Landlocked Lighthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1)

by Mixi J Applebottom

  I stood there with Husband (Tony back then, before we named the boy the same as the man I adored), and we stared at the perfect tree in the field and we signed away our happiness. Then we got the dog. Oh, what a glorious puppy. She learned to stay close, to sit, to run. She would come when I called, and she hunted squirrels, raccoons, and many other little critters in that field. I never thought of it as defending us until that one stormy day.

  The rain was outright awful. The roof leaked into our house and I had Annabelle strapped to my chest. Three months old, and frankly, I would have left her in the house with little Tony but she was too damn cold. Her hot and cold body trembled against my bare chest. Feverish and frozen. I had tied her under my shirt with a long stretch of fabric that used to be a t-shirt. On top of us was Husband’s sweater, big and loose. The rain was making every effort to destroy everything. The hay I had been tending was a good ten inches tall that morning our first real crop. If I could get it a few more inches, we would have something to harvest.

  But this rain, almost hail, pounded down with destructive force. And it hurt. Pelting my back painfully as I stood on the roof of my nine-hundred-fifty-square-feet of miserable. Tony was two years old, and he was napping through the racket. I was completely soaked as I stood on the roof and surveyed. The rain smashed the hay. The barn was teetering. It would fall soon, I assumed. I dragged a tarp across the roof. At one point the wind kicked up and I swear I was going to go flying off the roof, baby, tarp, and Mama like a big, terrible kite. We would crash down and break to pieces. I don’t know how I stayed on that roof, but I did. My hammer pounded enough nails in the tarp to stop it flying off the roof and instead it just flapped like a bird pinned by a branch.

  I was, wet, and cold, standing on a roof with my sick baby. Slowly, I climbed down the rickety ladder sending up a prayer that I could make it to the bottom before it collapsed. But once my feet kissed the ground, I saw I was in real trouble. Big bared teeth and fur standing on end. I had never seen a bobcat in person before. My heart stopped and I froze.

  In hindsight, I should have grabbed the hammer and swung it or perhaps raised my arms up like a bear and roared, or something. Instead, I stood frozen, one hand still on the ladder. He crouched ready to leap upon us and tear us to bits. Zippy flew out of nowhere and had her teeth deep into the neck of that bobcat before I could even beg my brain to function. They tussled, and I ran inside, wishing I didn’t have a baby tied to my chest. I grabbed the old shotgun and stepped out again and they were still wrestling and snarling and tearing each other to pieces. The bullet flew into the air with a bang and they froze. I called Zippy and shot into the air again. That damn bobcat better run.

  It worked. Zippy ran inside, and the bobcat took off. When I came back into the house, she was coated with blood, but she looked so happy. She licked her wounds with this smug look on her face. The bite and claw wounds were bad, but I kept them clean, and she rested the next few days during the storm. The tarp made it, and Annabelle eventually felt better too.

  By the time the sun shined again, my babies were well, and my dog was too. The barn had survived, but the hay had not.

  I was heartbroken that Zippy was missing. It seemed astounding a single puncture wound with a stick might kill her. This house was as dangerous as those nine-hundred-fifty-square-feet.

  A new danger, wrapped in a white dress and old photographs. Farmers know real danger. We see storms and we weather them. We hear the thunder crack and the roof drip and we go outside and hammer a tarp even if the baby was sick. We are tough.

  I didn’t hear any thunder. I couldn’t feel the rain. Nobody was running a fever, and the cabinets were full of food. My dog was missing, and it was unsettling, but where was the storm? The fear was so real. Why did my hair stand on end? My hands sweated too much. What was I so afraid of?

  Two for Joy

  16

  I stopped thinking of the upstairs and instead I swept, cleaned, mopped and dusted. Every bit of gold (or was it brass?) shined to perfection. The floors gleamed like mirrors. Even the gargoyles in the great room I dusted with a big floofy rag on a long mop handle. Two weeks slipped by since Zippy had disappeared, and with her, all my troubles went too somehow. Annabelle learned to write her letters much better, and Tony was perfecting his maths. I cleaned every single ounce of the staircase, running a rag up and down every little spindle. It was getting warm, and I thought it was almost time to fill the pool and the hot tub. The outside of the house I dusted and hosed down. I took great pleasure in tending this house.

