The Old House23:29 Jan 26 2008
Times Read: 1,089
We had sat as a trio by the back exit, John Marks, Amanda Evans and me, Ed Lewis, the tallest of the three; I’d not been the eldest. That dubious honour had been held by John, who was with Amanda, a girl he’d liked since he met her at the Uni-bar a year earlier. But, I’d known her since we were both thirteen, and even though she’d been dead popular, she’d never made fun of me, the way my Mother dressed me, or the crappy National Health specs I’d worn. And yes, tho it was a secret, I’m sure she knew I’d loved her always had: and then she’d met John at the bar.
And it’s where we still felt good to hang-out: The Uni-bar, a meeting-place for individuals, determined to preserve their non-conformity to society and ‘them’, by mode of speech and dress.
But that night had been a quiet Friday-night. The end of the night had been reached. No-one had fought; the taxi’s arriving, to take some home and others onward, to the clubs in the middle of town.
We had looked at one another.
“So are we going?” Manda had asked me, her right hand on the back of my left.
I hadn’t wanted to, but there was noway I’d be shown up by that troglodyte she hung out with, noway. Not when it was his idea, egged on by his musclehead mates.
So, I had no choice, really.
Besides, the bus had been due.
It was the last one of the night and stopped over the road from The Old Mansion.
John had finished his pint, all-in-one and looked at me with that inane grin of his.
“Okay,” he beamed with a beer-led smile, “phasers set to stun geek.”
John was always full of such bravado, in front of Amanda, or his mates.
“There’s no need for that,” my friend had snapped at the dorkus, the boyfriend, in my defence.
Now, there we were, at ‘that time’, time to go.
Over a pint of five, we had chatted, with empty glasses slowly filling the table before us, the ashtray near me overfilling.
Then, towards the end of the night John had challenged me to join him an Amanda to join him on a mission, to stay overnight in the Old Mansion on the hill.
‘Bright idea,’ not.
But, Amanda, or ‘Purple’ as I called her, was my bessy-mate, ‘an if she was gonna stay overnight, I’d be there. Of curse I would.
The others in John’s team had put money on it. He’s into rugby, ‘an wear his ginger hair dead short, as it bushes out, if it’s allowed to grow; ‘an he’s always in his olive green tee-shirt with a black ‘n white logo on it of a Guiness there with the word beneath and boy, is he an arse; but Purple loves him, what can I say? I mean, you gotta be there for your friends, haven’t you?
Come the last bus of the night, we’d travelled to the outskirts of town, upstairs of course, each of us carrying a back-bag, with whatever we figured we’d need in it.
A drunken toast and a raucous toast had led to us making the toast and although we’d sounded loud and bright, I’m sure we all were all nervous, I know I was.
But, Manda had just sat there looking at her new nails, looking out the window into the night and her reflection looking back, occasionally flicking her purple streaks twists outta her raven black hair.
John, the boyfriend, was just chilling, listening to his stereo and The Manics, I think; an drumming his fingers on the seat rail before him, his eyes closed as he listened.
As for me? Well, I’d been checkin out the distance, an where we’d be getting off, the whole way. I’m not saying I was scared. Oh-no.
But, I had hear the stories Johns mates had been telling earlier, about the killin there in ’74: and the people who’d gone missing in the area.
Finally we’d got to where we had to get to and our stop.
Then as we’d alighted and the vehicle pulled away, we’d each stood there, faces lit by the powerful torch-beams; ‘an we’d each looked round already wary of the idea.
It’d been raining earlier; quite heavy I guess and the air had still felt heavy with the promise of more to come.
“It’s over there…” John pointed out, his right fore-finger showing us the white house to our left, set behind a high-wall.
He’d turned to us, with a broad smile on his face.
“Okay girlies, time to go,” the mutton-head had smirked and he’d positively sauntered over towards that imposing-lookin wall.
Pointing my torch-beam toward his back, I’d watched as Mandy had followed, positively skipping, as I trudged after her, managing to find one of the deepest puddles on that road surface.
“Buggerfuck,” I’d cmplained quietly.
