The House by the Lake
By Alexander Moore
- 420 reads
Dusk
The village consisted for no more than twenty buildings, all wooden, wind battered structures that moaned and shrieked at every sweeping gust from the nearby bay. Surrounding the village was a dense forest of swaying pine trees. The buildings hugged together in the clearing in a tight formation, and the pines that circled them towered dauntingly above. The sun began its descent, and a golden tint was cast, flickering through the canopy. The small group of habitants had established their needs. A few houses, a sheriff’s building, a general store and the church, for those who still pleaded the help of higher powers to get them through their current predicament.
Three children sneaked from the village and into the forest behind the church. Sara, the daughter of the Sherriff, knew the consequences if they weren’t to return before the moon arose. Regardless, she adhered to her rebellious reputation and lead the two boys through the maze of trees.
As they paced through the forest, she turned to Sean. “You good with directions and stuff?”
“You mean to tell me you don’t know where you’re goin’?” He walked with his head up, ears pricked like a cat. He had never ventured through the wall of trees without an accompanying adult, and was wired sharply enough to realize that three twelve-year-old children were vulnerable out there. The branches crackled, birds cackled and forestry ambience was as prevalent as ever. A quiet walk in the woods, his mother would say. I’m going for a quiet walk in the woods to clear my head. Bollocks, he thought, although would never dare say in her presence. No such thing exists, because the forest is as deafening as his cramped household, troubled father taken into consideration.
“I do, but just in case it gets dark. I’m not sure exactly where this house is, damn not even sure if it’s really haunted, but I know the direction”. She stormed in front of the two boys, taking helm. Sean was behind, and watched as her confident, upright posture proceeded into the gradually darkening surroundings. Her dirty, bleach blonde hair that would shine in the afternoon sun was now much dimmer, and the third member of the group broke the silence.
“We should go back”, Adamh said from the rear, and came to a stop atop the twigs and leaves underfoot. “Your ma will kill you if you’re not back by supper”, he said, pointing at Sean. Sean realized Adamh’s finger shaking as he pointed at him, but missed his opportunity to acknowledge it he shifted his focus to Sara. “And your…” he swallowed loudly, “your father Is the sheriff, for fuck’s sake.”
Sean intervened. “My father is a sheriff too, retard, and I ain’t scared of him”.
“Your father ain’t the real sheriff, let’s be honest”, Sara teased. “And you ain’t scared of him because he’s the damn woman of the house”. She walked back towards Adamh, who had lowered his fearful finger. As she passed Sean, she could feel his angry gaze burning a hole in her head, but she knew he took her jokes all too well. She put her hand on Adamhs shoulder. “We’re doing this for you. You ain’t ever get out of that house of yours, must be driving you near crazy. If you’re ma catches you, I’ll take the blame. We won’t be long, I promise.” He stared at her for a second before nodding subtly. “Good, now let’s go”.
The trio breached the last line of trees, and stepped from the gloomy forest terrain into a more open, brightened lakeside field. All three of them simultaneously felt the coolness of the air which contrasted starkly to the claustrophic humidity under the canopy.
“There it is”, Sara pointed forward. The house sat lifelessly beside the lake. It was creek brown, spruce wooded and significantly more fragile than the buildings they called home. A rusted amber copper fence circled it, and two trees stood perilously close to its walls on the right. As the sun dipped lower behind it, the houses windows, previously resembling glowing, intriguing yellow eyes, now gazed with a much darker shade. It looked soulless, lifeless. The front door had been ripped off it’s hinges and lay in the twisting grass and thistles under the right lower window. Adamh gazed into the mouth of the house as the windows glared back. He could not remember the last time he had seen such a shade of black. The night had moon and stars to light the paths, the crooked, rotting homes they lived in had flickering wax lamps that dimly lit their rooms. But this house had nothing, a blinding darkness emitted from every window and doorway, as if, Adamh thought, it had secrets to hide. Behind the house, at the lakeside, stood a horse. Obscured by the falling leaves and webbed branches of the two trees, Adamh squinted. It was a black stallion drinking from the water. The last of the dying light shone on the horse’s silky body. She raised her head as the three children inched closer to the house.
“My daddy told me this house is as far as the southerners got in their raid”, Sara explained as she walked towards the front door, however no longer at the front of the group. Sean had noticed her subtly dropping back from the captain’s role, but had embraced taking lead in adventures like this. “Said most of them turned back long before getting this far, short on ama-nation or somethin’”
“Ammunition”, Sean said.
“Yeah, that. but a few of ‘em kept goin’. Four or so. Reckoned they ain’t afraid of no peasants from the north. Reckoned they could kill our whole village. Pfft, bet my daddy could take ‘em all…” She was interrupted by a hush.
