A few years ago I was driving home from the movies with my girlfriend. It was getting late and we took a route back to her house I hadn't been on before. As we drove along one section of road the houses began to get sparser and the treeline became dark with tall branches that loomed over the road.
"Imagine how creepy it would be to break down on this road" I joked.
"I was always scared of this street when I was little" my girlfriend told me.
We passed the creepy section of woods and I dropped her off at her house. As I was driving home I started to get a really creepy feeling. I've heard people talk about having the feeling that someone was watching them but I had never felt that until now. I pulled up to a stop light and waited. The heavy feeling in the air remaining unchanged. As the light changed to green my eyes glanced across my rear view mirror. For a moment I thought I saw someone sitting in my back seat. I looked back again to see no one.
Thinking it was just a trick of the light I drove on. As I turned onto the next street near my house I again saw something in the mirror's reflection. I could have sworn I saw a face staring forward and look away as soon as I saw it. Again when I looked back there was nothing there. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
I was getting close to my house now. I pulled into the driveway, turned the car off and locked it. I looked in through the side window making absolutely certain that there was nobody in the car. I couldn't believe how spooked I was. I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. As I walked up to my house the creepy feeling remained with me. I flicked on the porch light and locked the door behind me. For some reason I pulled the curtain on the door aside to look out. Standing inches away from the glass was a grey face with dark empty spots where its eyes should have been. I jumped back blinking only a moment. It was suddenly gone. I hadn't seen it move, it just vanished from the spot it had stood in.
Suddenly the heavy feeling in the air dissipated and I started to feel relaxed. Whatever I had seen was gone. I never saw it again.
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Sunday, April 3, 2016
The Spider Gates
In the town where I grew up, there is a cemetery in the forest that surrounds the town reservoir. The cemetery dates back to the Quaker settlement that existed there long before the town was built. Surrounding the cemetery stands eight wrought iron gates, each one forged hundreds of years ago and hung from gigantic hinges attached to granite pillars. The most unique aspect of these gates is their appearance. The center of each gate is decorated with a wagon-wheeled pattern with eight spindles emerging from it's center. It is because of this feature, that these have come to be known as the Spider Gates.
The Spider Gates cemetery was a popular hangout location for many of the local teenagers. Students often skipped school to go hang out by the gates. Despite their popularity, no one to my recollection ever dared to pass through the gates after sundown. This is because the site was rumored to be haunted. Some of the older kids had once stayed at the gates to watch the sunset. They claimed that as they began to leave, one of them spotted a woman, dressed in white, sitting atop one of the grave markers. They called out to her, which appeared to startle her. She stood and then faded as she sank downward into the soil in front of the marker.
There was countless stories and local legends surrounding the old cemetery. A popular one that most people knew was Marmaduke's grave. The legend claimed that if you were to walk around Marmaduke's gravestone ten times at midnight then kneel down with your head against the gravestone and whisper "Marmaduke speak to me", then you could hear him speak. Others claimed that the cemetery gates themselves were haunted. They said that each of the eight gates became increasingly more haunted as you got closer to the last gate at the back end of the cemetery. At the first gate some claimed to have heard whispers of distant voices, and at the eighth gate, there was rumors that a girl had been scratched there, by something she couldn't see.
One summer, two of my friends and myself managed to talk ourselves into putting the stories to the test. Daryl and Anne were dating at the time, and Daryl had also brought his dog along. Armed with flashlights and a Polaroid camera, we arrived there at the edge of the woods around 7:00 and the cemetery was a 15 minute walk from the road. We stopped when we reached the gates. I stepped forward and pushed them open, the iron gates groaning tiredly against their frame. We proceed to enter but Daryl stopped abruptly, his dog refusing to move through the gate. He tugged the leash and called, trying unsuccessfully to coax the dog forward. He ended up having to pick the dog up and carry him through.
After the initial incident at the gate we explored the grave markers for a while. We joked with each other about ghosts but it was clear that everyone was now a bit unnerved. As the last of the daylight faded away we decided to settle in one corner of the cemetery underneath a large oak tree. We camped out there until it had been dark for some time.
