The Elm House

by Paul C Skertich

  “Darling?” father called out, coming closer to the backyard porch.

  She turned around and smiled.

  “Hey!” she said. “I was just…having a talk with Brad about putting something up to help him with soccer… for spring.”

  She’s a horrible liar, Brad thought. A horrible liar, Mary was indeed. In fact, John didn’t even believe her. He rolled his eyes.

  “I could smell the cigarette a mile away, darling. Last night was rough, I agree. So, I can understand,” John said.

  Mary nodded.

  “Yeah… last night was rough. I just needed a relaxer.” She smiled.

  “I’ll give you a relaxer alright,” John winked at her.

  “Oh! Don’t you dare tease me.” She nervously laughed, pointing her finger at him. Jesus Christ, she was a horrible liar. She would break under pressure if the officers gas lit her during an interrogation. Brad could already see it unfold before his very own eyes.

  Brad chuckled at the thought.

  Mary looked at him a bit bewildered.

  “What’s funny?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I thought about something that was funny.”

  “Oh?” she asked, smiling a bit.

  Mary gave him a playful push.

  “Get inside, do your homework. You need to figure out what you’re doing for Halloween,” she said.

  Brad headed in, but he stopped at the sliding door that lead into the kitchen.

  “Oh, can Colin and Tim come over?” he asked.

  Mary nodded.

  “After you’re done with your homework, mister.”

  Brad smiled and headed into the house.

  After Brad done his homework as promised, Colin and Tim were allowed over. They chilled upstairs in his bedroom. Colin sat on the floor. Tim sat on Brad’s bed, and Brad sat at his computer desk.

  “I’ve been thinking about this…we should…I don’t know… maybe investigate this house?” Timmy said.

  “Investigate? What are we the ghost busters?” Colin asked, laughing at Tim.

  “Maybe we can get evidence or something. I mean look… if the house did take Brad’s babysitter’s life, she could be inside this house too.”

  No, she’s not! She’s standing right over there! Brad remembered Jesse telling father last night.

  Her eye is missing, and her shirt is full of blood.

  “My sister, apparently, saw her,” Brad said.

  “What do you mean… saw her? Saw her—saw her? Like her ghost?” Colin asked.

  “Something like that,” Brad said. “She wasn’t in the kitchen when she stabbed her eye out.”

  “She what?!” asked Timmy. “She stabbed her eye out?”

  Brad didn’t want to replay the horrid memory. In fact, he refused to even try to remember it. But he couldn’t help himself.

  “I heard banging noises. I checked in the kitchen. She seemed… weird… like… she didn’t want to do it, but she was forced to do it. It had to be a dozen or more times she stabbed herself in the eye. Then… she fell face first with the knife lodged in her eye socket.”

  Colin and Timmy shuttered. It was like they too imagined the horrid scene unfold before their eyes.

  “That’s whacked!” Timmy said, shaking his head. “Jesus!”

  “It wasn’t a pretty sight,” Brad said, shaking his head. He tucked his lips inward. It wasn’t a pretty sight, he thought.

  “Do you think the house made her do it?” asked Timmy.

  Brad shrugged.

  “I don’t know.”

  “On second hand… let’s forget about investigating. Shit!” Timmy said. “I’d hate to imagine what this house will do to me. Maybe it would roll me up into a ball and bounce me off the walls or something.”

  Colin busted up in laughter.

  “I’m serious!” Timmy said.

  “I know,” Colin said, trying hard not to laugh anymore. But the thought of Timmy being rolled up into a basketball and bounced around the house—seemed pretty cartoonish. Maybe that’s why Colin laughed, Brad thought. Basketball Timmy bouncing around the house. Swoosh! The ghost wins. Wait… no! Fatality, flawless victory! Ghost Wins.

  Brad even chuckled.

  “What’s so funny? I don’t wanna die rolled up like a ball and bounce around like some basketball,” Timmy said, angrily. “I’ll be one big fat ball, alright.”

  Colin and Brad laughed so hard that their stomachs ached. Soon, Timmy joined in the laughter. The three musketeers laughed until they cried a bit. Moments later, they paused a moment then laughed harder again.

