Night #1
The Doll House
“Coopersville, Alabama population nobody,” Jack mumbled as my mother stood awing at the simple lifestyle the town portrayed. After passing the three blocks the town seemed to fit easily into, we drove down what seemed like a deserted highway until a lone house appeared in the distance. “There it is,” cried my mother who had finally stopped her cat like stare at the acres of corn that stretched miles. As we approached the house, my face began to sink at the sight. “It looks like a . . . .” but my mom finished the sentence for me. “Like a doll house,” she had said it with such joy that I hated the fact to tell her that it looked like a variable “shit hole”. I expressed my disgust with a soft, “we moved from Arizona to here”? My mother was a lot shorter and smaller than my father. She had long shaggy curls and her cheeks seemed to sag lower every year. His mother complained everyday about them and several times begging for a face lift. My father would always fawn over how beautiful she looked which seemed genuine. He was taller than her always calling her his little “pocket wife”. His balding horseshoe pattern hair gave him a much older look. However his gray hair did not seem to help either.
We pulled into a gravel horse shoe driveway and the house finally came into full vision. The black tiled roof seemed to have a Swiss cheese kind of look. “What happens if it rains,” I asked, my mother who just sat there awe struck at the house. Removing his glasses he wiped them off on his shirt as he replied “no Jack I patched them up enough until the contractors come out to fix everything that is wrong with the house.” “Everything that is wrong with this place, there should be nothing wrong with this place,” my father seemed to close his eyes in my constant complaints since we left Arizona. “Please Jack I can’t take another thirty minutes of complaining.” I smiled knowing that I was getting to him finally, “You know dad when you buy a house it should be in good condition not crappy condition.”
My body retreated as I saw my mother immediately spin in her seat, “language young man”! “That’s why it is called a fixer upper,” he said. My mother’s eyes narrowed “and don’t think you are going to be sitting around all summer playing video games”. Glasses returned to his tired face he said, “You are going to be helping me with the house”. I let out a loud groan which resulted in a several minute scolding which woke up my baby brother. Ruffled brown hair his skin was smooth as his icy blue eyes seemed to twinkle with an innocence I had forgotten even existed. He clenched his blanket as his small monkey stuffed animal lay curled tight in his arms. His eyes were baggy as my mother and father stepped out of the car. My mother seemed to have forgotten the small argument as she seemed to fall under a hypnotic trance of the house. “This house was abandoned,” I yelled as I saw huge red lettering painted over the front of the door.
My father swore loudly “the painters didn’t even come yet,” my mother walked closer to the house. “Mom,” I asked watching her stare at the house. “Mom,” I repeated as I watched her zombie like walk towards the front door. “Mom,” I yelled again, “Sharon” my father said his hand resting on her shoulder. “What,” she said finally coming back to reality. “Are you alright you kind of spaced out there,” she smiled “no I didn’t you all became quiet.” Sweeping a potential argument under the rug he led his wife up the stairs leaving me to grab Brandon. “You’re lucky you’re young, you know,” Brandon gurgled slightly as he curiously stared up at his house. His finger stuck in his mouth as his eyes seemed to take in the house. His face seemed to form intro a slight horror. I couldn’t help but laugh a little, “my thoughts exactly little bro”.
A crow seemed to caw in the distance as my baby brother and I walked through the front door. “It smells like paint,” my mother clasped her hands together as she seemed to spin in the middle of the foyer. The house’s spirit seemed to be wrapping itself around her. She smiled as she said, “well it’s very simple after all they did have to clean it up after the fire”. “Fire,” I said, my mother turned and said “yes we had to have some decorators come in, but well you know money is tight after all”. “They at least could have fixed the second landing,” shouted my father. His wiped his sweaty brow as I saw what he was upset about. The upstairs landing lay empty, the stairway was almost demolished, “I think that there is a ladder out back”. My mother came over and took Brandon from me, “go grab the latter will you dear”? “Ladder . . . got it,” I said turning from them almost glad to leave. The moment the cool southern air hit me I heard my father say, “I’m not climbing a ladder every time I want to come downstairs”!
So there had been a fire in the house maybe that explained a lot about this house. I walked across the doll house. I passed under a tall tower with large windows, “must be a bedroom,” I said talking to nobody. The tower reminded me of towers that I had heard about in fairy tales. As I turned the corner, I almost laughed when I thought of a long sheet of golden blond hair falling from the top, a beautiful woman yelling, “Ahoy there . . . climb my hair and be my lover”. If it were only that easy I thought but out here I would more likely find a coyote or wolf. Acres of corn stretched all around the house and my hope of having a neighbor seemed to diminish when I tried to peer over the “forest”. The forest green paint was peeling off the house and vines seemed to spread up the very side of the house. I began to search through the environment. Tall grass scattered the whole back yard as small a pile of wood sat in a broken heap. It looked like a playground but what really distracted me was the pile next to the playground. A huge pile of burnt artifacts a rotting couch, a broken computer, several dressers, beds, piles and piles of wood. As I neared the pile I picked up a charred piece, “wow I guess there really was a fire”. I dropped the piece down and was about to look for this supposed ladder when something white had caught my attention.
