The House On Crickford Lane

 Here we are, the final day of February and the last story in my little marathon here. This was a hard one. Out of all the stories I released this month, only two were original stories I had to write within February: The Wall Between Us and this one, The House of Crickford Lane. I was concerned about both of them because I had such vague ideas. In fact, the idea for this week's story didn't even come until after I wrote The Wall Between Us. Still, with how easily that Valentine's Day story ended up coming together in the end, I was hopeful for the process on this one. Yet time kept slipping by and the words still weren't coming... 

The House on Crickford Lane is actually mined from an old story I wrote for a school project back in 10th grade. I have the original version in my old writing files and came across it while searching for inspiration in my past ideas. Upon my reread, I found that most of the story I no longer liked, but the idea of this creepy old house that lures people in was certainly usable. 

I threw a lot of ideas at the wall until I got what I have here. I felt like especially this past week, I had a vision of what I wanted, just the words weren't quite there to bring it all together. The last few days have been huge in finally seeing the whole picture. 

This is much shorter than all the other stories I've posted this month, but I'm actually really proud of that. I have a problem with stories getting away from me and keeping word count down. While that matters less when I'm writing a long form stories, short stories tend to have word count limits - limits that most stories I write can't seem to stay within. This particular story clocks in at just below 3500 words. 

With that, I give you, my last creation of the month:

Jeff only wanted a peaceful moment to himself when he escaped his visit with his parents for a walk. Yet when he passes the old house at the end of the street, his evening takes a turn for the strange. The house on Crickford Lane beckons, but what happens when one answers that call?

This contains some swearing and cannabis use.

 

            There was a face in the window.

No one lived in the old house at the end of Crickford Lane, but on the second floor there was a face in one of the windows. There were no features to be discerned through the dirty glass, only the faint outline of a figure.

It was looking at Jeff as he looked at it, he was sure of it. Then it was gone. 

Jeff shook his head. It was swimming like he had been in some sort of dream. He blinked and looked back up at the window. Empty. 

He couldn't help but chuckle at his own jumpiness. "Seeing things, Jeff. There's no one in that house, I doubt it's safe to walk around," he muttered. 

He pulled his eyes from the moldy, Victorian home, so out of place among the craftsman houses and old cabins that filled the rest of the street, and looked toward his previous course. 

Crickford Lane dead ended at the mansion, behind that was the forest, the "treeline" in Treeline Village. The forest would reach for miles, stretching as far as Goldhill and Lakewood. 

Jeff shoved his hands in his sweatshirt pocket, fiddling with the joint and lighter that were nestled there. He looked back over his shoulder toward the street. Not a soul. A good sign considering he was trying to sneak away from his visit with family to smoke. 

He had grown up in Treeline Village but had escaped to Rivergrove for the last couple years to work and get some credits from the community college. Still, he couldn't escape his mother's constant complaints that they didn't see him enough and every month (every other month if he could squeeze it) he made the two hour drive home. This didn't change the fact that his parents drove him insane. Thus his choice to make this momentary escape. 

Once he was safe under the towering Jeffrey pines, he plopped himself on the ground underneath one and lit up. The air was silent around him except for the stray sounds of some small animals, probably squirrels, moving through the treetops, jostling the branches. A crow cawed from somewhere up above. 

It was early September, but already the chill of fall was setting in. Jeff shivered as it caught up to him while he sat, watching the cloud he created float up into the pine needles. He relaxed into this spot easily, melting in with the scenery. Eventually the cold drifted away. His mind wandered lazily, not spending too much time on any one subject for him to remember what he had been thinking about. 

"Jeffrey," an unfamiliar voice sang out. It seemed to echo all around him. 

Jeff shook his head to shake away some of the stony haze. He scanned the surroundings. The forest was empty. Even the sounds of the animals had disappeared. He looked in the direction of the house. 

At the edge of the treeline was a figure. 

They were too far away for how close the voice had been; but who else was there to have spoken? 

"Jeffrey."

It still sounded too close, but the direction of the voice was clear now. The figure didn't move. They wore a dark hoodie with the hood pulled over their head, so he couldn't make out their face. Even without the sight of it, it was clear they were staring at Jeff. 

He trembled, the only movement his body seemed able to manage. The joint had gone out. He held it midair, his arm frozen. 

"Come inside, Jeffrey." The figure turned and began to walk back towards the house. Their steps were long and deliberate, making them seem to float. 

Jeff watched the figure, his mouth agape. He didn't snap out of the trance until his fingers fumbled and he dropped the half-finished joint. He reclaimed it from the pine needles and stashed it back in his pocket with the lighter for later. 

He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to stand up and walk after the stranger, but he did. The figure had disappeared, his only company now was the sound of his feet crunching over old pine needles. 

The old house loomed ahead, consuming his vision. It was taller and skinnier than any of the other houses, its windows long and rectangular. The house itself looked narrow when looking at it from the front of back, but stretched on when walking alongside it. It was two stories high, with windows high up toward the roof suggesting possible attic space. The front of the house had a covered porch that ran along the front end. The sides of the house had no porch, but were lined with windows, always with dark shades drawn. The house itself was a brownish black that was more faded paint and aging wood than any sense of what the original color of the house had been in its prime. 

Not a person living could remember a time the house hadn’t been falling apart. No one had lived there as long as any person Jeff had talked to could recall either. It had never been up for sale. Someone must have owned it, but they seemed to have no intention of doing anything with the house. 

Most people steered clear of the place. There was something about it, not just the way it was falling apart, that made people feel uncomfortable. Many individuals would cut through next to the house to get to the woods. It wasn't uncommon for them to unintentionally pick up their pace as they did so. 

