Kim gripped her husband's hand, gripped it hard till she could feel his pulse against her digits. Still, comfort was elusive. It would've been a relatively easy thing for her to get over her apprehension if the only complaint she had was the occasional bump in the night, or the disappearance of the previous owners. Things had happened to her in that house, however. Things she couldn't write off so easily. The volume of peculiar and disturbing events was such that she had to read into them something sinister. That they were unrelated, coincidental, benign, never once occurred to her. There'd been the photograph in the upstairs bathroom, with the warning scrawled across the back. We're coming back for it, it had said. The memory of that photo in the attic of masked individuals made her shudder. More frightening still was the surreal, life-like dream she'd had of the old woman in the kitchen. That it'd been a dream at all she couldn't be sure.
The pleading look in her eyes made Julian's expression soften. She was scared, positively frightened, and she looked it. “I just... I want to reach out to someone. Maybe Edwin, or someone else who knew these people in life. I want to get to the bottom of this if I can, or closer to the truth, so that I can put this behind me. This couple has to have friends that are still alive, right? Edwin could probably put us in touch and we could find out more about the people who used to own this place. Maybe then--”
Julian tried to smother an exasperated sigh, throwing up one of his hands and nodding. “Sure, OK. That's fine. If you want to call him up and find out more about these folks, then do it. I won't stop you.” It was clear he was uninterested in her little investigation however. “Let me be straight with you, though. This is a bad idea. You need to let this go, not fixate on it harder, know what I'm saying? Call Edwin in the morning and have a chat with him, but don't go too deep. Don't jump down some rabbit hole, all right? This is history, ancient history as far as I'm concerned, and whatever happened to those people is none of my business. We own this house now and that's all that matters.”
Pleased with this, Kim perked up. “All right, yeah. I'll call Edwin tomorrow morning after breakfast. Maybe he can come by for coffee.”
“Sure,” he replied, shoveling a bite of food into his mouth.
Kim had lost her appetite. Recalling everything that'd hitherto bothered her about the house had ruined her mood. Nevertheless, she latched onto a bit of hope. Maybe Edwin will be able to tell me something more about this house, or to put me in touch with someone who knows about these people. Maybe... I can figure this thing out and make peace with living here. I just need someone to tell me more about them. Maybe then I won't feel like I'm going crazy. This house has a vibe about it. I know I can't possibly be the only one to feel it. Clinging to this fragment of hope, the kitchen seemed a little brighter to her, a little cheerier. To her, it was a glimpse of what the house could become if only she succeeded in learning more about the previous owners and subsequently banishing the veil of mystery that surrounded the place.
***
Nodding off on the sofa, Kim felt a finger tap her shoulder firmly. She looked up to find a groggy-looking Julian waving her towards the stairs. “Come on,” he slurred. “Bedtime.” While she'd attempted to stream a movie using the terrible wi-fi connection, he'd busied himself by polishing off the remainder of the wine. Guzzling the rest of the large bottle in the hours after dinner, he was pleasantly sloshed now, and he ambled sloppily towards the stairs, hiccoughing. “Gotta rock a piss,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes and sniffing the air.
Taking him by the arm, she helped to guide him up. The stairwell seemed to be made up of a million stairs as it took forever to get him to ascend, but when it was done, he staggered down the hall mainly by his own volition and used the bathroom. Then, leading him into the bedroom, she supported him as he lowered himself onto the bed and pulled back the covers. He hadn't been tucked in but a minute or two before the air was pierced by his drunken snoring.
Kim brushed her teeth and washed her face, putting out the light and walking across the moonlit bedroom to her side of the bed. As she went, she thought to close the curtains. The sun always blinded them in the mornings if they didn't, and Julian looked as though he'd be needing extra sleep. She frowned, could already hear him complaining about his hangover come morning. She gripped the soft brown curtains and gave them a tug.
She stopped short, however, her gaze drawn to something outside the window.