It was a warm summer night and the combined light of the crescent moon and stars shining through the limbs of the trees provided almost enough light to see without need of the flashlights. Around ten o'clock we decided to go walk around to each of the gates. We each took turns holding the camera while another one of us would speak aloud, asking any spirits present to show themselves. To each of our unspoken delight, we did not encounter any signs of ghosts at any of the eight gates. Daryl's dog also seemed to be perfectly content now, trotting along happily behind us.
After visiting the eighth gate we begin to the big tree where we had sat earlier. Feeling brave, I suggested that we go and check out Marmadukes Grave. Daryl picked up a twig and broke it into three segments of differing length. He held them out so that we each could pick one. I went first, then Anne. We each held our piece of twig out to compare them. Anne had drawn the shortest. After we had waked to the grave she asked if we really had to do this. Daryl and I both nodded. She began to walk around the gravestone, counting each time she passed us. After ten she stopped, knelt down and pressed her forehead against the stone. She whispered and then stood up. We all listened. The night had grown still and quiet. As if to answer, the wind picked up for a moment, carrying a few dried leaves tumbling along the ground. We were simultaneously relieved and also disappointed that no voice had answered from beyond the grave.
As we started to turn away from the gravestone, we heard a low grunt. We froze, then slowly turned back to face the headstone. The sound appeared to have come from the direction of the stone and we all had heard it. We waited for a moment, saying nothing, waiting for something to happen. Suddenly Anne yelped, she had stepped back and her foot had sunken into a hole in the soil. Something has me she exclaimed! She pulled her foot from the hole and we began to run back towards the cemetery entrance.
The Spider Gates cemetery was a popular hangout location for many of the local teenagers. Students often skipped school to go hang out by the gates. Despite their popularity, no one to my recollection ever dared to pass through the gates after sundown. This is because the site was rumored to be haunted. Some of the older kids had once stayed at the gates to watch the sunset. They claimed that as they began to leave, one of them spotted a woman, dressed in white, sitting atop one of the grave markers. They called out to her, which appeared to startle her. She stood and then faded as she sank downward into the soil in front of the marker.
There was countless stories and local legends surrounding the old cemetery. A popular one that most people knew was Marmaduke's grave. The legend claimed that if you were to walk around Marmaduke's gravestone ten times at midnight then kneel down with your head against the gravestone and whisper "Marmaduke speak to me", then you could hear him speak. Others claimed that the cemetery gates themselves were haunted. They said that each of the eight gates became increasingly more haunted as you got closer to the last gate at the back end of the cemetery. At the first gate some claimed to have heard whispers of distant voices, and at the eighth gate, there was rumors that a girl had been scratched there, by something she couldn't see.
One summer, two of my friends and myself managed to talk ourselves into putting the stories to the test. Daryl and Anne were dating at the time, and Daryl had also brought his dog along. Armed with flashlights and a Polaroid camera, we arrived there at the edge of the woods around 7:00 and the cemetery was a 15 minute walk from the road. We stopped when we reached the gates. I stepped forward and pushed them open, the iron gates groaning tiredly against their frame. We proceed to enter but Daryl stopped abruptly, his dog refusing to move through the gate. He tugged the leash and called, trying unsuccessfully to coax the dog forward. He ended up having to pick the dog up and carry him through.
After the initial incident at the gate we explored the grave markers for a while. We joked with each other about ghosts but it was clear that everyone was now a bit unnerved. As the last of the daylight faded away we decided to settle in one corner of the cemetery underneath a large oak tree. We camped out there until it had been dark for some time.
It was a warm summer night and the combined light of the crescent moon and stars shining through the limbs of the trees provided almost enough light to see without need of the flashlights. Around ten o'clock we decided to go walk around to each of the gates. We each took turns holding the camera while another one of us would speak aloud, asking any spirits present to show themselves. To each of our unspoken delight, we did not encounter any signs of ghosts at any of the eight gates. Daryl's dog also seemed to be perfectly content now, trotting along happily behind us.