Jeff had always been fascinated by the house and pestered his parents with questions until they flat out refused to talk about it anymore. When this happened, he resolved to walk past the house and stare at it as if it could answer his burning questions. Every so often he could get someone else in town to talk about it, but no one had any more answers than his parents. Most people knew of the house as the old mansion on Crickford Lane, but all they knew besides that was it had always been there, probably always would be, and it gave everyone the creeps. 

Jeff had been enthralled by the house, but never once thought about going inside. Until now. 

He was headed toward the back where like the front end of the house, there was a covered porch. This one was smaller, only expanding a couple feet to either side of the back entrance rather than the entire back end of the house and most of the covered part of it had long rotted away. The door stood open. On the floor above the door was one of those tall windows and in it stood that same hooded figure. 

"Come inside, Jeffrey," beckoned in his ear. He could feel the soft tickle of breath on his neck, but when he turned, no one was there. The figure was gone from the window. 

Jeff stopped before the decomposing steps that led to the entrance. It stood like a gaping black hole, nothing from the inside could be seen. 

"What the fuck am I doing?" Jeff whispered. 

He reached a shaking hand towards the railing on the stairs to test its strength. As he gripped the splintery wood, a feeling almost like electricity shot up his arm. His stomach somersaulted. He didn't want to go inside, shouldn't, but somehow now he felt like he truly had no choice. 

He was too calm for this. Was it the weed or… something else?

He climbed the first step. It moaned in protest but held Jeff's weight. He moved slowly, the stairs creaking more painfully with each step he took. As Jeff made it to the porch, there was a crack and a snap, as if a tree at the edge of the property had fallen. Jeff whipped around to see that the stairs had imploded.

He gawked at them, mouth hanging open. It wasn't that the wood had crumbled like he had expected when he was ascending them, but it had completely disappeared into a hole as black as the entry he faced. 

His skin went cold. Did he jump over the railing and go back or…

"Jeffrey, won't you come inside?"

He turned to face the entryway. The darkness had not changed. Jeff's heartbeat was thundering in his ears. It wasn't a conscious decision when he strode forward. He didn't breathe as he advanced. There was a tightness in the air around him, an anticipation as if the house, too, was holding its breath. 

He was a few feet inside before a squeak broke through the silence. Once again, Jeff didn't turn fast enough. He watched as the door clicked shut, and the darkness swallowed him. 

He held back a scream in his throat. He didn't want to yell out into this silence. Somehow that felt worse. He blinked his eyes but it made no difference in his sudden blindness. A weight was building up against his chest. He convinced himself to begin breathing again, taking slow deliberate breaths, counting them out until he made it to ten. 

He retraced his steps back to the door and felt around for the doorknob. He couldn't find it. Even in the dark, he couldn't have gotten that far off from the door yet… the wall was completely smooth, he couldn't find the frame of the door let alone the knob. 

Something about the wall was wrong. At first it felt like wood, but the longer he tried to feel out the door, the more he noticed how soft it was becoming, how his fingers could sink in ever so slightly, like touching a pillowed surface. It felt warm, almost sticky…

Jeff jumped back from the wall, wiping his hands on his pants. He could feel a sweat on his brow, yet he was shivering. He hadn't stopped rubbing his hands against his pants. It was all he seemed able to do. The darkness was still thick around him. He tried to wave one of his hands in front of his face, but it was no use. He was as good as blind. 

He tried to focus on his remaining senses. There were no sounds but his own. Any subtle noises the house could have been making, in fact, were drowned out by the thundering of his own heartbeat. The smell was strong. A heavy, musty stench that hung in the air. He could taste it when he breathed, making him gag. 

"I have to get out of here," he wheezed. 

A sound cut through the darkness, a hoarse chuckle that ended in a cough. 

"It's already too late. There is no out," croaked from Jeff's left. It was not the same voice that had brought him to the house. 

Jeff turned to the source even though he knew he wouldn't be able to see it. His entire body vibrated with the force of his heartbeat. He bit his tongue as he silently debated if he wanted to engage. 

From the same direction as the voice came a ripping, as if a newspaper were being torn in half. If it really was paper, it was a large continuous sheet that was being mutilated. It grated at Jeff's ears, making him cringe and he released a sigh of relief when the sound stopped a moment later. His calm was short lived as it was replaced by a slow shuffle that scraped across the old floor. It sounded almost as if that paper was now being dragged along. 

Jeff’s muscles tensed, his limbs going rigid. He wanted to back away from the advancing sound but instead was glued to the spot. 

“W-Who are you?” he choked. 

A hand clenched down on his arm, making him jump. This time he did yell out. He couldn’t help himself. The grip wasn’t firm. Jeff could have easily pulled himself out of it had he been able to move.  

“It’s been too long for me to know who I was anymore.” The voice was scratchy, barely more than a whisper. Jeff guessed it was not used to speaking. 

“What is this place?” Jeff breathed. 

There was that laugh-cough again, longer this time. “That is the better question. Much like me, it’s been here so long, that what it was before is uncertain. As for now… it is the house, and it needs to feed.”

Jeff’s mouth went dry. The flavor of that rotten air remained on his parched tongue. “...feed?” 

“It takes a long time. It doesn’t need a lot at once. A single person will do it for many years. It sucks you dry until you are no more than the layers of dust on the floor.” It had to stop as it choked, no merriment mixed in with the sound this time. “What’s left of me is little more than wallpaper stuck to the wall.” 

