Moquerie de la mère

It never left my mind.

By

Spencer D.W.

Part 1: Solitaire

I’m not a crazy man. I know what you might think, that is exactly what you would expect to hear from someone who is in fact, crazy. In truth, this is all supposed to be therapeutic, a way to bring metaphoric monsters to light. I don’t know what it will do for the real ones. I have told this story many times. To my parents, police, therapist. Every time I got the same look, I got my medicine increased and it never went farther than that. This most recent therapist implored me to write it down “The best I could remember.” Memories fade with time, some stick to you like tumors.

I was a kid, thirteen years old. I was living in this little shit hole of a town with my dad; when I say little, I am not exaggerating. A main street contained all there was to see. A small little grocery store, run by the same family that had run it for probably far too long. Everything was far too overpriced for what it was, an upcharge to save people from having to drive an hour to a bigger town for their groceries. There was a post office. The school was kindergarten through high school. If you weren’t some type of farmer, it didn’t hold much. My dad moved here for a firefighting job, of which he complained it was also rather boring. Being from a slightly bigger town, I had far different interests than most of the kids around me. Despite that, or maybe in light of it, I did make a group of friends. Curtis and Ben were the first people I was able to even talk to. They were a year behind me in school but we shared almost identical interests, all of which were far from shoveling shit or working with the ones that dispensed the shit. A little bit on in the school year, we three became friends with a girl named Ashley. An anomaly among anyone else in the town, sporting brightly colored hair, ripped jeans, and band t-shirts. All of which made her stick out like a sore thumb. I wasn’t sure if she hung out with us out of actual friendship or from lack of options, but we all got along just the same. I like to think I made the town that much more tolerable, as they did for me. In truth, without them, I had never felt so physically and mentally isolated in my short life. Came to figure out that it was just the first painful pull of a hangnail that would cover my entire body in the end.

It was with these three that I would spend any time I wasn’t home with my dad or staying with my mom some weekends. We had made it a tradition to hang out at each other's houses as often as we could, playing magic the gathering or video games. These nights were ones that I would cherish. Even now I can’t help but smile thinking of it.

The four of us cramped into Ben’s far too small of a room, yelling at the TV screen and each other. Drinking enough soda that could make a gorilla's heart explode. Eating so much microwaved food, we had to be close to Chornobyl levels of radiation.

“Hey Tom, got money?”. Curtis piped up from the back while waiting for the respawn timer to dump him back out into the chaos.

“Uhh, like fifteen bucks or something. Why?”. Just as quick as he spawned, he died.

“Fuck! Oh, well we could go down to the store. They have Halo 2, they never get new releases this quickly! I have been asking my mom to rent it, but no luck.” Like a hive mind, all three of us looked at each other with excitement. It was around ten o'clock at night, but that hasn't stopped us from going to the store to get snacks. Mr. Bobby kept the store open at all hours, we weren't going to complain. Ben’s parents were both working nights and we had nothing to stop us.

We all grabbed our sweaters, Ashley didn’t have a bike to ride so Curtis lent her his and rode a shitty old rust bucket that had been decaying by his house since the first day I was invited over to his house, and even then it looked like a pile of shit. It never moved from that spot. As we started to ride, the incessant squawking of metal and rubber pushing against each other told anyone within a mile how old that Danm bike was. Curtis grabbed us flashlights from his dad's “junk” drawer, he was a cop for the town an hour down the road so they were these heavy-duty ones. Not a street light was present from Ben’s house to Main Street. Just the longest stretch of what I would loosely define as a paved road, corn fields flanking each side with an errant driveway spaced out between them for what felt like an eternity. We all spread out across the road. We knew that the headlights of a car would be visible from miles away and we would be able to get out of the way in time. The sound of crickets and other bugs filled the soundscape. As we passed an old driveway, just as we did every time we had passed this particular driveway, the sounds, or lack thereof always put me on edge. It was like nothing existed around this place. Just a mile or two of dirt road to an old rotting home that hadn’t ever been occupied, at least not as long as I had lived there.

Kids would share stories about it. Sometimes it was monsters, other times it was ghosts. All the usual stuff. I remember asking my dad about it. He didn’t grow up here, but he had lived here much longer than me. Having moved in with him from my mom's house to finish school in a smaller school setting. He wouldn’t tell me much, that a woman lived there on her own for years and years. Basically from birth till death. Guess she must have inherited it from her parents. She was friendly with everyone, but one day she stopped showing up to church, to the store. People out here appreciate their privacy so no one really pried, or was even worried as the days turned into weeks, turned to months, turned to years. Since the house was still very much in her ownership it could never be resold, she owned it and the land around it, so it remained there. The corn fields were kept up on, replanted, and harvested. My dad said she must have had an agreement with local farmers to use her land. He remembers having a conversation with a farmer who regularly worked that field among others. I guess when the agreement was made, the only stipulation was to stay out of her house, and her barn. Telling them men they could leave no tools on sight. Like opposites, where the fields were bright green and flourishing, the house itself was deteriorating away, the white paint fell off with every rain. It made sense why there were so many stories surrounding the place, it wasn’t just that it was empty, the look of it lent itself to such stories. Looking at it in the daylight would send shivers down my spine, I never knew why. It was so far off the main road that if you just glanced at it, it would appear as a normal, inhabited house. But it was like seeing something you shouldn’t, be somewhere you shouldn’t. Passing it in the night now was comforting in a way, I couldn't see it, just the very end of the driveway that connected to the main road. It was still unsettling all the same. Like a long dirt tongue ready to retract into jaws waiting in the dark. Knowing something you can’t see is watching you.