After visiting the eighth gate we begin to the big tree where we had sat earlier. Feeling brave, I suggested that we go and check out Marmadukes Grave. Daryl picked up a twig and broke it into three segments of differing length. He held them out so that we each could pick one. I went first, then Anne. We each held our piece of twig out to compare them. Anne had drawn the shortest. After we had waked to the grave she asked if we really had to do this. Daryl and I both nodded. She began to walk around the gravestone, counting each time she passed us. After ten she stopped, knelt down and pressed her forehead against the stone. She whispered and then stood up. We all listened. The night had grown still and quiet. As if to answer, the wind picked up for a moment, carrying a few dried leaves tumbling along the ground. We were simultaneously relieved and also disappointed that no voice had answered from beyond the grave.
As we started to turn away from the gravestone, we heard a low grunt. We froze, then slowly turned back to face the headstone. The sound appeared to have come from the direction of the stone and we all had heard it. We waited for a moment, saying nothing, waiting for something to happen. Suddenly Anne yelped, she had stepped back and her foot had sunken into a hole in the soil. Something has me she exclaimed! She pulled her foot from the hole and we began to run back towards the cemetery entrance.
We had just reached the gate when we heard a low growl, we turned to look at Daryl's dog, who was just standing there, looking straight forward in the direction of the gate with his tail between his legs. We heard the sound again and realized that it wasn't coming from the dog, but in the direction of the gate. We couldn't see anything near the gate, then something crashed in the woods behind us. We sprinted through the gate and all the way back to the car. As we reached the car, Daryl pulled out his keys and dropped them. Looking back, I remember thinking that it was just like a horror movie. We got in and sped off without looking back.
Monday, March 28, 2016
Cadaver Skin
While I was growing up my family lived in a small house of most elegant beauty. On cold winter nights our family would sit around the warmth of an open fire, and my father would tell us stories of one kind or another. He would always warn me not to get too close to the flame; "Because if I got to close and burnt myself he wouldn't be donating any of his skin". He would let the doctor stitch cadaver skin over the burn. Although this thought chilled my flesh, I always regarded what he said as complete nonsense. I was quite educated and was sure that modern medicine no longer used the skin of the deceased to treat burn wounds. I would never listen to the proverbial nonsense that was my father's warning! "It was outrageous to even think, cadaver skin, HA!" That's what I would tell him. But I always remained wary of his threat. One dark night, after I had finished the reading that I had been assigned for homework, I decided to go and warm up by the fire, for it was a cold night and I had little else to do. As it just so happens, at this very moment our cat had decided to curl up on the bottom step and warm her cold fur. During my ascent down the narrow steps I failed to notice the cat, now sleeping soundly at the foot of the stairs. My greatest surprise came to me on the last step when I put my foot down, expecting to feel the hard wood of the stairs, my foot abruptly came in contact with a warm mass of skin and soft fur. With a howl like that of a madman the cat shot like lightning into the darkness. I stumbled forward, still in shock, my other foot jolted forward but missed the floor. I fell sideways onto a hot bed of coals, my shirt caught flame and I painfully rolled out onto the slate tiles to smother the flames. In my frantic movements, I tried to stand up, but as I did so my head struck the mantel hard. The world swirled around me, I heard my father shouting, and the siren of an ambulance but they both sounded far away. After that I remember only darkness and an intense pain in my side from the burn.