And you’re next, Jeff assured himself. Shit, shit, shit! Why did I come in here? It had been like a trance since the moment he saw the mysterious figure - the lure the house had sent out to reel him in. It had worked, hadn’t it? Classic horror movie move. The audience would have been screaming don’t go in there the whole time, he chided himself. For all the calm of his thoughts, his body trembled. All I wanted was to relax and smoke a joint. 

The contents of his pocket came back to his memory in a moment of inspiration and his hand shot into it and returned holding the lighter. His thumb felt for the familiar ridges of the flint wheel, pressing hard when it did and igniting the small flame. The normally weak light burned like a sudden explosion in his eyes so used to the blackness. 

When his eyes adjusted, Jeff could make out the head and torso of his companion. Barely shorter than himself, it had a human-like figure with vague features of a face, but that’s all they were. It was the same color from head to toe - an ashy gray not unlike what would be cleaned out of a fireplace. It had no hair on its head, yet the skin on it, which seemed to be flaking, made it seem as if it were covered in wispy hairs at first. In fact, all of its skin was flaking up, but it looked less like skin and more like paper. That’s what it looked like, a paper-person. The most human part about it was its eyes. In stark contrast to the rest of its body that was a sketch of a person, the eyes had detail enough to make out pupils and irises still shot with hints of blue amidst the grey. Those eyes were focused on the tiny flame in awe. 

The lighter was getting hot and as it scorched Jeff’s finger, he yelped and nearly dropped it. He managed to grasp around the plastic end of it before it slipped entirely from his hand. He gave it another moment before he tried to light it again. When he did, his companion seemed no less enthralled. 

It looked at Jeff, making eye contact. “You might be able to do it.”

“Do what?”

The paper-person pressed closer into Jeff, its mouth nearly in his ear as it gasped, “Light it all on fire.” 

“What?” Jeff snapped louder than he intended. He sucked in his breath with a hiss, looking around as if he expected something to appear out of the darkness. When nothing did, he let the lighter go out before it burned him this time. 

A minute later he was once again looking into the paper-person’s eyes, its face as earnest as the faint features could manage. 

“What?” Jeff repeated, quieter this time. 

Instead of answering, it reached out, plunging its finger’s into the flame. Jeff’s thumb slipped off the lighter and he pulled his arm back, but it was already too late. The flames were crawling up the paper-person’s arm. They backed away from Jeff, but otherwise didn’t seem to notice. 

“Run while you still can.”

“But the door is gone!” Jeff cried as the flames engulfed the paper-person’s torso. Jeff turned to his right and did a double take. The door had returned, it’s position lit up by the beacon that was the flaming entity. It was further down the wall than it should have been, but Jeff didn’t focus on that. There was a way out.

He looked back to the paper-person. Barely an outline of its former figure was left. Just as Jeff laid eyes on it, it fell backwards, and the floorboards lit up like the dry kindling they were. The room was revealed in the new light. It was nothing more than a long rectangular room with four walls, not even a stairway, no doorways to other rooms. If the second floor actually existed, there was no clear way to get there from here. 

Jeff’s eyes didn’t linger on the details - or lack of them - for long. He dashed for the door, feeling the heat of the flames as they crept up faster behind him, eating the room. The walls looked like wood at first glance, but as the light grew brighter, the brown faded into a reddish color, oozing with a sticky clear slime. The walls seemed to breathe in and out. With the roar of the fire behind him came a cracking moan that had to have been the house itself, crying out in protest. 

His hand was reaching out for the knob when he was still a foot away. He wrenched open the door without a moment's hesitation, nearly tearing it off its hinges. He didn’t bother to check if the steps were back or not but gave himself a running start before throwing himself what he hoped would be enough of a distance to clear them either way. He hit the ground hard on his hands and knees, landing unbalanced and tumbling over onto his back. His head bounced off the packed-down dirt once and everything went black. 

***

Jeff blinked open his eyes to see cotton candy clouds of light pink and orange smeared against the pale fading blue of the sky as the sunset hit its peak. He sat up, gripping at his forehead as he felt the world spin. He leaned back over on himself, waiting for his balance to return. His stomach groaned and he nearly threw up before the wave passed. 

It was then that his experience returned to him. 

The house luring him in. The blindness. The paper-person. The fire. 

The fire. 

He shot up, ignoring the new wave of spins. The world righted itself and the house swam into focus in front of him. 

It was as it had always been. Not even a tendril of smoke. No sign of anything. 

“No…”

Jeff pulled his arm to his face, giving himself a noseful of his sweatshirt. He couldn’t be imagining the bite of campfire smell that greeted him. He held out his palm and exhaled into it, smelling back his own breath. It was faint, but there was that decaying stench. When he really concentrated it was there in the back of his throat. But the house…

He pushed himself to his feet, marching up to the base of the back steps. The back door was shut tight. The window above it was empty. 

A breeze pushed past him, carrying with it a hint of smoke from the house.

Jeff’s mouth twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know what I saw.” 

“Go home, Jeffrey.” 

Jeff’s gaze cut back to the window to catch a flash of a figure before it was gone as fast as it had appeared. His eyes narrowed at the empty space. “You may still be standing, but I won this time. And I’m not finished. Don’t forget that.” 

He smirked and turned his back on the mansion. He shoved his hands in his pocket and discovered that he had managed to slip his lighter back in with the half-finished joint somehow. He smiled as he pulled the two items out and stared at them in the palm of his hand. After a moment, he laughed and turned back to the house. He walked back up to the porch and sat down against the bottom step, leaning his back against it. There was a sound, a low groan from somewhere inside the house, but he ignored it as he lit up the joint. He watched the last of the light disappear as he blew smoke rings into the sky. 

