“Wait. What do you mean?” James was confused.
“How did you kill them?” Karen’s worry returned. She eyed him suspiciously.
“I didn't touch them. I thought maybe I had bought ‘faulty’ flowers.”
“There wasn’t anything wrong with them!” Karen pulled at her hair. She paced back and forth across the hallway between the two front rooms.
“Honey, it’s not a big deal.” James was afraid for his wife’s behavior.
At this, the doorbell rang. Karen moaned in her hysteria. She ran into the kitchen. James opened the door. Nothing.
James stood on the empty stoop, looking to his left, then looking to his right. He stared off down the hill. It was dark now. He couldn’t see anything, but he could feel something.
“There’s something going on in this house!” a voice suddenly said from behind. James jumped.
Karen stood, stony but pale, in the doorway. She was smoking again.
Stress, James thought.
“It’s just kids, babe” James shook his head dismissively.
“No.” Her eyes moved from James’ out onto the empty street. “It’s not.”
37
James placed Karen down on the sofa. He pulled a chair around to face her and sat.
“There is nothing going on here. Kids prank houses all the time. We’re the new folks in town, this is to be expected.” He smiled, desperately trying to think of some way to reassure his wife. Secretly, James was frightened.
“There are things happening around here that don’t make sense. Doors being knocked by nobody, windows opening by themselves, flowers dying suddenly...” Karen shook her head looking wide-eyed into the fireplace.
Sophie and Marcus were upstairs in their rooms. Karen had put Sophie down for a nap and she had not reawakened. Marcus had been reading when she last checked. Silence permeated the house.
The steady sound of the clock on the mantelpiece echoed. Tock...tock...tock...
Karen looked up. It had stopped. She rose and stumbled over to it. Her hands planted on the mantelpiece, she stared into the clock face.
“Karen?” James ventured.
She continued to scrutinize the clock.
“Karen!” James said more firmly.
Karen spun around. “What did I tell you?!” She whispered, her voice rasped.
“Kay, it just needs wound up more. It’s not a big deal!” James was becoming exasperated with her.
“Fine! You wind it; see how long it stays like that!” She stormed off. As she did so, she looked into the other front room. The portrait of Henry Clark hung above the fireplace. She reversed. There it was still.
“James?” she quivered.
“Calmed down again?” he said smiling as he rounded the corner. He found his wife frozen in place, gaping into the other room. Looking above the fireplace at a painting that shouldn’t be there.
“Did you re-hang that?” she turned her head slowly towards him.
“No. I put it into the basement.” James moved into the room, apprehensively towards the ominous portrait.
His eyes shifted over it as he stood facing it. He finally reached up, unhooked it and brought it down.
“I’ll put it back down again.”
James spun the painting around so that the judgemental gaze of ‘Lord’ Clark did not fall on him. He bent and lifted it. He waddled out of the front room and into the hall. As he squeezed past Karen and down the hallway, Karen’s eyes met the portrait. Henry Clark’s profiled face harsh and unforgiving turned and faced her. She screamed and fell backwards, hitting her head on the banister behind her.
James dropped the picture and rushed to his wife’s aid.
“Babe! What happened?” his face strained with confusion and worry.
Karen was shaking. She pointed to the fallen portrait, which was now face down.
“The f-f-face. It-it m-moved!” The words came in a high-pitched stutter.
James looked from Karen to the painting and back. Was his wife going crazy? Did this explain why she had been acting so weird? Was she hallucinating?
“Eh...hun...you feeling alright?”
Karen rubbed the back of her head. She had gathered herself now, but she still pointed adamantly towards the fallen portrait. “That picture moved.”
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?”
“Don’t call me crazy, James! I know what I fuckin’ saw!”
“I'm not saying you're crazy...I’m just saying...maybe you haven’t really been seeing what you think...?”
Karen looked disgustedly at her husband. She pushed herself up onto her feet and made her way up the stairs.
“Kay!” James called after her. She didn't slow. “Shit!” he breathed
38
Karen decided she would definitely break into the attic. She had contemplated having a locksmith take a mold of the lock so they could make a key. After last night and the painting, she was determined to do it now.
With James at the office and the children at school, she had the opportunity and time to do so.
Karen walked into Blackwater. She strode down the street ignoring the stares. Eli’s Hardware was on the other side of the square and she made sure to walk on the far side of the street from James’ office. She didn't want him questioning where she was going.
The bell rang above the hardware store door as she entered.
“Hello, Mr. Bluth,” she called as the man and his oversized baby head appeared from behind the cash register.
“Mrs. Dawson! Always a pleasure! What can I get for you today?” His friendly bald faced beamed.
“I need a sledgehammer.” She said bluntly.
“Mr. Dawson been annoying you?” he guffawed.
“I wish.” She winked. “There’s a few stubborn problems with the house. I need to remove some obstructions.” Karen felt funny talking this way; like the truth was secretly in there.