As we were passing the driveway of the house, like a shark out of the murk a car came flying down the road, no headlights to warn us and the sound of Curtis’ bike made hearing it near impossible. It flung past me, nearly crumpling my front tire in the process. I slammed on my brakes and dropped the flashlight in a panic to try to stop, the three of them behind me all collided together as we got flung into the ditch just off the road, luckily it wasn’t the time of the year that it would be flowing with knee deep irrigation water. Instead just smeared with a little mud, the dribbling amount of water that leaked from its sources. The car didn’t stop, didn’t turn its lights on. We could just hear it driving away down the road, away from main street, back the way we came. I had been there for years at this point, and not once did a maniac drive down a pitch-black road without headlights. If anything, people would pull over to ask us if we wanted a ride, everyone was so friendly in the area.

“Holy fuck!” Ben hollered from the back. “What happened?!”

“That lunatic about killed me!” I could hear my voice cracking in my throat as it struggled to overcome the adrenaline that was now swarming my blood.

“Who drives in pitch black night with no headlights, nevermind us, that idiot is going to crash and die,” Ashley said climbing out of the ditch, wringing out her hoodie that had taken the full brunt of the water.

As we watched down the road, we saw its light flicker on. It wanted to be well far from its origin before turning them on.

“I’ll tell my dad about it, didja see the plate Tom?” Curtis exerted climbing out of the ditch.

“I could hardly see the thing, let alone the plate!”

“True, I’ll still tell him.” Curtis was proud of his dad’s job, a point of pride he wore on his sleeve. If you didn’t know him, you would think he was the cop.

“Absolute weirdo.” Ben proclaimed as he finished checking himself for cuts with his flashlight. All of us had dragged our way out of the ditch and were checking our bikes. All of which looked in a fine state. Just like before, we wouldn’t let a near-death experience stop us from our mission.

It took us nearly the whole way to main street to shake off what had just happened. The minute we entered that dim, dusty little store and found the copy of Halo 2, the car that nearly smeared me across the road was the farthest thing from our minds, at least for me that was true. Dumb kids, all of us. We were hovering around the coolers, trying to figure out how much it would cost if we each got a drink. The entire time Mr. Bobby leered at us from behind the counter, his chair leaning back. The man's face looked like it hadn’t known the sweet sense of sleep in decades. Though he was nice enough he was always on the lookout. We brought our items up to the counter to check out, Mr bobby started to scan them, and he chuckled when he saw the game.

“Knew y'all would be in here for this.” He talked through his teeth like he was in the grip of anger. “Also Curtis wouldn’t stop talking about it every time he was in here.” His eyes locked with Curtis’. Who just kinda smiled in an “I’m far too dumb a kid to have planned this” kind of way.

“By the way kiddo, you happen to know anything about the Bic lighters that keep on going missin'? ” He half smiled as he said it. Curtis rubbed his neck forcing a laugh. We all knew he had been stealing Bic lighters. So either Mr. Bobby knew and was making him sweat, or just falsely accusing him for a chuckle.

“Thank you so much Mr. Bobby for getting it in the store.” Ashley piped up from the back, the three of us boys didn’t have much common sense or manners between us. So we always appreciated the correction from Ashley.

“Yes, thank you Mr.Bobby!” we all practically shouted in unison.

“Now let's hope we make it home alive.” Ben laughed and nudged at me like I was the one that nearly got us all killed.

“Make it home alive?” Mr. Bobby stopped bagging the drinks and game and just stared at us. Not out of anger, more concern. Though he was a hard ass ninety percent of the time he cared greatly for everyone in this town.

“Oh yeah, Mr. Bobby. On our way here a car about ruined our entire night.” Ben made one fist crash into his other. “Tom was at the front, so in truth, it was him who would have had the worst night out of all of us.”

“You didn’t see it coming? Happen to see what kind of car, we can’t have those high schoolers driving like maniacs around these roads.”

“No, it didn’t have its lights on. And came down that creepy old house's driveway.” Ben said it in a reassuring way like it was better than high schoolers being dicks.

“Let me understand this, a car without its headlights on came speeding out of the creepy house driveway, nearly hitting y'all kids? I assume it didn’t stop?”

“No, Sir. and it sped off in the opposite direction of town.” Me saying this was like I was giving a police report. In all honesty, we should have, but we were all more focused on the videogame now rattling around in a paper baggie. Mr Bobby wore a grimace like he had just sucked on a lemon.

“What's wrong?” Ashley talked over us again.

“I figure it must be Mrs. Johnston. I always figured she had to be coming back to visit the house.” He rubbed his callus sausage fingers across his unkempt stubble.

“That was the lady that owned it?” Mentioning this mystery woman was enough to break me away from the thought of killing aliens just long enough to ask.

“Yeah. People like to tell stories about her. How she upped and left. People are full of shit! She told some of us. It wasn’t our place to tell anyone else. She had her reasons.” His distant stare turned to a stern look. “Don’t you kids go spreading that shit around. She deserves her privacy after all she has been through.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Bobby, but what did she go through?” Ashley, oddly enough was the one to pipe up about this. She usually kept well enough alone when people didn’t want to share.

“Not my place to say.”

“what? Did she like, kill someone?” Curtis practically shouted.

“Shut your mouth.” Mr. Bobby landed a firm smack on the back of Curtis’ head.

“Don't be joking about that.” His tone shifted again to a more father-figure cadence.

“Now, please be careful on your way home” His grimace turned to a more jovial look as he held out his ham-sized fist for a fist bump from all four of us. We weren’t ones to pass up a solid fist bump. Don’t think any kid would of back then.