Her pulse quickened and her heart smashed against her sternum.
Eyes widened in disbelief, then terror.
Her knuckles went pale as she gripped the curtains, and the rod on the wall began to rattle in its socket.
The bedroom window gave her a view of the woods behind the house. Had the woods been more picturesque, then perhaps this would have been an attractive feature, however the view of the bald, dead woods to the rear of the house had only ever served to provoke dread in her.
Her dread at this glimpse of them was a thousand-fold for the wan presence of a humanoid figure standing in amidst the ebony, night-shaded trunks.
The figure, even from such a distance, seemed to zero in on her as she stood in the second-story window. It leered, or seemed to leer, from behind a white plaster mask. A mask of clumsy, bulbous and, worst of all, familiar make, stared up at her from the woods from more than a hundred yards away. Of the individual's appearance she could say very little; their clothing was dark, mixing in well with the surrounding shadow. The figure seldom stirred, except to look up at her. The movement was so slight, but it smacked her like a load of bricks all the same and saw her gasp. The figure was watching her. Kim could feel two eyes scanning her body, boring straight through her, from behind the clumsily-fashioned pinholes that answered for eyes. She fell back onto the bed and grabbed up a fistful of Julian's shirt, shaking him violently awake. “Julian,” she bawled, “wake up. T-there's someone standing out there. There's s-someone--”
He sat up on his elbows groggily, slack-jawed, and gazed at her from behind listless, drunken eyes. “W-what now?” The words left this lips in a jumbled mass, accompanied by a bit of drool.
“There's someone outside, standing in the woods,” she said, shaking him afresh. A trail of tears marked her cheek and she stole a glance at the window as though she thought the suspicious figure might hover just outside it. “He's... he's wearing a mask, a mask just like those people in the picture we found.”
Julian hiccoughed, then belched, his brow furrowing. “Picture?”
“The picture we found in the attic!” she shrieked.
It took him a few moments to process this, and when he did, he began to chuckle. He gulped, tried to rein in his slur and speak with his usual confidence. “Babe, no, look, that was an old, old picture. Real old. Anyone in that snapshot's long-dead by now. Or in a nursing home.” He hiccoughed and waved her away, throwing an arm over his face and stretching out in bed. “You just had too much wine. Seein' things...”
She could have slugged him for that. She wasn't drunk, hadn't hardly imbibed during dinner. Her anger was overshadowed quickly by terror however, and she slowly crept from the bed, keeping close to the wall and making her way back towards the window. She had no doubt of what she'd seen. She was awake, and it had been no hallucination. As she took hold of the curtain and slowly peered through the window once more, she did so with a breath dwelling deep in her lungs. She wasn't sure if the masked figure had come closer in the interim, if he'd attempt to enter the house.
She looked out the window, scanning the woods frenziedly for the solitary masked figure standing in amidst the trees.
A few seconds passed.
A few more.
There was no sign of the figure to be found. Though she zeroed in on the particular stretch of woods she'd earlier spotted him in, no tearful search could yield even the remotest evidence he'd ever been there. It was possible he'd made a run for the house. Or that he had simply disappeared back into the woods from whence he'd come. Either way, the masked figure was gone.
>
Somehow, that seemed the most likely explanation to her. She couldn't say why, but as the minutes passed and the figure could not be heard to enter the house, she pictured the ghastly white mask, the dark, nebulous body, and imagined it seemingly blinking out of existence, evaporating in a flash into the surrounding murk. That was all it was. One minute he'd been there. In the next he was not.
Kim rushed into bed, curling up beside her drunk husband and tugging the covers high over her head. She listened for the longest time, till the evidences of dawn began to emerge through the open curtains, for an intruder. The bed beneath her was left damp with sweat, and she hoped, prayed, for morning.
When it came, she fell into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter 8
Kim woke up in a fit of terror, leaping out of bed and startling Julian, who was teetering back from the bathroom, a palm pressed to his reddened forehead. Her fright was owed to no dream; upon waking, she'd recalled the events of the previous night, the frightening masked figure she'd spied in the woods, and had jumped almost immediately to the window, searching the tree-line for any sign of him.
