The House

It was cold, and the sky gray. There were few trees and fewer buildings, besides the small square bungalows that were scattered throughout the grasslands. And this land had not yet resurrected from the winter.

Devin had fallen a sleep, and last he remembered they had not yet left the city's buildings, but waking up, it now seemed the train had been going for hours. He yawned and straightened up in his seat, stretching his back.

"Morning sleepyhead." Joe said from his seat across the car.

"When did we leave the city?"

"An hour or three ago."

"Where's Ella?"

"Ladies Room."

"Oh." Devin sniffed. He stood, waking his sleepy joints awake. They were going to a house. Joe's House, as Ella called it. Joe himself gave no explanation as to  why they were going, only saying it was a yearly habit of his. Even Ella had never been there, but she told Devin she has heard Joe speak of it. And he had been going there for years before she met him.

They had invited another friend, William, but he said he wanted no part of it. This surprised Joe, who had said; "With all the adventure novels he reads, Will should be up to it."

"Where is this house anyway?"

"Outside the little town we'll come up to. Furlough."

"Bleak name for bleak region."

Joe shrugged, "It's just the time of year...you should come in the summer, its a different place. Green everywhere, and wild flowers, and the people are nicer."

"I thought you only went to this house once a year?"

"I'll still visit the town."

Ella returned just as Devin sat back down, retook her seat next to Joe. "I saw Furlough's sign from the window. We're coming up."


They where, the train slowed to a halt. Signals went off that suggested it was safe for passengers to depart. The Ticket-masters stood outside the doors; black pens ready and wet to mark the tickets of each person as they left, making sure none had snuck aboard somewhere, somehow. Tall men in gray, and blank-faced, eyes always downward to focus on the job at hand, and then (wetting their pens a second time) ready for those newly boarding.

The three young people had only their coats and one umbrella. The station was open aired and small, suited to the town, which had only few places of business, one school, one police station, and no sidewalks. And one main road,  with smaller branches that most likely led to the residency area. If things weren't so gloomy Devin would have been reminded of his own hometown, though perhaps with one other school.

He felt Ella pull on his arm, and lead him to a bench. There was quite a crowd that departed with them, for such a small place. Men, women, and few children, all were collecting their bags or each other, before going to the steps that led down to the dirt streets, and from then on disappearing quietly and leaving no trace of themselves. Not even footprints in the dirt. The Ticket-masters waited with inked pens for the passengers, but only one man came, showed his ticket, and boarded. The train then left.

In a matter of moments Devin and Ella were all that remained at the station. Joe had suddenly left to purchase som scarves, Ella told him.

"So you've never seen this house?" Devin asked.

"No, all I know is its an old house he visits."

"In the family?"

"I don't think so."

"Did he come here as a kid then?"

"No, he grew up on a sea-village."

"Then how would he end up here?"

"We'll find out."

It was best to wait with Joe, Devin had learned these past few months. His was the first friendly face he had seen, and the first person to seek him out after work (for they worked in the same hotel) and Ella was the second. For all his subtle abstractness (that was a very good word for Joe, Devin thought) he was a good man, a friendly one.

Joe returned with three black scarves in hand.

"For my Dear, and my Friend."

Furlough was not so desolate; the streets empty but if you were to look inside the store windows it seemed the inhabitants had decided to wait out inside. Some elderly, some approaching the age, and every now and then Devin would glance inside a dress shop and see young people, busy at work. The school's bell echoed though to town, but the children decided to stay inside. He could count fourteen or so little heads bobbing from behind the windows when they passed.

Cold as it was, Joe's enthusiasm still emitted from him, in his walk, his countenance. Enthusiasm for what, was still to be seen. As for Ella, she was quiet, not as enthusiastic but not complaining or slowing down. Devin kept their brisk speed, though he wondered why they did not take a stagecoach from the station? Then again, looking round he doubted Furlough had such a service.

The stores and shops so close together, and as they left the business district small cubed houses began to appear, though not as close to one another, they were still not far enough to warrant a buggy of any kind.