We decided to walk our bikes back home. Curtis didn’t want to keep riding the ancient piece of shit bike that had an equally ancient seat that in his words, “Was destroying his ass”. And to be honest, we were all on edge though not sure any of us would admit it, especially as we approached that same driveway.

“You think Mr. Bobby is gonna do something about what happened?” Ashley said stopping at the entrance to the driveway pointing her light down the black void of a road, Only illuminating a fraction of that long dark walk.

“Doubt it? I could barely see what kind of car it was; it passed us so fast.” And it was true, I didn’t see a damn thing, more felt the wind as it passed before falling in the ditch.

“Hey, turn your lights off.” Ben pushed Ashley and mine's light down that we had flickering down that patch of sinister dirt.

“Fuck, no!” I pulled my flashlight out of his hands. “I am not turning this off until we get home.”

“You are terrified!” Curtis shouted. His voice carried away on the night breeze that had picked up.

“Yeah? And you aren’t?” None of them spoke up, and I wish it would have stayed that way, but after the extended silence, Curtis had to open his fucking mouth. Let me be clear, I don’t blame him. We were kids, curious. And to be honest I think he wanted any chance to impress Ashley. But the next words he said is why I am here telling you this story now.

“Let's go take a look.” five words that I would live to regret not fighting against more. Though I couldn't have known at the time what was going to happen. I was still terrified. Late nights out there didn’t help, it was a different kind of darkness. The only lights were car headlights and porch lights that were so far removed from the road as to not matter in the slightest. The fields of corn made an oppressive wall of the unknown. Each stalk shifting in the wind was far more likely to be a slathering monster in a kid's head.

“Why?” Was the only thing I could think to say. While I was far more than hesitant to go, that Idiotic kid brain did not want to look like a coward in front of my friends.

“We hear all these stories about it, obviously horseshit. But, if we go we can disprove them. Tell people we saw the house, up close!” Curtis was solving a problem that didn’t exist. I could count on one hand how many times this house was ever brought up at school, but like I said before; kid brain. And just like any kid's brain, he had a tone and a stance that I Had seen before. The same kind that every boy uses when a girl is in a ten-yard vicinity. It wasn't a secret Curtis had a crush on Ashley and he was using this horrible idea to demonstrate how brave he was. A fake bravado of a boy infatuated. I wish I would have rather called him a horrible name and kept walking. Why the fuck did we go into that house.

Part 2:Détesté

The driveway swallowed us whole, even with the flashlights it wouldn’t take long to lose track of us as we walked deeper down the infinite-feeling driveway. It felt like a tunnel, Corn flanking either side and black above. The street was manageable, though it had no street lights, the familiarity of the pavement, and the inconsistent passing of cars made for moments of respite. Here, there was none. Every sound was amplified, damn near thunderous. The scuff of our shoes in the gravel, each other's breaths that betrayed our growing anxiety, though none of us would admit it. Especially Curtis, who was glancing at Ashley every so often. Like she would be swooning visibly over how brave he was to bring up this idea. As the street became farther and farther from us, and that horrid house loomed bigger and bigger, I wanted to turn around and run, leave them there. Knowing what I know now, I should have. They would have followed, we would have laughed about it back at Ben’s place. I don’t know what it was that kept me moving forward, maybe it was my friends that gave me some semblance of courage, or maybe it was a type of curiosity, an intrusive little, nagging insect in my mind that had to know what was in the house. All the years here and I never felt the compulsion. What was wrong with me? Maybe it was the new information about Mrs. Johnston Like we were going to uncover a mystery like they did on fucking scooby doo.

The lights started to gently wash against the fading white paint of the house. Reflecting in the windows, all of which seemed near pristine next to the state of the rest of the exterior. A handful of minutes later we had made it to the clearing surrounding the house, a dirt, unkempt moat around the outstretching of verdant green corn stalks, Like a festering sore on a beautiful face. The house itself looked like any other house here, construction-wise like it was built long before even our parents were alive, except this one’s paint peeled like drying scabs. Though through all this, the door was quite nice in comparison. A black, even in the cone of our light seemed to absorb the light around it. It was as if the abyss itself had a doorway. Beckoning the light to never leave.

“Are we sure about this?” I had to finally speak up, like it wretched out of my mouth like sour bile.

“I knew you were afraid, I could hear you peeing your pants while we walked down here.” Curtis chuckled, a jab that wasn’t meant to harm, just to be playful enough that it put me at ease for just a moment. We scanned around the house as best we could from our firmly planted position at the edge of that dirt moat. Three-story house, a barn well past dilapidated, and a few other outbuildings. Each one was in far worse shape than the house itself. Mr. Bobby said the corn was kept up by others, but parts of the house were noticeably newer than others. The windows, the front door. At the time I was far too ignorant of any kind of house construction to point this out. It was one of those odd things, that you know is odd. But couldn’t tell why.

“That car was absolutely here,” Ashley said in a loud whisper, the kind you think is quieter than it is. Her hand, gripping her flashlight, uncircled her index finger to point at the tread marks across the ground. They looked like they were placed deliberately; they were so perfect. The kind you would see cops in detective shows miss. Despite their very prominent appearance.

“You think it was really that Johnston lady? Like Mr. Bobby said?” The anxiety had my heart knocking at the back of my ribs.

“Who else could it be? Just don’t know why she wouldn’t have her lights on.” Ben answered still looking intently at the house through squinting eyes.

“Curtis, If it was her. Then this isn’t looking at an abandoned house, it’s breaking and entering. You of all people should know why that’s bad.” I glared at him the best I could, I just never felt convincing being authoritative.