When I woke up I was in the hospital. I sat up and realized that the pain from the burn was almost completely gone. The nurse came in and said a few things to my parents then left and we were free to go. Later I asked my mom what the nurse had said, my mom told me that the nurse had advised her to have me keep the bandages on for about a month before taking them off that way the skin graft would have a chance to heal, when the time finally came to take the bandages off I was very happy to be rid of them, but that happiness was soon exchanged by pure horror in the place where there should have been a soft skin graft with only a faint scar there was a hideous gray cadaver's face! It lay roughly stitched to my side with it's wrinkled skin melded into my own. It was small, it's eyes were sewn shut and across it's thin brown lips there almost seemed to be a faint mocking grin.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
The Haunted Farmhouse
Jim and his girlfriend Mindy rented out an old farmhouse that had been converted into an apartment space. The farm had been operational in the late 1800's and the house had been well maintained over the years. Despite this, living there was not without its issues. Parts of the house were poorly insulated and drafty. The old wiring of the house couldn't handle a lot of modern appliances. This resulted in Jim quite frequently grabbing a flashlight and heading down to the cellar to reset a breaker. Since about a week after the young couple moved in, Mindy began to tell Jim that she was convinced the house was haunted. She said that she could hear the kitchen cupboards open and close in the middle of the night. Jim would laugh, joking that the ghost was looking for a midnight snack in the cupboards. Despite this, Jim didn't admit that he heard the sounds as well. He didn't want to say anything to Mindy, but he knew what they were likely hearing was mice climbing around the kitchen shelves at night. To be safe, he picked up some mousetraps at the store. Sure enough, after a few weeks of catching mice, the nighttime sounds stopped.
After that there were no more sounds of cupboards opening and closing at night, but some other strange things started happening. Food randomly started going bad. They would open a can of soup only to be met with a horrible stench and find it had a thin film of mold growing across it's surface. They had a gallon of milk go sour that they had picked up just the day before. At one point, a can of tomatoes exploded, covering the inside of several shelves with red paste and resulting in everything needing to be taken off the shelf to be washed. Along with the food, the couple also found themselves waking up in the morning with bruises on their arms and legs.
One night while Mindy was at work, Jim was home watching TV. Suddenly there was a faint pop and the lights went out. Stupid breaker, grumbled Jim, as he walked to the kitchen to grab a flashlight. The cellar door swung open with a creak. Jim stood for a moment, then pointed the flashlight down at the steps and headed down. Approaching the fuse box, Jim stuck the flashlight under one arm so he could work. As he removed the panel covering the breaker box the flashlight slipped away. It hit the floor and went out. He was blinded by the darkness. He stood for a moment, listening as the flashlight rolled to a stop. Getting down on his knees, Jim felt around for the flashlight. His hand came to the the edge of an old sofa that they had been brought down to the celer to make more room upstairs. The flashlight had rolled too far underneath to reach.
Jim grumbled and stood up. He reached out for the wall and started to feel his way back to the stairs. His leg bumped the side of table that was lined up against the wall. He rubbed his leg and maneuvered around it. Suddenly there was another obstruction in his path. He reached out and touched something leathery. What the heck is this, Jim wondered, and what is that horrible smell. He brought his hand up to his mouth to try to block out the scent of rotten meat that had abruptly permeated the air around him. Then, the sound of a low growl made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He slowly stepped backward, his attention on the dark mass blocking his path. It began to move.
Jim watched in horror as whatever the thing was in front of him slowly stood up and turned to face him. He couldn't see a face, but he could feel it looking at him. It was huge, about twice the width as a man, and it seemed darker than all the blackness around it. He could see that it had long thin arms that reached almost to the ground, they slowly lifted in his direction. Jim's back touched the wall. He had nowhere to go. He couldn't think, all he could do was watch as it slowly got closer to him. He closed his eyes.
Jim? A voice called. Are you down there? He opened his eyes. The thing was gone. Mindy was at the top of the stairs, her flashlight illuminating the cellar. Jim didn't think twice. Released from his paralysis he bolted across the cellar and up the stairs, almost knocking Mindy over when he reached the top. He slammed the door shut behind him and said, we have to go, we need to get out of here. They drove to a neighbor's house and called the police. A group of armed officers and an animal control unit searched the house but found nothing. Jim couldn't explain it. Whatever was down there, he had touched it, it was real.
That night, Jim and Mindy slept at a nearby hotel. Shortly after they sold their house and moved away. Jim never found out what he had encountered that night but he felt sure that if Mindy hadn't shown up when she did, he would be dead.