“Whatssamatter pantyboy?” John hissed back over his shoulder.
“Nuttin,” I’d retorted.
“Are you alright?” Purple had asked, me looking over her right shoulder.
“Just a puddle hun, it’s soaked me socks,” I’d answered.
And boy, did Amanda look good, she always did; her hip-hugging jeans worn tight around her fine lookin butt.
That’s what I followed as John had led the way over the grass-verge, to the wall, about twelve foot in height and with no visible way off getting over it. Like, no over-hanging branches, or handholds in it, nothing.
We’d used our torch-beams to look both ways and some way of getting in, but still nothing, until I heard Manda call from my far left.
“Found the gates!” She called.
Large and black wrought-iron with a heavy chain wrapped them, the gates looked imprenetrable, which is where climbing came in.
John had gone first, then Amanda and finally me.
Finally at the top, meathead had reached down to help Amanda over. Once he’s dropped to the other side, she had helped me scramble up after her: and I’d only gone an caught my back-pack on the spikes on the top and dangled there stupidly, as John had stood there at the bottom there arms crossed, grinning madly at my predicament.
“You could give him a hand John” Amanda had remonstrated.
He had. John had clapped, as I’d shrugged outta the straps and dropped to the floor hard, banging my knee quite badly on a few of the small stones that made up the gravel drive-way. Oh that arsehole always had thought he was oh-so funny.
“We can take a short-cut to the house that way,” John had said to us both, as he had directed his torchbeam across a wide lawn; “So are you ready pantywaist?”
I’d risen slowly, my right knee really aching.
“Yeah sure,” I’d responded.
Then looking at Amanda, I’d smiled brightly.
“I’m fine,” I’d assured her, so-appreciating the look of concern on her face.
I’d got up and followed, as once more John had led the way, with Amanda behind him, me just behind her, my torchbeam showing me where I liked to look.
And, boy had I been happy at the thought of John knowing what I was thinking.
I hadn’t even minded the sore knee, I felt that good about it.
So I had limped with a smile, as we traipsed through overgrown grass and vegetation, toward our destination and where we intended to stay the night, to win that damn stupid bet: and much like before I hadn’t had my senses alert. How could I?
Amanda had been ahead of me and, well had been her backside I’d been following.
That’s how come I’d found the rabbit-hole I guess.
John had turned his torchbean full on me, as I’d lain on my back, right leg ensconced in that hole up to the knee, my arms and torchlight flailing madly, as I had tried to find my balance.
Once more he’d just stood there laughing at my misfortune, as Amanda reached forward with her left hand to give me assistance.
“Goddamn but you’re a klutz!” He snarled, as she helped me stand, smiling sheepishly at my friend.
“Thank you,” I’d stammered, more than a little embarrassed that she’d had to help me again, particularly in front of him.
“Are you okay?” She had queried, further adding to my humiliation.
I’d brushed my jeans down, adjusted my back-back straps, then grinned back.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I’d assured her, knowing full-well that I wasn’t.
I had hurt myself. But I’d not be able to tell her, not in front of Mr. Macho.
It was him, who mimicked Mandas concern for me, by whining, ‘are you alright Eddy-boy’, as he turned back to face the house, with his torch-beam.
Such an asshole.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I’d repeated, as we continued onward the remaining few hundred yards, and the house.
It’d only been then that we actually realized how overgrown the vegetation had become, as every window where covered with the remnants of fine gardens left to rack and ruin.
“There’s gotta be a way in...” John had snapped in frustration, as he leant against the back-wall, after we had had gone all the way round. That’d been the moment I’d turned the backdoor knob and to my total bemusement, the door swung open.
He looked at me with incredulity playing across his face.
“You got to be kidding. I’d swear I tried that a few minutes ago…” he had muttered.
I had tried not to smirk, honestly. But I had failed.
Smiling, with my torchbeam directed to the dusty floor I’m made to enter the house, but John had pushed me aside, to take command one more.
Such an idiot.
Amanda had followed, then me, close behind.