“She isn’t here now, so abandoned,” Curtis smirked back at my failed attempt to get us to leave this fucking dirt patch.

“That isn’t how it works,” Ashley mumbled, wandering closer to the porch with steps that an ant would think were small.

“Well, no one will find out. The farmers don’t look in her house, at least from what Bobby said. So why not?” He sounded more defensive than he had all night, like something rode on this that none of us knew about. Some imaginary herculean task.

Before I could form a thought to attempt to argue more with his terrible logic, a loud clang had us all jump. Ashley gave the door a good few tugs.

“It’s locked up anyway, couldn’t go in if we wanted to,” Ashley said turning around to face us.

As we argued, we got a bit more comfortable, our volumes raised an octave or two. Whether that was the reason or something else, I could feel someone watching me. Not just a passing fear, no. This was insistent, like if I looked around I could see the eyes peering back at me through the corn, in the distance…or in the window on the third floor. My silence must have been for much longer than I thought it was as Ben was shaking me, trying to knock me out of whatever stupor I was in. I wanted to tell them. I should have. Those were eyes. Looking down at us. My mother always told me that people's eyes can play tricks on them in the dark, your mind makes up images in the black inky mix. It must have been what it was, at least I thought at the time. No eyes were reflecting the little ambient light that reached the top floor from our flashlights back at me like an animal on the road, trapped in headlights. In truth, even now. I am not and was not sure of what I saw. I just knew the fear that was welling in my guts was a primal one that I had never felt before, or scarcely have felt since.

“We could look for one of those tiny basement windows. My uncle's house has one and I’ve had to slip in several times when he locked himself out.” As Ashley spoke, my teeth clenched, grinding against one another. It was like a fox seeing the trap hidden under dry leaves, and convincing it’s self to walk over it.

“We Aren’t about to break into this house, are we? It’s one thing if it was left open, but it’s not.” My voice cracked with the fear rising from my gut and settling in my throat like hot bile. We all glanced at one another. What they were thinking, I am not sure, but I hated how calm they looked.

“You don’t have to Tom, you can stay here, or walk back to my house and wait for us.” Ben was trying his best not to shine a light on the shit-eating grin that was creeping across his face. He knew I wouldn't do that. Walking down here with a group was bordering on unbearable, there wasn’t any way in hell that I would do it alone.

Accepting my place in this crime we were in the middle of, we all walked around the left side of the house, looking for a basement window we could squeeze into, with the decaying white painted wood on our right and a wall of corn stalks no more than a few yards from us. We tried our best to be as quiet as possible, which was probably of little consequence now, seeing how we were having only half-whispered conversations in front of the house. Each step crackled with shifting gravel and detritus that had flaked off the house. I focused heavily on my footsteps, trying to distribute my weight on the front of my toes, like I would do when I was younger, pretending to be a ninja around the house. One step, followed by crackling rocks. Two steps, followed by the same crackling rocks. Three steps… Creaking wood above us. I stopped like I had confronted a bear. Frozen in place instantly, goosebumps ran up my legs, and my arms.

“Why the fuck did you stop.” Ben Piped up from just behind me. I wanted to run, every cell in my body was screaming at me too.

“ I heard something in the house.” My whisper was as low as I could make it. Ben looked at me confused, we both looked up at the second floor. No windows were above us, but we could hear it. The creaking wood, as you hear in an old house, gives away every little movement of the people within. The creaking kept moving down the house, towards the other two, who were slowly making their way forward still, not knowing me and Ben were stopped. It didn’t move fast, it was as slow as we were moving, steady, even calm.

Ben gave me a push—not hard, just enough to restart my brain and keep walking. We found the other two just around the corner, looking into the basement window, shining their lights in like they knew what they were looking for like they were expert cat burglars now.

“We heard someone walking in the house,” we said in unison. Ashley and Curtis lifted their light at me like I was spoiling their fun.

“You didn’t hear shit.” There weren’t many times in our friendship I had felt anger towards any of them. Though now was one of those times. It took every bit of restraint not to slap him across the head.

“We did. It was following along with us.” Ben whispered.

“You probably heard a raccoon that got in, or a possum or something. There isn’t any way someone is living in this house…”

“Maybe not living, maybe they are squatters or something. My dad told me about them, it happens more than most people think.” I cut Curtis off before he could speak more of his excuses. I could see in his eyes he was worried, it was like he was trying to convince himself of the shit he was vomiting up.

“If someone heard us, you think they would just stalk us around the house? They probably would be out here yelling at us to get off the property. Also, the owner was just here. I think. Think they would just let a squatter stay?”

“It doesn’t matter, we can just go home. Play Halo 2. Fuck, why are we even here.” I felt panic welling in my chest, like the kind I got when the teacher would call me out in class like I was about to lose every bit of what I had inside me in one large stomach convulsion.

The window creaked open as it pulled loose from the swollen clutches of the frame. Ashley had been working on it the entire time I was trying to convince them to leave. Cold air was pouring out of the window like a tomb that had just been unsealed.

“Come on, we go in. We look at the cool dusty shit and we leave.” Curtis smiled like he was coming up with a compromise, he didn’t know how shitty of one that was, or if he was that stupid. Before I could even say anything further, he slid his legs in through the window. I was a kid, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know that if I turned around right now and left it would have ended far better than it did. They would have followed me, they would have chickened out. Instead, Curtis was through the window, we could hear shifting, we poked our heads down and saw him in the open basement like it was proof nothing bad could ever happen. Stupidly, we all followed him in.