Years later, Jim and Mindy were contacted by an investigator who was looking into the disappearance of someone who had moved into their old house. Jim told the investigator his story and about the other strange things that had happened while they were living there. The investigator looked startled and took out a photo. It was dark and blurry but Jim knew almost at once what it was. The photo had apparently been found on the phone belonging to the missing person.
After that there were no more sounds of cupboards opening and closing at night, but some other strange things started happening. Food randomly started going bad. They would open a can of soup only to be met with a horrible stench and find it had a thin film of mold growing across it's surface. They had a gallon of milk go sour that they had picked up just the day before. At one point, a can of tomatoes exploded, covering the inside of several shelves with red paste and resulting in everything needing to be taken off the shelf to be washed. Along with the food, the couple also found themselves waking up in the morning with bruises on their arms and legs.
One night while Mindy was at work, Jim was home watching TV. Suddenly there was a faint pop and the lights went out. Stupid breaker, grumbled Jim, as he walked to the kitchen to grab a flashlight. The cellar door swung open with a creak. Jim stood for a moment, then pointed the flashlight down at the steps and headed down. Approaching the fuse box, Jim stuck the flashlight under one arm so he could work. As he removed the panel covering the breaker box the flashlight slipped away. It hit the floor and went out. He was blinded by the darkness. He stood for a moment, listening as the flashlight rolled to a stop. Getting down on his knees, Jim felt around for the flashlight. His hand came to the the edge of an old sofa that they had been brought down to the celer to make more room upstairs. The flashlight had rolled too far underneath to reach.
Jim grumbled and stood up. He reached out for the wall and started to feel his way back to the stairs. His leg bumped the side of table that was lined up against the wall. He rubbed his leg and maneuvered around it. Suddenly there was another obstruction in his path. He reached out and touched something leathery. What the heck is this, Jim wondered, and what is that horrible smell. He brought his hand up to his mouth to try to block out the scent of rotten meat that had abruptly permeated the air around him. Then, the sound of a low growl made the hair on the back of his neck rise. He slowly stepped backward, his attention on the dark mass blocking his path. It began to move.
Jim watched in horror as whatever the thing was in front of him slowly stood up and turned to face him. He couldn't see a face, but he could feel it looking at him. It was huge, about twice the width as a man, and it seemed darker than all the blackness around it. He could see that it had long thin arms that reached almost to the ground, they slowly lifted in his direction. Jim's back touched the wall. He had nowhere to go. He couldn't think, all he could do was watch as it slowly got closer to him. He closed his eyes.
Jim? A voice called. Are you down there? He opened his eyes. The thing was gone. Mindy was at the top of the stairs, her flashlight illuminating the cellar. Jim didn't think twice. Released from his paralysis he bolted across the cellar and up the stairs, almost knocking Mindy over when he reached the top. He slammed the door shut behind him and said, we have to go, we need to get out of here. They drove to a neighbor's house and called the police. A group of armed officers and an animal control unit searched the house but found nothing. Jim couldn't explain it. Whatever was down there, he had touched it, it was real.
That night, Jim and Mindy slept at a nearby hotel. Shortly after they sold their house and moved away. Jim never found out what he had encountered that night but he felt sure that if Mindy hadn't shown up when she did, he would be dead.
***
Years later, Jim and Mindy were contacted by an investigator who was looking into the disappearance of someone who had moved into their old house. Jim told the investigator his story and about the other strange things that had happened while they were living there. The investigator looked startled and took out a photo. It was dark and blurry but Jim knew almost at once what it was. The photo had apparently been found on the phone belonging to the missing person.
Monday, March 14, 2016
The Woman in the Streetlight
Steve lingered in the threshold of the office building. He was leaving work at 8pm and it was raining heavily. He was considering calling a taxi, but after a long day sitting at a desk he wanted nothing more than to stretch his legs. He stepped out into the rain, unfolding his umbrella ahead of him. The rain pattered against the nylon fabric of the umbrella. As he walked, he thought about the kind of car he would get once he had saved up enough money. There were twelve blocks between the office and his apartment and he didn't mind walking. The only problem with his limited means of transportation was that he was unable to easily visit family and friends. Although he received occasional visits from relatives, it was not easy to entertain guests in his tiny apartment.