END  

***

This is only the beginning for Jeff. From here on out, he finds himself on a hunt to find the supernatural in the area and learn its secrets... His biggest triumph, of course, is his discovery regarding Cloud's Rest, the entire town that disappeared without a trace... but that's a story for another time.

And there you have it, the finale to my February Short Story Adventure!

Thanks for coming along with me and reading my words! This is only the end for now... Zone-E is still on the way, and I have some other possible ideas brewing for some more short story blasts down the line. 

Within this upcoming week, I have a special announcement in regards to this month's stories - so stay tuned for that!

Up On Miner's Point

 Another Sunday, another story. This one is from last year, and I've been itching for an opportunity to share it. I wrote it last Spring when I was first feeling at a standstill with editing the first draft of Desiderium, but the odd calm around my area that came with the beginning of the pandemic had me extra creative. I wanted to write a horror story and went scouring the internet for prompts and ideas. I came across one that drew me in, though I ended up twisting it around to get what I wanted. The core idea is still there: characters going into a place after dark when they shouldn't, and what happens next. The name of this story is technically its working title. I'm not 100% sold on Up On Miner's Point, but have yet to come up with anything I like better. Until I do, the name it has will remain. I am always open to suggestions. (My partner suggested Cheeseburger, but I'm not quite sold on that one either). That being said, the way this story turned out pleased me so much that is has it's own spinoff with the current working title of Goldhill. This world is closely tied to the world The Stage takes place in and next week's story as well. Just consider that the town of Goldhill, Treeline Village (from The Stage as well as next week's story), Lakewood (from Desiderium), Cloud's Rest (from The Journal, which I will share with you someday and features Jeff, who you will meet next week) are all within several hours of each other and connected in more than just geography. Enough background, it's time for a story!

The blurb:

The hike out to Miner's Point is harmless as long as you don't go after dark. For years, those who test fate and ignore the stories vanish without a trace. Tonight, five young adults learn what happens up on Miner's Point. 

This contains some swearing and depictions of death.

 

“Do we really have to go out to Miner’s Point?”

“Shit, for the hundredth time, Shane – It’s going to be beautiful out there in the full moon. You’re seriously not going to be superstitious, are you?” Jason snapped. 

“Yeah, Shane, don’t be such a wimp,” Laura chided.

Five shadows moved down the dark road. It was nearly one in the morning and the small town of Goldhill was deserted except for these young adults. The moon was to be the brightest and largest of the year. It hung above them in the summer sky, dimming the stars around it to blurred dots. It shed a soft light upon the world, bathing the buildings and the scenery in an otherworldly glow. There was something magical about walking beneath the full moon. 

Jason "Scarecrow" Holt led the group hand in hand with his girlfriend, Laura Zane. Olivia Wilson and Kelsey Schwartz took up the middle while Shane Jones hung at the back of the group. 

Shane and Jason had been friends since they were small, having grown up next door to one another. Kelsey and Olivia had met in middle school and had begun dating not long after. The whole group had come together in the end through High School. There was only one in town, and they all were homegrown locals born and raised in Goldhill. 

The town of Goldhill was about 20 square miles. There were two roads that ran through the majority of the town. While Main Street was concentrated with businesses and got most of the current traffic, it had not always been the main street of town. That title had once belonged to the road that was now called Old Town Road. That was the road the five walked down now. This road was home to all the core establishments of the town, what some longtime residents might even call the “true” local businesses. There was the locals’ favorite bar, the library, town hall, the police station, and the post office. The road itself dead-ended into a dirt parking area at the edge of town. From there, one could follow a trail that at one point would fork – to the right you would be led into the forest and eventually the mountains and various lakes, but to the left was a shorter journey where you were taken up onto a hill that looked out over Goldhill and the wilderness behind it. It was called Miner’s Point. 

On any given summer’s day, tourists would flock to the spot to take in the view. They would hike up the steep, two mile trail that would spill out into a clearing that would give one a breathtaking vista. While popular to the visitors, it had a darker reputation amongst locals. 

The town itself had been established because there were rumors that the mountains held gold. Miners had flocked to the area, making Goldhill their base and taking the trail off the Old Town Road to head out into the mountains beyond where they would dig for their futures. While the gold dried up fast, the town remained. Miner’s Point itself never had any gold. There were no mines beneath it. It was merely a beautiful place where one could look out at the town of Goldhill.  

Legends told that the miners had angered or awakened something. Or maybe it was the ghost of a miner itself. Whatever exactly “it” was wasn’t the point. It was what happened to you. If you went out there when the sun was shining, you would be fine. The most that anyone had ever reported during the day was that you might feel like something is there with you when there was nothing, but that was it. The stories varied, but the end was the same: If you went out to Miner’s Point after dark, you would never be seen again. There were disappearances going all the way back to when the town had first been founded. It had been a long time since it had happened, though, and time has a way of making even facts seem fuzzy. A lot of people suspected murder on the point. Where were the bodies? Well, that was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

Despite the stories, Jason insisted. He had called Shane up a few days before. “Dude, I need your help. I have something I want to do, and I need your help pulling it off.”

“What are you talking about, Scarecrow?” 

Jason sighed into the phone. Shane could hear his angst and could imagine his friend running his hand through his hair, the knitted brow he certainly had. “Shane, you know how much I care about Laura and we’ve been together two years now. I know that’s nothing on Kels and Olivia, but man… I’ve been thinking about this a while, but I just got a raise… it’s almost like a sign…” he trailed off. 

“What is it, man?” 

“I wanna ask Laura to marry me.”

The line was quiet for a moment. “Really?”

“Is it stupid?” 

“No, Jason. It’s not stupid. I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting that… but I think it’s great! So, what do you need me to do?” 