Part three: Maudit

It all wreaked of mold and dust. The basement was barren, save a few decaying pieces of old furniture that may have been two chairs or maybe a couch at one point. A wide cement flooring, the cold of which I could feel through my sneakers. A single, dangling lightbulb hung from the ceiling. My flashlight was darting around, checking each corner, then checking them again when I forgot if had or not already. The adrenaline was already pushing itself through my body. I wanted nothing more than to push past Ashley who was sliding herself into the window and run home. The fear of the long walk home in the dark kept me from running from the current fear filling me. It would have been better to face that fear than the one that called this place its home.

“See, no one has an empty basement, there is no way anyone still lives here,” Curtis said dawdling towards the base of the rickety old stairs leading up. I didn’t have the brainpower to argue with him or appeal to reason. Fuck, I was a kid. I don’t think I even saw the reason. It's just pure terror filling every corner of my circulatory system. Curtis moved up the stairs. It was a good thing he believed no one was in the house because each step was thunderous. Maybe it was the near-empty basement reflecting sound across the cement walls, but if it was even half as loud one floor up, if there was someone, they knew we were there.

“Jesus. Try being a little quieter. Fatty.” Ben jibed at Curtis, who was not anywhere near “fat”. The second Ben took his first delicate step on that first stair it creaked just as loud, maybe louder just as a sort of cosmic joke that Ben was the butt of. Ashley and Curtis burst out laughing. I stood there still near the window we had entered through, a white knuckle grip on the stippling of the metal flashlight. My teeth grinding against one another. Many of these memories are sometimes hard to dredge into my mind, and paint the picture of, if that makes sense. But that feeling, standing there with anxiety squirming in my gut while my friends laughed, is one of the handful of things I can never forget. It was like knowing a meteor was rushing to earth, and not another soul did, had knowledge of their doom, of teeth raking in the dark.

We all made our way up the noisy stairs, when we knew we couldn’t do it quietly we all just clambered up. Better get it over quickly, we figured. The fading white door opened into the rotten kitchen. Different shades of dark painted the red linoleum floor, casting shadows within shadows when our lights were not drowning them out. A thick layer of dust was over every counter. The fridge door was ajar, empty, and growing some sort of mold across it. It was hard to focus, as my friends were smiling, having the time of their lives. I kept one ear on the floor above us, waiting for the same creaking of settling weight I had heard just outside the windows. That Ben seemed to have brushed off already as he made a shadow puppet of a dog on the moldy fridge, the mold emulating the hair of the dog. Looking back now, I kept myself at the back of the group, hovering the nearest I possibly could near the basement and subsequently the exit. This behavior only rose as we looked down the hall connecting the kitchen to the entranceway. Two large metal bars were across the door like you might see in a castle or something. Curtis moved a few steps down another conjoining hallway to see the backdoor had the same treatment. We all looked at each other, not one of us pretending this to be normal.

“There’s writing on it.” We could hear Curtis’ voice echo slightly down the hallway. “Check out the other.” Ashley and Ben moved down the opposite hallway towards the front. They didn’t even need to make it to it before we all got the confirmation.

“Oh, yeah. Weird ass scribbles all over this one.” Ben called out. I don’t know if it was the fact I was alone standing in that forsaken little kitchen inside that nightmare of a house maybe it was just far enough away from the others to hear what had been there all along. A creaking wood squeaked above the kitchen, there was no ceiling, just bare boards. I scanned across the ceiling with my light. It all looked normal, albeit out of place in its current condition, it wasn’t until my light passed a knotted piece of wood, with a large gap in it. Two fingers gripped against it. My breath ceased, and my heart nearly burst through my ribs. My light traced over where the person was lying. As someone might against a door, to hear what's on the other side. I could see where the light passed through the cracks and where something stopped it. My eyes were locked on the fingers, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at, they were much longer than anyone I had seen. So much so, that the finger could curve around the board it perforated as if it could lift it from its foundation.

I don’t know how long I was sitting there staring at those fingers. I still see them when I lay on my back at night. I have had to change my habits to become a sleeper. Doesn’t matter the ceiling, I can see those boards, those fingers curled out of them. I sometimes wonder how I looked. As I watched them, afraid to look away as they might leave. Or maybe it was to see them move, to confirm to my adolescent mind what I was seeing. As Curtis reentered the kitchen, The fingers, and the entire silhouette shifted, pulling away from the boards.

“Hey, Tom, come look at these letters. They look like badly drawn unknown from Pokemon. It’s kinda cool, kinda want to make those in welding class on some sheet metal….” He stopped as he fully entered and saw me staring straight up like a turkey in the rain, the light illuminating the ceiling above me.

“Tom?” He gave me a gentle punch on the shoulder, pulling my eyes down towards him. I could feel how sick I must have looked. At first, I couldn’t form the words I wanted to. After a moment of looking dead-eyed into Curtis’ eyes, it all came out. I did my best to talk in as hushed tones as I could.

“We need to leave, I saw someone.” I pointed the light back to the hole in the boards. “Their fucking fingers were poking through that hole.” I wiggled my fingers to demonstrate. Curtis looked at me like I just told him I had a crush on his mom or something.

“That's awesome! Let's do that to Ashley and Ben, and see if we can freak them out. Ben will shit his pants, but he will try to be chill about it.” Curtis made no effort to lower his voice. I almost instinctually backed away from him, like he was now a target I didn’t want to be near.

“It’s not a joke or a bit. I saw someone up there.”

“You’re serious?” the smile leaving his face Just as any color in my face did long ago. I could just nod furiously in response. Trying my best not to let the tears welling behind my eyes stream down my cheeks.