As they left the town, following the main road, Devin could seen a building, some miles away, he could only guess it was the inn. He looked to Joe, who nodded, pulling his scarf over his lips. It stood alone, no fence of any kind, the town of Furlough being the only thing remotely close, and they traveled the lone road, Devin glanced behind, and even the town of Furlough was disappearing.

The Inn was nearly as vacant as the town's streets, an old couple sat beside each other near a large fireplace, and there was a boy looking out one of the windows with a tag thrown around his neck that read "Unaccompanied". And the shadow of a man, perhaps a work hand,

"You brought friends this time!" A lady said to Joe, from behind the front desk.

"We'll need two rooms. One single, one double."

"Mam will cut the price for you, like she always does." The lady said with a smile, turning the get the keys as Joe signed their names into a large burgundy book. He then paid, the lady gave him two keys and his change. Devin and Ella had found  spots in front of the fire, leaving a space open for him.

"We probably would have stayed here anyway." He said, sitting down, "There's a stagecoach we can rent tomorrow, warmer than a buggy this time of year, and it will take us the rest of the way."

"Okay." Devin replied. "How far is the house?"

"You can seen it from the window." Joe nodded to the window the little boy was staring out of.

He looked but saw no house. He told Joe, who came and pointed to the horizon. He still couldn't see it. Joe told him to follow the road, he then look to his left side.

"That? It's a speck from here!"

"Which is why we need the coach." Joe replied.

A small black speck, could have been a spot on the window. He couldn't make anything out from it. Just a speck on the horizon. Devin returned to his friends.

"How did you come here anyway?"

"Hopped the wrong train." Joe answered. "Been coming here since."


They ate watery potato soup and drank strong coffee before leaving. The stagecoach ("The only instance of acceptable importing." Joe said sarcastically) was small but they could all fit inside. Joe's enthusiasm from the day before returned with every step of the horse. He grinned to himself, looking out the window, holding his umbrella tightly. Ella looked at him, as puzzled as Devin felt. He again tried to ask his friend what they were going to do there, and each time Joe only smiled to himself.

The weather hadn't changed, it was a little less windy though, but the sky had remained gray, and the absence of any other house or building save for the Inn and that, like Furlough's main street, began to disappear behind them. Devin crossed his arms and slouched in his seat, trying to see if he could sleep again. But the road was dirt, and a coach didn't ride as smoothly as a train. So he was awake and thinking about nothing in particular.

They arrived, the house much bigger now. It stood two stories, gray and the windows had long ago been broken, except for the one looking out on the from the top floor. The porch roof was decayed, looked ready to collapse any minute and most of the paint had rotted off. It sat in the middle of a barren landscape, alone, and abandoned, waiting for the residents to return.

Joe himself stood to the side while his friends stared, turning the umbrella's crank till it was undone. "Ready?"

When they didn't answer, rather looked at him as though he had grown a second head.

"It's fine." He assured, already walking up to the porch. Soon as he did a small piece of wood fell from above him and rolled off the umbrella.

"Joe."

"I've done this before my dear. It's perfectly fine. I promise."

"...I'll wait for you, with Mr..." She looked to the driver, who had gone to stare at the distance, unaware she was fishing for his name. "I'll just wait here."

"Are you sure?"

She looked towards the structure again. "I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll bring you something." Joe said, turning to Devin, who still regarded the thing uneasily. He never liked the look of old places that were just left by themselves. And he didn't like the look of this one. But Joe smiled reassuringly, and motioned for him to get under the umbrella. And Devin didn't like the idea of leaving his friend to go in alone, so quickly he ducked under the umbrella.

"It's going to take more than that to save you from a large piece of roof." Ella cautioned.

"The roof already caved in!" Joe answered, giving Devin the umbrella. He stepped forward and kicked the door. It opened, clouds of dust escaping to the outside. And behind, the dark of a forgotten house.

