Hauntings

by Lewis Stanek

  “Are you telling me the Dyer's were one of the founding families here?”

  “There are old stories about them around here. You being friends and all you may not want to hear them.” Just then the matron delivered Oswald's steamed burger with crispy French fries, Lettuce, tomato, and a pickle on the side.

  “Oh Clara, you're back in town? Think you'll be staying for awhile this time?”

  “Maybe, it all depends.”

  “Doesn't it always.”

  “Ahem” Oswald broke in. Can I have some ketchup and a coke to go with my meal?”

  “Oh, of course you can. I'll be right back. It's good to see you again, Clara.” The overly plump waitress turned and walked away from their table to the kitchen, presumably to get Oswald's Coke.

  “You too, Freida.”

  “I take it you know each other.”

  “Everyone knows everyone out here.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “Not really. It's why I left, but then again it's why I came back too. It's complicated.”

  Freida came back with a glass of coke and a bottle of ketchup for Oswald.

  “Can I get you anything, Clara?”

  “ I'm famished. I'll have a steamed burger with swiss and mushrooms, double fries and a coke to wash it down.” Freida walked back toward the kitchen and yelled through the window. Then rested her elbows on the counter watching Oswald and Clara.

  “One Clara's regular”

  “Is Clara back?” a man's voice came from the kitchen.

  “You know she is,” Freida replied. An older heavy set man wearing an apron over his wife beater shirt and jeans came barreling out of the kitchen.

  “Where's my Clara?” he called out his arms open wide expecting a hug.

  “Daddy,” was all Clara said grinning, her voice bright and cheerful, as she got up and hurried to her father and succumbed to his bear hug.

  “Everything is on the house for my baby and her friend.” The big man said as he let go of his daughter Clara. He gazed at his daughter. Oswald could see the twinkle of a tear form in her father's eye.

  He thought he should look away from this private moment. So he dug in his pockets again and retrieved another quarter. Slipping it into the mini jukebox, he selected something by the Del Vikings, “Whispering Bells” followed by “Little Darling” by the Diamonds. They're all good, he thought and selected random number combinations for his remaining three choices. Oswald glanced back to Clara and her father, then back to his food and he took a bite of his first steamed burger. It was juicy and delicious dripping with fried onions.

  “The best burger's in town. That's a fact,” he said to himself.

  “What was that? Can I get you something else?” Freida asked.

  “No, everything is fine. I was just talking to myself.”

  “We all do that sometimes, not so much in public, though.”

  “No, I guess not. What have you got for desert?”

  “We have whatever you want. As long as whatever you want is apple pie, or of course apple pie ala mode.”

  “I think I'll take a slice of your apple pie then. Is there a chance I could have it heated up with a slice of cheddar cheese?”

  “We have a radical here, Ed, he wants some cheese with his pie.” Freida called to the cook. “I'll see what I can do for you, no promises though.” Oswald glanced again at Clara and her father and hoped Thomas Wolfe was wrong, and at least Clara could go home again. Freida came back with his pie, steaming hot, and with a slice of perfectly melted cheddar cheese on top.

  “Oh Freida, you're an angel,” Oswald exclaimed as he saw the pie.

  “I try.” Freida paused, “Tell me how do you know our Clara?”

  “I don't really. I saw her walking along the highway with a gas can in her hand and I offered her a ride. We talked a little and it turned out we were going in the same direction. That's about all there is to it.”

  “Oh, I thought it might be something more.”

  “I admit, I was glad to see her walk into your restaurant. Any familiar face is welcome when one is surrounded by strangers, don't you think?”

  “I suppose. Personally I've never been far from home. Dixon born and raised.”

  “Clara told me everyone knows everyone around here.”

  “That's the truth in a nutshell”

  “When I was growing up my family moved a lot, every year. Sometimes more frequently than that. We followed my father's career such as it was. I never put down roots. Never felt comfortable in any one place. It's hard for me to develop trust in someone.” Oswald wondered how he could be sharing so much with someone he just met.

  “That sounds like a hard way to live. Enjoy your pie.” Freida went to join the other two in conversation. Oswald was certain they would have a lot of catching up to do. The pie was delicious, the best he could remember having. The pie's crust was flaky and light, the apple filling mixed with raisins was gooey sweet and the melted sharp cheddar made the perfect counter point to the pies sweetness. He savored the last bite of pie, swallowed the last sip of coffee. Then pulled a five from his wallet for a tip.

  “What do I owe you?” he asked to the general direction of the three at the counter.

  Ed answered.“You owe me nothing. You helped my daughter when she needed help. Who knows what could have happened to her if someone else picked her up. The world's not as innocent as it once was.”

  “Thank you for a wonderful meal. If I could ask one last favor though...”

  “Anything.”

  “Could tell me how to get to the Dyer's cabin?”

  “Not many people go out that way. I mean to the Dyer place that is.”

  “Aleister, my friend, told me he hadn't been there himself in years. I imagine it will take some cleaning up before I can settle in.”

  “I would think at least a couple of bug bombs to clear the place out. You could probably pick those up at Oliver's. That is if you are set on going there.”