“Hey guys, there are stairs.” We both heard Ben yell out. Almost like we were connected I felt both of our hearts jump into our throats, quickly moving their direction, not wanting to yell, but trying desperately to whisper a warning, anything. Ashley saw us barreling down the hallway, she was halfway up the bannerless stairs. We didn’t hear Ben walking around, or any movement besides our hearts thumping in surround sound. The top of the stairs looked like a flat wall of darkness, with no ambient light from Ben’s flashlight.

“There is someone up there,” Curtis whispered to Ashely, who did not think it was a joke as he did. Her eyes stopped smiling all at once, glistening against the ambient light of our torches. Partly frozen, part listening for any hint that Ben was alright. I don’t know why I went up those stairs. Besides the doom that lingered in the house with us, The stairs themselves looked as if one misplaced step would send me right down to hell. I can remember the sound each footstep made as my weight settled on it. It moaned as someone in pain might. A low groan echoed off the dust-covered furniture that remained against the peeling wallpaper.

I have tried my hardest to tell my therapist this next part. Whenever I do, I retreat within myself like I did when I got to the top of those stairs. My light, just in front of me, illuminated each new step to not have to worry about tetanus on top of every made-up demon I had conjured in my head. Turns out, not one would compare to what had been living in that house. To this day I try and try to tell this to so many people: my parents, the police, Ben’s parents. I couldn’t, I knew I shouldn’t lie, it wasn’t that I was scared of their reactions or their actions that would follow the information. I truly could not bring the horror that was burnt against my eyes onto them. Much later I would realize that even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed a thing. I would have ended up in the same place, probably writing this same thing out. I like to think in that version there was a sense of closure. For someone.

The light from my torch flickered as I reached the apex of the stairs, and let it trail down to the end of the hallway that ended no more than ten or fifteen yards from me. I saw it before the light reached its feet that held up its withered frame up. I could see Ben through the flickering light, He was between me and it, he wasn’t moving, but his eyes were. A swarm of baby blue eyes flicked back and forth between Ben and me. Its pupils pinpricks against the inconsistent light of our flashlights. I remember thinking that it moved similar to the salamanders I used to catch in the creek. Its head folded forward as it settled on its four appendages, all of them revealing the deception of its weight, though it looked light the boards under it creaked in agony at the strain. Its fingers curled back on themselves, still moving, almost twitching as it shifted its weight back and forth. I could hear Ben crying, sobbing, and trying his best to hold it back. I still don’t know how I summoned any form of autonomy as I stood there, frozen.

“Ben. backup.” As I whispered its pupils fixed on me. Its mouth mimicked the shape of mine as I spoke. Its mouth is similar to anyone else’s just longer across its face. What little lips it had stuck to its gums and curled as it moved them. No noise besides the sound you might hear when you clack your teeth together. Was it trying to speak? Or merely emulate what I was doing? I was ecstatic that Ben had heard me, he was stepping backward toe to heel as slowly as he could. To both our horror it mimicked the movement, not the steps, the direction. Stepping with him, each time he took a step backward. When it moved its size was much more apparent. Filling the space in the hallway as if the house was made two sizes too small. It had jutting appendages, like ends of ribs coming from the same place you might find them in a normal human's chest. These squirmed and scrapped against the wood below it as it dragged its hulking form along. Like shrimp along the rocky ocean floor.

At the moment I didn’t understand what was happening, looking back now I felt as if some form of vertigo was setting in. My head throbbed, my stomach churned. Yes, it was fear but it was as if my body. No, my mind rejected what it was seeing. It must have completely taken over Ben’s faculties as he was standing there staring at it longer than I had. I could hear Ashley and Curtis down the stairs beckoning both of us with soft words.

“Ben, please get back.” If I had any warmth left in my blood, it was now gone. It spoke, Mimicking the words I had said seconds ago. It was far from perfect and made it all the more unsettling as it twisted my own words with the atrocity that was its cracking lips and swirling black tongue. Ben froze again as it said his name. I could hear his quick rapid breaths, pushing and pulling snot in his nose, tears big enough to make a noise as they landed on his jacket and backpack straps. I didn’t know what to do. I blame myself, maybe Ben would still be here now. It is something I often think about. No child should have to go through what Ben did. He remained still in place, my light flickering weakly against his backpack, casting a shadow of himself across the creature and the hallway behind it. Why didn’t I yell? Something? Even as the creature reached out in front of it, its long crooked arm easily reached to Ben. Its fingers wrapped around him, closing across his backpack, dwarfing Ben further than it already had.

“What're you two doing?!” I heard Ashley break through the ringing in my ear, the heartbeat in my chest. Almost snapping me out of the haze of what I was witnessing. It must have done the same to Ben, and worse to the thing gripping around his chest and arms. Its fingers flexed, tightening a grip that was already a vice. I like to think Ben didn’t suffer. I like to lie to myself. Ben let out a scream that was filled with the gurgling of his chest collapsing against the strain as the creature pulled him in closer. It began to back away, towards a small room at the end of the hallway. I can still hear Ben sobbing like a newborn begging for his mom and dad. Why couldn't I have done something? Curtis had reached the top of the stairs and pulled on my backpack hard. I’m not sure why I fell as I did. My knees were weak and I was so focused on Ben that the pull from Curtis was a shock. It flung me down the stairs. I just remember a sharp pain and then it was like sleeping.

Part four: Enfant

When my eyes opened, a ball of bile in my stomach shot from my mouth across the dusty floor. My head was still spinning as it was looking at that creature. The first thing I noticed was the silence. Looking around Curtis and Ashley were gone. It was just me, and the warm sensation of blood slowly running down the back of my head.

