The Stone Child

by Dan Poblocki

  Eddie felt dizzy, but he managed to say, “It was really … creepy.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She was hugging her notebook against her chest. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Eddie reached out and touched the cover. “Can I see it?”

  “Sure,” she said, “but don’t read ahead.”

  Eddie took the notebook from her. He felt Maggie and Harris come up on either side of him. They looked over his shoulder as he opened the cover. What he saw there nearly caused him to drop the book on the floor. He looked again, this time more closely, to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

  He hadn’t. His mother had drawn the symbol in the middle of the front page, over the title, like Nathaniel Olmstead’s handwritten books in his basement.

  “Eddie, what’s the matter?” said his mother. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Why did you draw this here on the first page?” said Eddie, pointing at the symbol. He knew she’d seen it before—in The Enigmatic Manuscript the night they’d moved to Gatesweed—but after everything that had happened, it horrified him to see that she had drawn it at the beginning of her notebook too.

  “Oh, that thing?” said Mom, almost distracted. “I don’t know. It just sort of popped into my head when I picked up the …” She didn’t finish. She suddenly looked embarrassed.

  “When you picked up the what?” said Harris.

  Eddie’s mother blinked. “When I picked up my pen,” she said, “the symbol popped into my head. For some reason, I wrote it down. For luck or something. I didn’t really have a reason.”

  “What kind of pen was it?” said Maggie.

  Eddie’s mom took a step backward. “I don’t know. It was something I found in one of my husband’s boxes of antiques,” she said. “In fact, I think it was in there with that book I gave you at the beginning of the school year, Edgar.” She waved to her husband, who stood several feet behind Eddie. “Honey, didn’t we find that pen at the same antiques fair as Edgar’s book?”

  “Yeah,” said Dad. “I think so.”

  “The pen … What does it look like?” said Eddie, his voice rising. He knew he was starting to sound paranoid, but he could barely think, never mind speak.

  “It looks like a … small silver dagger,” said Mom. “It’s very pretty. When I hold it, I just … want to write.” The three kids stared at her. “What’s this all about, Eddie?”

  “It’s nothing,” he heard himself say. “Do you still have it?”

  “Of course,” she said. “It’s at home.”

  “Where?” said Eddie. “Can we see it?”

  She looked at him like he was crazy. “Yes, I’ll show it to you tomorrow morning. When I’ve finished my book.”

  “No!” shouted the three kids together. Mom was so startled she nearly fell backward into the food table.

  “Sorry, Mom. Can we see it now?” said Eddie.

  “You’re being very strange, Eddie,” said Dad. He moved a folding chair as he took a step toward his wife.

  “I know I’m being strange,” said Eddie. “But it’s really important.”

  “Fine,” said Mom, exasperated. “We’ll be heading out in a few minutes.”

  After Eddie’s parents said goodbye to Frances, they all piled into the blue station wagon. Eddie, Harris, and Maggie squeezed into the backseat.

  “I really wish you kids would tell me why you’re so upset,” said Eddie’s mother.

  “We’re not upset,” said Maggie. “We loved your story. We’re just curious about … how you wrote it. That’s all.”

  “You’re curious about a pen?” said Eddie’s dad.

  Harris coughed. “We … really like pens.”

  Eddie nudged Harris in the ribs. His parents weren’t stupid. Harris turned red and shrugged.

  It was dark by the time they arrived at the Fennicks house. The kids scrambled out of the car and tried to wait patiently in the living room. Eddie’s mom brought her “pen” downstairs, and when she finally handed it to Eddie, he felt a jolt. It was freezing cold. The tip was sharp. And its chain seemed to shimmer like the tail of a comet. It looked and felt just as he imagined it would. The weight of its history was overwhelming.

  “Satisfied?” asked Eddie’s mother.

  “Sure,” said Eddie, trying to control the fear in his voice as he headed up the stairs to his bedroom. “Can we borrow it for a second? I want to try something.”

  “Well …,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Okay. Just be careful. I need it.”

  “We’ll be careful,” said Harris, following Eddie.

