

  “Hey,” Shane says, “what was that?”

  I think I know what it is, but I don’t say anything as Letta continues reading. I need to know what happened to Emily Lenore. Did she escape? Did she make it to all those wonderful places in her dreams? If she did, why’s her diary still here?

  Letta’s so involved in the reading she doesn’t notice the growing unease in the room.

  I come here, to these pages, because they are my only friends. This is the only place where I can truly be myself. I come here because She cannot see my words. I’m allowed so few secrets from Her, but She cannot know my thoughts when they are in here, because they are mine. The thoughts in here, they are truly MINE.

  And my thoughts burn with dreams of the real world that I cannot keep quiet forever. I have to leave this place, and I have to leave Her behind. I am not Her child. She does not love me. She loves only herself, and I am her plaything, her doll.

  I feel Her growing sadness growing alongside my dreams of travel. But I refuse to feel sorry for Her. Pity will not stop me from leaving as soon as I can figure out how to get out of Her. She can’t keep the doors locked forever. I will find a way out. It’s only a matter of time.

  “What if it’s an earthquake?” Patty cries.

  “It’s not an earthquake.” Letta says dismissively, wide eyes fixed on the pages of Emily Lenore’s diary.

  “All the same,” Patty says, “I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”

  “Cool it a few more minutes,” Shane says. “I want tah know what happens.”

  “And you will,” Letta says with a wink. “Let me read the last entry, and then we’ll adjourn.”

  I should stop Letta, but I’m on the edge of my proverbial seat, prepared to hear the end of Emily Lenore II’s diary.

  The deep rumbling is definitely not an earthquake.

  Someone came to the house today! I could hardly believe it when I saw them coming up the driveway. I felt my pulse quicken, and I felt my chest grow warm. This was my chance! This was my chance to flee, to get out! I will run down the stairs and rush the doors as they open! That was my quick and fleeting thought as I heard their voices grow near, but I was not as quick in my actions.

  She saw my rising excitement and locked me away. She all but threw me into the attic and locked the door. I pounded, and kicked, and screamed, but they could not hear me. I don’t know what the visitors’ purpose was. They were inside for only a few minutes, and I think must have stayed down on the first floor or they would surely have heard me.

  I watched them leave from a crack in one of the attic windows. Their fading taillights growing as faint as my chances at escape. And then I sobbed like a little girl, like the little girl She wants me to be. Forever.

  I hate Her. It isn’t pity. It isn’t love. It isn’t nostalgia over what once was. It is true and honest hate. I hate being Her prisoner. I hate being Her precious little gift. Her plaything. Her daughter. Ha!

  I cannot keep pretending or hiding or being obedient to Her. I can’t. I won’t. I’m going to get out of this house, or I am going to die trying because if I have to stay here, I truly will die. And if I escape, I won’t look back, not for one second.

  Do you hear me? I’m never coming back. Never.

  Letta closes the diary.

  “That’s it?” Shane shouts.

  Letta shrugs. “There’re other entries of course, but I only read the ones I thought would give you the whole picture.”

  “I’m not sure I understand the whole picture,” Patty says, forgetting her fear for a moment. “Was this girl crazy? Was she kept company by Alva’s ghost? How could she have been adopted by a house?”

  “I think we can all agree that this isn’t just a house,” Letta says, gesturing at the ceiling with a diary.

  “Can we?” Shane asks skeptically. “What evidence actually exists? Sure, the owners died under tragic circumstances, but there aren’t any witnesses. We only have the diaries of a few women who descended into some kind of madness. For all we know, livin’ up heeah on the hill, and bein’ hated by everyone in town, was enough tah send them down the rabbit hole. We have no real evidence that a house or a ghost or whatevah made these women kill themselves.”

  “You’re sayin’ this is just any regular house?” Patty argues, crossing her arms.

  “I’ve seen no evidence otherwise,” Shane says. “I mean, like anyone else, I’ve heard the rumahs. I know what people around heeah think, that there’s some ghost or curse or evil presence heeah, but all they’re basin’ that on is some old creepy stories told ‘round the campfire. And this Emily Lenore II,” he continues, “what of her? How do we know she’s not just some crazy person who lived heeah, a squattah? If she lived heeah at all. It could be a stupid prank for all we know.”

  “And the stuff Rose fiybd in the attic?” Patty glares Shane down.