The house was empty, and even as my head’s throbbing pain got farther and farther apart and my senses seemed to get back in line, the silence prevailed still. I wanted to call out, but that thing was still very fresh in my memory. I stood, listening as hard as I could, cupping my hands to my ears trying anything to figure out which way they were. I wanted just to leave and sprint for the basement and the window out of here. I just couldn’t abandon them. I wish I did. Would I feel more or less guilt than I do now?

I could hear a very slight creaking of the house coming from upstairs. It was the only thing that stood out, so I followed it. I didn’t find Curtis, or Ashley up there. I found a small room, which I would describe as a nest, it looked like those hives paper wasps make. It covered the walls of the back corners, offsetting the baby blue hue with a deep glistening black. Like an ungodly paper mache, it was made with newspaper and whatever liquid that was binding them together into a structure creating a tapestry of different geometry that made the room feel so much smaller than it was. I took a few steps into the room when the smell wafted into my nostrils, a mix of old grease and the bathrooms at school. It was all I could do to not vomit again. Looking closer at some of the structures I could see pictures. Old, very old. Of a woman. A man. It ranged from Christmas pictures to vacation pictures, of her pregnant with what I would assume was their extended family. Then the pictures were only the women. Still a belly and smiling the type of smile you put on when you have to, when you don’t want others to worry. Then the woman was a background piece in pictures with the same family. Missing the belly. It was like my curiosity had sapped any fear from my body as I looked at the photos in the newspapers. There were notes I couldn’t make out. The substance soaked into the paper and mudded the words.

I’m so sorry.

Please forgive me.

I just wanted you back.

It won't be long before I’ll take you away from here.

I love you.

All the pieces of the letters I could read, all from separate ones. I tried to tell the police about these letters. How this thing must have been kept here. It didn’t make sense. As I scanned for more to read my eyes went past the window. It faced the back of the house, the window was only half covered in that glistening shit that filled the corner. I could still see out of it into the cornfields. My eyes and flashlight swung around as I heard a loud bang from downstairs. Like a door flung open against a wall, I could hear the cold night breeze enter the house. They must have run out of the house is what I thought at the moment. When my eyes returned to the window, the horizon of shadowed cornstalks had a new occupant. It stood a good few feet higher than the stalks. I could see its eyes reflecting the light of my flashlight like a group of tight-flying fireflies. It just stood there, staring. At me? My light started to flicker again. I kept pressing the button, on and off. When it finally came back, the glistening eyes and silhouette were gone. A delicate creaking noise cascaded through the house. Not that of a house settling, unmistakable movement. I wanted to hope it was Curtis, Ben, and Ashley all hiding in some nook or closet somewhere in the house, Looking back now that was the most naive thing to think.

“Tom.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. It was as if looking down the eyes of a hungry predator, though my eyes were still locked on the empty doorframe, the noise I had heard were not my friends. I shuffled across the room as quietly as I could into the tiny little closet that was half held shut by mystery material. The other shutter opened slowly, just enough for me to slip in.

“Thomas, wake up.” this second time the voice cracked into multiple cadences, different tones. I could feel it, staring at me from somewhere, through the cracks in the floorboards. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t will myself to look down to check.

“Thomas, please. Wake up. It’s coming.” It was mocking me with their voices. To call it a mimicry was a stretch, nothing about it sounded like them individually. You had to listen carefully to hear the different tones in the cacophony of voices but they were in there, wrapped up in others I didn’t know. Against everything that my lizard brain was telling me, I started to move out of the closet and toward the door. The lightest steps, I was lucky I had practiced so much at two a.m in the morning trying not to wake my dad as I went to the fridge for a late-night gaming snack. Each footstep creaked but only just. The voices continued, drowning out any noise I would have been making. It was trying to dial in the proper voice, fluctuating like a radio turning through channels. Every word it spoke, where concern. Begging me to wake up. I wasn’t dreaming. I told every doctor, every cop this. At the time I couldn’t tell you why it sounded the way it did. Why it chose the words it did. Twenty years later, I have had plenty of time to think about it. To obsess over it. It was mimicking the words, my friends were using, trying to wake me up when I fell down the stairs. It’s what it heard and it was parroting it.

I expected every light in my life to be snuffed dark as I passed that doorframe, like a very real gate to hell. But when I passed and saw only the hallway and stairs down to the ground floor I was almost, Disappointed. I know that might not make sense. My body was wracked with fear, overwhelmed by what happened to my friends and what may happen to me, I just wanted it to end. Take the choice away from me. Let me be at peace. Not something a thirteen-year-old should think. Despite this feeling, I moved down the stairs, just as delicate as before. The voices were getting clearer, it was Ben’s voice at first. Then sloughed away to Ashley, then Curtis.

“Tom, We have to leave. Tom, I’m sorry.” The sorry stood out, they had to leave me. At the time and to this day I don’t blame them for wanting to live. I only wish they had left me at the bottom of those stairs sooner and ran for safety.

“The cornfield Tom. Hiding in the cornfield.” as if I was a sleeper agent, and “Cornfield” was my trigger word. The weight wrapped around my ankles left as I sprinted down the stairs and through the house. The second I rushed I could hear a heavy weight land across the floor behind me, I didn’t stop. Not even a brick wall was going to stop me at this point. I ran out the open back door, the door they must have used to leave the house. I had never run that fast in my life, I could barely run the mile at school. Not a muscle or lung burned as I made it past the dirt patch and crashed into the corn stalks. I could still hear the heavy footfalls behind me, the voices still begging me to wake up, to open my eyes. It couldn't have been more than fifty yards into the field when I tripped and fell face-first into the dry, cracking dirt. When I did my pursuer must have also stopped, as I didn’t hear it as I took big breaths of dirt and dust. I stayed face down against that oddly comforting ground. It started to move again, the cornstalks gave away its position, as it did mine. It was to my left, slightly ahead of me. Craning my neck I could see it standing bipedal, its silhouette barely visible against the night sky.