  Upstairs, Eddie ushered his friends into his room, closed the door, and leaned against it.

  “Can I see it?” said Harris, sitting at Eddie’s desk. Eddie handed the pendant to him. Maggie knelt next to Harris, reached out, and touched it too. “Do you think it’s real?” Harris added.

  “If it is, then this all finally makes sense,” said Maggie.

  Eddie leaned over Harris’s chair, opened his desk drawer, and pulled out a piece of paper. Harris handed the pendant back. Gripping it like a pen, Eddie pressed it to the paper. Miraculously, a black dot appeared there. Eddie dragged the tip across the paper, drawing a sharp black line from corner to corner. “It’s real, all right. Why didn’t I realize this before now?” said Eddie, his voice shaking.

  “Realize what?” said Harris. “How your mom ended up with this thing?”

  “Yes.” Eddie took a deep breath. “Remember the box that the search party found in the Nameless Lake? It was supposed to contain The Enigmatic Manuscript and the pendant that Nathaniel hid before disappearing?”

  Harris nodded.

  “The police lost its contents, and somehow the book and the pendant ended up at the Black Hood Antiques Fair.” Eddie put the pendant down. He didn’t like the way it felt. The cold seemed to be burning his skin. “My parents happened to buy both items. And just like the pendant led Nathaniel Olmstead to Gatesweed, it began to work its magic on my mother. That’s why we moved here. My mother said so herself. She came looking for inspiration and found it in Gatesweed.”

  “So your mom’s been writing this book since you moved in?” said Harris.

  “Yes,” said Eddie. “Somehow, the Woman in Black must have gotten her to write the story that Nathaniel Olmstead refused to finish. My mom didn’t realize what she was doing. She thought that she’d finally come up with a good idea.”

  Maggie stood up, crossing her arms. “If your mother finishes writing the book, the gate will open. The Woman in Black will be able to come through.”

  “We can’t let that happen,” said Harris.

  “But how?” said Eddie.

  “Tell your mother she has to destroy her manuscript,” said Maggie.

  “It won’t matter if she destroys the manuscript,” said Harris. “First of all, according to Nathaniel Olmstead, it can’t be destroyed. Second, the Woman in Black has been waiting around since, like, the beginning of time for this to happen. She will just get someone else to write it someday.”

  “You’re right. We can’t destroy the manuscript,” said Eddie. He stared at the black line he’d scratched across the paper. He thought about all of Nathaniel’s books hidden in his basement—a permanent record of the town’s awful legacy. There had to be something they could do to end it. “Do you think we can … destroy the gate?”

  “The gate?” said Maggie.

  “The stone child,” said Eddie. “In the woods. Maybe … if we destroy the statue, we destroy the gate? That way, the Woman in Black will never be able to come through!”

  “That’s brilliant!” said Harris.

  “But how do we destroy the statue?” said Maggie. “According to the legend, hasn’t it existed, like … forever?”

  Eddie glanced into his open desk drawer. A shape at the back caught his eye. He reached inside and pulled it out. It was the hammer he’d brought with him when they’d snuck into Nathaniel Olmstead�
�s house. “Stone breaks if you hit it hard enough,” said Eddie. “Doesn’t it?”

  “Let’s hope,” said Harris.

  “When should we do it?” said Maggie.

  “You heard my mother,” said Eddie. “She wants to finish her book tonight.” The light on the desk began to flicker. They all stared at it for several seconds. Then Eddie added, “So we need to go now.”

  17

  Since Maggie lived within walking distance of the Olmstead estate, Eddie asked his father if he would drive them all to her house so they could watch a movie. Eddie’s father looked like he didn’t believe them—especially since, a few minutes earlier, they’d been acting so weird about Mom’s “pen”—but he drove them anyway.

  Eddie knew his mother planned on using the pendant to finish writing her book, and rather than explain everything and why that might be a bad idea, he’d simply taken it without her noticing. He hoped she wouldn’t be too upset with him when he came home again. If he came home again.

