Scare Scape

by Sam Fisher

  “We had a, uh, disagreement,” James mumbled, looking sheepishly at his feet.

  “Oh no,” Morton groaned. James often got on the wrong side of teachers, not because he was badly behaved exactly, but because he couldn’t stop himself from pointing out their mistakes. “What was it this time?”

  “Mrs. Houston seems to think the full moon causes the high tide. But I told her our dad’s an astronomer and he said it’s not that simple. You get a high tide twice a day, but a full moon only happens once a month. So she’s really talking about spring and neap tides, but even there you get a spring high tide when there’s a new moon, too. I mean, that’s obvious anyway.”

  “You didn’t say that, did you?” Morton asked.

  “Say what?”

  “You didn’t say, ‘that’s obvious anyway’?”

  James’s scratched his head and looked away. “I don’t remember. I might have.”

  “Sounds like you got off lightly,” Robbie put in. “I’d tread carefully with Mrs. Houston.”

  Several minutes later they arrived at the ivy-covered stone pillars that stood at either side of the driveway to 88 Hemlock Hill.

  “Well, this is where we live,” Morton said, slowing down.

  Robbie stared in sudden amazement. “You’re kidding?”

  “No.”

  “You live here?”

  “As of last week.”

  “Wow!” Robbie exclaimed, gazing up at the tall circular turret poking above the trees. “That’s the Blind Man’s house.”

  Morton and James looked blankly at Robbie.

  “Nobody told you about the Blind Man?”

  “No,” Morton said, feeling a little uneasy about the tone in Robbie’s voice.

  “This crazy old blind guy used to live here. Rumor has it he fell into the well at the bottom of the yard and drowned.”

  “He drowned in the well?” James said, looking a bit uneasy himself.

  “That’s the story. Funny thing is, they never found his body. It’s supposed to be a really deep well, leading to some underground stream. Frogmen went down and pulled out one of his shoes but that’s all they found. Just a shoe. Anyway, he vanished and they sold the house, so I’m guessing he must’ve drowned in the well.”

  Morton felt a sudden strange prickling sensation at the back of his neck. “I wish you hadn’t told me that,” he said.

  Robbie shrugged. “Sorry, I thought everyone knew.”

  As they stood there a tall, skinny girl wearing a green dress and matching shoes waltzed around the corner followed by another girl in a white shirt and gray skirt carrying a tennis racquet. It took Morton a moment to realize that the first girl was Melissa. The two of them were so deep in conversation that they trotted down the driveway toward the house without even noticing the boys.

  “That’s weird,” James said.

  “What is?” Robbie asked.

  “Our sister,” Morton said.

  “What’s weird about her?”

  “She only has one friend,” James said. “I mean, she’s so obsessed with being the most popular girl in school that she never brings home less than six friends at a time.”

  “It’s only the first day,” Morton said. “Give her time.”

  James shrugged. “Maybe, but I have to say, I am honestly shocked.”

  “Want to come in and see the house?” Morton asked, turning back to Robbie.

  Robbie raised his arm and looked at an old hand-wound silver watch that flopped loosely on his wrist. “Nah, I gotta go help my mom,” he replied. “Want to hang out tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, definitely,” Morton said.

  “Right, see you in school, then.” And Robbie sprinted off down the street.

  James and Morton stood at the end of the driveway for a moment and looked up at their new home.

  “You don’t suppose that gargoyle might have belonged to the Blind Man, do you?” Morton asked.

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” James said.

  Morton shivered involuntarily as an image of the gargoyle’s hollow eyes popped into his head. He still couldn’t understand why the thought of it made him feel so uneasy.

  “Come on,” James said, as if reading Morton’s mind. “Let’s try not to think about it.”

  When the two of them entered the kitchen a few moments later, Melissa was pouring two glasses of iced water.

  “Hey, Melissa, didn’t you forget something?” James said, elbowing Morton.

  “I don’t think so,” Melissa replied, handing a glass to her new friend.