  “I've come this far, it'd be a shame to go back now without even seeing the place don't you think? So how do I get there?”

  “That's not a good place to be. There are stories that go with that place, old stories. That place has history around here,” he said.

  Oswald wanted to laugh, being warned away by the natives is too cliché. This has to be a joke, but he saw from the look on Ed's face that he wasn't joking”

  “So what would you recommend, Ed. I've traveled over eleven hundred miles so far to spend some time at a cabin a friend has been kind enough to let me use. Should I just turn around and head back without even seeing the place? What do I tell my friend then, thanks, but no thanks?”

  “That sounds like good advice to me,” Ed replied.

  “Don't be silly dad.” Clara offered. “You're making us look like a bunch of superstitious hicks.”

  “It ain't superstition if it's true, and Clara, look where we are, we are a bunch of hicks, there's no denying it.”

  “I'll take you there. I know where it is you can follow me, besides this gives me a chance to pay you back for the gas and the ride.” Clara gave her father a look that spoke volumes. He better not argue about this if he wants her to stay in town for awhile.

  “I'm grateful for the offer, but I can't ask you to do that. If you want, you can draw a little map for me or write down the directions so I won't forget,” Oswald said trying to avoid a family argument.

  “Let's face it. One corn field looks pretty much the same as any other, and if you do make it into Castle Rock Woods, there are barely roads there if you can call them that at all. Clara's right, if you're dead set on going there one of us should take you.” Ed's words could have been comforting, a sign of compromise with his daughter, but his expression left no doubt that he'd rather see Oswald on his way out of town.

  “I said I'll take him” Clara repeated “and I will. I'll make you a map before I leave too. So you can find you're way out.”

  “You better get going so yo
u get back before dark. “ Ed said looking as grim as ever.

  “I'll just stop over at Olivers and pick up a few things maybe some bug bombs.” Oswald walked out the door into the cool autumn air. He took a deep breath and walked across the street to the little grocery store.

  Chapter Four

  “Hey, wait for me!” Clara yelled coming out of Sam & Ella's a few paces behind him.

  Oswald stopped in his tracks and waited. Clara almost skipped across the street, she had so much energy. He didn't think he could remember ever being so young. Clara caught up to Oswald and walked right past, opened the door and said. “Well, come on. What are you waiting for?” She said with a big grin on her face. She seemed to enjoy having an older friend, or more likely she enjoyed irking her parents. Clara held the door as Oswald entered the store. “The bug bombs should be over there by the cleaning supplies along the back wall.”

  Oswald grabbed a cart and went on his search through the little grocery store. Not sure what he would need, not sure whether there would be electricity, running water, or even gas heat, but from what he was told it looked like a good bet there will be insects. Hell maybe mice too. He found the bug bombs and tossed a six pack in the cart. He found rat poison and tossed that in too to be safe. Pine scented cleaner looked like a good bet, paper towels, sponges, a scrub brush, a bottle of bleach just to be sure. That covered the cleaning supplies.

  Aleister must have left some supplies in the cabin the last time he was there. Of course any food left behind would be rotten by now, or eaten by the mice. The more he thought about the cabin, the less he liked the idea. Maybe Ed was right, and he should just turn around and head back to Leicester. Clara surprised him out of his concerns by walking quietly up behind him.

  “Don't forget food. You'll have to have something to eat. An ice chest wouldn't be a bad idea, either.”

  “ I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this.”

  “Oh, don't be silly. It's just an old house. The Dyer's use to come out sometimes in the summer for vacation when their kids were little. There's nothing scary about the place except what the locals did a couple hundred years ago.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They say they chased them out of town. They say they burned a couple of them before they'd go too.”

  “I thought the Dyers were one of the founding families. What happened?”

  “It all happened so long ago. I'm sure it has gotten exaggerated over the years from one person's telling to the next. I don't believe any of it, except, of course the part about them being driven out. They didn't stay gone though did they? Your friend's parents took possession of the place before I was born, and tried living there, but from what I'm told no one would have anything to do with them and after time they moved away and only came out for a month or two during the summer maybe the fall. They kept pretty much to themselves. I think they even went so far as to buy everything they needed from out of town, so they wouldn't have to come into Dixon for supplies. I used to play in the woods quite a bit when I was younger, I may have seen your friends kids or grand kids. I remember seeing some kids out by the old place, when I yelled hello, they ran off though. Can't say I ever made friends with them, but I would see them playing in the woods by themselves every now and then.”

  “Your parents seem to be so friendly. It's hard to imagine them shunning a family like that.”

  “Oh it happened alright. If my dad found out I got close to one of their kids he'd let me have it good.”

  Oswald found a Styrofoam ice chest and tossed that in his cart, then he tossed some prepackaged baloney, cheese, and a loaf of bread along with a six pack of beer and some chips. Last item to go in was a bag of ice from the freezer near the front door.

  “If you think you've got everything you'll need for the night, we better be going.”

  “What are you getting worried now?”

  “No, but they are Look,” Clara said pointing out the store window. There standing outside of Sam & Ella's were Ed and Freida, watching Oliver's, waiting for Oswald and Clara to leave and be on their way. Oswald wheeled the cart to the check out counter. No one was there waiting to serve them, but there was a little bell. He tapped the bell.