The woods were clear, sunlit.
She shuddered, turning to Julian and pointing at the window. “I'm telling you, I saw someone out there last night, and they were wearing a damned mask.” She pursed her lips, immediately seeking out her phone and searching through the history for Edwin's number. “I'm calling Edwin. He's going to come by today and we're going to talk about this shit.” She held the phone out towards the window, finding a weak reception, and then held it to her ear, slumping against the dresser.
Julian groaned, motioning to the window in the hopes that she'd tug the curtains closed. “Too bright,” he moaned, turning away and staggering to the doorway.”And don't get so carried away,” he mumbled, taking an unsteady step into the hall.
The phone rang three times before the familiar voice answered. “Hello, Edwin speaking.”
Kim gulped, shoving back a handful of her matted hair and thinking of the most delicate way to make her request. The fright coursing through her made this no easy feat. Don't make it sound like you're going crazy. Don't tell him about any of this creepy shit. Just tell him you wanna talk about the previous owners. She cleared her throat. “Hi, Edwin? It's Kim Taylor. You sold me and my husband Julian the Beacon estate?” She paused, waiting awkwardly for some acknowledgement.
After a few moments, he finally responded. “Ah, yes... and how are you this morning, Mrs. Taylor?” Then he added, “I hope everything's going well with the house, of course.”
Kim gave a nervous laugh. No, everything was not well with the house. The house situation, in fact, was going rather poorly. But she feared she'd scare him off if she spilled her guts and described all of the frightening things she'd been subjected to in recent days. Instead, she put on the most cordial tone of voice she could muster and asked him to come by for a chat. “I don't suppose you have any free time today, do you? You see, I have some questions about the house-- about its previous owners, specifically, and I'd like to speak to you about them. You were a close friend of theirs, after all, so who better to speak to?”
The request seemed to make him a little uncomfortable. He made a little open-mouthed sound, barely audible, that indicated something like hesitance, then chuckled. “Well, uh, all sales are final, ya know?” When he'd finished laughing at his own joke, he continued, “But what do you wanna talk about, exactly?”
Kim munched on her thumbnail and took to pacing around the bedroom. “Oh, nothing too serious, really. I just...” She waffled. “I'd like to... like to know more about the house's history. And I want to know more about the former owners, and their lives. Their interests. You know... what kind of people they were.” Before he had a chance to ask her any more questions, she interjected. “I just feel like I'd be a lot more comfortable if I knew more about the lovely people who built this gorgeous house.” There, she thought. You phrased it like some kind of compliment. Maybe that'll work.
“Erm...” Edwin sighed. “Yeah, sure, I can be by around noon. I don't live too far, so it isn't a terrible drive for me.”
“Excellent,” she said, barely able to contain her excitement. “Noon. I'll see you then.”
Hanging up the phone, she called downstairs to Julian, her voice carrying happily and making his headache flare up something fierce. “Edwin's coming by at noon!”
“Great,” he growled, switching on the coffee maker and standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Can't wait.”
“You know what, you stay home and nurse your stupid hangover, then. I'll take him out for a walk around the house,” she said, diving into the closet and seeking out a sweater. She pulled her hair back, slid into her jeans and put on comfortable flats. Descending the stairs, she yanked the mug of fresh coffee from Julian's grasp and thanked him sarcastically before carrying it out onto the back patio.
The sun was competing for room in the sky with a mess of grey clouds. Very soon now the day would be overcast. It might even rain. Kim sucked down a mouthful of hot coffee and looked to the woods, a chill walking down her spine despite the warmth of the brew. With a little effort she picked out the spot where she'd seen the figure the night before. It was daylight out, and there was still no sign of the figure to be found there, however she was out in the open now, rather than in her bedroom, and being within such close proximity to the spot in question made her heart flutter.
