A Wicked House

This week's story is kind of a short one. But that's okay. That's what this is about, right? It was a busy week but I am already working on next week's story. I hope in the meantime this one creeps you out!

A Wicked House

The lure of the woodlands was what enticed me out that day. The forest trees, a play of shadows and light with an earthy odour that could not be denied. I sensed that the day would be memorable and threw on my jacket and hiking boots after downing the last gulp of my tea, and proceeded out into my own backyard. My own backyard, as of only a week ago.  

 The house had been purchased to accommodate me in my new employment, relocated to a new town of unknown fates. The town was different, far away from everything I knew and understood. To be honest, I had always led a sheltered life so I saw this as a chance for a new awakening of something within that had been perhaps lying dormant. The house was part of that awakening. I chose it in my mind before even entering.  

 It sat on the edge of town, where the forest met the fields. It would be a bit of commute into the office back and forth from the steel and glass, but well worth it for the escape it would provide. A chance to wander and explore the countryside on evenings and weekends. I was excited at the thought of meandering along country lanes, tramping about across the fields, but most of all the idea of long walks through the trees. Today, a Saturday free from work, was to be the first of many. 

 I looked out at the trees as I took that first step off the back porch. They bordered the backyard like the wall of a fortress, about to be breached. I headed forth, looking to see if there was some sort of path or trail. It was to be expected that a house of this age next to the woods would have numerous trails heading off into it and it wasn’t but a moment before I found what I was looking for. 

 I thought of animals. What would be here within these trees? Deer or small rodents I imagined would be plentiful in this part of the country. Good I thought. Perfect for me and my plans. I stepped into the trees, excited again by the smell of the earth and pine needles. Soft earth, nice for digging I noted. Wonderful and as far as I could tell the trees were thick and the path did not look well worn, but more overgrown. Unused for a number of years most likely.  

 There were a number of rocks about and as I walked, I gathered a handful. Nice round ones, worn smooth. I paused and listened to the birds, watching the sun play through the leaves. It was nice and I enjoyed the solitude here that I could not find most of the time and I spun around, arms out, feeling the sun on my face. I threw one of the rocks at a tree in the distance and it was as the rock ricocheted off of it, breaking the silence that I first noticed the squirrel. 

 It was because the squirrel did not react to either me or the rock was probably why I noticed it at all. Not the slightest hint of movement in it at all as it sat in the middle of the path some distance away. A large black one. Where I lived before, the squirrels were grey. Grey and skittish. This one was large and black. Something odd altogether. looking at me like I was the intruder. Me looking at it, wanting to claim this land as my own now that I had entered. I felt anger rising in me. 

 “Hey you get!” I shouted and stomped my foot. Nothing. It just looked at me with its’ black empty eyes. Weird. It was an affront to me that this animal would not run. I suddenly remembered the rocks in my hand. Selecting the largest one, I hefted it and said, “You better get. Or else.” 

My rock plonked that squirrel right between the eyes. I never even thought about it leaving my hand. I ran forward and grabbed it up by the tail. It was gasping, breathing harshly in and out. I watched, dangling it in the air from my outstretched arm, fascinated. I thought about how this symbolized my claim on this land. I set the squirrel down, placing my boot on it’s head. Slowly, slowly I pushed downwards with my foot. The earth was soft, but soon I felt, or did I hear as the animal’s skull popped. I brought it home. 

 This was the first day. The day I came and took my land. This was the day I first killed. There were many to follow. So many animals. I was right in that there were a lot of deer. I brought everything home, but was never satisfied. The house was never satisfied with what I brought. I brought the earth smell inside too but it was not enough.  

 That was when I began to stop on my commute. Restaurants, bars, small shops. Whatever I felt like that day, any old watering hole or place that caught my eye. I am very good at what I call playing people. I wonder sometimes if I am people. When I play people, I am very good at making people want to be my friend. So much so, that they want to see my house. I tell them how I walk in the fields and wander the woods. I paint a picture in words about what a beautiful property I own and I invite them in. They never like the earth smells, though they all stay. They all stay in my wicked house. 