“I wanna propose under the full moon. Really make it beautiful. I want her to be completely caught off guard though. A hike just the two of us is too romantic off the bat. I want it to be like we’re all going as a group and then – bam!”

Shane chuckled. “So where is this magical hike, Romeo?” 

“Miner’s Point. Can’t you imagine how beautiful that view will be under the full moon?” 

Shane hesitated. “Isn’t that place not supposed to be safe after dark?” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you believe those dumb ghost stories. Those were just meant to scare us when we were kids. Nothing has actually happened up there," Jason moaned. 

“But the disappearances-” Shane pressed. 

“Come on,” Jason grunted.

So here they were. 

It was a warm, August night, and Jason lived close to the edge of town. They had agreed to meet up at his house and walk from there. By now, they had reached where the road came to a dead end. There was a large, half-moon shaped area in the dirt where cars were able to park. At the end of that there was an old wooden fence, the wood faded and breaking down with age. In the middle of the fence was a space that people could walk through, marking the beginning of the path. Next to this spot, there was a sign. It had a large map that showed the town and the wilderness beyond. There was a red dot that was marked “You are here.” From there, red lines snaked out, showing the trails that were available. One of them ended in a red dot that was marked “Miner’s Point”. The sign said they had two miles to go before they were there. They headed single file through the fence and onto the dirt trail. The only one who hesitated was Shane. He stood by the fence, watching space between himself and the others grow. Something wasn't right. He didn't want to go. 

He bit his lip. Could he endure the eternal shame Jason would lay upon him if he didn't? Shane sighed and jogged to catch up with the others. 

It led them straight out into a flat area at first. Here the trail was wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The land was mostly populated by sagebrush. The smell was thick and spicy in the warm air. The sound of crickets buzzed around them. The world was colored in ghostly greys, making it seem as if they had walked into a black and white film. The moonlight assured that the path ahead of them was clear. In the distance, the black forms of trees loomed in the hills above them. Even those were dwarfed by the shadowy forms of the mountains behind them that were strangely clear in the light.

The group found themselves mesmerized by the scene. Conversation dried up and the only sounds they made were their feet crunching in the dirt and their breathing that picked up as they exerted themselves. After about fifteen minutes, the trail began to slope upwards. They traveled up it for a good five minutes before it forked into two opposite directions. Here, they were greeted by another sign. The arrow pointing to the right announced, “Fern Lake, Sellinger Pass, Keck Lake.” The arrow to the left said, “Miner’s Point.” Jason didn’t hesitate before turning their course to the left. He had lived here all his life and taken this trail a million times. He knew which way was which up here. What he had never done was come out here after dark. Despite how much he scoffed at the legends, up to this point they had been enough to deter him from hiking at night. What made him so defiant now? What did he have to prove? What was so important about this proposal that this was the way he had to do it? Even he didn’t seem to know the answer to those questions. 

It was another twenty minutes before they crested the top of the hill. Jason had kept the pace steady and his determination discouraged anyone from asking for a break without him having to say it would make him upset. Now that it was done, the four others were happy for a chance to finally catch their breath. The air stilled. The sound of crickets had disappeared. All that remained was the periodic soft hum of a wind picking up in the trees in the hills behind them. It was a warm summer wind that passed through every few minutes, tickling their skin and ruffling their hair. 

“Would you look at that?” Jason was standing out at the edge of the hill. His tall silhouette stood out against the night sky. It twinkled with stars. The moon stood dead center above it all, its glow drowning out the milky way. 

The others joined him, and the world opened out below them. They were on the edge of a cliff. Fifty feet below was a ravine where the Goldhill river passed through. While directly below them was an open spot with patchy grass, most of the area around the river was surrounded by trees. Further off was the town of Goldhill, dotted sporadically with the glow of streetlights. The moon bounced off the tops of structures that were made of metal. The buildings cast shadows that reached long and thin on the ground. Beyond Goldhill was a forest of black, a whole separate network of trails weaved through it. It was both beautiful and ominous looking at the world this way. 

The group stood in a line against the edge of Miner’s Point. Jason and Laura stood side by side in the middle, Olivia and Kelsey stood to their right. Shane stood to the left of Jason and Laura, next to Jason. 

As they took in the view, Shane’s stomach did a flip. His arms prickled and he looked down to find that the hairs on his arm were all standing up. He didn’t want to be standing there any longer. He had this sudden feeling that he didn’t want to turn around, that something was there he didn’t want to see. Somehow, he found the courage to turn. There was nothing there. It was empty, just grass, a few sage bushes. He looked down at the ground. His eyes found where the path began to head toward the back of the hill where they had come from. It was clear in the moonlight, the packed down dirt stood out thanks to rocks that had been lined along the edge of it. It disappeared down the back of the hill into blackness. 

Even with the sight of nothing, Shane felt no more at ease. His stomach tumbled with nerves. He turned to look back out at the view. The back of his neck itched and if he hadn’t just seen with his own eyes that no one was there, he would have sworn that there was someone behind them watching. 

“You guys about ready to head back?” It was Olivia. There was a shakiness to her voice, far off from her normal cheeriness.

“What? We just got here,” Jason protested, holding tighter to Laura’s hand, and thinking of his ulterior motive. 

“I know but-” They all turned to look at her now. She couldn’t meet anyone in the eye and bit her lip. “I just… I feel weird, you know. And there’s all those warnings about not coming out here at night-”

“Oh, come on Olivia, not you, too. You know it’s all just stories,” Jason groaned. 

Olivia shook her head. “My grandma has always been very adamant about not coming out here. She says there’s powerful energy, dangerous energy.”

“Olivia, your grandmother believes in ghosts.”

