by Tarisa Marie
I debate my next move. Do I continue into the attic alone and unarmed, do I wake aunt Betty and explain what happened, or do I grab some sort of weapon and do this armed? Deciding that I might be half asleep or losing my mind like my mother, I decide against waking up aunt Betty. There's no reason to make her think I'm crazy like my mom and have her worrying. Also, like I noted earlier, there were no footprints throughout the dusty house when I arrived. Someone can't just be hiding in the attic without food or water.
Just in case, though, I grab a mop from the hallway that we were using earlier and use the hand to gently push open the attic door. It creaks eerily as it slowly swings open. The small of mothballs hits me like something else. God, I hate that smell. It's darker than hell in the attic since there's no way for the moonlight to get in, not even a little bit. I pull the string that switches the light on and the room illuminates immediately. I quickly turn in a full circle, looking for any danger, but all I see are boxes piled atop each other. Clearly, I'm losing it. There is nothing up here that shouldn’t be. Maybe it's returning to this house that has me all jumpy. Maybe this place is cursed. I'm not superstitious, nor do I believe in anything paranormal, but this place is seriously just awful. The longer I stay here, the more I want to go back home.
I wait awake in bed for another bang, but nothing comes. Eventually, I drift into unconsciousness.
I wake up to morning sun seeping into the room from behind the closed blinds. I feel exhausted, like I never slept a single minute all night long. I can hear the shower running through the wall, so I know that aunt Betty has already gotten up. I check my phone for the time to see that it's nearly eight already. I groan in protest before dragging myself from bed and dressing in some sweats and a casual sweater. I then make my way downstairs. I'm surprised to see a batch of fresh pancakes on the kitchen island.
Did she run into town this morning already and pick up some food? I open the fridge to find some milk, eggs, and butter. We spent a large part of the day yesterday cleaning the mold-infested fridge. It hadn't been cleaned out when we left the place, so it was quite terrible. I insisted I'd just buy a new one, but aunt Betty wasn't having it. I could still faintly smell the ick from yesterday but surprisingly, it wasn’t so bad.
I grab a plate and knife and wash them in the sink to remove the dust and then dig into two pancakes. It isn't long before aunt Betty comes downstairs and joins me at the table, a beaming grin on her face. I forgot how much of a morning person she is.
“How was your sleep?” she asks me casually while spreading butter on a pancake.
“I’m exhausted,” I tell her truthfully and set my fork down while I chew. “Did you hear that banging sound last night?”
She looks up from her breakfast and raises an eyebrow. “Banging? No? What happened?”
I shrug. “I’m not really sure. I woke up to this loud banging, and I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. It stopped, so I went back to bed. You must sleep like a rock because it was loud, like really loud.”
She looks dumbfounded but returns to her food. I catch a whiff of her lavender perfume, the same kind she’s worn for as long as I can remember. It relaxes me a little, comforts me. I’m so glad that she agreed to come do this with me.
“I thought there might be a bird or something in the attic, so I went up there, but I didn't find anything,” I explain to her further.
Her brows pull together and she shrugs. “Who knows. It could've been something outside. Maybe the gate swinging in the wind or something.”
I nod, although I'm not convinced. The sound was far too near and far too loud to be made by the gate all the way across the yard.
A knock on the front door startles both me and aunt Betty, and I automatically jump up to get it, not sure who to expect. I wonder if it could be a neighbor coming to check and make sure no one is breaking into the house.
When I lift the curtain covering the front door window, a young man near my age in a professional grey and white suit stands there on the porch, hands in his pockets casually. Great, a salesman. I open the door quickly and greet him with a soft smile, hoping to get rid of him without one of those long chats about whatever merchandise the guy is selling. Part of me kind of hopes it’s cleaning services because we could really use some help with this giant mess.
“Hello,” I say kindly and meet his eyes. They're dark brown, appearing nearly black in the shadow from the porch. His black hair is tousled and yet at the same time it's incredibly neat. Unlike most door-to-door salesmen I've encountered, this guy isn't clean shaven. He sports a five o'clock shadow and somehow pulls it off, it suits him perfectly. I can't help but observe how attractive he is.
“Good morning,” he greets me in return and nods to me respectfully. “I didn't realize this house was occupied. I live down the road a ways...” He tosses his thumb over his shoulder. “...and I noticed a couple of cars parked in the driveway. Have you recently purchased the old Thomson property?”
I used to know all the neighbors around here, but this man, I don't recognize at all and trust me, I’d remember him if I’d ever met him. He’s not someone you easily forget. Then again, he probably would've been just a kid last I saw him.
“Uh, my name is May Thomson, actually. I just inherited this place. My mother recently passed away,” I respond quietly. Am I being shy? Why do I feel like I need to cower away from this man?
His eyes widen slightly but he seems to catch his reaction and his face becomes stoic. “Oh, I was sorry to hear about Everly,” he sympathizes. “I lost my mother, too, years ago. It’s tough.”
I nod and wait for him to say goodbye and walk back down the driveway to his car, but he stands staring at me as if he’s looking right through me. Is he staring behind me? I turn and glance behind me to see what he’s looking at. There’s nothing exciting behind me unless you count bleach as excitement.