  Sometimes I would stare at the big lighthouse tower in the center of the house. The light was always on. I assumed that the electric bill would be astronomical. And yet, never once did I have the desire to explore the tower and turn off the light. The garden was still doing spectacular, and I took the time to weed it. I trimmed all the scraggly bushes to again be lions and… the rest of them. Lion, Lamb, Blackbird, Squirrel, Stag, Bear and Wolf.

  I hadn’t dreamt of the white dress again since Zippy left. Maybe she did take all my troubles with her. No new photographs and not a bit of red pen. Everything was spectacular.

  One room left to clean and then... Then I had to go upstairs. I pushed the worries from my heart and stepped into the caterer’s kitchen. I never entered this room. It was like a dark mark in the hallway. A smudge that I ignored for weeks on end. But it was time to clean it.

  I turned on the light, and the bulb grew bright and burst. A glowing after image of the chef burst into my eyes. He was standing in the middle of the room, and he sparkled with the bright light. He looked as shocked as I did. “Hello?” I spoke into the room, awaiting his reply.

  Silence and darkness was all that followed that flicker.

  I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the flashlight. At the caterer’s kitchen, I turned the light on and peered in. Nothing. Not a chef to be seen. I peered around the room and it seemed normal; cabinets, a sink, a fridge.

  I grabbed a chair, took out the burst bulb and put in a fresh one. The room had plain wooden cabinets, no carvings. I opened the fridge, curious if it was still running and the bulb in the fridge burst. My eyes burned. I stumbled backwards and I could see him again. His shocked eyes, mouth gaping. I tried to focus and saw the tip of a long stick thrusting out the front of his chest. “Stop looking so damn surprised!” The words tore from my throat and I felt the urge to slap him. I pressed against a cabinet on the floor. When had I fallen down? I stood up slowly. I took a deep breath.

  What was that? No use worrying. Determined, I cleaned and wiped down each of the oak cabinets. Best not to think too hard. I opened the last cabinet and there were two boxes. I pulled them out and inside was oatmeal, ramen, dishes, and more. These were my kitchen boxes. My food. My plates. My forks and spoons.

  Everything except for my great-grandmother’s casserole dish. The one with the blue flowers. It was upstairs in that room. The Squirrel. With the mirror shards.

  Had I put these here? I didn’t remember doing it. But this house had a way of making you lose track of time. Lose track of memories. I found both the children sitting in the kitchen, on the floor and working on their schooling. “Do you know how the food box, and the kitchen box got in the caterer’s kitchen?”

  Tony and Annabelle both froze. Guilty.

  “Mama, you told us not to talk about it.” Tony said without making eye contact.

  “When did I say that?” The hairs on my neck rose. They were both silent. “Annabelle? Have I ever said that?”

  “Mama, you say it every day.” Her tiny eyes flickered up at mine and they were fearful.

  My heart started to pound and I felt the rush of blood to my ears. I stared at the two of them, completely confused.

  “Mama, you say it when you wear the white dress.” She stared at me and then went back to coloring.

  I ran to my room and hurled in my toilet.

  17

  I sat there on the floor next to the toilet and waited for the nausea
to pass. The house was so close to clean (except upstairs), maybe it was ready to be listed. I should run over the mountain and live with Husband and everything would be better. All the things would be better. The farm would be shaken off of us, the sad despair of it all would vanish and we would step into the sunlight and be our best selves.

  But what of the white dress? What of Zippy? What of the photographs? I wanted answers. The stillness, the quiet. Why did the house let me clean? Did the kids really see me in the white dress?

  Annabelle and Tony. My sweet pride and joy. I should send them somewhere safe. Somewhere sound. Husband could take them. But he couldn’t and he wouldn’t. Maybe that nice lady, Taffy?

  Had I gotten to this place where I wouldn’t beg for food but I’d hand her my children? For how long? A week? A day? I don’t know. Great-grandmother was dead, and all I had was her casserole dish locked in the dangerous Squirrel room. If it was still there. How had my kitchen boxes gotten in the caterer’s closet? Did I put them there?