“Scarecrow, I believe in ghosts,” Olivia snapped, planting her hands on her hips, and glaring at him, finally able to meet his gaze. 

“Okay, sorry,” Jason huffed.

“Listen, Jason, if you want to stay here fine,” Kelsey snapped. She turned to Olivia. “I’ll go back with you if you’re ready. Call it crazy, but I feel kinda weird being up here right now, too. I mean, does it seem kinda chilly all of a sudden?” 

She wasn’t wrong. Now that they all stopped to think about it, the air that had been so warm not long before had gained a bite to it. The wind that had been coming through had stopped completely, yet the air was cold. There was dead silence. It didn’t feel right. 

“I’ll go with you two,” Shane burst out. He couldn’t stand the silence any longer, nor did he want to remain. His former uneasiness had tripled since Olivia had spoken up. 

“Shane, come on…” Jason moaned. 

Laura shoved him. “Oh whatever, if they want to be babies and go home, let them run away. I’ll stay with you, Honey. I think this view is beautiful.”

Jason looked triumphant. He grinned down at Laura then looked around at the others. “Alright, alright. You superstitious kids can go back. We’re gonna stick around a little longer. We’ll meet you back at my place – unless it’s past your bedtime of course.” He chuckled. 

“Grow up, Scarecrow.” Kelsey punched playfully at his arm before she grabbed Olivia’s hand and led her back to the trail. 

“See you two later,” Shane added, and when Laura’s back was turned, he mouthed, “Good luck,” at Jason. He replied with a thumbs up. Shane hurried to catch up with Kelsey and Olivia. 

The moon was directly overhead but the path seemed darker somehow as they headed back down. Despite being off the top of the hill, Shane still had that prickling feeling at the back of his neck. None of the three of them had said anything since they had said goodbye to the others. 

“How you two doing?” Shane asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. 

At the sound of his voice, Kelsey, who had been leading them, stopped. “I know this may be just the dark and that I’m anxious to get back, but shouldn’t we have been at that fork in the trail by now?” 

            Shane thought about it for a minute and then shrugged. “Well, it took us like twenty minutes before. I didn’t check the time when we headed down. Has it been that long?”

Kelsey didn’t look confident. “Maybe not. I mean, it’s not like we could miss it. I guess we just need to keep going.” 

It was clear after another ten minutes of walking that Kelsey had been right to be concerned. They should have been back to the fork in the trail by now. 

Kelsey stopped them again. “What do we do now?" 

Olivia moved closer to her, putting her arm around her waist. Only then did her gaze wander. They were still on the hill. Trees were scattered around them, but they were more densely concentrated further off. The moon still hung above. It hadn’t moved. “We’re not alone,” she trembled. 

“What was that?” Kelsey asked.

“We’re not alone. Something is following us. I’ve felt it since we were on the top of the hill. Can’t you feel it?” 

“No…” Kelsey faltered. 

“I can,” Shane replied. 

Both girls turned to him, Kelsey with skepticism, Olivia with wide, desperate eyes. 

“Really?” Kelsey probed.

“I felt it just before Olivia spoke up on Miner’s Point.” Shane turned back to where they had come from. “Do you think Jason and Laura have tried heading back yet?” 

“Maybe we should try backtracking? Can’t make any less progress than we already are,” Kelsey suggested. 

“Okay…” Shane hesitated. He knew they had no choice, but he wanted nothing less than to go back up the hill. Everything had been fine until they had gotten up there. He didn’t think going back was going to make things any less weird. He didn’t voice any of this but instead forced himself to take a step forward. He was the leader now. 

They hadn’t been walking long before they could tell that their change in direction had made a difference. While the moon refused to move, the scenery around them at least seemed to be changing again. Nearly twenty minutes after they decided to head back, they could see they were about to crest the hill once more. Instead of hurrying the last few feet, Shane stopped. His heartbeat was thundering his ears, his stomach had moved to his throat. 

“Kels, Olivia… I-I don’t want to go up there," he stuttered. The hairs were standing up on his arms again. He turned to look back at the others. Olivia looked much like he felt, but Kelsey rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, geeze, Shane.” She pushed past him and closed the gap to the end of the path. Shane and Olivia remained in eye contact for a moment longer. Olivia was shaking like a leaf. 

“Shane, I’m scared. I have an awful feeling.”

“Me too, Olivia.” He held out his hand and she took it, grasping so tight she was practically crushing it. Shane could feel how sweaty her palms were. He squeezed her hand back. 

Kelsey screamed. The sound pierced through the night, a shrill desperate noise. Shane and Olivia didn’t waste a moment, but turned and darted to the point, still hand in hand. Kelsey was standing at the edge, her hands clawing at her hair, she was looking down. She had stopped screaming and instead moaned, "Fuck," over and over.

“What is it, Kels?” Olivia cried, breaking free from Shane to grab onto Kelsey’s arm. 

Kelsey shook her head, suddenly losing even the one syllable word and wailed as she looked back down. Shane and Olivia followed her gaze. About twenty feet below them, before the full drop into the ravine, was a smaller ledge. On it was an oddly shaped form. Had the moon been further over, the form would have been in shadow. As it was, it was fully visible in the bright moonlight. 

Laura lay on the ledge below them. She had fallen flat on her back, her eyes gazing lifelessly back up at them. A line of blood creeped out of the corner of her lips. Olivia clasped a hand over her mouth, stifling her own screams. Shane stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet and tumbling back onto his butt. His mind seemed to be processing a hundred times slower than normal. Fuck. Laura. Dead. Off the Cliff. Dead. Shit. Broken body. Dead. 

