The House By The River: A Paranormal Horror Novel

Chapter 10

Matt was hesitant at first but based on Jean’s reaction, his realized that his worries were unfounded. The little girl eagerly accepted her new task – uproot weeds and remove withered leaves and petals from the plants on the right side of the house, while he worked on the plants in the back.

Jean went at it like it was her only job, a most important job. Matt heard her play-acting, continuing to pretend that she was harvesting ingredients for Princess Jessamine’s golden crown. Pretending that there was a beautiful kingdom inside the trees and that as soon as she made a beautiful crown, she would be allowed to live there for good.

This amused Matt. Play-acting was, after all, a healthy trait that children could play and engage their imaginations. Even imaginary friends was okay up to a certain age and Jean was within that bracket. It was a good indication that a child can imagine fantastical places and scenarios consistent with things she’s been exposed to. It was another thing for Jean to ascribe detailed rules, hierarchies, and layouts for such places. He could not help but feel proud of her.

There was no one there, Matt overheard Jean talking to herself, apparently still playing.

He smiled. With all the things that has happened so far, he was pleased to find that his youngest daughter was not that affected by the events. Yes, he admitted, he had not given her time to go up and check on her sister, but he considered that a necessity. If he was horrified with what happened that morning, There was a chance it would change Jean’s disposition. Then, they’d have two children to worry about. Shaking his head, he continued to spray the plants.

Yeah, you said that.  … you know she will be sick?

His ears perked up. When Jean play-acted, she always gave voices to both sides. Now, she was only voicing hers. There was no pretending involved. There was a flow to it, and it was unmistakable. Jean was having a conversation.

Matt was already edging slowly to that side of the house before he realized he was doing so. His daughter spoke in a combination of low and high tones but the general cadence indicated that Jean was only voicing her own side. His curiosity was piqued even more when he made out parts of her statements. It was about Gina and somehow, about the fact that she was sick.

… last …? It can’t be.

But it was only…

… was?

Matt was getting frustrated that he could not make out whole sentences now that he was trying to listen in. He shut off the garden hose and was able to make out more of the conversation but it still was just parts of it.

Goddammit! He thought as he decided to crouch low and stick an ear out the corner.

“Matt? Babe, what are you doing?”

He nearly jumped off of his shirt. He wheeled his head around just in time to see Emmy’s upper body lean out the back door.

“I was just, uh… taking care of some cobwebs. Might scare the little one.” He lied.

“I’ve been calling.”

“I didn’t hear, sorry. What about?”

“Gina’s been stirring more. I think she’ll come to. Could you cook something just for her?”

“Well, I was thinking of making stew and something else.”

“I think that would be too much for her, for now. Can you do a light soup? Chicken maybe?”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Thanks babe.” Emmy smiled at her husband and turned to leave.

“Babe?” Matt called after Emmy. “Could you, like, take Jean with you?”

“Matt, I’m looking after Gina. I can’t keep switching between their rooms. At least she’s enjoying her time with you.”

“Just take her to Gina’s too. Tell her you’re going to play, or comb her hair or something.”

Emmy examined her husband who could not look her in the eye as he insisted she take their younger daughter.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“What is it?”

“I, uh- look, just take her please? I need to smoke.” Matt said, lying again.

“Hmmm. Not anywhere near the house, you get me? You promised.”

“Sure babe.”

“Alright. Jean? Jean?” Emmy called out. “Can you come here please?”

The little girl showed up from the corner with her rag doll stuck full of dead leaves on the head.

“Yes mommy?”

“Can you come with me upstairs? I’m getting terribly, terribly bored.”

“Yeah? Are we going to play?”

“I don’t see why not. What did you want to play?”

“Princesses and flowers!”

“Yeah? Let’s do it!”

“Yay!” The girl squealed and made for the door.

Matt mouthed the words ‘thank you’ at Emmy. She replied with a glare and pointed towards the river. He nodded.

He let out a sigh of relief as their outlines disappeared. Matt pulled on the hose and rolled it, using his left arm to make the loops somewhat the same size.

What was she talking about?

He reviewed what he heard, his mind focusing on a fragment of that made up conversation. How did you know she was going to be sick? He shook his head as he took the pack of cigarettes and a lighter that he left in the garage.

Matt paused as he lit a stick and walked towards the wooden walkway they built that stretched into the river. There, he set his back into the wooden railing and dwelt on his daughter’s play-acting.

It did not make any sense to him. Every part of that imaginary conversation did not make sense. Briefly he considered it as just that. A childish, made up, conversation that didn’t make sense. So why did it pique his interest? Why did it bother him? Why was he calling it a conversation now?

By the time he had turned the whole thing over in his head, Matt had already gone through three cigarettes. And he was lighting another when it clicked.

It did not make sense because he ignored, or conveniently skipped the question he heard from Jean. When he put every fragment of that conversation within the frame of those words, the rest made sense.

Matt was getting uncomfortable resting his lower back on the wooden railings. He was also getting uncomfortable with his own thoughts and where it was taking him.

Is this how kids deal with scary situations? He asked himself as he finished the stick, knowing full well he was just glossing over his inconvenient thoughts.

It wasn’t going away. He kept hearing Jean’s voice in his head.

How did you know she was going to be sick?

~0~

Cool breeze. The scent of pine was subtle but it was there. She felt the breeze pass through, a little stronger this time, coming from the right. She could feel the fine hairs on her arm bend and give in to the breeze.

When did I last smell pine? She thought.