  Did the chef really die there?

  This house was haunted. The wind whistled as soon as I thought it. A quick crash of thunder and then the power went out. I stood and ran past the stained glass that flickered with bright lightning the lion burning bright against my skin as I raced. “I’m coming guys, don’t get frightened!!” I shouted and my feet flew. The kids were terrified of storms. The hair on my arms were electric and dancing and my lion-sneakered feet squealed. The hall seemed longer than ever. Lion, Lamb, Squirrel, Stag, Bear, Blackbird, Wolf.

  I shuddered as I passed the Wolf, out of breath my heart pounding. Sweat was already creeping between my shoulder blades. “Remember? Do you remember the last storm? Everything was fine! Everything went fine!” I was shouting at the top of my lungs. They couldn’t hear me.

  I got to the kitchen. The big bay window was open, shutters were flapping. The children were gone.

  “Annabelle! Tony! Come now children!” My voice cracked, and I realized I was weeping. I shut the window to keep the rain from battering inside and the room grew much quieter. “Annabelle! Where are you guys?”

  I ran to the Lamb room, surely they were hiding there. When I pulled back the blue covers but there was nothing. I bent down on my knees and looked under the bed and the lightening crashed. My heart thumped, startled. I took a deep breath and looked again. “Tony?”

  I saw eyes staring at me. Familiar eyes.

  “Annabelle?”

  I reached in, “Come out, it’s okay, I am here now.” I heard a snarl, and I withdrew my fingers. Her red freckled snout came out from under the bed. Zippy. Her teeth clicked, snapping at my fingers. I backed away as quickly as possible, but she was scrambling out faster than I. Her teeth sank into my left arm, and as the lightning burst forth again I saw her skin. Sticks were shoved into her from just about every direction. Her back, her stomach; she was a pincushion. Her hind legs were both limp and dragging. I screamed, she snarled. Our sounds melted into the storm, and the door swung open to the bathroom and four little eyes stared out at me. “Run kids! She’s gone bad!”

  Tony lifted Annabelle, she unlocked the door ,and they escaped towards the pool and the hot tub. Freshly filled with water. Zippy’s teeth hurt as they dug in and she tried to shake her head back and forth. I felt the meat within me tear. I used my free right hand to shove the stick closest to her heart. She yelped and let go of my arm for a moment. Her teeth snapped shut, and I scrambled backwards, trying to flee. She caught me again. This time she bit my sneaker, tearing open my stitches. I did what I had to. I pushed hard into the stick, jabbing it deep into her chest and sliding it back out, then back in, and finally yanking it out. She died shortly after.

  This is what a farmer does. But even when I did the right thing, the tough thing, the scary thing, I felt like a city girl. I wept for her. For my dog that fought a bobcat. For the puppy that annoyed me so relentlessly. For the first playmate my children ever played with. I had stirred her insides. Vomit poured out my throat.

  She had been killed. Even though I had finished her, whatever had attacked her, broken her pelvis, and stabbed her relentlessly. That killed her. I put her out of her misery.

  My heart hurt. It ached within me in terrible pain. There was a monster here. For all I knew it wore a white dress. If I didn’t remember the boxes, then would I remember doing this? Had I lost my mind?

  I heard a large splashing sound and a clattering bang as the door to the pool slammed shut. “Annabelle!” I shouted, and I left the dead dog and stepped outside. “Tony! Annabelle!” The wind stole my voice. Thunder crashed again. Lightning danced across the sky revealing their two bodies in the pool. I jumped in, frantic, shoes still on my feet. I found Tony first and pulled his body out. His heavy, limp body I pushed onto the side of the pool and swam back for Annabelle. She had sunk to the bottom and was so damn heavy. I pressed my feet on the ground, one on each side of her, and pushed with all my might and slowly, we rose out of the water. I barely kept her head out of the water, and finally I got to the edge of the pool, exhausted, and laid her with her brother. Panting, I crawled out and laid with them, retching up water. Shit. CPR.

