by Shady Grim
I THOUGHT I HEARD A car approaching and stopped cutting vegetables to listen more closely. I knew that my ears hadn’t deceived me when Thor began to bark. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“Nope.”
“You finish up; I’ll see who it is.” I was shocked to see a small blue car stop next to my truck. I very rarely had surprise visitors travel up my long unpaved driveway. The stranger was exiting her vehicle by the time I crossed the back porch, and Thor went berserk when saw her. He was behaving so aggressively that I couldn’t hear a thing the woman said. Ethan appeared and dragged Thor into the kitchen where he became unusually silent, as if he were listening to us. I normally would’ve gone outside immediately to greet the woman, but something about her stopped me dead in my tracks. I took an instant dislike to this woman, and something instinctive inside me told me to stay where I was. There was a nagging sense of familiarity about her that I couldn’t shake. She was about my age, and was tall and slim with thick black hair that looked like it might be unruly if it wasn’t tamed with copious amounts of hair product. Something about the woman’s light-brown eyes seemed oddly familiar to me. She was an exotic beauty whose dark features starkly contrasted with mine and Ethan’s sharp Northern European features and fair coloring. Her dark skin and black hair offset her light eyes making them very prominent. Her eyes had a lovely coppery shimmer, but there was something about them that seemed unnatural to me. I mentally chastised myself for allowing such irrational nonsense to pass through my mind.
“Good morning,” said the woman. She looked in my direction, but not directly at me. She moved a small distance away from her car, but didn’t move closer to the house. As a lone woman in a strange place, I rationalized her behavior as being cautious, but I couldn’t help thinking there was something predatory about her manner. Her eyes darted around, and she appeared to be looking for something.
“Good morning,” I replied and was about to exit the porch to greet the woman properly when Ethan reappeared and took my arm and held me back. I was embarrassed by his rude behavior. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a teacher,” said the woman. Her voice was pleasant, sweet-sounding, and almost song-like. It had a melodic lilt to it, yet there was something about her that made me feel uneasy. “I work with troubled children.”
“I’ll bet yeh do,” mumbled Ethan, and I elbowed him.
“I don’t understand why you’re here.” I tried again to step off the porch, but Ethan’s grip was firm.
“Please forgive me if I seem indelicate. I feel I can speak plainly since we’re all adults. I was informed that a child lived here, and that her parents were recently divorced. I counsel troubled children and–”
“My kid ain’t troubled,” spat Ethan. Now who the hell are yeh?” He stood straight-backed and looked unusually forbidding. He was normally very genial, particularly with ladies.
“My name is Dougall,” replied the woman as sweetly as ever, “Persephone Dougall.”
“That’s a fucked-up name,” stated Ethan with a malicious grin. I was shocked by his flagrant disrespect and attempted to stammer out an apology, but the woman was undeterred.
“It’s an unusual name, to be sure,” said Ms. Dougall with a forced chuckle. “Most people call me Perry.”
“More like phoney,” said Ethan, quite loudly. His barbed words hit their mark this time. Persephone was obviously perturbed. She looked directly at us, and we both shuddered at the sight of her strangely familiar eyes. I don’t know if she’d found some courage, or if it was impulse that moved her. She took a few steps closer. She stopped abruptly and jerked her head to one side, and it appeared to me that she thought she’d heard something and was listening intently for the sound to repeat. I was puzzled by her behavior until she moved again. This time her movement was parallel to the house. That’s when I saw her companion, which was the best word I could think of to describe what I saw. I quite clearly saw a large misshapen man standing directly next to Persephone. He appeared almost like a shadow, except that he was obviously solid. I could tell, based entirely on what I saw, that this was not a human man. He had a face, but no features. I further reasoned that it would be nearly impossible for an actual man of his proportions to fit inside Persephone’s compact car. What made me doubt the authenticity of my vision was the profound feeling of malice mingled with fear that seemed to radiate from this shadow-man. The more I doubted myself, the more distinct the image of him became, and the bolder Persephone seemed to get. She took another few steps closer, but her companion did not. The malicious unease that it radiated increased, while the entity’s perceptible aggressiveness diminished. I felt threatened despite the fact that no obvious threats had been made, and I had a strong urge to meet that threat head-on. I took a firm step forward, and Ethan jerked me back, bruising my arm.
