One Dark and Stormy Night--Chapter 3

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I grit my teeth against the terror I felt. Whatever it was, was writhing about 10 feet in front of me. I moved closer, the flashlight beam shining straight and shaking like a leaf in a hailstorm.

One Dark and Stormy Night

Chapter Three

From the roof, a hole allowed water to sluice downward, trickling through the darkness to fall on large covered object. The dirty cover moved with the action of the water, hence creating the illusion of something writhing from farther away.

I felt stupid as hell, as I flung the cover off the piece of furniture...

A grandfather clock. It had long ago stopped. The wood had seen better days, obviously it had been wet at one time. The wood had warped a bit, but the head of the clock was largely undamaged and I could see the dial and the Grecian numbers.

I have this thing about jigsaw puzzles. If there's an unfinished jigsaw puzzle sitting on a table in a room and I happen to know about it, I will seek out said puzzle and finish the damned thing with single-minded determination. It's a glitch I have, almost savant-like, and I have completed many puzzles that did not need to be completed.

Coming next in my savant-like mania is unwound clocks...

I opened the door of the Grandfather clock, and pulled the winding chains 10 or 12 times until I felt a resistance. I tapped the pendulum, and the second hand started to move with a soft click. I carefully set the time on the clock to my cellphone time which was set to the U.S Naval Observatory (no this wasn't a leap year).

No creature. No ghosts, goblins, devils, gremlins, or other dark creatures of the night. Just fluttering birds, and a piece of fabric that was moving with the dripping rain.

I exhaled softly, feeling a little more relaxed. Two minutes to midnight. It seemed like it should be later. Dean and Arny had been gone less than an hour.

Birds fluttered nearby, and I pointed my flashlight up toward the hole. It wasn't really wide enough for birds to enter and leave, so I didn't think the bird mystery had been solved as of yet.

I sat down against the wall, facing the large clock. It was nice to see a true grandfather clock in the day of LED accuracy. I wondered why all the furnishings had been left to age up here, obviously there was some decent items covered.

I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes, trying to relax just a little. "Arnyyyy, Deannnn."

Sighing, I stood up. They obviously weren't going to find themselves, and I walked back toward the stairway entrance.

I spied a couple of birds perched on some funishings...their eyes, glinting red in the darkness...and I remembered snipe hunting.

A snipe was a fictitious bird. Every boy scout on their first camp-out from time immemorial has probably been suckered into a snipe hunt. The older boys of a troop will take the younger ones out into the forest where they are told to hold a bag between their legs with a flashlight shining within . They are then told that the older boys would go into the bushes, and scare the snipes toward the younger boys, and all they have to do is close their bags when they hear the snipe enter it. Sometimes they are told to make some silly call...goootch gootchgootchgootch..etc. The older boys then head back to the campfire for some fun and frivolity while the younger scouts wait in the forest for a bird that never comes.

I had waited until dawn...

I wondered, briefly, if this was some type of grand snipe hunt. Dean and Arny waiting for me at home, laughing, while I wander around the house terrified out of my wits. In fact, I made up my mind that was *just* what was happening...after all, Dean was a computer genious and could have easily blanked their numbers from my cellphone while I had been with Arny...and Arny could have quickly covered up all but my tracks with a whisk brook and picked up what was probably a plastic-covered dime store doo-doo pile out of the pit.

The more I thought about it..the more sense it made...much more sense then them actually disappearing due to some heinous spirit in this old house. The house was just old, I was a sucker, and we'd all laugh when I got home.

I shook my head at my gullibility, grinning, and was just about to step on the stair leading downward to the second floor landing...

...when said stair abruptly swung upwards on it's own accord, slamming shut.

"Nooooo!" The little boy inside me who had been trapped in the crawlspace came roaring to the surface...I quelled his terror, and jumped up and down on the stairs, knowing this was a stupid move if said stairs suddenly opened. I would spill down them, possibly injuring myself in the process, but at that point I didn't care, I just wanted out Out OUT!

The stairs remained steadfast in their resolve.

I jumped some more, hoping futilely that the stairs would open, yet they were stuck fast, appearing as if they were part of the ceiling.

The hole in the ceiling. I ran back to the far side of the attic. Perhaps I could pull some of the shingles loose and widen that hole and at least call for help. As I passed the clock...It began to chime midnight.

I stopped, staring at the clock, the face reflecting my flashlight beam. It chimed one, two, three...

Two birds lit on a nearby chair as the clock was chiming. I ran to the hole, moving a chair underneath, yelling for help, okay, screaming as loud as I possibly could scream. I stuck my hands up into the darkness and could feel rain. I hauled on the sides of the hole, could feel the old tar squish between my fingers. Water sluiced down my face from the rainstorm outside. I was able to get both hands up into the hole, and I pulled, dangling from my fingers....pressing my mouth up to the hole and yelling as loud as I could..."Helllp!!!!"

Behind me, the clock stopped chiming.

Panting, I turned...and the two birds in a cold explosion of light became Arnold Severence and Dean Buckhold.

"Where the hell have you guys been?" I yelled, for the moment not registering the avian transformation.

Eyes shone in terror, the whites completely encircling their pupils. Bother heads turned in unison, looking back into the darkness.

From somewhere in front of me I could hear someone chuckling...low and throaty...and very very feminine.