Kelsey was still moaning. Olivia made no sound. She had latched onto her girlfriend, burrowing her face in Kelsey’s arm. Shane was focusing on the ground directly in front of him. Laura. Dead. No. It couldn’t be. This had to be a dream. Just like the trail only bringing them back here. This was too illogical to be real. This was surely a nightmare brought on by Jason’s plans that he had explained. Without realizing he had decided to do it, Shane pinched his arm. He didn’t wake up, at least, not in his bed. He did seem to snap out of his daze. He looked back over at Kelsey and Olivia. They hadn’t moved. He felt like there was something he was forgetting. 

Where was Jason?

He looked around him. There was no sign. The place was deserted. What had happened? Surely, Jason hasn’t done it. Had he tried to go back to get help and was just as lost as they had been? That seemed more likely. Had he gone over too? At that thought, Shane jumped to his feet. He was cautious yet determined as he crept back toward the edge of the point. He stopped when he reached it and took a deep breath, closing his eyes before he made himself look again. He tried not to let his gaze linger on Laura and look past her. He couldn’t see a lot of detail, but he could see most of what was below. There was no sign of another body.

“Do you – Do you think Jason fell too?” It was Kelsey. Her voice was more of a sob, making her words difficult to make out.

Shane shook his head. “It was a possibility but looking now… my gut says no.” He pulled his eyes away from the edge of the cliff, but not before they were filled with the image of Laura once more, filling him with a wave of grief and nausea. 

“What do you think happened?” Olivia squeaked, lifting her head. 

“If we can find Jason, maybe he can tell us,” Shane resolved. 

The unspoken question was, how were they supposed to do that?

There was a rustle in the bushes behind them. They jumped in unison before forcing themselves to turn around, each of them quivering with nerves. 

“Jason?” Olivia cried out from instinct more than anything. 

There was nothing but darkness. At least, that’s what it seemed. After a moment, their eyes adjusted and suddenly, a bit of the darkness to the left appeared to move. The three huddled closer to each other. No one felt the urge to call out again. This wasn’t Jason.

The darkness moved closer. It stopped in the middle of the clearing, still leaving a wide berth of space between them, but now it was clear that it was not just shadow, but something separate. It was far taller than Jason, closer to seven feet. It had the basic outline of a bald, broad shouldered, naked figure but no features, no detail. It was made of blackness. They could not see through it. Though it had no eyes, it was clear that it was facing them. 

The three were glued to the spot. Not that moving had crossed their minds, but had they tried, they would have found themselves physically unable. 

“Holy shit,” Kelsey whispered. 

“We should have never come out here. We should have heeded the warnings.” Olivia shivered. 

Kelsey hugged her closer. “We’ll figure this out.” 

Olivia whimpered but didn’t say more. They continued to watch the Shadow, and the Shadow watched them. Neither side moved. The moon hung frozen in that same spot. Had time stopped too? It felt as if everything was at a standstill. The world was silent around them. 

There was another rustle in the bushes. Jason burst over the hill with a blast of sound. He was breathing hard, his boots thumping into the dirt. With as much gusto as he appeared, he was fixed instantly to his own side of the clearing. His eyes were wide as saucers as they looked back and forth from the Shadow and his friends. They landed on his friends. His eyes were sad and pleading. “Laura,” he mouthed, looking miserable. 

Shane felt himself nodding. “We saw,” he mouthed back.

Jason looked at the Shadow. As sad as he had been a moment before, his features had contorted into fury. “What the fuck do you want from us?” He gestured towards the edge of the lookout. “You scared Laura so bad she fell to her death. Isn’t that enough? Can’t we go?”

“Scarecrow…” Olivia hissed, warning him. She had gone completely white and her eyes were wide with terror. 

“I wanted to propose and now she’s dead - ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?” Jason wailed. 

“Jason, please…” Olivia moaned, her voice getting a little louder.

The Shadow turned to Jason. 

He went silent, but the expression on his face did not change. After a moment, he seemed to deflate and whimpered, “Can’t we just go home?” 

Silence crept back in. Olivia found herself unable to protest anymore, instead hugging closer to Kelsey. Shane couldn’t think. He could only observe. He was only dimly aware that his body was shaking.

Jason stared at the Shadow. After it turned around, it moved no more. Jason did the same. It was because of this that when he scratched his arm, the motion caught everyone’s eye. It only lasted a second then he went back to staring down the Shadow. Yet, another minute later, he scratched his arm again, this time longer, more violently. He tried to relax, but mere seconds later he was restless once more. He was wearing a flannel shirt over a t-shirt, but the long sleeves of the flannel were pulled down. He tried to turn up the sleeve on the arm that was bothering him, the left one. He had barely moved it an inch before he saw the culprit, a piece of straw sticking out. 

“What the hell?” He couldn’t help but say out loud, pulling it out and looking at it. 

“What is it?” Shane wanted to ask. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to it.

“Straw?” Jason whispered. His face screwed up in confusion then dismissal. He dropped the piece he was holding, going for his arm again. He rolled the sleeve up an inch more and found there was straw covering his entire arm. “What the hell?” he repeated, louder this time. 

“What’s going on, Jason?” Kelsey cried. 

Jason was staring at his arm. His free hand was clenching and unclenching as he debated pulling at it. He didn’t look away when he stammered. “There’s - There’s straw. In my shirt.”

“Straw? Did you say straw?” Kelsey questioned.