  “Yeah, you did,” James said. “You forgot to bring your fan club home with you.”

  Melissa smiled at her new friend. “Like I said, boys are so predictable.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is consistent,” James said. “Boys are consistent, as opposed to girls who are illogical and fickle.”

  “I’m not fighting with you,” Melissa said in a singsong voice.

  She put the jug of water back in the fridge and sat down without offering a drink to James or Morton. James promptly opened the fridge again and made a point of glowering while he poured himself a glass.

  “Anyway, you’re only jealous because you’re too nerdy to make any friends,” Melissa said.

  “People who follow you around and gaze longingly at your nail polish are not your friends,” James retorted.

  “And how would you know?”

  Morton groaned inwardly at the mounting argument and had just decided to head up to his room when the new girl stuck her arm across the table to shake his hand. “I’m Wendy, by the way,” she said.

  Morton almost jumped out of his skin. Melissa’s friends didn’t tend to acknowledge his existence. He was the invisible younger brother. They almost never spoke to him and they certainly, under no circumstances, would ever offer to shake his hand.

  He froze and looked at Melissa as if hoping for instructions.

  “Well, go ahead, she’s not going to bite,” she prompted.

  Morton was about to reach out and shake hands with Wendy when, quite suddenly, James pushed his own hand forward.

  “Hi, I’m James,” he said, with an unfamiliar, watery look in his eyes. This too was very strange. James usually avoided Melissa’s friends like the plague. Although now that Morton thought about it, there was something different about Wendy. She didn’t fit the standard mold. She was dressed in a plain white buttoned shirt, straight woolen gray skirt, and white socks. Her glasses made her look studious rather than fashionable, and her voice was calm and friendly. Was Melissa hanging out with a different type of girl now? Or was it just that all girls in Dimvale were like this? If this were a side effect of life in a small town, it might be a good one.

  “Wendy’s practically our neighbor,” Melissa said. “Isn’t that great?”

  “Yes, it is,” James said, nodding vigorously.

  “Hey, does that mean you knew the guy who used to live in our house?” Morton asked, curious to find out more about Robbie’s story.

  “You mean the Blind Man?” Wendy said.

  “Who?” Melissa asked.

  “Some crazy guy who used to live here,” James explained. “He fell down the well at the bottom of the yard and drowned. At least, that’s the story we just heard.”

  Melissa pushed her glass of water away with a sudden sickly expression. “Somebody drowned in our well?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Wendy said.

  “How do you fall down a well?” Melissa asked.

  James shrugged. “He was blind. I guess he tripped.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Wendy went on, cocking her head thoughtfully, “there was a lot of debate about that. They never found his body, and the insurance company claimed that he didn’t die, that he faked his death because he was bankrupt.”

  “Bankrupt? That explains why the house is so run-down,” Melissa said.

  “Why was he bankrupt?” Morton asked, feeling that nervous prickling sensation on the bac
k of his neck mounting.

  “I guess he couldn’t work after he went blind,” Wendy answered.

  “You mean, he wasn’t always blind?”

  “No. That was the real tragedy of the story. He was an artist of some kind. He used to paint, or draw, or something. I don’t really know what he did.”

  Morton was suddenly overwhelmed by the most powerful sensation of déjà vu he’d ever had. Something about the gargoyle and this story touched a nerve, like ice cream on a rotten tooth, and yet he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

  “He was very strange,” Wendy continued. “Nobody really knew him very well.”

  “Like, what kind of strange?” Melissa said, pulling her arms around her as if a chill breeze had entered the room.

  “Well, for one thing he was nocturnal. He slept in the day and worked at night.”

  “That’s not so odd,” James said. “I mean, our dad does that. He’s an astronomer.”

  “Yes, but what made him especially weird was that he refused to use electric lights,” Wendy said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Before he went blind you’d see him working in that round room upstairs, huddled over his desk with a large flickering candle, like something from an old Victorian painting.”

  “Ugh!” Melissa said. “That’s the room Dad’s using for his study.”