Ethan retained a tight grip on Heather’s arm, but he knew his cousin well. It was only a matter of time before she broke free and went charging out to that creepy-ass woman. This Persephone bitch reminded him way too much of Rachel. She looked pretty and sounded sweet, but there was something about her, a bad feeling she gave him. He felt angry and afraid and didn’t know why. He also didn’t like the way she kept her distance, and she was looking around like she was casing the place for a robbery. That weird way she kept turning her head bothered him. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was listening to someone. He really disliked the way she avoided eye contact.
A light pleasant breeze blew, and that’s when Ethan saw it. Standing right next to Rachel’s doppelganger was the vague outline of a huge man. The breeze moved the long grass and ruffled the leaves on the trees making this thing–this presence–visible to him. He could see through it, but it remained stationary while the breeze moved the plants behind it. Ethan knew he was a big guy, but this thing dwarfed him. He suspected the thing was projecting its size to appear powerful and intimidating, and the tactic was working. Ethan now understood why he felt so angry. The being’s evil presence was radiating waves of anger and hatred mixed with an unhealthy dose of fear. The longer it lingered, the angrier and more nervous Ethan felt. He had to get this woman out of here before he did something rash. It was his narrow-mindedly logical cousin who made the first move.
I’d had enough of the subtle innuendo. I broke free of Ethan’s grip and stepped down the porch to face Persephone and her spectral companion. Ethan followed me. He stood just behind me gripping the little gold cross he always wore. Our grandparents had given it to him for his First Holy Communion. He was an undersized child at the time, and the tiny cross with its small chain was a well-proportioned fit. He swapped the small chain for a larger one when he grew older, but opted to keep the small cross that now looked diminutive against his huge adult frame. Ethan held the little cross between his thumb and forefinger and muttered a barely audible prayer asking for strength and protection. I knew by Ethan’s body language that he was aware of Persephone’s companion. I couldn’t tell if he’d seen it or just sensed it. Ethan rarely saw legitimate apparitions. Most things he saw were figments of his overactive imagination.
“I don’t know who or what you are, but you don’t scare me and you’re not welcome here. Leave.” Ethan followed my gaze as I looked up at the shadow-man and stepped between it and me. He was trembling with fear, but he stood his ground. The thing appeared to diminish; its presence weakened by our defiance.
“You are aware that you’re talking to nothing?” The forced sweetness and well-practiced melodic lilt were gone from Persephone’s voice. Her tone was sarcastic and laced with bitterness. I’d broken through to the real Persephone. A little more prodding and her pleasant façade would crumble.
“Yes, I’m fully aware that it is nothing.” I stood face-to-face with her. My eyes bored into hers. Fury was burning its way to the surface, and she couldn’t contain it. Her eyes seemed to seethe like the writhing of larval insects. Her jaw set and she balled her fists at her sides. “I don’t know what brought you back her
e after all these years, Rachel, but we want nothing to do with you. You’re not our family anymore. Leave and take your companion with you.” Persephone’s eyes widened when I called her Rachel. Her growing temper dissolved instantly and shock took its place. I continued to hold her gaze. She was the first to look away, just like when we were children. She turned abruptly, got back in her car, and speeded down the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dry dirt and throwing pebbles in her wake.
Ethan kissed his cross and placed it under his shirt. “Thank yeh, Lord.”
I went back inside and immediately started chopping vegetables. I needed a mindless activity to occupy my hands while I mentally tried to work out what I’d just seen and done.
“I told yeh she wasn’t dead.”
“Hmm, what are you talking about?”
“What the hell do yeh mean, ‘What am I talkin’ about?’ That was Rachel out there. Yeh just said ‘er name.”
“It was a slip of the tongue.”