“Tom, Tom, Tom.” Its horrible excuse of a mouth was chirping my name over and over again. I took my time to lift myself upright. Trying not to move any stalks as if they were tripwires. When I turned around I saw what I tripped on, It was Curtis’ backpack. Open and its contents strewn across the area. I hoped that it was a good sign, I didn’t see any blood, but in truth, I couldn’t see much of any detail. What gave it away as Curtis’ was the piles of crumpled-up homework that he always shoved into his backpack after class. He always said it was “easier”, despite his complaining when he couldn’t find something. I could also see that little Bic lighter he had taken from the corner store. The creature moved in long gaited steps through the cornstalks, looking over them like a looming scarecrow. I couldn’t tell you why I did what I did. Desperation? Truthfully in those moments, I had clung to the hope that my friends were long gone, safe from this thing. So hesitation was lost on me as I pushed as much of the homework kindling into the backpack as I could and flicked the lighter. The paper almost immediately went up, illuminating a small circle around me. It was then I could see the freshly wet ground around the backpack. Thick and syrupy. Blood. The light had pulled the attention of that atrocity towards me. I dropped the backpack as close as I could to a stalk hoping that the entire place would go up as I sprinted back towards the house. The mimicking voices turned to an almost whimpering scream. Like some dying animal. When I made it back inside, I had planned to do the same here. My dad always told me stories of different fires he had gone through, and always warned me about candles against draps and the like. When I entered I immediately turned to the nearest window and started flicking furiously to get it to light. I heard it getting closer as the curtains finally started to catch. As I turned to run back out the door, it was looming in the frame I could see the backpack wasn’t catching the corn on fire, if it was I couldn't tell. Back down on all fours, head close to the ground like a rabid dog, its teeth clicking together as if it was shivering and drooling. The first time I saw its body since I woke up, its belly was disgustingly distended. Throbbing, being held up by its tendrils that cascaded from its ribs. I could see dark objects swirling within like worms in a water balloon.

“Tom, Please.” my stomach churned as it spoke like my body knew what I was looking at was wrong. Or maybe it was the running, though I had a little more to do. The curtains were now catching the cobwebs and ceiling on fire as it crawled across it like a growing mold. The heat was quick and oppressive. It had backed up as the light grew brighter. I pushed off the creaking floorboards I couldn’t make it to the basement. He would snatch me just as he did Ben. I had to go back upstairs. I moved as fast as my wheezing lungs would allow. Each of my steps was followed by the titanic stomping of the devil behind me. The smoke was already filling the top floor and I could see the fire starting to push through the floorboards. I ran to the window in the nest, yanking on it hard. It wouldn’t budge, not an inch. It had the same shitty pane that my dad's house had. And if a baseball could smash that then I figured I could smash this one. I put my elbow through the glass. Searing pain followed as the warm feeling of blood ran down my arm. Under normal circumstances, I would have panicked. But I was already panicking, there was nowhere else to go. So I took a deep breath and climbed out the window dangling off the window, trying to get my feet as close to where I would impact as I could. I closed my eyes and let go. I didn’t fall. My wrist was gripped by the long skeletal fingers of the creature. Its head hung out the window. Every eye on its head fixated on me. The fire was pushing in behind it. I could see it blazing the outline of the creature. It pursued me, it was pursued by the fire. The open window pulled the fire faster, it licked against the creature and the window frame. Its stare waivered as it began to screech. Its voices all shifted as it did. I could only make out one word as its hand loosened and I fell.

“Mother.”

I slammed into the ground on my heels then rolled back onto my back, nearly smashing my head against the ground again. Its screeching filled the super-heated air. I lifted myself. I tried my best to run, but could only hobble. I moved as fast as I could down that long driveway. Its darkness was nearly extinct as the burning pyre behind me turned night to day.

I was of course detained and questioned. Lots of questions. I tried to tell my dad everything, but he gave me the same look that the police gave me, that all the doctors would eventually give me. At first, it was just arson, but then I was suspected of killing my friends when bones were found in the husk of a house and the blood in the cornstalks. I spent years after that in a juvenile detention center. Attending classes within it. The nightmares I would have grew in intensity until I was moved to a psychiatric hospital. Which was going to happen sooner or later, as I wasn’t going to keep what happened to myself. The psychiatric hospital is where I would spend the next two decades. Even after the trail went nowhere. The prosecutors didn’t have much evidence to go on besides, I was there when it happened. Between that and the fact, I was disturbed according to them and the revolving door of doctors I had to see. I was sentenced to the hospital until the time when the doctors deemed I was no longer a danger to myself or others. Like I said, it took two decades to get to that point. For a long time, I tried my best to subscribe to their ideas of what had happened, that I was just unwell and was at fault for it all but I couldn’t. I could see the faces of my friends, I could see the creature's face peering in on me every night I slept. It happened. I knew it did.

I got out in the last few months. Been living in some shitty apartment on the government's dime. The drugs help me a little bit but my mind can’t get out of that house. Like I died in the fire and am merely a ghost in the walls. I’ll make people see, even if I die trying. Hell, either would be wonderful.