“Shhhhh”, Adamh had stopped again. “We have to go back”, he insisted again. “Something ain’t right”. The sigh of the evening wind had ceased. He noticed the horse had also sensed something, it now stood rigid, upright and aware. They were a few steps from the gate now, and Adamh could see the stallion’s cool breath bellowing from her nose. An uneasy silence swept along the lakeside, and the forest looked now much more inviting than it previously had.
“We’ve came this far, I’m goin’ to check out this house. Stop bein’ a bitch”, Sara hadn’t bothered to stop this time, storming forward and pushing the gate open with a creak. She had once again taken helm, and she noticed. “Sean, you bitching too?”
He looked uneasily into the gaping entrance, where the door once stood. “I think I’d better just fetch this horse, get us home twice as quick as trekking back through the trees.”
Sara shook her head, an invalid excuse. “I’ve got more balls that both of boys put together, know that”. She swung around and disappeared into the doorway. The two boys looked at each other, Sean now painted with a more understanding expression. He felt something too. The atmosphere had changed. They needed to go back.
“I’m going around back to get this beauty, hopefully she’s tamed, least to an extent”. Adamh nodded, and Sean needed no more clues to conclude that he was staying put. He watched as Sean leapt the fence and made his way under the two arching trees towards the horse.
He sat out front, on the grass. With his legs crossed, he rested his elbows on his knees. It was now dark, and he had accepted he would be punished for this. He worried a lot. The village doctor says he worried too much, that he should leave his house more, especially with the troubles that took place within it’s walls. The village doctor, though, he seen as useless. A con artist, his father would refer to him as. Probably the one thing that seeped from his fathers slurred lips that he agreed with. Adamh had a liability to lose consciousness at random, it had plagued his recent years and had developed what the doctor would refer to as “insanity.” He appreciated his friends attempts to introduce him to their adventures, but he still worried. Was he insane for worrying about passing out, he thought? Was he insane for worrying that someday, some night he would pass out in a place out here, get snatched by some psychotic southerners or hungry farmers, and never see his family again? Not that the whole no- family thing would be bad, he thought, before reconsidering. He loved them, he reassured himself. It was times like this he realized where his problems lay. He did spend too much time in his home, but for what he believed was good reason. He didn’t wan… His thoughts were interrupted.
He snapped out of his daze. On the forests edge, just fifty yards from where he sat, was a figure. The dark of the night had made it’s features undistinguishable. He sat upright, lifting his elbows from where the rested. It had long hair, down to its legs. It, or she, wore a grey tattered dress. A cloud above eased westward, exposing the moons light on it. He froze. He heard tales, but…
A piercing scream came from the house behind him. He leapt to his feet, his heart pounding from his chest. “Sara?” he shouted. He reached for the rusted gate, but as his hand grasped it, her scream got louder. It seemed to rattle the metal fence, as if ripping through her throat. He stared into the dark windows of the house, helpless.
“Sean, where are you?” He raced through the garden, between the two trees where Sean had pursued the horse. And that was when he seen the sight that would ultimately affect his life to come. A sight that could not be unseen, of true horror. The stallion reversed into the water slowly, its eyes rolled back in its head. Its hooves were facing backwards, and its mouth was lined with long, flinted sharp fangs that seemingly ripped through its lips. Hanging from its mouth was a leg, a boy’s leg, covered in crimson red blood. It slowly back into the lake, inch by inch, until it was swallowed by the watery darkness. Adamh was unable to move. The screams from the house had persisted, but he was unable to act.
He sprinted for the trees. Panting, his breath obscuring his vision. He was shaken to the extent he didn’t even notice the figure from the forest side had gone. He scrambled through the tree line, with the young girls screams chasing him as he ran. He had to get the sheriff, he thought, before remembering he did not know the way home. The ghastly scream continued to fill the air as he dashed through the trees, before gradually becoming quieter. Then he noticed his vision changing, and his legs began to weaken at the knees. “Not now, please”, he pleaded as he could feel the grasp of unconsciousness tighten around his neck, “Not now”.
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Comments
Hi Alex, nice to see you back
Hi Alex, nice to see you back on ABC Tales.
I like the set up of this very much indeed. You've obviously put a lot of thought and imagination into your world, and there are lots of questions for the reader to think about, making them want to read on and find out more.
I think it could do with some quite hefty editing. For example, the part describing Adamh's condition distracts from the tension you're building for the denoument. Perhaps a brief reference to this earlier might actually add to the tension, because then the reader is aware that this may be a factor in what's about to happen. There's also quite a few typos and you refer to the stallion as 'she' - a stallion is by definition a male horse, although you also refer to 'it' as well. I got a bit confused by this, and lost the thread of the story trying to work out who 'she' was.
Really interested in your world, though, and I would very much like to see more of it and find out what is going on in that mysterious house!
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