by Cross, Amy
I open my mouth to tell her who I am, and that it was my mother who died, but the words catch in my throat. The librarian would probably just get all awkward and uncomfortable, and then she'd be like all the people at the funeral and she'd tell me what a brave boy I'm being, and honestly I think I've heard that enough by now. I just want her to leave me alone so I can read.
“You mustn't go playing out there, you know,” she continues after a moment.
I turn to her again.
“I know what you're all like,” she adds. “I've got children of my own, and when they were younger they all wanted to go out and play in the forest near Cunver Road, and out on the old Boomer farm. And inevitably they always ended up straying closer and closer to that house. I always told my boys that they shouldn't bother Mrs. Mercer, that she wouldn't like people playing on her property, but I know they never listened to me. I suppose the lure of the house was just too much. Children love stories so much, don't they? And they always add to them.”
“What lure?” I ask. “What stories?”
“The stories about the horrible things that happened at the house.”
I wait for her to explain, but now she's squinting as she looks at the screen.
Turning, I take a look at the first paragraph of the news story:
Dully police have denied reports that they're re-opening their investigation into the disappearance of 11-year-old Nora Copstone. Despite claims that new evidence had been delivered in recent weeks, a police spokesman told this paper that there are currently no plans to look again at the events surrounding the 1961 mystery. The spokesman also denied that police intend to speak again to 71-year-old George Copstone.
I scroll down to the next section.
Nora Copstone vanished while playing near her home in the Cunver Road area in September 1961. A police investigation at the time raised suspicions that Nora had been spotted with cuts and bruises in the weeks prior to her disappearance, but despite rampant speculation there was never any official confirmation that the case was being treated as a potential murder.
Locals claim George Copstone, a deeply religious man, was suspected of beating his daughter. One prominent business owner, speaking on condition of anonymity, claimed that several witnesses had overheard Mr. Copstone referring to his daughter by other names. Another witness said that Mr. Copstone had told her, several months earlier, that Nora had been possessed by an evil spirit, and that his attempts to drive the spirit away had been unsuccessful.
“Such a terrible business,” the librarian mutters, as I realize she's been reading over my shoulder. “Not the kind of thing we want associated with Dully at all.”
I look back toward the counter, but there's no sign of anyone else coming into the library and I guess this old woman is just bored. A moment later, I'm startled when she reaches past me and clicks on a link, bringing up another webpage.
Once the page has fully loaded, I see that it's dated from early 2009:
George Copstone, former landowner and father of tragic Nora Copstone, died Tuesday morning at the Crow's Road retirement home in Barkingham. He was 79. Copstone previously owned significant land in and around Dully, including the Cunver Road estate, although for many in the town he'll be remembered for the events of September 1961. Copstone was interviewed by police concerning the disappearance of his daughter Nora, but no charges were ever brought. The body of Mr. Copstone's daughter Nora was never found.
Scrolling down a little further, I see a photo of an old man staring out angrily from the screen. Broad-shouldered and mean-looking, he has more wrinkles and lines on his face than I've ever seen in my life. In his weathered hands, he's holding a battered little black book.
“He got away with it, you know,” the librarian says after a moment.
I turn to her.
“Oh, everyone knows it,” she continues. “People talk in this town. Old Copstone was a nasty piece of work, and most people round these parts saw his temper at one time or another. I can't imagine how awful it must have been for that poor little girl, once her mother died and she was left living alone with him.”
“Do you mean the house by the forest?” I ask.
“You know it?”
“My -”
I catch myself just in time. I don't want her to know that Nana owns the house, because then she might realize that it was my mother who died, and then she'll start fussing over me.
“Now listen to me,” she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I haven't seen you around before, so obviously you're new in town. There's nothing wrong with playing in the forest, but don't go harassing the poor woman who lives in that house. She's got enough to deal with, what with her daughter dying, and the last thing she needs is to have to chase silly little boys off her land.”
“I won't bother her,” I reply.
“See that you don't. And pay no mind to stupid stories you might hear, either. There's nothing out in that forest that should bother anyone.”
Reaching past me, she takes hold of the mouse and closes the browser window.
“It's a nice sunny day. You should be out there doing normal things, not sitting here on the computer. Time's up.”
“But -”
“Time's up!”
With that, she turns and heads back to the counter.
Getting to my feet, I take my coat from the back of my chair, but I only get halfway to the front door before slowing and looking back over at the counter. The librarian is muttering to herself as she checks something on her computer, but after a moment she glances at me.
“Don't you have anything better to be doing?” she asks with a sigh. “In my day, people came to libraries because they wanted to check out books, not so they could sit around on a computer.”
“Why did you say that thing about the forest?”
“Eh?”
I take a step toward her.
“You said there's nothing out in the forest that should bother anyone.”
“That's right. There isn't.”