I peered into the pile and removed a deflated white ball it had mud all over it and a giant slash in the side. I shrugged returning it to the pile, so children must have lived here before. Walking through the tall grass was much harder than somebody would think, it was almost comparable to the Great Plains we had driven through to see our Aunt Tilly, who lived in a small town in North Dakota. I waded through the grass as if I was wading through water returning to they house looking for the mysterious ladder. It didn’t take me long to find it, buried under piles of dead grass and leaves. It was rusted like everything else in this house the hinges were rusted solid. I tried to pull them apart but when a cloud of bugs began to attack my sweating face I knew I would have to stop. I dropped the ladder saying, “rusted piece of shit”! Leaving it to rust in the hanging sun I returned to the house my parents already beginning to unpack the car. “Where is the ladder,” asked my mom box in hand. “It won’t open it’s all rusted”.
After a couple of hours the car had finally been unloaded the moving truck was not due to arrive until tomorrow. Humming as she made up the living room as a temporary living quarters night seemed to creep fast upon us. Eating Chinese food late into the evening my father complained the whole time and constantly reminded me about helping him with the house. With all the work that needed to be done around here I would almost be happy with a summer job. “You’re also going to have to cut the grass,” I almost spluttered out my Dim Sum, “excuse me”? A noodle hung out of my mouth as my dad repeated, “your going to have to cut the grass”. “Is that what you call that forest out there,” ‘don’t be a smart ass Jack” snapped my mother. “And what am I supposed to cut it with,” his father sat back “you let me worry about that, tomorrow we are also going to start building those stairs.” I almost felt exhausted just thinking about tomorrow. “Alright, I guess I’m just going to go to bed, do we at least have . . .” my father shook his head “sorry no cable”. “You mean we are out here in the middle of nowhere with . . .” my father tilted in his chair. “Yes Jack, I’m sorry that you are upset about the move but you better start getting used to it . . . look your baby brother is”! I watched my brother start slamming his tiny spoon on his plastic plate.
Slumping away to the living room I climbed onto a two blanket mattress and crushed my pillow grumpily. The wooden floors creaked as my parents cleared the table, I hated this house and wanted to go back home. Brandon stirred between stacks of pillows. His arms clenched around his monkey and soon my parents retreated to bed. Crickets sung in the night air as a soft breeze seemed to run through the house. I stared up at the ceiling staring at nothing. My father’s snores rang softly through the night air. My eyes began to close as I felt my mind slowing down for the night. I was just about to have a nice dream of Megan Fox and me when a loud creak woke me up. I shot up in my bed my body felt stiff from laying on the floor for so long. My eyes were wide open as I listened intently. The crickets still serenaded the night as my father’s snores were silenced. I held my breath as the house seemed to have an eerie silence to it. A chill seemed to fill the room as I felt goose bumps beginning to form on my skin. I gripped my blanket tighter trying to fight off the increasing cold. My breath drifted through the air like smoke through the moonlight. My body began to shiver as I gripped the blanket tighter, “Jesus,” I whispered through chattering teeth.
After several teeth chattering minutes I decided that whatever made the sound was something natural. I almost laughed at how much of a baby I was being. I laid my head back down on my pillow and tried to fight off the increasing cold. A loud creak came from right above me, and I shot up again in my bed. My eyes traveled across the ceiling and my mouth dropped open in horror. A person seemed to be walking upstairs softly walking in circles. “Oh my god,” I whispered as the footsteps continued to pace in circles. “Mom,” I whispered standing up as quietly as possible “dad, there is somebody . . .” I froze when the footsteps came to a stop, “what the hell”? I stood up in the middle of the living room, my mouth gapped open in such a stupor. I walked into the foyer staring up at the second landing. My eyes traveled every inch of the upstairs. “Jack,” a whisper as soft as a mouse could be heard in the air a chill ran up my spine.
I spun on the spot when I gazed out the front door. The door was wide open, how I had missed it before I didn’t know. But that was the least of my worries the night air seemed frozen as I moved closer to the door. A lone figure hung from the tree in our front yard. A dead man swung lightly as the rope ground into the tree. I walked out the front door staring at the hanging man in our tree. “Hello,” I yelled as I began to walk down the stairs. “Jack,” came the whisper as I watched a dark figure slink around the side of the house. “Hello,” I repeated, “Jack,” whispered the air. I turned back to the tree and almost stumbled over the steps in my retreat. The hanging man was gone from the tree branch that he had once swung from. I ran into the house and closed the door, triple checking that locks were secure. I began to breathe a little easier. I spun as a dark figure could be seen on the second landing. It walked down what looked to be a hallway. I listened to the figure walk down the hallway and suddenly stop dead in its tracks. I don’t know how long I stood there listening to the footsteps but they continued to walk until the sun began to rise.
(To Be Continued)