As he walked, he passed by a covered bus stop. A woman stood underneath it, she called out to him. Excuse me sir, she called to him. He turned to look at the woman. She was shorter than him, her pale skin seemed to reflect the low light of the streetlamps and made her stand out more vividly in the darkness. She had long black hair and dark red lips. Clutched to her chest, she held a baby, bundled up in a white blanket as to shelter it from the rain. Please, she spoke again, I think we missed our bus, it's getting late and I'm not sure if the next one is coming. We live a few blocks that way, she motioned in the direction he had been walking. Could we walk under your umbrella with you, she asked, I don't want my baby to get wet. Steve agreed, and motioned that there was room under the umbrella for her to join him. Thank you, she exclaimed.
They walked for a while, in silence at first. Then she spoke. So, she asked, what do you do for work? Steve explained that he was an assistant lawyer working at a firm. She was silent for a moment. My husband was a lawyer, she said. He passed away, she added. Steve wasn't sure what to say, I'm sorry, he stated at a lack of words. Don't be, she smiled and looked up at him. Do you like your job, she asked? To be honest, I thought I would be doing something more important with my life, Steve said. When I was in college I never imagined that I would end up at some desk job taking care of paperwork. Hmm, she said thoughtfully, as if she was considering something. Who knows, she she said, perhaps your destiny will change. Steve smiled and shrugged. Is your house coming up soon, he asked? It's just a little bit further up this way, she said, gesturing ahead.
The walked a bit further. Suddenly she stumbled but caught herself. Oops, she exclaimed, it looks like my shoe came untied. She looked down, then back at her child. She wrinkled her eyebrows and looked up at Steve. Please, she asked, could you hold him while I tie my shoe? Sure, said Steve, holding his arms awkwardly forward. She smiled, taking each of his hand and positioning them carefully around the small white bundle. It was soft and warm, and he could feel it move as the child breathed in and out. He glanced around awkwardly, before looking back down at what she had handed him. The blanket was wrapped so closely he couldn't see the child's face. The question flashed into his mind, could the child breathe alright in there? Suddenly he noticed how strange the material the blanket was made out of felt. It was soft like silk but as he repositioned his hands it stuck to him in small fine threads. He pulled his hand away, watching as the threads clung to it. What is this, he asked, turning to the woman. She was gone. He turned looking around, she had been there just a moment ago, where could she have gone? Did she just abandon her child with him?
Suddenly, he felt a small sting on his arm. He glanced down but saw nothing. Then he felt another, and another. He winced, and pulled his hand up to his face. On his arm he saw a small group of tiny spiders. He shook his arm, holding the baby bundled in the other. He glanced down and saw a small tear in the blanket the baby was wrapped up in. Instead of a child curled up inside he saw only blackness. Then it moved. The blackness shifted as the silk bundle he was holding split open and thousands of tiny spiders poured out. He screamed as they covered him, crawling into the seams of his suit and biting him. He tried frantically to wave them off but they clung to him and continued biting. He felt sick to his stomach as his knees wobbled and his legs collapsed underneath him. Steve fell to the ground, motionless. His eyes stared forward, alive, but unable to move as he was slowly engulfed by the spiders.
As he walked, he passed by a covered bus stop. A woman stood underneath it, she called out to him. Excuse me sir, she called to him. He turned to look at the woman. She was shorter than him, her pale skin seemed to reflect the low light of the streetlamps and made her stand out more vividly in the darkness. She had long black hair and dark red lips. Clutched to her chest, she held a baby, bundled up in a white blanket as to shelter it from the rain. Please, she spoke again, I think we missed our bus, it's getting late and I'm not sure if the next one is coming. We live a few blocks that way, she motioned in the direction he had been walking. Could we walk under your umbrella with you, she asked, I don't want my baby to get wet. Steve agreed, and motioned that there was room under the umbrella for her to join him. Thank you, she exclaimed.