The floor was wooden, and was littered with the pant that had long peeled off. Some pieces of furniture left here and there, two or three old oil paintings still hung from the wall in the foyer.

"It's been left to rot for decades. Doesn't really look like it here," Joe said quietly, though there was no one to hear them, "but you see those doors?" He pointed to the edge of the foyer,to a pair of old doors. "Behind them is the roof. Caved in last year."

Devin nodded.

"Let's go upstairs." Joe said in the same low voice, as though they were two thieves.

The staircase was old. The railing had gone missing, no sign of it anywhere. No broken pieces of wood below, no cracked stubs to suggest it had once been part of the staircase.

The stairs did not creak under their weight, but Devin could feel his heart begin to beat faster, and his neck became warm. Memories of each horror novel he had read as a boy came to mind, in those stories the staircases always creak. And the cobwebs are too big, and there is reason to be afraid.

But as dark and still this house was, it offered none of the reasonable fear-inspiring characteristics. No faint whispers, or creaks, the cobwebs were small or out of their way, and Joe seemed as eased as he would have been in his own home.

The only thing really to worry about was the darkness. Joe did not bother to buy some candles or one of those portable lamps that were released the year before. The dark became more dense as they advanced, farther from the door, that had supplied so much light.

He had never been scared of the dark as a kid, but this was different. If only Joe had kept talking. Looking behind and below the open door seemed to glow, and had become a bright dot.

Ideas of creatures, monsters that only lurked in the dark flashed before him. Dreadfully thin creatures, leather-skinned and eyes large from lack of light. Crawling on the walls, the ceiling. Perhaps under the staircase. Looking at them now, through the cracks in the boards. Ready to pounce, and release the deafening shriek of hunger.

"Let's go back." Joe said suddenly, causing Devin to jump.

"I thought you wanted to go upstairs?"

"No, let's go."

"Why?"

Silence, until Joe asked if his friend would like to return without him at least.

"No, I'll stay with you." Devin said.

"Let's-"

"I'll be fine." Devin assured.

"Alright."

Having paid regular visits to the house in years past, Joe was confident enough to walk about in the darkness once they reached the landing. But still with a tentative hand against the wall. They walked for some minutes, Joe explaining what he knew of the house, and what he had heard.

"The woman at the Inn? Her Mother was a little thing when the owners left. They had a daughter as well, and they'd play together. According to Mrs. Leah, one day, she saw them speeding though. Trunks and all were seen in the buggy as they sped away, offering only small waves of goodbye when they passed Mrs. Leah and her Mother in the Inn. She said she remembers that her friend had tears rolling down her face, clutching the doll she had given her.

"After some months the local authorities went to the house. They didn't bother to board it up, they had taken anything important or valuable it seemed. Never heard from them again, the house was left alone and forgotten, till I happened out here one day, and began asking around. Mrs. Leah is one of the last in Furlough to remember the day."

With that, Joe turned a handle, and pushed a door open. A fresh flood of light blinded them, the sky had lightened to a dull white, the clouds still overcast, but it illuminated the room. Inside he saw a large hole, in the middle of the floor, and that part of roof, directly above it, was missing.

Devin looked from the large hole to the sky. "You, can't tell from the front." He said quietly.

"No, you can not. Look down, that's the kitchen. Well what's left of it anyway."

He didn't need to look down. The hole in the floor was enough. Joe pulled the door all the way open, letting more light into the hallway, and then, handing the umbrella to his friend, opened a door that was next to the one supplying the new light.

A nursery. The material of what had been a curtain had thinned long ago over an old window it hung, weather beaten.  Joe moved it over to let in the outside light. Most of the paint had stayed, there were still hand-painted airships visible on the walls. A little white crib stood in the far left corner, empty, save for a old-fashioned Stuffy Duck toy (as Devin saw, when he stepped close to it), with the ever present handkerchief sewn on it's hand and it's little round beak red as shown in the newspaper cartoon. But like all of the house time had it's hand on it. Dust, visible in the air, for one thing.