The Gully Man

Wow, this week went fast! Time for another story though and hear it is:

The Gully Man

Joey Penance sat in front of the old boob tube, as his father called it, completely absorbed as Kermit the frog, dressed as a reporter interviewed Prince Charming. Joey liked Kermit’s famous, “Hi ho, Kermit the frog here!” but his favourite character was Super Grover. He thought Super Grover was totally awesome. 

In nineteen eighty six Joey was four. He wasn’t old enough to be able to read a chapter book, or to pour himself a completely full glass of milk from the pitcher in the refrigerator. However, he was old enough to wear two piece pajamas, and to still truly enjoy Sesame Street. He was really happy. Until he moved to the new house that is. 

The new house. That was the name his parents and their friends had given it in reference. To Joey, it meant putting everything in boxes and leaving all his friends. It has pretty hard, and he missed his best friend from next door, Josh. He did, however, like the new house when he arrived. His parents soon began to refer to it as the townhouse. 

It wasn’t a townhouse like the ones back in Chicago, and the move had meant taking a really, really long drive, for days. The townhouse was in a good, quiet neighborhood close to a good elementary school. Joey hadn’t made any definite friends yet, but come autumn he would be five and ready to start school and he couldn’t wait to meet some new kids. 

The townhouse was larger than their old home, and was two stories in height, with a basement and attic. Before Joey and his mom, Virginia moved in a week ago, his father had gone ahead to do some cleaning and small renovations in preparation. 

“Hey Brad, this place you got is really nice! You taking in any boarders?” jokingly exclaimed Mike as he and Brad Penance pulled up in front of the new townhouse in Brad’s small Volvo.  

“No way! I moved back here to be closer to family, but I still would like to keep my creepy, little brother out of my face as much as possible!” he laughed, “Except when I need you to help clean, and you know you can come over from your bachelor pad  now and then to drool! Seriously though, It’s great to get out of that dump in Chicago. Virginia and Joey will be here in a week, and I want this place to look amazing. I’ve made a list of a few small things that need fixing, and I’ve brought some tools in the back of the car. But, the big chore for today is cleaning up the old attic.” 

“Oooooh, where the spooks hide!” Mike lifted his hands up, wiggling his fingers comically. “Sounds cool. I love digging through old junk.” 

Mike hauled his thin frame out of the Volvo and stood in the driveway, gazing up at the house. “You know, looking at this place, I bet it’s had a wild history. It’s what, nineteen-forties?”  

“Actually, it’s thirties, and it does have quite a history. The real estate guy gave me an old paper on it along with the blueprints.” Brad pulled his keys from his pocket as he spoke, and ushered Mike into a tiled foyer, “It was built by some old, rich fart as a club house for him and his weirdo friends. I guess they threw some wild parties up until he died in forty-four. The local gossip was that he was head of some weird cult or something. You know seances and orgies, shit like that. My guess is that it was most likely a bunch of closet homosexuals who couldn’t come out back then.” 

He continued, “I didn’t think it’d be wise to let Virginia know about that though; and how they found him here, you know, after.” 

“What the hell are you trying to say Brad? That some guy died here in your new house from ritualistically orgying himself to death? With other guys?! Whew! That’s sure a load of something!” Mike exclaimed. 

“Yeah, and they found him here the day after his last party. Eighty some years old, until he died of what they called a severe shock at the top of the stairs just outside the attic door. His hands, the article said, actually had to be pried off the doorknob and it seemed as if he was trying to hold the door shut from something.” 

“Eeeeew! Why’d you feel the need to say that? Creepy man, creeeepy!” 

“Yeah, I know, right? Then the house was sold to a quiet couple with no children who are probably unpacking things at their retirement home in Florida right now.” Brad began to head upstairs, with Mike behind him, “The reason I want to get up into the attic today is mainly to check out the roof for myself. No one’d been up there in years until it came up for sale. I unboarded it yesterday and took a quick look. It seemed okay, but I want to get a closer inspection. Plus, I want you to see some freaky stuff I found. I think it was the old man’s.” 