“She looks just like Rachel.”
“Lots of people could look like Rachel. Lots of people could look like us. A resemblance doesn’t make her Rachel.”
“So yer just gonna pretend that weird-ass bitch didn’t respond when yeh called her Rachel?”
“Rachel is dead, Ethan. We buried her years ago.”
“We buried an empty box, Heather. Rachel was the most evil person we ever knew. She was evil from the day she was born. We didn’t understand when we were kids, but we ain’t kids anymore. Yeh felt how evil that bitch was before yeh even stepped off the porch. I saw it in yer face. Christ, Heather, the dog even knew it.”
“Rachel has wreaked enough havoc on our lives, Ethan. I’m tired of living under her shadow. I moved to Twilight Falls for peace, not to reopen old wounds.”
“What about that huge fuckin’ demon she brought with ‘er? I know yeh saw that thing. I saw yeh look at it, and heard yeh talk to it.”
“I don’t feel like eating right now.” I set the knife down, and left it and the vegetables lying on the counter. I walked to the hallway with the intention of going upstairs, but Ethan wasn’t about to let me off the hook so easily.
“Admit it, Heather, yer seein’ things again.”
I stopped on the first step of the staircase. The gleaming shine of the freshly polished banister with its freshly painted spindles caught my eye. “You polished the banister?”
“Nope.”
“Emmy did this?”
“Nope.”
“You did a nice job on the spindles.”
“I didn’t fix the spindles.”
“You brought someone in to help you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Stop playing games, Ethan, and tell me who fixed it!”
“Yeh already know who did it. The house is fixin’ itself.”
“Very funny–I’m going to bed.”
“Take a look at the plaster next to the staircase. All the cracks and holes are gone. It looks like it was re-plastered and painted, doesn’t it?” I had noticed the wall, and I also knew that it was too much work for Ethan to have done himself in a single day. “Come with me. I wanna show yeh somethin’.” I followed him to the back porch where he pointed to two new planks of wood he’d put down to replace dangerously decayed flooring.
“Is that birch? Very nice.”
“Yeah, it’s birch, but I put down maple.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, let me explain it to yeh. See, I ripped out the old planks of floorin’ and replaced them with fresh new planks of rock maple. Then I went outside to work on the rotten steps. When I came back inside, the house had turned the rock maple I put down into birch.”
“What you’re saying is impossible.”
“Come with me, doubting Thomas.” I followed Ethan outside, and he pointed at the bottom steps of the back porch. “I replaced those planks too.”
“Oak is nice, good choice.”
“I used cedar.” I rolled my eyes and turned to go back inside. “Yeh know how much I like cedar, especially for outdoor use. Why would I use oak?”
“You must’ve made a mistake.”
Ethan stooped and picked up a wad of sawdust that was piled next to the porch steps. “Smell that; it’s cedar. I know the difference between oak and cedar, Heather.”
“No, this is too much.” I went back inside and paced the hall trying to figure out what I could do to relax myself. Ethan followed me, and his persistence was wearing on my nerves.
“The house is fixin’ itself. Yer seein’ stuff again. I’m feelin’ stuff again. It’s this house, Heather; it brings stuff out of us. It’s comin’ alive again.”
I tried to rub the tension out of my temples. I was agitatedly pacing the floor, and I imagine that I must’ve appeared like I was in the midst of a breakdown. “This is fairy tale stuff, Ethan, and I can’t deal with it. I’m a trained physician. I am logical. I am rational. What you’re saying is absurd. It’s impossible.”
“Yer books and logic can’t protect yeh from everythin’, Heather. Denial is a powerful and dangerous thing. I might be a drunk and a junkie, but at least I don’t lie to myself.” He turned and started for the kitchen. “I’m gonna finish cookin’ dinner before the house decides to eat me.”