“Houses can be persistent creatures. I really think they are alive. You have to treat them like a dog or a child; show them what is and is not acceptable!” He laughed. Karen did not join in.
After a second of silence, he added, “Let’s have a look at those sledgehammers, shall we?”
Karen followed him solemnly to the rear of the store. Lining the walls, were spades, hoes, rakes and sledgehammers.
“This one here is your standard. 22 inch handle, 10 inch iron head. Got some good swing in it and it packs a punch. The bricks won’t know what hit them!” he grinned. He was desperate to get a reaction out of the passive woman.
“What about this one?” Karen pawed at a ‘special number’
“You’ve got an eye for quality, Mrs. Dawson. That is the best on the market! Blows a hole through anything!”
“I’ll take it.” She nodded once and turned away. She walked to the till and waited for Eli to return.
This family sure is weird, he thought as he lifted the ton weight off the rack.
Once Karen had paid, she walked back to the house again. Eli Bluth had offered to deliver it for her; it was heavy after all. She declined politely and said she could manage. She was now limping down Main Street as the huge sledgehammer swung dangerously with each step. Small cliques gathered to ogle her. Karen wasn’t sure whether it was the house connection or the ginormous sledgehammer that aroused the stares.
Bit of both, she reckoned.
By the time Karen had reached Blackwater House, her arms felt like lead. They hung uselessly at her side. The feeling had gone from them. She had taken to dragging the mallet behind her along the ground. The carpet of leaves provided some ease as she slid the heavy mallet over it. She rested a few times.
The walk into town had taken fifteen or twenty minutes. She took over an hour to get the sledgehammer back.
At the door of the house, Karen leant the handle of the sledgehammer against the jamb. She struggled to remove the keys from her pocket. When she managed to extract them with numb, shaking hands, Karen inserted them into
the door. She fell through onto the house’s extravagant wooden floor. She rolled onto her back, breathing heavy for a minute. Karen contemplated just going to sleep. She felt as if she had run a marathon. Karen told herself that she could do it later. Now she had to find out what was in that room.
Groaning her way back to her knees, Karen crawled slowly towards the open door. She reached for the handle, pulling it inside until the head of the mallet got stuck on the threshold. Karen would have to lift it now, especially once in the house; she couldn’t scrape the delicate floors.
Summoning all of her strength, Karen lifted the sledgehammer, running the whole way. She stumbled up the stairs, leaving the door ajar. The first flight was okay but the second flight hurt. Karen was sure she tore something.
Collapsing outside the attic door, she panted. Sweat burnt her eyes. Karen didn't know how long she lay there. She closed her eyes and listened to the faint wind rustling leaves and birds chirping through the open door two stories below.
After five minutes, or maybe hours, she rolled onto her feet. She unsteadily made her way downstairs, clutching the banister for support. A bundle of leaves had gathered on the threshold, Karen brushed them outside again with her hands and closed the door.
Back against the door, she panted. Her eyes wandered to the bay window on the first floor landing. The dying sunlight of the day streamed in bathing the house in golden light. James would be home soon. She needed to get a move on.
Karen had pushed herself enough to ascend the stairs and arrive back outside the attic door. She gripped the sledgehammer. Karen planted her feet shoulder width apart. She drew it back and with all her might, brought it forward. The sledge hammer collided with the wooden door. A splinter formed in its center.
Karen took another breath and swung. The mallet made contact with the body of the door, breaking a hole in it.
Karen dropped to her knees and peered in. She could see only a little of the room. She could make out the window in the far wall. The little light it did let in only set to illuminate a small portion of the room. It appeared to be empty.
She jumped back to her feet. The adrenaline pumped through her system now and she had renewed strength. She swung several times in a row; demolishing the door further.
Karen hunkered down and reached in through the splintered opening. She felt at the handle on the other side. She felt a key in a lock. She turned it. The door swung open with a long creak.
Karen remained on her knees for a second. Her eyes darted from left to right, trying to scan the room without entering. She regretted breaking down the door now, feeling uneasy as if something was watching her.
Getting to her feet, Karen stepped gingerly inside. She peeked behind her. She walked across the room, whipping her head from left to right, making sure she was still alone in the empty room.
When she reached the window, she looked down on the grassy knoll on which the house stood. A man was looking up at her. He had a curiously familiar face. His clothes were that of a man stuck in a by-gone era. His bell-bottom jeans and shaggy haircut looked more appropriate for 1972 rather than 1982. As Karen was staring at this strange specimen from time, she felt cold. The temperature of the room had dropped dramatically. She could see her breath and exhaled against her hand. Karen looked around and felt that sense of dread creeping over her again.
I'm not alone in here, she thought. Her pupils dilated to quarters.
She hurried out of the attic, whirling around as she did so; desperate to see anything lurking in the shadows.
James had hardly entered when Karen accosted him.
“We have to get an alarm system put in!” She had him against the door.
“Did a painting move again?” He joked and immediately regretted it.
“You think I'm joking?! Some guy was outside today looking in at me!” she pushed James back as he tried to move from his position against the door.