“And,” he added as he reached out towards the door, “Just so you know, I already replaced the doorknob too.” 

“Thank god for that!” Mike shuddered, “I’m still worried about finding a pickled head or a jar of bat wings!” 

“Or a strap-on?” Brad winked. 

“Oh man, you are gross! With a capital G!” 

Brad laughed aloud, “Gotcha! Stop worrying, it’s just old books and ornaments.” 

The door swung open and Brad stepped in, over the boards he’d pulled down before, and Mike followed behind, hesitantly. 

Sweeping over them came the smell of dust and old wood. Cobwebs hung from the walls and the ceiling. The entire back half of the room was split off by a number of large cedar trunks bound with leather straps, and piled one onto another.Two dim, dust covered forty watt bulbs with pull chains provided the only light. A few electrical wires ran from junction boxes on the exposed wall studs, which also supported some wooden shelving holding what appeared to be laboratory equipment. A low set, marble topped table sat against one wall. Set on top of this was a crucible, two candle sticks, and something that looked like an old industrial shop coat. 

“This is wild Brad! Look at the stains on this funky table. Must’ve been some kind of cult thing! This is just too cool!” Mike had the sort of look on his face Brad recognized as being that of Mike wanting to run his fingers over everything in the room. 

“Yeah, yeah, too cool. Look, if you want it, it’s all yours buddy, just help me get it out by the end of the week and don’t ever tell Virginia where it came from. Deal?” 

“Uh huh, great! This stuff’ll look sharp in my place and don’t worry, her or Joey’ll never know about the skeleton’s in this home’s closet from me!” Mike winked then suggested that they move some of the trunks so they could see what was on the other side of the attic. 

“Yeah, maybe you will find that pickled head!” joked Brad, as they grabbed the trunks and began to move them out of the way. Soon they had a path cleared wide enough to pass through. Surprisingly, the entire other half was completely empty.  

There was a thick layer of dust coating the walls and floor. Brad turned back to the trunks, while Mike began walking about, exploring the walls, wiring and support beams. Upon discovering nothing of interest though, he wandered about, kicking at the dust and leaning over Brad’s shoulder to see the contents of the trunks as they were opened. The two men began to talk and get caught up on things they’d missed with each other over the past few years. As Mike paced about the attic, however, he suddenly exclaimed to Brad that he’d found something on the floor under the dust, just as the older brother finished opening a trunk by unhooking the leather straps to discover it’s contents. It, like the other trunks, held old, leather-bound tomes and papers some of which were in a language or languages neither of them understood. Brad  had made a guess at Hebrew while Mike considered Hindi to be a good pick, pointing out the religious diversity in that region of the world. 

“And what did you find?” inquired Brad, bringing focus back to Mike’s find while looking up from a book entitled De Vermis Mysteriis by Ludwig Prinn which seemed to Brad to perhaps be a handwritten French translation of a much older, unreadable book. 

“I don’t know. Just stupid shit. Looks like some kid drew a circle on the floor in chalk and some weird other scribbles . I just tried to dust part of it off. It came right off the floor onto my hand, so when we get this all swept it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Strange. Well, I’ll wash the floor up here tomorrow, but right now I feel like lunch! Let’s take off Mike, okay?” Brad closed the lid to the trunk. Then he and Mike wandered out to the car, after Mike grabbed a few interesting items quickly for himself. 

A few moments after they drove off, the dust in the attic had begun to settle again. The small particles floated gently, swirling down to the wooden floor, landing on the broken circle. Outside, the afternoon turned grey, causing the house to look more ominous. People passing by looked up at it, feeling an odd vibe, then huddled closer together and hurried on their way, thinking perhaps the weather was taking a turn for the worse. Back inside, a faint, bluish light broke forth across the floor, tracing the chalk along the tight seamed floorboards until it came to the fresh break in the circle. There was a sudden lightning flash with the electric smell of ozone hanging in the air for a split second. Then, in the utter darkness that followed, something gurgled. It gurgled deep and low from the back of it’s slippery, dead throat. 