Had it all been a dream, maybe? Perhaps she'd been tired, hallucinating? No. She'd seen something, someone, in these woods. Who it was, why they'd revealed themselves to her and stared silently up at her window she hadn't the foggiest. But she would find out. It would take a while, could be like pulling teeth, if the hesitance in Edwin's voice was any indication, but she'd learn more about this property and figure out just what the hell was going on. Something was happening in this place. She was caught up in something, a web, whose parts she couldn't fully see.
Edwin would be by soon, she kept reminding herself. Perhaps he'd be able to shed light on some things, put her mind at ease. He could tell her about the woods, about the photographs they'd found in the house. And then there was the matter of the door in the cellar. What were the odds that he knew about that?
She let the steam rolling off of her coffee tickle her nose as she raised the mug to her lips. Soon you'll have some answers. She looked up at the sky, its face stained more grey than blue now. Hopefully.
Chapter 9
“Mind if I smoke?” was the first thing out of his mouth as he joined her around back. Edwin lit up a Marlboro and sent a puff of smoke into the air with a satisfied sigh. He looked out to the woods, up at the sky, and then smiled at his hostess. “So, how have things been? With the house, I mean?”
She answered by way of a pointed silence.
Taking a longer drag, he coughed a little. “You two having problems, maybe? Trouble getting used to it?” They'd begun walking aimlessly, leaving the back of the house and trending towards the woods. He seemed apprehensive about the subtle change in their direction and eyed the woods constantly with an almost fearful vigilance. Now when he spoke he didn't even look at her, merely keeping his eyes glued to the trees as though waiting for something to jump out at him. “You said you wanted to know about Marshall and Dakota. I don't even know where to start, really. They were fine people, lovely people. Very warm.”
The woods towered beside them. The bare trees stretched high into the air, their bodies fragmenting the weak sunlight and casting long, dark shadows. It shouldn't have been so; to Kim it seemed awfully early for such shadows, and the overcast sky wasn't allowing enough light through for them. But there they were all the same, cast upon the crunchy grass like black, oily stains.
Kim shoved her hands into her pockets and lowered her gaze, watching the blades of grass go by as she walked. She spoke quietly, furtively, as if she were afraid the woods might eavesdrop. “Start from the beginning. How did you meet them?�
�
He ran his tongue across his yellowed molars, falling into deep thought. This single question launched Edwin into a reminisce of nearly an hour, wherein he recounted his friendship with Marshall and Dakota Reed. There were countless tangents along the way, so many that Kim had some trouble keeping things straight. But she retained the broader strokes of his talk and felt, by the time they started back towards the house almost an hour later, that she had a semi-faithful caricature of the previous owners built up in her head.
Edwin must have smoked half a pack of cigarettes while they spoke. Whether he was simply that addicted or the conversation necessitated a sort of crutch Kim was unsure. He was silent for a time before starting, looking deep into the woods whose edges they were skirting like he was searching for the best starting point.
“I met Marshall when we were just kids. We were both straight outta the Navy, the two of us. Had served together during our last deployment and got to be pretty good friends. Well, coming back home, we settled in around this area. Has always been quiet like this, unpeopled n' such. It's strange to look around at these woods, at these open spaces and find them unchanged. But that's exactly what it is. This place ain't changed a bit in almost sixty years, I reckon. Sometimes I like it that way...” He busied himself, lighting a fresh cigarette. He didn't take a drag at once, but instead watched the tip burn away into embers for a short time. “Sometimes I don't like it. Can't say why, except that it's a little disorienting sometimes. Take, for instance, these trees here. They've always been dead, all of 'em, as far back as I can remember. Never seen a single leaf in these here woods. Some would call that peculiar, and I don't say I would disagree, though some tree expert out there could probably give a mighty pretty-sounding explanation for why these trees are still standing this way after so many years and so little growth.
In Absentia (Black Acres Book 1) Page 5