  The journey through the hills was the same as always. The roads went up and down. They twisted and turned. With every dip in the road, with every sighing rise, Eddie’s anxiety grew. For some reason, he felt guilty—if he hadn’t been interested in Nathaniel Olmstead books, would his mother still have tried to write her own? Then he thought about the pendant she had found, and Eddie tried to convince himself that what had happened was no one’s fault. Whoever came into possession of the object would be drawn toward the gate—especially a writer looking for a story to tell, like Nathaniel Olmstead … or his mom.

  The pendant was dangerous, and he understood now that it seemed to have a life of its own. He could feel the thing almost vibrating at the bottom of his backpack. There was something in its nature that instinctively needed to be near the gate. And it seemed to have a talent for making people do what it wanted.

  Dad dropped them off at the end of Maggie’s driveway. They waved goodbye and watched until his red brake lights disappeared around the bend, then they walked up the driveway to Maggie’s house. Once inside, she led them to a table in the corner of the kitchen.

  “What should we bring with us?” she asked.

  “I’ve got the hammer and the pendant in my bag,” said Eddie. “We’ll definitely need some extra flashlights.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Maggie, getting up and opening the cabinet under the sink. “I think my dad keeps some in here.” She pulled out two small plastic flashlights and placed them on the table.

  “Nice,” said Harris. “We’ll need those to keep away the Watchers. But what else can we use … you know … in case some of Nathaniel’s other monsters are waiting for us?”

  “I guess it would be helpful to come up with a list of creatures from his books,” said Eddie. “Then we can match them up with whatever the characters used to defeat them. Hopefully, we can find whatever we’ll need here in Maggie’s house.”

  “Hopefully,” said Maggie.

  A few minutes later, they’d put together a list of things to take on their journey into the woods. Wind chimes for the Wendigo. Glass marbles for the weeping spirits. A stapler for the shadow-stalker. An egg timer for the sand-suckers. Chicken bones for the monster lake-dogs. Plus much more. “Who knows if most of these monsters are still hanging out in Gatesweed,” said Eddie, “but at least this list will get us started.”

  “Scavenger hunt!” said Harris, standing up from the table.

  “Shhh,” Maggie answered. “My parents are upstairs, probably watching television. We don’t want them asking any questions. If they see me leave the house again tonight, they’ll want to know where I’m going, and they’re not going to buy the ‘watching a movie at Harris’s house’ excuse. Just look around, see what you can find, then we’ll sneak out.”

  They quietly went through the kitchen drawers, refrigerator, pantry, and china cabinet in the living room, taking what they thought would be useful. When they had finished, Eddie’s bag was heavy, but he hiked it up on his shoulder and took a deep breath.

  “Ready?” said Maggie as they slipped out the front door.

  “Ready,” said Eddie and Harris.

  They crept down Maggie’s driveway to the street, then down the hill to Nathaniel Olmstead’s estate.

  The clouds parted. The full moon emerged. And suddenly the house rose before them, glowing on the barren hillside like a second moon in a second sky.

  They parted the vines and crept through the gap in the broken fence. The driveway stretched up the hill. They began the long walk, shining their flashlights into the shadows. Harris kept his eyes forward, Maggie scanned the woods on either side, and Eddie looked over his shoulder at the driveway behind them. That way, they had all directions covered. The moon was so bright that they almost didn’t need the flashlights, but they kept them turned on anyway, in case the Watchers were lurking.

  Eddie was careful not to look at the house. He almost expected to see the old woman’s face in an upstairs window. They crept around back and hesitated only briefly before heading down the hill to the orchard. As they made their way up the next ridge, Eddie couldn’t clear the thought of those tall figures in shadowy robes.

  At the top of the ridge, a bird fluttered from a nearby branch, and Eddie nearly flew away as well. He thought of those dogs, the gremlin, and the thing his father had struck with the car a month ago. He wondered if coming here was really worth the danger? Then he thought about the Woman in Black being released into the world, and he stopped questioning himself.