  “Timmy the basketball!” Brad said, holding his stomach as his stomach ached badly. “Oh, what a sight.”

  Timmy caught his breath. His face was red from laughing so damn hard.

  “Shit, the paramedics wouldn’t know what to even describe my death. They’ll report to the morgue that they have a real human ball on their hands.”

  Colin and Brad busted up laughing even harder again. Brad could’ve sworn he wet himself a bit.

  “They roll me inside a morgue and plop my ass on the morgue table. The morgue doctor says to the other morgue doctor, ‘This kid looks like a rolled-up blob of dough. How the hell do we even get him into recognizable human shape? Flatten him out with a massive roller?

  I mean… shit, look at all this flab. Cause of death? Well, how about rolled up into a ball?’ For fuck sake, my casket might as well be a huge ass sphere shape.”

  The three musketeers had a really good long laugh. It was completely comical, Brad thought.

  After they calmed down from laughing, they took a good long breather.

  “Any thoughts on how you’re going to get out of this house?” Timmy asked.

  Brad shrugged.

  “My dad doesn’t believe in ghosts. He’s a go-to-heaven-or-hell kinda of guy. It would take something unexplainable to question his beliefs to really make him believe in ghosts.”

  “What do you have so far as evidence?” Timmy asked.

  “My mom saw the attic door open and slam shut. She’s a believer, alright. I saw her smoking a cigarette, and she doesn’t smoke often. She only smokes when she’s stressed out.”

  “That sent my skin crawling for damn sure!” Colin said.

  “Yup,” Tim agreed with Colin. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it? That whole attic door opening by itself then slamming shut was to get us scared. The whole making the babysitter stab herself in the eye… now that… that was definitely a straight up message. Why did it open the attic door and slam shut for your mother?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, probably the ghost wanted to get a reaction.” Brad shrugged.

  “Yeah, it’s growing alright. It’s going to become stronger. What did that crazy lady say? The house consumes… the longer your family stays inside that house; the more it grows?” Colin asked.

  “Yeah,” Brad told Colin. “I’m thinking of visiting her.”

  “In the looney bin?” Timmy asked. “Dude! What if you go looney? We can’t break you out then.”

  “I said that I’m thinking about it. Maybe, I won’t get very far with her. Hell, but some of the things that she had said—match up.”

  “I know someone… someone that isn’t crazy,” Colin said. “Someone that may know a thing or two about this house.”

  “Who?” asked Brad.

  “We’ll go over there now. She’s not that far from here. In fact, she’s pretty damn close.”

  “Who?” asked Brad, impatiently.

  “Com’on! Let’s go. What are we waiting for?” Timmy asked, standing up. “Let’s talk to this mystery person!”

  A single-story family house came into view at the end of the block. The corner house with pale blue siding and chain linked fence on the corner of Jefferson Ave and Oak St. The front yard had a decorated fountain for the birds that would visit. A cylinder bird feeder hung on a tree’s small branch.

  Colin unhinged the chain linked gate’s latch as they entered the front la
wn. A squirrel quickly darted from the flower bed that laid in front of the house to a larger tree. The lawn was freshly mowed, and the flowers had been recently watered. Brad and his friends stood on the front porch.

  “Is this it?” asked Brad as Colin rang the front door bell.

  “Yeah,” Colin said, nodding his head. “She’s part of the family. Just be nice.”

  “What do you mean—just be nice—”

  The front door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman greeted Colin.

  “Oh, Colin, it’s been years since I’ve seen you.” She hugged Colin.

  “How are you Aunt Vicky?” Colin asked.

  Aunt Vicky seemed to be a pleasant person. Her hair had a nice blue dye applied to it. But her eyes seemed different. Brad never seen anyone with those type of eyes before. Aunt Vicky’s eyes were cloudy and seemed milky. Her eyes seemed to crystal blue as if she could see the future, almost. It had dawned upon Brad that she was blind.

  “Who are you two friends?” she asked Colin.

  How does she know we’re here? Brad questioned himself.

  Her corners of her lips turned upward as her head faced Brad directly.

  “Brad, I assume?” she asked, nodding her head.