They walked for a while, in silence at first. Then she spoke. So, she asked, what do you do for work? Steve explained that he was an assistant lawyer working at a firm. She was silent for a moment. My husband was a lawyer, she said. He passed away, she added. Steve wasn't sure what to say, I'm sorry, he stated at a lack of words. Don't be, she smiled and looked up at him. Do you like your job, she asked? To be honest, I thought I would be doing something more important with my life, Steve said. When I was in college I never imagined that I would end up at some desk job taking care of paperwork. Hmm, she said thoughtfully, as if she was considering something. Who knows, she she said, perhaps your destiny will change. Steve smiled and shrugged. Is your house coming up soon, he asked? It's just a little bit further up this way, she said, gesturing ahead.
The walked a bit further. Suddenly she stumbled but caught herself. Oops, she exclaimed, it looks like my shoe came untied. She looked down, then back at her child. She wrinkled her eyebrows and looked up at Steve. Please, she asked, could you hold him while I tie my shoe? Sure, said Steve, holding his arms awkwardly forward. She smiled, taking each of his hand and positioning them carefully around the small white bundle. It was soft and warm, and he could feel it move as the child breathed in and out. He glanced around awkwardly, before looking back down at what she had handed him. The blanket was wrapped so closely he couldn't see the child's face. The question flashed into his mind, could the child breathe alright in there? Suddenly he noticed how strange the material the blanket was made out of felt. It was soft like silk but as he repositioned his hands it stuck to him in small fine threads. He pulled his hand away, watching as the threads clung to it. What is this, he asked, turning to the woman. She was gone. He turned looking around, she had been there just a moment ago, where could she have gone? Did she just abandon her child with him?
Suddenly, he felt a small sting on his arm. He glanced down but saw nothing. Then he felt another, and another. He winced, and pulled his hand up to his face. On his arm he saw a small group of tiny spiders. He shook his arm, holding the baby bundled in the other. He glanced down and saw a small tear in the blanket the baby was wrapped up in. Instead of a child curled up inside he saw only blackness. Then it moved. The blackness shifted as the silk bundle he was holding split open and thousands of tiny spiders poured out. He screamed as they covered him, crawling into the seams of his suit and biting him. He tried frantically to wave them off but they clung to him and continued biting. He felt sick to his stomach as his knees wobbled and his legs collapsed underneath him. Steve fell to the ground, motionless. His eyes stared forward, alive, but unable to move as he was slowly engulfed by the spiders.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
We Only Stayed the Night
The ceilings were low in the old house and the rough sawn beams smelled strongly of ancient timber. It was Autumn and my family had elected to spend a portion of our vacation renting out a bead and breakfast on the island of Nantucket. It was upon our arrival that were were greeted, and promptly taken to tour, by the elderly couple who managed the establishment. The building itself had stood for over 250 years, we were told. It had once been converted to serve as sleeping quarters for colonial soldiers.
As we were toured through the narrow halls and stairways it became clear that many iterations of this building now stood upon each other. It could be assumed that the hart of the house, the kitchen and a small bedroom, were once all that was here. Over time numerous additions seemed to to have been created to serve one purpose or another. A collection of ersatz bedrooms, closets and pantry spaces, a larger dining area, and an additional floor had been created at one time or another thought the centuries that the home had stood.
That night after dinner, our family sat around, telling various stories and laughing. Some time before midnight, everyone began to get tired. One at a time we dismissed ourselves, wishing the others a good night until only I remained. For a moment I considered just closing my eyes and going to sleep on the large leather arm chair on which I was seated. I was quite comfortable and leaning back in the chair I yawned and stretched my arms forward.
As I sat, I became aware of the coldness of the floor. Imagining that the poorly insulated room would become insufferably cold as the night went on, and seeing that there were no blankets in the immediate vicinity, I picked myself up and headed off to my room for the night.
My room was long and narrow. There was several others like it around the house. None of them had doors, only a thick green curtain which could be pulled in front of the doorway. I stretched myself out on the thin mattress. Was this once a closet, I wondered? I laid there for a while before falling to sleep, listening to the periodic creeks and clicks of the wood and pipes of the old house.