  He continued to follow Harris and Maggie quietly through the brush. They came down from the ridge, and the entire forest seemed to shudder. Tonight the trees looked different—they were larger, more gnarled, more threatening. The leafy ground seemed to ripple in waves like whitecaps in the ocean, but whenever Eddie looked directly down, it stopped moving. The light shining through the treetops was almost green. Eddie thought it might be an illusion, possibly sent by the Woman in Black to frighten them, but still, it looked so real.

  Above them, something rustled through the treetops, scattering leaves and twigs to the forest floor like hail. The three of them froze where they stood. Looking up, Eddie couldn’t see anything but the silhouette of the black branches against the starry sky. Wide-eyed, Harris pointed at Eddie’s backpack. “Wind chimes,” he whispered.

  Cautiously, Eddie unzipped his bag. The small cluster of chimes was buried halfway down, underneath a plastic baggie filled with pieces of leftover roasted chicken from Maggie’s refrigerator. As he pulled out the chimes, they rang. The noise was especially loud in the surrounding darkness. He tied the string to his belt loop, allowing the chimes to dangle next to his front pocket, where they jingled and jangled with every step.

  “Won’t that sound draw attention to us?” said Maggie.

  “Maybe,” said Harris. “But that’s better than being snatched up into the sky by a Wendigo, don’t you think? Remember the schoolteacher found in the—”

  “If he’s up there watching us,” Eddie interrupted, “the chimes will keep him away. That’s why we brought them.”

  Maggie closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to block out a terrifying vision. They kept walking.

  A few minutes later, Harris held out his hands, stopping Maggie and Eddie in their tracks. To their left about twenty feet away through the trees, Eddie could see vague movement. Harris swung his flashlight toward the shifting shadows, and several pale faces appeared. “They’re here,” he whispered. “Keep your lights on them.”

  The Watchers watched from between the trees, trapped between the shadows and the moonlight—their white heads seeming to hover far above the ground, like balloons. Eddie kept his eyes on the creatures as Maggie and Harris led him forward. Slowly, the three kids continued to make their way through the woods. Eddie trudged over the brush, trying desperately not to trip. Finally, he could no longer see the skulllike faces. He made sure to keep his flashlight shining behind them as they continued their walk, so
the creatures could not follow.

  Then Harris stopped them again. “We made it,” he said.

  Ahead, the statue stood, glowing in the moonlight. Her stone arms reached out to them, holding her stone book. Her stone hair reflected the light in the greenish way the rest of the forest had. She looked so innocent, as if she knew no more about the world than Eddie had before moving to Gatesweed. He almost felt guilty for what he was about to do but then reminded himself that she was merely a piece of rock.

  They came into the clearing. A bird chattered in a nearby tree. Another bird cawed, and Eddie heard the flapping of wings. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t see those pale faces and the stretched red lips. There was nothing there but shadows and light.

  Harris crossed the clearing. He stopped abruptly, and Eddie nearly ran into his shoulder. Maggie came up beside Eddie. The statue stood only a few feet away. Trembling, Eddie placed his bag on the ground, reached inside, and pulled out the hammer. The moonlight glinted off its tarnished metal claw. The weight of the tool was a relief in Eddie’s hand—it felt powerful. Everything was happening so quickly. In a few moments, all of this would be over.

  But before Eddie could move, the night groaned and the shadows grew. He glanced toward the edge of the clearing, beyond which the slope led downhill to the Nameless Lake. Several pairs of glowing red lights hovered in the darkness like fireflies. Eddie knew they weren’t insects—these strange lights were the eyes of the dogs that had crawled from the lake. The animals’ harsh growls began to surround them as more and more of their glowing red eyes appeared on all sides of the clearing. Other sounds came from the forest as well—soft slithering sounds, harsh hissing sounds, the sounds of claws dragging through dirt. Though he couldn’t see much in the shadows, Eddie imagined all of Nathaniel Olmstead’s monsters approaching through the darkness.

  “Quick,” he whispered. “The chicken bones. In my bag …”

  Maggie knelt down and pulled the baggie out of Eddie’s backpack. “What do I do?”

  “Throw them,” said Harris.