  Whoa! Brad impressively thought. She knows my name?

  Aunt Vicky chuckled, playfully tapped Brad on the forearm and said, “And your thoughts.”

  Oh, Jesus.

  “We came here to talk about Brad’s home,” Colin said.

  “Well, come on in, boys. Make yourself at home.” She let the three musketeers in her home and closed the door after her. “Would you care for some soda?”

  “Yes, please!” Timmy said, nodding his fat head. Of course, you’d would Timmy.

  “Sure, thanks,” Brad said as they sat down in the living room. He watched her mosey without a cane and somehow navigate throughout her house with ease. It was marvelous. How does she do it? Brad questioned himself.

  Moments later, she came back with three cans of Coca Cola in her hands. Aunt Vicky placed the cans in front of the boys with ease, too. It was as if she could literally see. She began to sit down at the head of the table and smiled warmly.

  “How could I possibly help, Brad?” she asked.

  “How could you know where we were and navigate so easily to the kitchen?” Brad asked.

  “Brad,” Colin said, sounding a bit perturbed. She held her hand up and smiled.

  “It’s a gift… and a curse. But since my eyes don’t work. My other intuitive senses kick in. Similar to how Bats find their food source. I, too, navigate easily by seeing my surroundings from my third eye. Similar to… when a martial artist is blind folded and has to sense the incoming attack. You see?”

  Brad nodded. He could certainly understand that perspective. Although, Brad wasn’t trained in that particular area of knowing when a person would attack. Well, wait… yes, he could. When Ted was about to throw a punch at him, Brad foresaw Ted punching him inside his mind. Perhaps, Brad (without realizing it) was a tad bit psychic himself.

  “Like psychically?” Brad questioned.

  She nodded her head.

  “Yes,” she said. “You’re a very intelligent young man.”

  Brad smiled.

  “Where is it exactly do you live, Brad?”

  “333 Elm Road,” Brad responded.

  “Did you know… Elm Road wasn’t known as Elm Road. It was known as a different name: Devils Lane.”

  “Why did the street name change?” Brad asked.

  “It had very bad associations tied to it. Some of the past down stories spoke about the foundation to be uncleaned. Unholy. The Devil’s Gateway. A portal to Hell, some would say.”

  Brad and his friends leaned closer as they hung on each word Aunt Vicky told. Brad’s hamster wheel began turning. Almost as if he was slowly putting together pieces of a puzzle. Pieces of a puzzle, he’d been trying to solve. Anything, really, he’d could convince his father that their home is tainted and damned. There was so much more to Aunt Vicky’s story than Tiffany’s story. Pieces of the puzzle, seemed to Brad, to fit together—perfectly.

  “Before the house was built,” she continued, “there were ceremonies of such sort. Stories, what I’ve heard, spoke about satanic rituals were done on the foundation. Which has opened a doorway to a much darker dimension. A dimension with angry spirits, perhaps. As the builders began to build on the foundation, some builders became sick. Some of the builders died from accidental deaths. Upon completion, what I’ve heard, the house’s grounding rod been struck with lightning three times.

  It was then… the town’s folk became concerned. Sure, they didn’t speak of it back then. But when families moved out of the home faster than they moved in. The town’s folks suspect the foundation of being cursed. Back in the days, Brad, the town’s folks were very religious and superstitious. After the Elm family moved in and tragically were slayed, the town held a committee and decided to name the street: Elm Road.”

  “How were the Elm family killed?” asked Brad.

  “Yeah, did the house do it?” asked Timmy.

  Brad and his friends leaned a bit closer, eager to hear the rest of Aunt Vicky’s story.

  “Matt Elm Sr., came home drunk. This story is actually recorded within the library’s archive. When the father came home, something triggered him—enough—to kill his wife and son with a shotgun. No one knows why he’d done it, either. And no one knows what he had done with their bodies. But before the father took his life, he did jot down a suicide note. What I understand from newspaper articles is… the note wasn’t written in ink. No, it was written in blood. Only a person could guess… who’s blood it was. After he’d sign his name in blood then, he placed the shotgun barrel inside his mouth… and BANG!”