Someone tugged on the back of my shirt. Not moving, and still half asleep I asked, what is it? They tugged again, two quick tugs on the back of my shirt. I rolled over to see who it was. No one was there. I sat there for a moment, becoming fully awake. I looked around and switched on the dim overhead light. Quietly standing up, I could feel the brisk nighttime coldness that had invaded the house. I slowly drew aside the curtain, half expecting to see someone standing there. There was no one. I stuck my head out, peering around the empty room before me. Had I been dreaming? I got back into bed and pulled the blankets up. No sooner had I closed my eyes, I hear a voice. A single word, cold, echoed as if it had been spoke in the room right there next to me! I sat up again, my heart beating loudly in my ears as the hair rose on the back of my neck. I sat there, not moving, listening until the unbroken silence began to make my ears ring. After about an hour I finally, leaned back and closed my eyes.
In the morning, everyone looked tired. When asked how I slept, I replied not well and told my story. My parents looked at each other. They too had heard something, they said that they had been woken by the sound of someone running down the hall and then head a laugh outside their room. They thought it might have been me or my brother, but clearly had been neither of us. My brother explained that he too had seen something. He said he was woken in the middle of the night when his sheets were suddenly pulled off of him. He had thought it was me playing a joke on him.
After that, we packed up and left. We spent the next night in a hotel even though we had booked the house for the whole weekend. None of use wanted to spend another night there.
As we were toured through the narrow halls and stairways it became clear that many iterations of this building now stood upon each other. It could be assumed that the hart of the house, the kitchen and a small bedroom, were once all that was here. Over time numerous additions seemed to to have been created to serve one purpose or another. A collection of ersatz bedrooms, closets and pantry spaces, a larger dining area, and an additional floor had been created at one time or another thought the centuries that the home had stood.
That night after dinner, our family sat around, telling various stories and laughing. Some time before midnight, everyone began to get tired. One at a time we dismissed ourselves, wishing the others a good night until only I remained. For a moment I considered just closing my eyes and going to sleep on the large leather arm chair on which I was seated. I was quite comfortable and leaning back in the chair I yawned and stretched my arms forward.
As I sat, I became aware of the coldness of the floor. Imagining that the poorly insulated room would become insufferably cold as the night went on, and seeing that there were no blankets in the immediate vicinity, I picked myself up and headed off to my room for the night.
My room was long and narrow. There was several others like it around the house. None of them had doors, only a thick green curtain which could be pulled in front of the doorway. I stretched myself out on the thin mattress. Was this once a closet, I wondered? I laid there for a while before falling to sleep, listening to the periodic creeks and clicks of the wood and pipes of the old house.
***
Someone tugged on the back of my shirt. Not moving, and still half asleep I asked, what is it? They tugged again, two quick tugs on the back of my shirt. I rolled over to see who it was. No one was there. I sat there for a moment, becoming fully awake. I looked around and switched on the dim overhead light. Quietly standing up, I could feel the brisk nighttime coldness that had invaded the house. I slowly drew aside the curtain, half expecting to see someone standing there. There was no one. I stuck my head out, peering around the empty room before me. Had I been dreaming? I got back into bed and pulled the blankets up. No sooner had I closed my eyes, I hear a voice. A single word, cold, echoed as if it had been spoke in the room right there next to me! I sat up again, my heart beating loudly in my ears as the hair rose on the back of my neck. I sat there, not moving, listening until the unbroken silence began to make my ears ring. After about an hour I finally, leaned back and closed my eyes.
***
In the morning, everyone looked tired. When asked how I slept, I replied not well and told my story. My parents looked at each other. They too had heard something, they said that they had been woken by the sound of someone running down the hall and then head a laugh outside their room. They thought it might have been me or my brother, but clearly had been neither of us. My brother explained that he too had seen something. He said he was woken in the middle of the night when his sheets were suddenly pulled off of him. He had thought it was me playing a joke on him.
After that, we packed up and left. We spent the next night in a hotel even though we had booked the house for the whole weekend. None of use wanted to spend another night there.
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