  “How did he go blind?” Morton asked, attempting to stay focused on the conversation despite the still overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

  Wendy shrugged. “I don’t know. I could ask my uncle if you want me to find out more. He works for the local library. There was a lot in the papers about the guy after he disappeared, or drowned, depending on whose story you believe.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Melissa said adamantly. “In fact, I think I’d have been happier not knowing he even existed.”

  “Not knowing who existed?” Dad said, appearing from the hallway wearing his slippers and bathrobe.

  “Dad!” Melissa yelped as soon as she saw him. “Did you know about the freakazoid who used to live in this house?”

  “Ah, that,” Dad said, scratching his ear nervously. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did.”

  Melissa’s jaw dropped open so wide Morton could see the fillings in her back teeth. “And you still bought it?” she exclaimed.

  “Well, it’s a gruesome story, but I don’t see why it makes any difference. It’s a lovely old house. It was cheap too, which doesn’t hurt.”

  “I am never drinking water in this house again.”

  “Oh, come now, Melissa. The whole street has been on city water for decades. The well is just a decorative relic.”

  Melissa shivered visibly. “I knew this house would turn out to be haunted.”

  Dad sighed and shook his head. “Well, while you’re indulging in superstitious self-pity, perhaps you should introduce me to your new friend.”

  “Hello, I’m Wendy,” Wendy said, standing up to shake Dad’s hand in a very formal and polite manner.

  “Wonderful to meet you,” Dad said.

  “I should get going,” Wendy sighed. “I have lots of homework.”

  She gathered her bag and her tennis racquet and turned to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning, then, Melissa.”

  “I’ll be there,” Melissa said.

  “It was very nice to meet you,” Wendy said, looking James directly in the eye.

  James suddenly spilled his drink over his lap and broke into an unexpected coughing fit.

  “He’s clumsy,” Melissa said apologetically. “You get used to it after a while.”

  Wendy smiled. “Nice to meet you too, Morton,” she said.

  Morton stood up and attempted to smile. “Likewise,” he said thinly.

  Wendy smiled again and quickly left through the sagging screen door on the side porch. Morton felt his hands trembling and was thankful that all eyes were on James, who was still scrambling to mop up the spilled water.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Dad said as soon as Wendy was out of view. “I’ve been doing some decorating today, come and tell me what you think.”

  The three kids exchanged quizzical looks and dutifully followed Dad to the landing at the bottom of the stairs. Dad pointed proudly to a small alcove. “Look,” he said.

  There in the hallway was a small arched opening where you’d normally expect to see a large Ming vase or a marble bust, only Dad didn’t have any vases or busts so, instead, he’d perched the fingerless gargoyle on an old oak telephone table. This was the last thing Morton wanted to see right now.

  “It’s perfect, don’t you think? It even has lights.” Dad flicked a switch at the end of the hallway and small spotlights flashed on in the alcove, casting sharp shadows on the grim stone face. Morton’s chills grew stronger again.

  “It’s a bit early for Halloween decorations, don’t you think?” Melissa said coldly.

  “I thought you’d like it,” Dad said, sounding a little crestfallen. “You like it, don’t you, Morton?”

  Morton made a weak smile and attempted to answer, but all that came out was a tremulous croaking sound.

  “Of course he likes it,” Melissa said obliviously. “But he doesn’t count because he’s a monster-loving freak. Personally I think you should throw the ugly thing away.”

  “I can’t do that,” Dad said. “It’s an antique.”

  “I doubt it,” Melissa said. “Some kid probably stole it from a graveyard and tossed it on our lawn when he realized how ugly it was.”

  Dad sighed. “There’s no pleasing some people. Come on. I have to go to work soon. Let’s have some supper.”

  At that James, Melissa, and Dad wandered back into the kitchen. But Morton stood as if paralyzed, staring at the rigid face of the grizzly statue. Why did this odd, lifeless figure send chills of fear running up and down his spine? Normally he loved this sort of thing. It made no sense. But there was something … something at the edge of memory….