“Did he say anything? Do anything?” he looked genuinely worried now.
“No. He didn't even have an expression on his face. He just stared blankly up at me in the---” Karen stopped. She would have to tell him some way. He would surely notice the non-existent door eventually.
“In the what?” James cocked his head in an attempt to meet Karen’s evasive gaze.
“In the attic...” Karen finished but didn't dare meet James now gobsmacked face.
“Why---how did you get in the attic? Did you find a key?” he kept searching her face. “Did you call a locksmith, have one made?”
“I broke the door down...”
James burst out laughing. “You broke the door down?! You mean, like, with your shoulder?” he issued another laugh.
“No...” Karen said resentfully. “With a sledgehammer.”
James paused for a second, processing this new information. “Honey, we don’t own a sledgehammer...”
“I bought one from Eli Bluth,” she said indignantly. She drew her eyes up to look at him now. She was unblinking.
“Couldn’t you just have called the locksmith?” he rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to understand his wife.
“I wanted what I wanted,” she said flatly. “You know all about that...” She raised an eyebrow to him.
“You’ll never let me forget that will you?”
“That you fucked your secretary? Not likely no!”
James let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll get an alarm put in.”
“Good.” Karen smiled finally. “How was your day?”
39
James had remained unemotional when he had seen the ruined door. He knew better. Marcus on the other hand found it quite amusing.
“Mom, you murdered the door!” he smirked.
Sophie giggled next him. “Mommy, you're silly!”
The children had been late in coming home. They had been at school friends’ houses. In fact, it had been one house. The young sister of Marcus’ friend turned out to be in Sophie’s kindergarten. Susie’s mother had suggested to Karen they double play-date one afternoon. Karen had jumped at the idea and suggested the following day. This had given her the chance at getting the sledgehammer.
The attic room enraptured Marcus. He stood in awe of the place.
“This is so cool! Could I move up here?” he turned hopefully back to his parents.
“It’s pretty cold up here, hun...I don’t want you getting sick...” Karen may have thought it was cold, but she was more frightened by the room.
“This room’s been sealed off for ten years; the radiator probably just needs turned on and bled.” James said trying to reassure Karen. She gave him an unappreciative look.
“Awesome!” Marcus hissed.
Karen felt something shaking her leg. She looked down and saw little Sophie clinging to her. She was trembling.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” She said worriedly as she dropped to her knees to see Sophie.
“This room scares me...” she whispered.
“It’s just a room, baby.” Karen smiled weakly at the child. She had to remain strong for her despite her own broiling feelings. Karen stroked her hair.
Turning to Marcus, “You can move your stuff up tomorrow, a little bit every day. It’s too late now. Dinner then bed!”
Resigned, Marcus nodded to his mother’s orders and meandered back out the door, taking one last look around the room as he did so. James, Sophie and Marcus descended the stairs. Karen looked into the room again.
“And a new door as well, James!” she called down.
“I want this room closed off again...” she quietly said to herself.
40
The phone rang.
“Hey babe, just off the phone with the alarm company. They’re sending a guy out to put in a temporary system and to have a look at the house. He’s gonna make notes and then they will know exactly what to put in and where.”
“Aw, that's great, Jay! What time?”
“They said it won’t be ‘til three...I’m afraid you’l
l have to wait until the kids are home. I’ll be home too though. I haven’t any appointments.”
“Okay...” Karen wasn’t as elated as she had been before but still happy that it would be sorted out.
She had reawakened the previous night to the bedroom window being open again. This time, she was sure she had not left it open. Since that first night, she had checked and rechecked all of the windows in the house were closed properly, especially the one in the master bedroom.
When she was wrenched violently from her slumber by a loud howl and spatter of water in the face, she knew something was amiss.
The storm had returned and it was blowing into the room; whipping clothes and drapes in great gusts.
As she went to shut the window again, she stared out into the raging weather. It was dark below and the moon had all but gone for the month. She strained into the darkness and thought she saw something; a figure standing in the treeline. Terrified, she retreated slightly, frightened by it, but compelled to peek out of the window, attempting to assuage her initial impression. She couldn’t see it again.
She tip-toed back to the warmth of the bed, still unsettled but reassured that the alarm was arriving soon.
Karen walked into town, meeting little Sophie outside school. She gave the girl a bear-like hug and tickled the giggling child.
“Come on, bunny! We have to get back to the house, there’s men coming!” Karen and Sophie skipped and hopped their way up Main Street, saying ‘hello’ to the gawkers, all the way back to Blackwater House.
Marcus had taken to walking home himself after claiming he ‘wasn’t a kid anymore’. This suited Karen today.
At around half two, the alarm company van pulled up outside. A young-ish man got out of the cab and tucked a clipboard under his arm. He pushed the thick rimmed glasses up his angular nose and ascended the winding steps.
“Hi, please come in!” Karen said opening the door before the alarm guy could ring the bell.
Blackwater Page 12