“Was there something you needed?” I wonder, not realizing how rude I sound until after it’s out. I hear a sigh and glance back behind me to see Aunt Betty hurrying towards the door to see what all the commotion is about.
“No, no. I just thought I'd welcome any new neighbors we might have is all,” he mutters through an awkward chuckle. “Will you be living here now that you've inherited the home?”
I shake my head, denying this far too quickly. “No, definitely not. I’m only around for a couple days to clean up and get some ideas for renovations. Then I'll be selling the place,” I explain to him briefly. “Know of anyone looking to buy a rundown house and crappy farm land around here?” I ask, trying to make a joke and seem less negative but I only end up seeming more negative.
His stoic expression changes into a full-blown smile. “Uh, maybe, actually.” He chuckles and then before I can reply his grin fades. “Well, while you're around, I must warn you about the...er...situation around here.”
I cock a brow and aunt Betty tilts her head in curiosity. She now stands behind me with one hand on my shoulder.
He continues, “Last week a body was found just down the road here. The police suspect homicide and now this morning another body was found near the same spot. A child this time. Police are looking for a possible serial killer in the area. Well, as I’m sure you’re aware, the police have been poking around here for some answers for as long as anyone can remember.” He runs a hand through his hair.
Aunt Betty speaks up. “Beatrice Harris, young man. Thank you for the warning, but we’re already well aware of the crap that happens around here. May grew up on this farm so she’s been caught up in it for years.” Aunt Betty seems ready to get this man off the porch though I’m not sure why. Was it my tone with him? He’s been nothing but friendly.
“Yes, a lot of strange stuff has happened around here over the last few centuries, stuff that's gone completely unexplained. Sure does makes a guy wonder,” the suited man murmurs thoughtfully.
“About?” I ask curiously. My family has lived here for as long as our recorded family hist
ory goes back and no one has ever been able to find answers, so I’m always curious to hear theories from people, especially locals.
He looks at me apologetically as if he doubts I’ll take his next words well. “Makes a guy wonder what is going on. I'm not a guy to believe in the paranormal, nor am I a religious fellow, but even I have to admit that it's weird beyond coincidence. I'm not the only one either. Last year the FBI was sniffing around here.”
My eyes widen. The FBI? I've always know that a lot of odd things—okay—terrible things have happened in the twenty-mile radius surrounding our house, but never have I heard anything about the FBI looking into it, though it’s definitely something they should’ve been doing years ago. Locals have always wondered why no one bigger than the Sunnybrooke police unit has gotten involved.”
I'm surprised by aunt Betty’s silence over the matter. She usually has a lot to say about this place.
“I guess...” I say quietly while in thought. “Did they find anything?”
The man shrugs and straightens his tie. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“Who are you?” Aunt Betty finally speaks up and eyes our visitor with a squinted gaze, the wrinkles on her forehead becoming more prominent.
“Just a friendly neighbor concerned about locals,” he replies, beaming in her direction. How are his teeth so impossibly white? I internally roll my eyes at myself. What is wrong with me? You’d think I’d never seen an attractive man before.
Aunt Betty eyes him as if she doesn't trust him as far as she could throw him. “You aren't supposed to be on your way to work or something, boy?” she asks him rudely, and I look back to scowl at her.
She shrugs my glare off. “He's wearing a suit at nine in the morning in the middle of the country, dear. Speaking of strange things...”
I must agree with her, but I'm just not so rude about it. It’s uncommon to see someone around here in a suit unless they’re attending a funeral or something. Most people are farmers and dress in work clothes.
The stranger chuckles and takes a step back from the doorway. “I’m actually on my way to work—yes, and I must be on my way. It was nice to meet you the two of you.”
He turns to leave, but I clear my throat. “What did you say your name was?”
His lips twitch, showing a hint of a grin. “Kade, ma’am.”
I nod, and he turns and walks back the way he came, down our ridiculously long path leading to the driveway. I swivel to glare at aunt Betty for being rude. She cowers away but says nothing.
“That was rude,” I scold her lightly and walk past her to finish my breakfast which is now probably cold.
She follows behind me. “Something is off about that boy. He gave me the chills.”
I roll my eyes. Why are old people so judgmental? There was nothing wrong with the man. He was just a friendly, concerned neighbor.
We finish our pancakes before cleaning up our dishes and getting a start on the cleaning. Aunt Betty settles in for a nap around two in the afternoon, and while she sleeps, I decide to take a quick walk out into the yard to inspect the outside of the house for anything that could've caused the harsh banging last night. I slip on some sandals and quietly leave the house.
As I walk around the building, I breathe in the fresh air and relax a little. I hate cleaning almost as I hate this place. After inspecting all sides of the house and finding nothing, I walk over to the backyard to the now very rusted hockey nets that my brother used to play with and can't help but think about him. What happened to him back then? Is he still alive somewhere? If so, where? Is he dead? If so, why? What happened? I find myself venturing into the trees, where I recall the police search party rummaging through upon his disappearance. I remember the amber alert being sent out, the news showing his face, the police dogs racing around the house. Sirens, my mom sobbing, my dad trying to comfort her while he too cried, police radios, snoopy neighbors stopping by to drop off food and flowers just so they could catch the latest. I was only eight but it feels like it was yesterday. I remember it so clearly.