And there were toy cars on the floor, a toy airship, turned over, all in a cluster near the crib, as though waiting for a small child to come and play. A rocking chair by the window, for the Mother or Nurse, with a small pile of baby clothes on top of it. A little basin for washing near the window and next to that a little desk with a changing blanket spread out and a basket of cloths, all ready.

"Does Miss Leah remember her Friend having a little brother?"

"No. I've  asked those who still remember, like I said Mrs. Leah is one of the few. But none of them recall the wife having a little boy. One or two remember her being with child though." Joe answered, looking down. All his enthusiasm gone. For now.

Devin looked back at the crib. Caked in dust, and never slept in. The wood old, and ready to crumble, most likely, any day. The Stuffy Duck never held or cuddled. All these toys never played with. A depressing room. Everything still waiting for the baby that never came.

"Is this why you come here?"

"No, not really." Joe answered, his own mood lifted a bit. "I like the air of it. In that little farming town of yours, weren't there any legends? Mysteries? Hermits or something you were told to stay away from? All the gruesome stories, they only made you curious...Scared you but made you curious? Didn't they have bets; who can spot the witch through her window?"

Devin nodded, for there were several local myths as such, but he had never been curious enough to investigate. But he knew what his friend meant.

"This isn't Furlough's ghost house or something. I'm not even sure it's part of the town."

'Well, every town or village has an abandoned house, somewhere, lot of people just want to go in and look around. I wanted to, but I wasn't a brave kid. And in Easton that kind of thing was illegal."

Joe's eyes shifted, as though he hadn't considered that.

"But I know what you mean." Devin added. "Did Miss Leah have any idea why they left?"

"No, she didn't, and still doesn't. Back then I think the Raids started, which would explain no one knowing they had a second child, if the child lived, but its hard to hide that sort of thing. Though they were so far out, I guess it wouldn't be too difficult."

"Not like someone could hear the baby scream." Devin said, looking at a little shelf on the wall, filled with unopened picture books, and a little toy boat, that had long crumbled. And a heart shaped locket. "But inspections would be difficult, the Mother wouldn't want to leave the baby alone."

"And anyway, back then the Raids were only up the west coast still. It be years before they spread." Joe continued, "I'm not sure if the Father predicted the coming Raids or if there was another reason. On one hand-" Joe began to began, not noticing his companion now held the locket in his hand.

A sliver locket, reminded him of his Mother's, though her own had an emerald in the middle. He turned it over. Had it been left here? When the Mother was collecting the baby? Or if she lost it had she left it here?

He opened it. No pictures inside but a short poem in neat hand.


"This is my locket
It belonged to a girl who was new
I spend days trying to find her
Now I give it to you."


He had heard that somewhere before. He wasn't sure where, but it was familiar.

"Do you have a pen on you?" He asked Joe.

"Why?"

"This poem sound familiar."

"Just take the locket."

Devin closed it and put the locket back on it's shelf. "I'll remember it."

"Alright." Joe said, looking at his friend oddly, after all it wasn't as though anyone was coming back for it, but he didn't say this."Well, we better get back to Ella."

The way back seemed much shorter to Devin. They were soon outside. Ella and the Driver had gone inside the coach for warmth, Devin and Joe insisted the old man stay inside for a while to warm up. After all, their train home didn't depart til four.

"Do you remember the people who lived in that house?" Devin asked him

"No, Sir," His thick-accented voice answered, "But Miss Leah does, I was a wee thing when I met her."

"Really?"

"Old girl is...well old. But she told me about them sure enough. I think they went by Turning, or something with a T in it."

"And what do you thing happened to them?" Joe asked.

The old man's eyes kept to his hands, downward. "I don't know to be sure. Some who've heard the story think they got notion of the Raids, but news of that didn't reach this way till I was a lad, no one could have been warned of them. Perhaps the Mister had trouble, wicked enough he had to run out. But to be sure Sir, I do not know."

The old man then left the coach, thanking them for letting him warm his mitts, and began the journey back to the Inn.