“But why did you say that to me? What do people think is in the forest?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I met a little girl out there,” I continue. “She was scared of me. She ran away, but -”
“Right, out you go,” she says suddenly, coming around the counter and taking hold of my shoulders, and then immediately steering me toward the door. “That's quite enough of that talk, young man. Bad ideas grow in minds like weeds, and the best thing is to stop them taking root in the first place. That means turning your thoughts to other things and not giving those weeds the chance to develop.”
“What weeds?”
“It's a metaphor.”
“Oh. But -”
“Don't you have any friends to play with?”
“Not here.”
“Then you should make some.”
Once we're outside, I turn to her.
“There are no ghosts in that forest,” she continues. “People say silly things, just to scare each other. That's all. People say silly, foolish things and that's how bad rumors grow. I've been out in that forest picking mushrooms dozens of times, my whole life, and I've never noticed so much as a tree out of place. So all those people who claim to have seen or heard something are just weak-minded, and they'd be well-advised to fill their time with something more respectable. And that includes you, young man, so let's have no more stupidity.”
“But -”
She turns and walks away, heading back into the library, leaving me standing outside alone.
“What rumors about the forest?” I ask, before heading over to fetch my bike from the railing.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Diane
“Daniel!” I shout as soon as I spot the house in the distance. “Daniel! Mum! It's me!”
I race across the moonlit yard and up the steps, and to my relief I find that the front door of the main house has been left unlocked. Once I'm in the hallway, I stop and look around, but the house is co
mpletely dark and it takes me a moment to realize that they must be in bed.
After hurrying up the stairs, I make my way along the dark landing and over to the door at the far end, and then I head into the room where Daniel has been sleeping ever since we came to stay with Mum.
“Daniel!”I call out, racing over to the bed. “I'm -”
Stopping suddenly, I see that the bed is empty.
I turn and look around, but there's no sign of him anywhere. There's an old digital alarm clock on his bedside table, showing the time as just after 3am, so Daniel definitely should be in bed. Then again, the clock shows the date as early June, which is impossible since it's only the middle of May.
Just as I start to think that maybe Mum maybe took Daniel away from here, I spot his little blue suitcase over by the wall. I head over and look down, and sure enough the suitcase's lid is open and I can see Daniel's clothes inside. His comic books are on the table, and I know he'd never leave those behind, so I turn and look back over at the bed.
He has to be here somewhere.
The only other place he might have gone, the only other place he could possibly have gone, is the bathroom, so I hurry out onto the landing and over to the bathroom door, only to find that there's no sign of him there either.
The kitchen.
He must have gone down to get a glass of water, and somehow I missed him.
“Daniel!” I shout, hurrying back down the stairs and then through to the back of the house, only to find that the lights are all off in the kitchen too. “Daniel, I'm back! I'm here! Where are you?”
Although I'm trying not to panic, I can't help thinking that something must be seriously wrong. I head back up the stairs and along to Mum's room and then I push her door open, only to see that her bed is empty too. I hurry around to the other side and look down, but although the duvet is crumpled, there's no sign of Mum herself. This is a woman who assiduously made her bed every morning, and who used to withhold my pocket money until I made my own, so there's no way she'd just leave the place like this. There's even a glass of water on the nightstand, as if she came up earlier and then...
And then what?
“Where are you?” I whisper, before turning to head back out to the landing. “What -”
Suddenly I stop in my tracks as I see a figure walk past the door. He's out of sight before I've even registered his presence properly, but I swear I just saw a tall, broad-shouldered man walk straight past this room as if he was heading to the stairs. A moment later, a brief, rasping cough rings out.
I instinctively hurry over and look out onto the landing, but now there's no sign of anyone.
I make my way to the top of the stairs and look down, but there's still nobody around. I didn't hear the man's footsteps, and I didn't even make out his face. All I saw was the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man.
And I heard him coughing.
“Daniel?” I whisper, as I start slowly making my way down the stairs. “Mum?”
As I get down to the hallway, I listen for any hint of the man. A moment later, just as I'm starting to think that I might have imagined the whole thing, I hear his rasping cough again. I rush over to the door that leads into the kitchen, and at first there's no sign of him. I take a step forward, however, and suddenly I spot the remains of a shadow on the far wall, as if somebody has just walked through to the dining room.
“Hey!” I call out, running across the kitchen. “You! Stop! What have you done with my family?”
When I reach the next door, I look through to the dining room but immediately see that once again there's no sign of anyone. How did he move so fast?
“Where's my son?” I whisper, stepping forward cautiously and watching the shadows in case the man appears again. “Where's my mother? What have you done to them?”
Stopping at the next doorway, I look through into the hallway. There's no sign of the man, so I wait for some hint of where he might have gone. The house is completely quiet now, but I know there are enough loose boards here and there to give him away if he's still walking around. He must have heard me calling out to him, but he didn't acknowledge me at all. Finally I step forward until I reach the bottom of the stairs, and then I stop to listen again.