  Brad and his friends gasped. Their eyes bug eyed. Brad’s heart pounded out of his chest. His hands felt a bit clammy with sweat.

  “So… the house made him do it?” asked Timmy.

  “It makes sense. Tiffany stabbed her eye out,” Brad said.

  “That’s why the town had the street name changed. Now, Brad, I must say this. And you must heed to my warning. There’s a strong force at play at your house. And your family must move out as fast as you can.”

  “How? My father is a ‘heaven or hell’ kinda guy.”

  “Sooner or later, he’d have to see for himself. But before, whatever, inside the house grows stronger. You must be able to convince your parents to move out before it’s too late. As you know, the house becomes stronger as it feeds. You’ve witnessed it. Once, it feeds, and you’ll know when it’s hungry again. There’ll be more activity within your home. Also, Brad, you need to look out for any of your family members being marked.”

  “Marked?” asked Brad.

  “Yes, marked. The entity marks their host with a symbol. Matt Elm Sr., had a strange marking on his neck. Morticians stated that it seemed to be burnt into his flesh. They didn’t know if he had done it to himself, or if he’d accidently burnt himself. The mark gives the entity ownership over their host. Sometimes, the mark isn’t visible. So, I’d advise you to keep a watchful eye out on any such markings on your loved ones.”

  She looked over at her wrist watch and frowned.

  “Unfortunately, as much as I loved talking with you boys. I have to get some needed rest.” She stood up, hugged Colin. Aunt Vicky easily made her rounds and hugged Timmy and Brad. She patted Brad on the shoulder.

  “Be safe and strong, now,” she said, nodding. “Perhaps, the house’s spirits will help you and your family. Whomever is in control of the spirits in your house, the house’s spirits are certainly not happy with them.”

  Brad smiled and thanked her.

  He and his friends left Aunt Vicky’s house and headed back to his house.

  “She’s pretty cool,” Brad said. “Why did you say for us to be nice?”

  Colin shrugged.

  “Well… my mother doesn’t really like me hanging around her. She’s no
t a bad person.” He shook his head. “My mom… well… she’s kinda like your dad. A die-hard Christian. She thinks her sister went crazy after going blind. And as a coping mechanism for her blindness, she thinks that she’s psychic. Of course, that’s what my mother says. Well… apparently, my mother thinks God cursed her with the blindness. I don’t know the full story, nor I’ll ever ask for it. But Aunt Vicky… one day was struck by lightning. That’s the only story, I’ve been told about her.”

  “Well… correct me if I’m wrong… but didn’t Saul get struck with lighten and became reborn again?” asked Timmy.

  “Whoa! Never would’ve expected Timmy to bust out the bible.” Colin chuckled.

  “Yeah, Saul (known as St. Paul) was struck by lightning. I believe,” he said.

  “What the hell did Abraham do? Depart the red sea?” Timmy asked.

  Brad sighed. Jesus wept. Someone failed Bible school.

  “Look. Moses is the guy that lead the Jews out of slavery to the promise land. He’s the one responsible of departing the red sea with his staff. Saul, St. Paul, or Paul, or even Saul of Tarsus, became one of the major important figures of Christianity,” Brad said. “While Saul was traveling down the road to Damascus, he seen a blinding light and fell to the ground.”

  “Okay—okay—okay… Saul saw an alien craft. Gotchya!” Colin smirked. “I’m not saying it was aliens… but it was aliens.”

  Timmy and Brad both shook their heads and laughed. Colin joined in, afterward. Brad knew that Colin would often interject jokes when debates would become often steamy. His jokes would often loosen the tension, and they’ll all laughed.

  “That was pretty funny,” Timmy said, nodding his head. “Come to think about it… a blinding light from the heavens? Maybe it was aliens.” He smiled.

  As Brad headed into his house, his mother called out to him.

  “Brad,” she called out from the living room.

  “Coming,” he replied, heading into the living room.

  His father grunted.

  “What a damn shame!” Brad’s father said, watching the television, shaking his head. He was watching the night time news. Brad saw a female news reporter on television standing outside a house. He didn’t pay too much attention to what was going on television, though.