  “I'll be right with you,” called a voice from somewhere in the store.

  “Hey, Larry, It's me, Clara.”

  “Who's that with you?”

  “Someone I met on the road coming back. He helped me out with some gas and a ride when I needed it.”

  “A good Samaritan eh?” He said stepping behind the counter. “Did you find everything you need?” he asked eying Oswald with a the tinge of distrust obviously reserved for strangers.

  “ I guess I've got enough to see me through the night.”

  “That so?”

  “Oswald is going to be staying in the old Dyer place for awhile. He's a friend of the Dyer's, knows them from back east.” Clara interjected possibly just to get a rise out of Larry.

  “And that's where they should stay! We don't need any of that funny business going on around here. We're good god-fearing people here in Dixon.” Larry's voice was rising and the veins in his neck were turning a bright red.

  “I'm sure you are.” Oswald replied as softly and reassuringly as he could. Larry took his time ringing up each item of Oswald's purchase.

  “'That comes to forty-eight dollars and twenty- two cents. Coin of the realm if you please, we don't take plastic around here.”

  Oswald opened his wallet and pulled out a fresh fifty dollar bill and handed it to Larry. Larry held it up to the light, examining it closely, as if he never saw one before. Maybe he hadn't, Oswald wondered

  “We've got to get on our way, Larry, My dad won't like it if I don't get back before dark.”

  “What! You're going there too?” Larry asked in disbelief.

  “I'm just showing him the way. I owe him that much for helping me on the road when I needed it.”

  “I suppose you do, if you say so, Clara,” Larry replied handing Oswald a dollar and seventy- eight cents in change. He bagged the items, and Oswald grabbed the bags and carried them out to his car.

  “The Dyer's sure left an impression on the townsfolk around here, didn't they?”

  “I suppose you can say that, but mostly I think it's little minds with too much time and not enough reason.”

  He looked at Clara with new respect, and he could understand now why she left Dixon in the first place. He only questioned why she chose to return.

  “I parked my car behind Sam & Ella's. I'll be right out. You just follow me, and I'll get you there safe and sound,“

  Clara stopped and talked briefly with her father and Freida before walking behind the little clapboard shop.

  When she pulled out , Oswald could see the old Mustang was in better shape than he had thought, at first. Clara must have hosed it down after coming into town. It didn't look like the old beater he thought it was. It looked more like a classic little muscle car from the early eighties that had been well cared for.

  The blue Mustang pulled ahead and paused waiting for Oswald to pullout behind her. He eased the Volvo into the road, and she started off North on Galena Avenue. Oswald was grateful for her driving ahead, leading him at the first turn. Dry cornfields to the left of him, dry cornfields to the right of him him, dry cornfields ahead and behind. She turned right. There was a road, but he didn't see it, there was no road sign declaring its presence. If Clara wasn't there leading him he would be lost already. She, confident in where she was and where she was going, sped ahead. Oswald uncomfortable at best sped up to keep the blue Mustang in sight. He could see the beginnings of woods up ahead and saw the Mustang turn left into the woods, kicking up dust and gravel from the road. He slowed down and turned, following Clara into the woods. They drove for what seemed like miles. The gravel road gradually faded to dirt, and then faded from a dirt road to a pair of old tire ruts dug into the ground. Brush was hitting both sides of the car with the irritating
scraping sound similar to the sound of nails run across a blackboard. There was no way to avoid it. The way was too narrow. If her Mustang can make it through this, my car can, he mused. He followed her up an embankment and entered what might be called a small clearing. The Mustang stopped. Oswald parked right behind her. He climbed out of his car to see up ahead, nestled among ancient pines, the cabin.

  Clara got out of her car and looked back to Oswald.

  “Well, this is it,” she exclaimed holding an arm out to highlight the the ancient log cabin as if she were Vanna White showcasing the latest prize on the Wheel of Fortune. The main structure appeared to be built by hand centuries ago, log upon log, mud packed in between the logs to keep the wind out. More modern porches had been added later, but even these looked to be in disrepair.

  “Well, he did say it was rustic.” Oswald muttered to himself. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth, the air was brisk, fresh, and clean. “Maybe it won't be so bad.”

  “Hey, don't let what they said in town spook you. It's just an old cabin, out in the woods, a place to get away from it all and relax,” Oswald found Clara's words reassuring.

  A fallen tree partially blocked the way to the cabin, but that could easily be avoided by walking around the stump side of the tree. The cabin had an open porch running along what Oswald thought must be the south side. This porch overlooked a steep drop into a ravine. There was a partially enclosed porch on the west side of the cabin. Oswald noticed the door to enter the cabin on the partially enclosed porch, facing them.

  Something about this cabin exuded a sense of error. This cabin is wrong on some unspeakable level. Not that it looked wrong, it looked old and neglected, perhaps a window here and there was less than square, but it was an old cabin in the woods, it looked as one would expect, but there was something abhorrent about the place that Oswald simply could not put his finger on. Oswald didn't want to take another step toward the place, but if he didn't go in, where would he go?