"Ohhh, Steven!" The voice approached. "You don't know how long I've *waited* for someone like you."

I've read novels about bowels loosening and terror gripping and all the convenient adverbial and adjectival clauses to help describe utter terror. It felt like butterflies exploding in my belly after being shot from a cannon at close range.

"RUN!" Dean said in a low loud whisper. Arny nodded quickly, his head bobbing up and down.

I wish I could have run. I wish I'd had somewhere to run *to.*

"We have soooo much to talk about, you and I."

I could barely make out a figure walking toward me. I could hear her feet, no shoes, gently padding toward me as she walked into the circle of my light.

For a dead person, Mrs. Hubbard looked damn good for her age.

"RUNNNN." Dean hissed again.

But I couldn't. Petrified, I shone my flashlight full upon what had once been Brenda Hubbard.

She had developed curves in the years she'd been among the dead. Her breasts were full and firm, her skin slightly pale, but full of color. Dark of hair ruby of lips which were wide with mirth. Her yellow dress clung strategically to all the right places and I briefly wondered what had truly happened to her.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything, my dear dear boy?"

Dean's hand gripped me then, gripping me hard. This time I didn't resist, I allowed myself to be pulled in his direction, around...Mrs. Hubbard, and toward the stair.

We ran, all three of us.

"Ohhh, dear. My new pets have decided to be very naughty." Her voice was full in my ears, even though we ran across the attic to the stair.

We got to the stair. "That's what I was going to tell you, somehow she sealed it and we can't..."

Dean pounced onto the stair with all his might. As if in shock, the stair opened, spilling him down, Arny and me running after him.

Down the hall we ran, Dean limping from his tumble. We didn't even think about the bedroom with my pack, we tore through the upper landing, and down the stairs.

Through the entry, into the Dining room, and into the kitchen we ran, Dean's hand clamped firmly on my shoulder. We got to the door, and Dean pulled up short.

"Run home, and don't turn back."

I looked at him, then at Arny who was nodding, a look of misery on his face.

"I'm not *leaving* you guys, you can come with me."

"We can't." Arny was crying. "She's got us, Steven. But not you. All these birds are children she has taken over the years, the singles. You don't know what she *did* to them Steven, she ATE them!"

"What?" I still hadn't processed what they were saying, but I could hear...whoever it was...approaching. "No! Come with me!"

Dean looked at Arny who shrugged. They stepped forward.

I opened the door, ready to run into the wet night with my two friends...but just as I crossed the threshhold and out into the yard, there was that silent Flash again, and my friends were gone. Two birds fluttered around my head.

"No!" I yelled, stopping.

"Yessss," came the voice, her voice.

"Let them go!" I said turning to face her. Rain fell in huge droplets pelted by the wind.

In the doorway she stood, making a pinup pose. "Come in, and let's talk about it."

"What do you want from me?" I said, crying fully now, tears mixing in the rain. I was cold and wet and tired and shaking from fear.

"Very little, I assure you Steven. You were soooo kind to wash my mirror. You are *exactly* what I've been looking for all these long years and I *promise* your friends will be allowed to go with you after we have reached our agreement."

"Will they be human? Or will they still be..." I waved my arms at the fluttering above use.

"Yes, I promise. They will be human. Now, come inside. I will make us something mmmmmm warmmm, to eat and drink. And we shall have a little chat. And then your friends can go home with you if you decide to take my offer."

I looked behind me. It wasn't much of a choice. Either go back and agree to...whatever it was...this woman wanted, or turn around, walk home, and forget all about the friends I had left behind.

Then I thought about my pack...still in the room above. And I thought about my little secret that I hadn't shared with Arny, or with Dean. I felt a little glimmer of hope as I nodded.

"Okay, but no funny business." I said, and I followed her back into her haunted house.

Brenda Hubbard...the creature that used to be Brenda Hubbard..gave a low feminine chuckle as she shut the door behind us.

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Comments

"someone like you..."

laika's picture

Perfect. A nice fat chunk of denouement, exactly what this story needed at this point.
A reader can only jump at shadows for so long...

Can't wait to hear what sort of deal The Damned Thing will offer. Something that'll allow her to leave the house she's eternally trapped within and unleash evil upon the world? Someone to do her bidding in the world beyond, maybe justice against those who faked her suicide? Or send them to the store for more toilet paper?
~~~hugs, eagerly awaiting more! Laika

I think Brenda Hubbard knows

I think Brenda Hubbard knows Steven's secret and wishes to use it permanently on him/her, making him/her her personal "slave". Janice Lynn

What next?

Steven has made a choice that should help his friends even if it does hold unspecified dangers for him. Says a lot about him, don't you think?

Oh, yeah, nice use of the famous cliche. Especially in a title! Woo hoo!

Tsu

darn, now i need to know what happens next, no fair. great stuff by the wayi love it when a story where we get to know its characters

Wonderful

Excellent story!
Is there more to come, or is the major cliff hanger ending going to have to make my imagination go crazy filling in the rest?

TERRIFIC

This is a great story! I really do hope that there is more to come.

well writen

James

So, is/was this the end? As

So, is/was this the end? As it is, it doesn't really fit several of the categories.


I'll get a life when it's proven and substantiated to be better than what I'm currently experiencing.