She heard the rustle. It was faint but it came whenever the breeze picked up. The air smelled clean. She inhaled a lungful, held it, and released. The warmth of her exhale felt good in her philtrum.

Keep your eyes closed.

She did not need to be told that. She felt content, at peace. She did not want to open her eyes, but something kept brushing against her right cheek. She wanted to stay in her own zone, in her own head, feeling the wonderful, cool breeze all over her body. Whatever it was that kept brushing against her cheek, she wanted it to go away. It wouldn’t.

Keep your eyes closed.

Gina opened her eyes reluctantly and gasped at the sight in front of her. It was beautiful. She stood on a stone with a flat surface, her bare feet absorbing the warmth. She was on a mountain peak and everything in front of her was beautiful.

Below, clusters of trees grew thick, only allowing for small spaces between their leaves. A river cut through the valley below, separating the trees that were under the mountain’s shadow and beyond. Far into the horizon, she faced an even taller mountain. It had hints of snow just before the top, where it was hidden from sight by thick clouds. Try as she did, Gina could not make out a path, or a road, in the valley below.

Close your eyes.

She wondered what it was. Who it was. She thought it was her own thoughts but now, clearly, it wasn’t. The words came from inside her, from her, but she knew now that it wasn’t her. The voice came with a feeling, a feeling that reminded her of her mother.

She swatted the air with her right hand as she felt something brush her cheek again. The slight shadow it cast that she caught in the periphery of her vision made her chuckle. It was a stray clump of her dark locks. She tucked it behind her ear and surveyed the sight before her.

The curious arrangement of leaves just below her made her squint. It did not look like the leaves belonged to just one tree, but the spot could only hold one tree. The leaves were of different shapes and colors. From the deepest green on one side, to a deep red to the right. It held her gaze.

Listen to me. Close your eyes now.

Gina tried to get down the stone platform to get a closer look. A confused expression crossed her face. Her knees were locked. Her waist was locked. She could not bend. Her eyes went wide.

She tried to wriggle but could not move. Her waist only allowed for small movements, a small turn to each side. Fine sweat broke on the top of her forehead as she started to panic. The cool breeze suddenly felt icy to her.

The surface of the stone beneath her right foot began to feel different. It was softening. Gina looked down to find that it was taking on a different appearance. The edges of the stone platform, starting from the right, was changing, morphing. And it was spreading towards the left.

Listen to us. Ignore it. Close your eyes.

She screamed. Or tried to. Nothing came out. She tried hard, harder. Gina felt her throat strain but no sound came. Tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. Her breath came in gasps, nostrils flaring. Vapor left mists in the air with her every exhale.

Unable to think of any way out, she listened and closed her eyes. A measure of warmth came back, slowly enveloping her. Gina focused on the warmth, wanting it to spread all over her body. The feeling on the sole of her right foot kept grabbing her attention. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing it away but it wouldn’t go.

Opening her eyes, Gina tried not to look down. She failed. It was the reason why she opened her eyes. It was impossible not to look down. Everything, all the sights to her right had changed into something else. It was darker and took on a maroon hue. Small lights peered out of large swaths of darkness. Even the sky to the right, or where it was just seconds before, was now filled with large patches of dark red, interrupted only by small areas of light. And it seemed to move. Gina looked down.

Had she been able to scream she would have. Her mouth hung open, neck strained. The very picture of a screaming girl, except there was no sound. Her right foot was stepping on flesh. It bled and the blood oozed from under her soles. The flesh she was stepping on twitched periodically, causing a surge of blood to come out. Where the blood flowed, the creeping darkness followed. And it was flowing fast.

Gina lifted her gaze to focus on the remaining half of the once pleasing sights and found that horrific scene had progressed further, encroaching to more than half of the range of her vision. She felt the same feeling on her left foot. When Gina looked down, she started to cry in earnest.

Listen. To me. To us. Listen. Close your eyes.

She could not ignore it. She could not tear her gaze away, let alone close her eyes. Between her feet, the blood that surged from under her soles pooled. It seemed to move with a purpose. Blood that oozed from her left foot flowed at a downwards angle, blood from the right flowed upwards. When the two sickening streams met, they circled, and combined. The more she watched in horror, the more she panicked, the more she cried, the faster the blood flowed. And it grew.

A slow-moving mass of coagulated blood seemingly stuck in a counterclockwise movement, fed by the blood that oozed beneath her feet, fed by her despair, started growing. The growing darkness, banishing what was a pleasing sight, made it hard for Gina to make out what was growing between her immobilized feet.

It was growing. That much she could tell. Tears streamed steadily down her cheeks. She started to shake. Dread and despair grew, fueling the circling mass of gore to grow faster. It was as thick as her arms and pulsed. With every pulse it momentarily gained volume. Lighter patches started to appear at the base. Flesh. Torn flesh. The growing mass was growing flesh.

Close your eyes. Let me in.

She shivered. It had become cold. The sentient blood that oozed gave off thin wafts of vapor as it continued pooling. When some of these thin mists reached her nose, Gina cringed. It smelled of rancid things. Things she has never smelled before. The growing mass with patches of mismatched, torn flesh reached higher than her knees now.

Let us. Close them.

She would have jumped if she could. Whenever the icy breeze came in gusts, the growing mass swayed from side to side, its disgusting texture grazing the inside of her thighs. It pulsed faster as the breeze got stronger, making it graze her skin in even shorter and shorter intervals. She could not take her eyes off it. Gina could only watch in despair.

Let us in.