I have to remind myself that I have good memories here, too. It’s not all bad. Like playing hide and seek with Daniel and my dad or my dad building us forts in the trees or to my mother’s dismay, with blankets in the living room. I used to pretend I was an explorer when I was a kid and I’d wander through these trees until I got to the barbed wire fence that I wasn't allowed to go past.
Sometimes, if I was feeling really rebellious, I'd slip past the fence and go deeper into the trees, but like now, back then I couldn't keep a secret, so when I returned to the house, I'd tell mom or dad what I'd done and then I’d get scolded for it.
My dad told this story about an old well being out past the fence where my grandpa’s brother Ernie, my great uncle, fell in and died as a child. For that reasoning, we weren’t to go out past the fence.
With all the family tragedy that's occurred on this homestead, I've always wondered why our family didn't just move away. Maybe because it's the family homestead and no one’s wanted to be the one to sell it out of the family. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I'm not keeping this place. It's practically cursed. If you live here, you die young or you go insane. That is a fact.
I lean down to pick a purple wildflower and then hold it up to my nose. I miss the little things about this place like the scent of these flowers, the silence, the lack of people around. The smell of spring rain, mud, flowers, and you know what, even the smell of cow crap.
My foot catches on a fallen tree as I walk through thick brush and before I can catch my footing, I fall to the ground below with a thump. I lay there for a moment before sitting cross legged and staring at my surroundings. The tree canopies above me block the view of the sun and clouds, very little light makes it down to the forest floor. I find myself laughing at myself. I’ve always been clumsy, so I take it in stride.
A crunch of branches to my left causes my head to instinctively snap in the direction of the sound. Expecting to see a deer or a coyote moseying along, I’m surprised to see nothing. The crunch sounded like it was made by something larger than a squirrel or small animal would make, but maybe that's all it was. I get back to my feet and brush myself off before scanning the brush again. I nearly jump out of my skin when my eyes land on a young girl dressed in a pink dress, standing only mere feet away from me and gazing directly at me with a worried expression. Her hair is in loose brown curls that extend down to her waist. She appears to be maybe only eight or nine. Her eyes are a sad, deep brown. I stare back at her in shock. What in the heavens is a girl so young doing out here in the middle of nowhere by herself?
“Hello,” I say quietly, half wondering if I really am losing my mind. Am I seeing things?
The girl tilts her head to the left as if she's trying to understand what I've said but cannot. Is she deaf?
“My name is May. What is yours?” I ask, my voice shaking with surprise.
She nibbles her bottom lip and looks about to speak but instead she looks down at the forest floor and sighs.
“Are you lost?” I ask her and take a step towards her as my heart rate slows down.
“No,” she whispers so low that I’m not sure I've even heard her correctly. “My name is Harriet. I've lost my puppy.”
“I'm sorry to hear that, Harriet. I haven't seen a puppy around, but I can help you look for it if you like. Where are your parents?” I ask her wearily and scan the trees again for anything out of the ordinary. Surely, they are around here somewhere. I wonder if they know about the well.
She shrugs. “I don't know where my dad is, but I don't have a mom,” she explains to me frantically, coming out of her shell. “I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. My dad says you're dangerous.”
“Do you live around here? Can I help you find you dad?”
Harriet presses her lips together tightly. “I live over there.” The girl points in the direction I came in.
“I live that way as well, Harriet. Would you like to wa
lk with me?” I ask, trying to place which neighbor’s child she could be, but honestly, I don’t even know which neighbors would have a kid her age these days or which neighbors are even the same as they were when I lived here, surely some have come to their senses and moved away in the last eight years since I’ve been gone.
“I can’t. I...” she hesitates and looks around wearily. “I mustn’t speak to strangers. I’ll find my puppy. I’ll find my dad too.”
I hear a loud flutter in the trees above us and glance up to see a crow landing on a tree branch and cawing loudly. I then glance back towards the girl, ready to respond. To my shock, the girl has disappeared within the second I was distracted and without a single sound. My heart sinks into my abdomen and a deep chill races over my body. My pulse quickens. What the hell?
“Harriet?” I call quite loudly, scaring some magpies and sending them flying from the trees. My voice echoes but goes unanswered.
Is this place making me lose it like my mother or has coming back here just sped up the inevitable loss of my mind? I glance around one more time. Nothing. What. The. Hell.
Before I can think about my next move, acting on pure instinct, I race back through the trees the same way I came, leaping over branches, fallen trees, and other brush in a race to get back to the house. When I finally break through the trees, I don’t stop running. I continue until I round the front corner of the house, headed straight towards the door. I stop when I collide harshly with something warm and hard.
Falling to my ass, I look up, startled to see the same man who visited earlier this morning. Kade.
“You alright?” he utters through a deep chuckle and extends a hand to help me up. I take it gratefully. “It looks as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
I swallow harshly. “Yeah, fine. I was just out for a run while my aunt had a nap,” I lie.