The new house was bigger than the old one. Joey had his own room. After he turned off the television and video cassette recorder, he wandered up there. It had a white-framed window and a shelf where he could put all his He-Man action figures. Joey decided he would probably like it in the new house. It was cool. He even told his mom that a few minutes later when she came in to tuck him in and wish him goodnight. 

“I’m glad you like it,” she replied, thinking “Thank God!” to herself. 

“Just wait until you start to meet the new kids in the neighborhood. Then you’ll really love it. Tomorrow I’ll take you down to the playground at the school to play on the swings, okay?” 

“Great, thanks mom! G’night!” Joey rolled over under the fresh linen bedsheets as Virginia turned out the light. 

Joey stretched out in the bed and released a contented sigh. He did actually fall asleep for a while, but late in the night, while he was curled up in bed, he awoke again when something touched him with a cold, wet finger. 

“Hello Joey,” It croaked, then giggled, gurgling. “Do you want to know who I am?” 

Joey couldn’t answer because his voice had somehow managed to disappear. He shut his eyes so tightly he could see colors flashing. His disbelief was enormous and the more he did not look, the more it would not be real. 

“I’m the gully man Joey!” More wet giggling, “I am from the gully, in the dark lands, elsewhere. Stolen and called from my home and now every night, I’m going to visit you here. Sometimes I will be in your closet. Or, I could be in that chair over there. In fact Joey, I could show up anywhere. But most of all I would like to be with you, in this lovely, nice bed. I’m going to come every single night, and then,” with a particularly noxious giggle smelling like swamp (Joey could imagine it slapping it’s hands over its fish hook toothed mouth   tightly just to keep from bursting out in laughter), “just when you get used to me here Joey, I’m going to kill you. I will just reach out and strangle you. I want you to know what you have coming.” 

Joey’s scream pierced the house with full force, as the thing’s dead finger began to slide, caressing along his cheek. Brad snapped awake in the room down the hall. 

“Holy Christmas!”, he thought. “Who’s being killed?” 

When he opened the door to Joey’s bedroom, his son was curled up in a fetal position on the bed crying hysterically. Later on he would tell Virginia that when he’d reached out and touched the boy, “Joey screeched loud enough to just about pop a lung!” 

“Jesus please us, Joey! What’s this now?” he asked. 

“Ih-Ih-It touched me!” Joey wailed. 

“What did? What touched you?” 

“The boogeyman! He’s all duh-duh-dead!” 

“Oh, Joey, now don’t be so silly!” Brad exclaimed, exasperated. “You know there aren’t any monsters. If there were, I’d hunt them down and kill them.” 

“A-are you sure?” Joey asked, wiping his eyes with his blanket edge. The terror was already beginning to feel like the stuff of nightmares. 

“Sure. There’s no such thing as monsters. Now go back to sleep cowboy.” Brad tousled his son’s hair and then wandered back to bed, wondering where his kid was getting his morbid imaginings from. Probably one of those stupid Saturday morning cartoons. He decided to talk to Virginia about it in the morning, but he never did. 

As Joey drifted off, back to sleep, his mind babbled, “There’s no such thing as monsters, there’s no such thing as monsters, no such thing as monsters, no such thing.” 

Out of the empty darkness, a contradictory voice floated. “That was really bad Joey. I suppose it’s partly my fault. I didn’t tell you the rule about not telling your parents about me. It’s because they might give you a light for by your bed at night. How can I scare you Joey, if it’s not dark? The scariest things live in the darkness. Or. they might let you go and sleep between them in their big bed for a while. I wouldn’t like that. No, not at all! So you see Joey, don’t you, that this would be best if we just finished it now? I’m only sorry it couldn’t last longer.” 

The gully man pulled itself out from under the bed and slid its leprous corpse body between the sheets next to Joey’s. When Joey fainted, the gully man wrapped it’s hands around Joey’s neck and slowly, harder and harder, squeezed its fingers tight.  

Two nights later, a few blocks away, a little girl cried silently, tears streaming down her face, trying not to scream as the gully man began to feed from her fear, gaining strength after his long imprisonment. This time he had remembered to tell the rules. He giggled. All the rules.