Chapter Seven
Royal Fitzgerald, who was now formally known as Timothy Robbins, would forever be grateful to Jack and his wife, Stacy. Jack’s family welcomed Tim with open arms and treated him like their own kin. He learned a great deal with them. Not academic learning like he’d been taught by his mother, but much more meaningful things. He learned that there could be discipline without cruelty, religious fervor without closed-minded fanaticism, and respectful joviality. He eventually learned to call his saviors, “Dad” and “Mom.” They had a small home filled to the brim with children, many of whom weren’t their own. Stacy’s elderly parents lived next door to them. Jack was a long-distance trucker, and Stacy was a house-wife who took in laundry and mended clothes for extra money. Stacy quickly found Tim to be an indispensable asset as he already knew how to make clothes, affect household repairs, and readily assisted her with her daily chores. He improved her vegetable garden, and his talents quickly spread out to the neighbors’ gardens as well. He taught his new mother and siblings how to plant and harvest herbs, and how to make medicines. The family was able to allay much of their medical costs by using Tim’s herbal remedies to cure minor ailments. His reputation as a healer quickly spread throughout their large but poor neighborhood, and eventually throughout their entire town.
Tim’s new father helped him get a trucking job, which he worked doggedly at for many years. He loved his adoptive family very much, but the crowded house overwhelmed him at times. He needed the long hours on the road alone to relax. He was immensely frugal and managed to amass a large savings. Tim was happier than he’d ever been in his life, but he eventually found himself growing restless. The long hours in the cab of a truck, which had initially relaxed him, began to feel too confining. He longed to be outside. He gave his notice at work and told his family that it was time for him to go. There were many tears shed at his parting. Stacy felt it was too sudden and that he should spend more time thinking about it. Jack thought that at nearly thirty-five, he should know what he wanted to do. Tim left his adoptive mother and siblings to carry on as the town’s herbal healers. He traveled aimlessly for a while, but the restlessness just worsened. He sold his car in the hopes that walking would be rigorous enough an activity to ease his mind. When that didn’t work, he found himself sleeping outside more and more. He found his thoughts to be increasingly turning to Twilight Falls. He did anything he could to get the memories out of his mind. He took the most physically demanding jobs he could find just to exhaust himself.
By his late-thirties, Tim’s hair was already pure white and his skin had become leathered from living and working in the elements. His body was hardened and strong, but still he feared going back to Twilight Falls. No
thing he did could get the visions out of his mind. He dreamed that he was walking around the town. He saw himself with his brothers and hunting with Herbert Fitzgerald. He saw Lizbet Fitzgerald standing over him with her walking stick. The torment was unending. The one dream he didn’t have was of someone calling to him. He’d had that same dream every night for his entire childhood, but it had stopped when he left Twilight Falls. The Presence went away too. There were many bitter memories associated with the Fitzgeralds, but Tim didn’t fear them. He feared The Presence. He knew it would find him again if he returned to Twilight Falls.
Tim decided to return to his adoptive family. He’d been away from them for such a long time, maybe they could bring him peace as they had when he was a boy. He rented a motel room to clean himself up a bit before going home. He’d not slept in a bed for so long; he hoped its softness would be more restful for him. He swallowed a self-made sleep aid and slipped into bed. His dreams were typical. He saw visions of the Fitzgerald family, of Twilight Falls, of many aspects of his former life, but then his dream changed. Instead of being an observer, he found himself being spoken to directly. He was back in Twilight Falls. This dream was a combination of memory and present-day activity. Tim was his present age, but he was doing things his younger self had done. He could feel leaves brushing against him, the sweat on his skin, and the self-made hunting bow in his hand. He and Herbert were hunting deer, or so he thought. They came upon a man preparing to camp for the evening. Tim knew this man. He’d once given Tim a black eye for accidentally knocking over his whiskey bottle that was sitting on the sidewalk. He was a local ne’er-do-well who was not-so-affectionately dubbed the town drunk. His sort was generally reviled in this community of hard-working religious people, but he was born here and was tolerated out of a sense of loyalty to his upstanding family. He lived mostly on handouts and when he couldn’t find a place to sleep, he would make a camp in the woods just as he was doing now. He often disappeared for weeks or even months at a time.