  Morton suddenly thought he heard whispering. He turned sharply around, but he was alone on the landing. He turned back to look into the gargoyle’s tiny hollow eyes. Is that where the whispering was coming from?

  He leaned closer to the gargoyle, straining to listen. An eerie shadow seemed to close in around him. Surely he was imagining things. He leaned closer still, his ear almost touching the gargoyle’s cold gray lips. Yes, he was sure of it now. He could hear faint whispering, and it was coming from the gargoyle. Morton felt a jolt of fear flash through his body and tore himself away, running as fast as his legs would carry him into the kitchen.

  He burst through the door and the others all turned to look at him in surprise.

  “Is everything all right?” Dad asked.

  “Fine,” Morton lied. “What’s for supper?”

  It was dusk by the time they finished supper and Morton’s odd sense of déjà vu had passed, although an unfamiliar grayness still seemed to be clouding his mood. He decided that what he needed was to curl up in bed and read a few Scare Scape comics to take his mind off things.

  As soon as the dishes were cleared away Dad began racing around the house in a last-minute panic, gathering the papers and charts and piles of books he needed for his first day of work. When he was finally ready to leave, James, Morton, and Melissa felt obliged to walk him to the car and wave good-bye from the driveway.

  “My number at the observatory is on the fridge if you need it,” Dad said, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “And failing that, you can always call Mrs. Smedley.”

  “Mrs. Smedley? Who’s she?” Melissa said suspiciously.

  “A nice lady I met who lives across the road. Her number is on the fridge too.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I don’t think we’ll be needing any old ladies to keep an eye on us.”

  “It’s just in case of emergencies,” Dad said, then tilted his head at Morton. “And make sure this one doesn’t stay up late reading those comics. Melissa, you’re responsible for making sure lights are out by nine o’
clock, okay?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Melissa droned.

  “If I find any of your grades slipping, I will hire the meanest, ugliest, most unctuous babysitter in the city.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” James said. “We’ll behave, we promise.”

  “Good, then I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  Dad put the car in gear and reversed quickly up the driveway.

  “What does unctuous mean?” Morton asked as Dad’s car turned onto the street and vanished.

  “It means greasy,” Melissa said smugly.

  “Greasy?” Morton said. “Why would Dad hire a greasy babysitter?”

  “Don’t listen to her,” James said. “She doesn’t even know how to use a dictionary.”

  Melissa clucked her tongue and turned to go back into the house. “Have it your own way, smarty-pants.”

  James and Morton turned to follow her. The house was now a dark silhouette against a dimly glowing sky. It seemed more angular and crooked than ever before, and moonlit shadows fell across the walls like a veil of black lace. Morton looked up and noticed what he thought were birds flying around the peak of the turret. Then he realized it was too dark for birds. They were bats. Morton knew there were more than a thousand species of bat in the world, and they were one of the few real animals that made a regular appearance in Scare Scape. They were definitely one of Morton’s favorite creatures. Despite this he didn’t feel as excited by them as he normally would. The cloud hanging over him was dulling everything.

  As soon as they got back in the house, Morton announced that he was tired and went to bed early to read his comics. It was the first time he’d read them since they’d arrived in Dimvale. He was relieved to find that the grizzly stories about fantastical monsters, human betrayal, greed, and corruption still had the same oddly comforting effect.

  All too soon Melissa burst into the room to tell him it was time to sleep.

  “Okay. Squirto,” she said, tugging the comic rudely from his hands, “you heard Dad’s orders. Lights out.”

  “Can’t I at least finish that story?” Morton moaned, not daring to risk grabbing the comic back for fear of creasing the pages.

  In answer to the question Melissa stuffed the comic into his bedside drawer and turned off the reading lamp. A silvery moonlight fell into the room, throwing Morton’s entire zoo of ghoulish creatures into a web of spidery shadows. Melissa glanced at them and shuddered before heading straight back out of the room.