Spotting the phone on a table near the front door, I head over and pick up the handset. I have no idea why, but until this moment it didn't even occur to me to call for help, as if some part of my mind was still foggy and hidden. When I try to dial, however, I realize there's no tone. I try replacing the handset and picking it up again, but there's still nothing.
“Come on,” I whisper, as I set the phone down, “there has to -”
Suddenly I spot her.
A little girl is staring in at me from outside, watching me through the window next to the front door. As soon as we make eye contact, however, she turns and runs.
“Wait!”
I grab the door and pull it open, before racing out onto the porch and down the steps. I've already lost sight of the little girl, and I stop for a moment to try to figure out which way she went. I look all around, convinced that I'll see her running off into the forest, but there's no sign of her anyway. And then, after a moment, I spot the ash house.
I pull the front door shut before making my way down the steps and over toward the nearest entrance.
“Hello?” I call out. “Are you in there?”
A light breeze blows across the yard, rustling the leaves, but there's no reply from the ash house.
I take another step closer.
“It's okay,” I continue. “You're not in trouble.”
Reaching the side of the little house, I lean down and peer inside. Sure enough I see a hand in the dirt, as if the girl is trying to hide. It's just a small hand, the hand of a child, and there's dirt all over her cut and scratched fingers.
“Do you know where my son is?” I ask. “Please, I'm not mad at you and I'm not here to hurt you. I just need to know what's going on in my mother's house.”
I wait, and slowly the hand slips out of view.
“I know you're in there,” I continue. “I don't know what's happening here. I don't even know what the date is. But my son is supposed to be in that house and there's no sign of him, and I'm scared. Can you understand that? If you know anything at all, it's really important that you tell me.”
No reply.
“Okay,” I add, “I'm going to come in. Don't be alarmed, don't panic, just stay right where you are and I'm coming in to talk to you.”
I glance over my shoulder, looking back toward the main house, and then I realize I've got no choice. Getting down onto my hands and knees, I start crawling through the ash house's entrance, and at first I don't see anything in the pitch-black interior. Finally, however, my eyes begin to adjust and I stop when I see the face of a terrified little girl staring back at me from the darkness. Before I can say anything to her, I realize that I've seen her before.
“You were in my dream,” I whisper, thinking back to the sight of the girl at the top of the stairs. Even now, as I look at her, I can see that the flesh around her eyes seems mottled and damaged. “What are you doing here? Do you live nearby?”
She simply stares at me.
“My name is Diane,” I continue, crawling a little further into the cramped interior of the ash house, and then sitting up until my head bumps against the curved stone ceiling. “Listen, I don't even know where to begin trying to understand this, but I need to find my son. His name's Daniel, and he looks about your age, and he's supposed to be in that house right now. My mother's supposed to be there too, but there's no sign of either of them and I'm starting to get really worried. Can you -”
Before I'm able to finish, she opens her mouth and lets out a faint, mumbled groan.
“I didn't catch that,” I tell her, trying to stay calm and patient. “Can you tell me your name? I need to figure out what's happening here, but so far I'm lost. Nothing makes much sense, and my thoughts are a little cloudy.”
/> I wait for her to reply, but after a moment I realize I can see some kind of smoke rising from her flesh. At the same time, the skin on her arms is starting to blacken and blister, although the girl herself seems untroubled by any of this. She's still just staring at me.
“Who are you?” I ask. “How did I see you in my dream? What -”
Suddenly I gasp as I see a ripple of flame bursting from the side of the girl's neck, and then more flames start dancing and crackling across her chest and shoulders. Even as she continues to stare at me, her body is starting to burn.
“Wait,” I stammer, “you can't -”
More flames burst from her flesh, filling the inside of the ash house with an inferno that forces me back. Panicking, I turn and start crawling out, and finally I roll onto the ground in the yard and look back to see that the entire ash house has been consumed by an inferno. The flames are roaring with such intensity that the entire yard is lit by a flickering glow, and the fire lasts for a few more seconds before fading away as quickly as it began.
And then silence.
“No,” I whisper, horrified by the thought of the girl burning to death. “Please...”
“Are you okay?” I call out, crawling back to the entrance. The fire is already over, but it's still odd that I don't feel any heat. I peer back into the ash house, and I'm shocked to see that the girl is still sitting in the exact same spot, still staring out at me. Her flesh is charred, and in places she's burned down to the bone.
I stare, but she says nothing.
“Are you -”
And then she crumbles. As if her whole body is made of ash, she simply falls away until all the pieces have fallen to the floor, and I'm left staring at the empty spot where she was sitting. Instinctively, I back out of the ash house and then stop, trying to figure out what I just saw.
A moment later, when I turn and look toward the main house, I see the silhouette of a man standing in one of the windows. He's watching me.