  Shane shrugs. “It’s not like this place is a fortress. Anyone who can jimmy a door can get inside and mess ‘round, plant thins, whatevah.”

  “So suddenly you don’t believe in ghosts?” Patty asks combatively, standing akimbo before him. “You think this Emily Lenore is made up? You don’t think she was real? You don’t think her hatred for this house was real?”

  Stop, I think. Stop talking about it. We’re in real trouble here. I notice Letta is sitting on the floor with both of her palms flat against the floorboards.

  “We need to get out of here,” Letta says suddenly. “I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have read Emily Lenore’s words in the house.”

  I get up, but it’s too late.

  The house begins to shake. The loudest creaks and moans I’ve ever heard emanate from somewhere deep below, growing louder each second. It’s an enormous roaring, a growling howl. The foundation wobbles and twists. Dust from the upper floors sifts through cracks in the ceiling. Pictures come off of the walls, and my alarm clock dances across the bedside table until it topples to the floor.

  “What’s happenin’?” Patty screams as she stumbles and Shane catches her.

  “It really is an earthquake!” Shane shouts.

  We make for the bedroom door as fast as we can. I know this is no earthquake. I know, in reading Emily Lenore II’s private words, we’ve opened a fresh wound inside the house. And now I feel, for the first time, that our lives are in very real danger.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Certainties

  We race out onto the front lawn just as Beckan and Derry come running up the hill. There’s chaos as questions fly around, and tears fall – Liam and Patty are both crying. Shane has a protective arm around both Letta and Patty, who huddle close together, shaking like leaves. I hold a clinging Liam in my arms, staring up at the looming dark shadow of the house in the night. Derry halts on the edge of our little gathering, squinting up at the house as if merely curious. Beckan makes a beeline for me and Liam. As he puts a hand on each of our shoulders, the ground suddenly settles.

  All grows very, very quiet.

  “Are you okay?” Beckan asks, his green eyes searching mine. I nod slowly, feeling dazed.

  I look at my friends. “You guys okay?”

  “Yeah,” Shane replies shakily. “Just stahtled.” He tries to chuckle, but Patty’s iron grip on his rib cage tightens, and he winces.

  “What was that?” Patty demands, looking wildly from one of us to the other. “An earthquake?”

  My eyes meet Letta’s.

  “Maybe,” says Letta evasively. “Wouldn’t be the first time right?”

  “Ayuh,” says Derry, keeping a steady gaze on the house, as if trying to bore through the walls with his eyes. He gives a nod and then turns around and shuffles back down the hill like an aging bulldog, satisfied he isn’t needed.

  I almost call out to him – Wait! – but Mother’s car arrives at the top of the hill, the Volvo’s headlights illuminating our small party on the lawn. She leaps out of the car, leaving the door open, and t
hrows her arms around us.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay? Are you? Look at me!” She grabs a chin in each hand and turns our faces toward her. Her eyes search us for any signs of injury, pulling our arms away from our bodies, the nurse looking for wounds that might need her attention.

  “We’re fine, Mother.” I swat her hands away. “Really, we’re okay.”

  “I was so worried,” Mother says. “An earthquake in Maine! Who’d have thought, right?”

  Uncomfortable silence stretches between us as we stare up at the house uncertainly.

  “Well,” Letta says awkwardly, “I guess we’re gonna get going.”

  “I’m sorry guys. Thanks for hanging out tonight. Sorry about… I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Sure,” Shane says with a sarcastic smile. “We had a great time.”

  Beckan gives my shoulder a quick squeeze. “You sure you’re okay?” I nod and he turns to my friends. “I’ll give you a lift home,” he says walking toward them. “I’m sure thins will be a little crazy in town tonight.”

  “Thanks,” Shane says as he, Patty, and Letta follow Beckan to his truck, moving like one entity.

  After they disappear over the side of the hill, Mother turns back to me and Liam, who’s still sniveling, and says, “Let’s get inside and assess the damage okay?”

  I watch Mother’s back as she walks toward the house, completely unaware of the truth. As I’m about to follow, Liam raises his head off my shoulder.

  “Rosie?”

  “Squiggle worm?”

  “You made Her really angry.”

  I sigh. “I know.”

  ***

  We spend about an hour gauging damage and righting crooked pictures, replacing items on shelves in the kitchen, and looking for anything that’ll need attention from the O’Dwyres. Fortunately, damage is minimal. It might be an old house, but it’s sturdy.