We’d each stepped into the middle of what had turned out to be a pretty big kitchen and as we each played our torchbeams around, it was apparent that the place had been deserted for quite awhile. There’d been the undisturbed dust all around, the dead bulb in the socket above; and, the utter silence.
None of us had spoken above a whisper, as we had explored, it’d seemed right.
Then, John had opened the door into the dining-room, dominated by a long wooden table, on which stood two silver candle-sticks, nothing else.
Around the table had been eight-chairs, all carved with cavorting nymphs, I’d noticed on closer inspection.
But, still no-lights, as Amanda learnt when she had tried the light-switch.
“Well, I figure we stow our bags in here and continue exploring. What you two think?” John had quizzed, as he swept his yellowing torchlight around the room, illuminating the hidden shadows I’d so wanted to avoid seeing.
He’d thumped the side of his torch and for a brief second the light shore white again, before turning yellow once more.
“Oh great!” He snarled, “batteries going already.”
I’d been nearby as he spoke, but was quite unprepared for what had happened next,
John had snatched my torch from me, thrusting his own into my gut.
“I’ll need the bright light after all!” He explained to Amanda, when she had begun to protest at his bullying.
Me? I just took his behaviour, a normal and quietly placed my bag next to theirs, then followed once more, as John had led our further exploration of the old house, with my sense of growing sense of foreboding growing stronger with each passing second, as it seemed one long dark corridor led off from another.
Eventually John had stopped walking, turned toward us and said those words I’d not wanted to hear, at all: “I think we’d better separate.”
Let’s split up? Separate?? It’d been something straight out of a slasher-flick.
But, there it was, he’d said it.
My mouth had been feeling real dry as I felt goose-bumps appear at the back of my neck and cold fingers ran up and down my spine.
“What?” I’d whispered, loudly. I’d seen the movies and that was not what I wanted.
The narrow corridor, where we had stood, was long and dark in either direction, with overgrown bushes covering what windows there were and preventing any light from permeating the stygian gloom.
“Duh, it makes sense you fool,” John had sneered, slipping his free hand round Amanda’s waist, “two directions and three people.”
“And she goes with me,” He had added, as he had gripped her tighter.
It made sense. Of course it had made sense, to him.
So, with a leaden heart, I ‘went one way’, whilst Amanda and the meathead had gone in the opposite direction.
I had walked slowly, placing each foot down carefully so as not to make too much noise. Although the place had appeared empty, it’d seemed the right thing to do; especially now I was on my own and I was stuck with the crap torchlight.
I found a balustrade and stairs leading down and with a feeling of real trepidation, walked down the stairs and into the dark, a handrail to my left, treading very carefully, every sense alert and feeling very apprehensive.
Suddenly I heard screams break the silence.
I recognized Amanda’s voice, screaming; then heard him shout ‘No’ and, then the quiet had returned once more.
My friend had needed my help. I had to do something. So, I had run, retracing my steps, as I ran blindly, since my torch had chosen that moment to die.
I had run, with my heart beating faster and harder than I thought possible.
Now I stand, looking at the bloody tableau partly lit by the light shining from their fallen torches: Amanda’s sightless dead eyes, staring at me where she lies; then John’s arm, held by the figure draped in black.
The fellow before me smiles; my friends blood still dripping from his pronounced canine teeth. He drops John’s arm and slowly walks toward me, as if he is gliding.
“Wait long enough,” he intones in a gravely voice, “…and your food comes to you.”
COMMENTS
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KamarillaKaine
00:17 Jan 31 2008
Honestly . one of my favorites !!
i LOVE the way you leave me hanging and wanting MORE !!! . lol .....
and lol the "surprize" was nice too lol
and as always .. I anxiously await more from my favorite writer from across the pond :)
*hugs*
Gwendolyn
00:26 Jan 31 2008
Wow Neil! That is great. really enjoyed it as I always enjoy anything you write! Loved it as always.
Joli
00:56 Jan 31 2008
I am such a sucker for the bad guy with a snarky attitude. Well done.
priscillak
01:01 Jan 31 2008
really good i love the ending it was ironic ur work is always good to read
thanks for the adventure