Shadow On The Eyes

The House

“No, I’m not. How’d you know?”

I wondered why a kid his age wasn’t in school or maybe doing the whole college thing. Since he talked first, it would give me an opening at some point to ask.

He held up my pack of gum before scanning it, “Most of the men round here are farmers. They smoke or drink. You bought bubblefun gum.”

I nodded, and his grin grew wider as if he’d discovered an alien mothership in the sky.

“18.43, please.”

I handed him the 20 I had shoved in my pocket earlier, “Hey, shouldn’t you be at school,” his hand froze as he grabbed the 20 from mine, “I mean, you look pretty young to be working at a grocery store.”

He snapped out of whatever made him pause and entered the 20 into the older register.

“I’m homeschooled. After 10th grade, most of us around here are, so we can work on the farm or be helping to support our families. Some still attend their last two years, but they’s families are richer than most of us.” 

“Ah, gotcha.” 

His smile had dulled, and I felt slightly bad for being nosey.

“1.57 is your change, have a good day.”

I nodded, “Yea, thanks, you too. And look, you’re working hard, right? That’s something those that are richer can’t hold a candle to or even compare. It’s not always cherries and whipped cream for the rich, trust me.”

He just stared at me with no emotion. So, guess my visit here is done.

If I was going to buy a house around here, I needed to learn not to talk. Otherwise, I might get myself in trouble.

There were several shops lining the street as I pulled out and started driving. I even noticed a second chance shop which would come in handy eventually.

The street went on for another mile before the town park popped up on my left. It was next to a bar, and across the street from the bar was a dingy-looking church. I chuckled at myself, thinking that Sunday church must be a hoot in the after-hours.

I continued towards the property address Sara had sent me. You can never trust photos and the earth app. Plus, I wouldn’t have her around to tell me what I would love about the place.

As she said, it took me 10 minutes, and I came to the driveway entrance. I could see the tiny bleep of a house from the road, but the gravel drive went in almost a half mile. 

There were a few pines mixed in with maple trees on the right along the drive, and I noticed they shielded the back side of the house while the rest faced golden fields of wheat. She didn’t lie about the tiny house's tree coverage, and even though I would prefer more, I could always have some brought in.

I continued along the drive until something caught my attention. Halfway in, hanging on a tree, was a bundle of sticks. I stopped the truck to get out and make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

Sure as it was day, about ten bundled sticks were hanging from some twine. 

I assumed they were hung by a ladder being it was close to 12 feet up and attached to a branch. Unsure of what the hell it was, I tried looking it up on my phone for some significance. Unfortunately, the reception was shitty, and there wasn’t a tower in sight.

I got back in the truck, thinking I could act surprised tomorrow and ask Sara what the sticks were about.

The tiny two-bedroom house wasn’t much to look at, but I could tell the siding was fairly new. Also, it was electric instead of propane, which was a nice bonus because the home was built in the mid 1950s.

The back deck looked sturdy, and when I pulled around to the front, it had a storm door and a smaller wooden deck.

Getting out of the truck, I looked around and noticed the small shed off to the side. I didn’t assume it was the barn listed on the property. The small shed must be for lawn equipment, though there wasn’t much of a typical lawn. I walked around the back of the house to check out the deck. 

The sturdiness was acceptable, not that I had planned to have a barbeque soon.

I climbed the stairs and tried looking into the sliding glass doors, but they were all blacked out. There was a crack in the glass close to the bottom of one of the sliding glass doors on one side. It looked as if something hit it hard, creating a spiderweb pattern.

Getting down off the deck, I started walking back around to the house when I heard the soft sound of a window being closed.

I ran around the side calling out, “Someone here?” but there was no response.

I went up to the front door and turned the handle. It was locked, so I tried knocking, but after a few minutes, no one answered.

 I knew what I had heard.

Heading around the house on the far side that faced the woods, I found a cellar door, unlatched but closed. A cellar wasn’t in the listing, nor did Sara mention it on the phone. 

I opened one of the metal doors and came face to face with nothing but brick. If someone was in there, they didn’t get in this way. I was curious why the entrance to the cellar had been closed off, but I was sure there was some reason or another. 

Figuring that’s why it wasn’t listed in the details of the home, I closed the metal door back with a bang, and a man’s voice almost made me jump out of my skin.

“That's probably been closed up since the ’70s, I reckon.”

I turned to see a scarily large burly bald man in overalls grinning at me, missing some of his teeth.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me.”

He chuckled at me while I tried not to fall over the limbs that littered the yard.

Regaining my balance, I looked back at him, “I didn’t hear you pull up.”

“That’s cause I didn’t,” he pointed behind me at the small path leading into the cluster of woods, “I came through there. I was on my walk, that’s my land on the other side of them there trees. So when I saw a truck pull up to the old house, I got curious who my new neighbor might be.”

Great, just what I need, a banjo-playing farmer coming over for dinner.

“Oh, I see. Well, it isn’t official yet. I came alone to take a look before I made a decision.”

“No shame in doing that. One can’t be too sure what they may or may not be getting themselves into.”

I nodded, trying to be approachable. The heavyset farmer smiled again, and I figured since he was so friendly, I’d do some information digging.

“Hey, let me ask you. I came across a bundle of sticks about halfway down the drive. It was tied up in the tree. Does it have any significance? Like for growing good crops or something?”

“Nah, not sure what ya mean.”

His smile vanished suddenly before he spoke again, “Well, I best be goin, still got half day’s work to be done. Oh, and before’s I forget, the family that used to live here, well, they had no use for that old barn you got on your property, on other side of them trees. I’ve always been able to keep equipment in there just cause it be clear on the other side of my property, and,” I cut him off, not needing the full explanation.

“I’m not even the property owner, so until I am, you are welcomed to do as you please.”

He gave me a strange look and nodded, “I see. Take care now.”

I watched him glance back toward the driveway and then head to the path leading into the woods.

I thought to myself, what use was having a barn anyway? It’s not like I need it. If I did decide I wanted to use it, he wouldn’t have a choice anyway.

I didn’t give the situation another thought and walked back around the front of the house. It didn’t look like a cabin on the outside, so I wasn’t sure how it ended up on my list of requirements. I had envisioned tall mountains and deep valleys. Not wheat farms and toothless locals.