  I rolled Tony to his side to dump the water out of his mouth, and lightening struck again.

  The bright light revealed a large gargoyle in my arms, his mouth in a devilish grin. I turned to Annabelle, and she too was rock. These were not my children. “Annabelle! Tony! Where the hell are you?”

  Some movement flickered in the dark and I walked. My sneakers squished waterlogged footprints. I wandered in the storm, screaming my children’s names, wandering from tree to tree, seeing something, but never catching it. The lighthouse shone brightly behind me. I was hopelessly lost in the dark when I tripped and hit my head.

  18

  When I opened my eyes, daylight burned them. Late morning, maybe even afternoon. Which way did the sun travel? Something a farmer should know, but never seemed interesting enough to learn. I was lying in a divot in the ground, still wet, even though the sun’s heat warmed me. My head ached terribly and I sat up. Trees and crap. No kid footprints. Nothing really. Just woods.

  The lighthouse stuck up through the trees. I limped towards it, back to the house. The pounding between my ears thumped so hard, I could hardly form a thought. I reached up my right hand and touched my head. Blood on my fingertips. The dog bite on my left arm ached, and I dazedly looked down and saw a stick shoved in the wound. That stopped me. My sluggish head felt heavy, and my vision doubled for a moment. Tears, I realized, were the reason. I pulled on the stick and it hurt like hell but broke free from my arm. It had a little sharpened and barbed end.

  I remembered how that stick pressed in my palm as I plunged it into my dog. As I yanked out the barb, tearing up her heart so she died. Tears leaked and my stomach dropped.

  Where the hell were my children? Had they become pincushions?

  I tried to call out for them, but my throat was raw, hoarse, and weak. I kept stumbling towards the house closer and closer, but at some point, I must have fainted.

  19

  Husband had been hard at work with his new job. He missed his sweet Annabelle, Tony, and his wife. Even Zippy, that dumb dog. But payday was coming. Slowly, but it would arrive. They refused to send him a check until he worked one full month.

  It didn’t bother him too much that they were strapped. If you wanna win big, you gotta go big. Besides, she paid the bills, and he worked the hours. That was how they had always done it, and that’s how they would always do it. They were pretty damn short on supplies when he’d left, and that stupid piece of crap truck was broken down. If that old mare got sick or sprained something, they’d have to walk to town. That would be one miserable long walk. Annabelle and Tony were great kids, but a walk like that would be taxing on anyone. He called the grocer a few times and asked if he could give them a little credit, but he said he hadn’t seen her or the kids. He called her mother, but she was apparently too busy to check on them. He attempted
to call what’s-her-face with the wedding dress, but it seemed he had the old number.

  So he had to wait. Payday, hurry the hell up. I need gas and a few days to check on the wife and kids. He put in for Monday and Tuesday off; shouldn’t be a big deal since he worked all weekend every weekend that first month. Everyone knew that he hadn’t visited his kids or his lady in a full thirty-one days. And yet, he got declined, and waited five more days before he could drive down and see how the house was going. He filled up the bank account, but not a single dollar was taken out yet. What the hell were they eating?

  He drove his car, a yellow VW bug that needed just about everything replaced, over the mountain that held him apart from his loves. He had to look up directions because he hadn’t even been to the new house. It was crazy and everything she described. A big lighthouse with a bright burning light at the top. Around the lighthouse was a big beautiful house. Elegant carved wooden doors, bright white columns, it was a home fit for a king. He even saw the sparkle of water in a pool as he drove in. He brought armload's of food and a bouquet, a new coloring book for Annabelle and a trumpet for Tony.

  He knew that she had been hard at work. The outside was perfectly tidy, spider web free. The front doors were two mahogany lions carved in perpetual roars batting at the air. Seven dollars and sixty cents. Hell yes! The front foyer floor was some sort of marble. It was polished and gleamed, two lions were in the floor in a brilliant glistening medallion. There were cheery, bright stairs leading up, and on the ceiling were charming gargoyles climbing across each other. The one in the middle was hanging outstretched holding a sword with a chandelier (Not a single spiderweb!) dangling from it. He let out a bright, happy whistle.