Jason nodded. His hand looked ready to go for his arm when he stopped for a moment. His hand changed course and he scratched at his torso. He pulled his t-shirt down the slightest bit and several bits of straw poked out the neck. Jason’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t sure what was happening, only he knew he didn’t like it. His whole body tingled. It took everything in him not to scratch, not to pull his clothes off. Yet the itchiness was driving him insane. Not only that, but he was boiling up. The chill they had felt no longer reached him. He felt insulated inside of his clothes, trapped. He tried to pull at his flannel. Maybe if he could get into just his t-shirt, he would feel better. It wouldn’t budge. He looked down and found for some reason it was sewn to the shirt. When had that happened? He turned his attention back to the sleeve that he had turned up a couple inches. There was still straw poking out of it. 

Everything around him disappeared. All he could feel was crawling across his skin, stuffy and insulated within his own clothes. In a sudden fit of madness, he went for the straw again, pulling at it without thinking. If he could just get it out, he would feel better. He was faintly aware that his hands weren't right. They didn’t just feel hot, the sense of touch was barred. It was like he was wearing gloves. He didn’t pay close enough attention to it, nor did he pay attention to how light and thin his arm was feeling where he was pulling away the straw. He accounted it to his plan working. He had to be close.

That was when his hand and wrist fell off onto the ground. 

Jason stopped. 

There was a sound. Was someone screaming? It seemed so far off. 

Jason stared at his hand. Is that my hand? That can’t be my hand. It looked like something from a cartoon, a stuffed animal’s hand. It was a white glove with straw sticking out where the wrist was. How could that be his hand? 

He lifted his left arm. Where his hand should be was a stub. The stub was not bleeding. The stub felt no pain. All that stuck out of the stub was a bundle of straw. 

Jason wanted to scream. He tried to scream. Nothing came out. He moved to put his left hand to his mouth. It didn’t reach because there was no hand. He tried the other one. His mouth was gone. Where it once had been was flat. Had his hand still been able to register touch, he would have felt rough burlap. 

The world began to go fuzzy around the edges. He knew he should be panicking, but the fear seemed distant from him, everything seemed to be slipping away. He looked out for his friends but couldn't make them out on the hill, couldn't see that far anymore.

His thoughts went silent. He flopped to the ground, alive no longer. 

From the other side of the clearing, the details were hazy. All that Kelsey, Olivia, and Shane saw was Jason scratching, pulling at his shirt, then going for the straw in his sleeve. They all felt that something was wrong, that he should be stopped. None of them could bring the words to their lips. Shane was the only one who turned to look at Jason’s face. That desperate expression was losing definition, his face was flattening. His nose simply disappeared. His hair had lightened. It looked too dry; it was sticking out more than normal. It didn’t look quite like hair anymore. What had Jason said was in his shirt? Straw? That’s what his hair looked like. Jason’s skin had also changed. It had taken on a textured sort of look, almost like it had been woven in fabric. 

Shane wanted to shake Kelsey, to ask her if she was seeing what he was seeing but couldn’t do it. He looked at the straw coming out of Jason’s arm and it started to click. It was almost at his lips when Jason’s hand fell to the ground. 

In unison, Kelsey and Olivia broke into blood-curdling screams. They were as distant to Shane as they had been to Jason. He watched as his friend looked at his arm and then touched his own mouth. Jason looked out, and though he didn’t know it, he looked Shane directly in the eyes before he fell over.

The Shadow turned back to them now. 

Olivia and Kelsey stopped screaming. None of them took their eyes from the Shadow. They all wondered the same thing. Which one of them was next? They were afraid to look at one another. That would be how they would know, wouldn’t it? 

Kelsey moaned. The sound echoed through the empty space. It took every ounce of courage for Olivia and Shane to turn to her. She looked like the same old Kelsey, yet her bottom lip was quivering. 

"I - I can't feel my feet. I c-can't move my feet," she whispered. Tears brimmed her eyes.

Olivia clung to her. It took everything in her power not to flinch back when she discovered her girlfriend's middle felt hard as a rock. 

"I can't feel you," Kelsey cried. 

There was something wrong with her face. It was becoming bumpy, her skin almost seeming to crack in spots as they darkened and raised. Her sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, so it could be seen that the same was happening on her arms, which suddenly seemed to become rigid. They began to rise in a jerking motion, like Kelsey was fighting against it, until they were pointed upwards, as if Kelsey were mid jumping-jack. Her clothes seemed to be losing their color, fading into Kelsey’s skin as they too took on that same texture. 

"Kelsey…" Olivia sobbed. 

Kelsey was trying to move her lips, but the more she tried, the harder it became. It was no use anyway. Her lungs, her vocal cords, they were already solidified. 

Her body had taken on a darker brown color. Combined with that strange cracked appearance, it finally occurred to the others what it looked like - bark. 

Kelsey’s body became like molding clay the way it stretched itself, pulling into a cylindrical shape as Kelsey began to shoot upwards. Her face melted into the trunk, disappearing until it was no more than a knot in the tree. Her arms stretched out as well, becoming long, thin branches, her fingers bursting into bunches of spiny pine needles. She didn't stop growing until she was nearly ten feet tall, a pine tree like any of the others that surrounded them, albeit a little shorter. It looked as if it belonged there. 

Olivia choked. “Kelsey?” She jumped backwards looking at the tree up and down. Despite all that had happened, it hadn't taken more than a minute. Having registered what she was looking at, Olivia pleaded to the knotted face, “Kelsey!” 

It was no use.

Shane had watched open-mouthed, unable to move, unable to speak. Even though he had expected something, it made him no more prepared for it. He stepped toward Olivia, putting a hand on her shoulder. She turned up to look at him, but her face was wrong. His heart sank. 

Her eyes had turned all black and beady and were growing smaller on her face, which was shrinking as it became more round. Her lips began to project outwards as they hardened into a pointed black beak, her nose receding into her face until it disappeared. Her hair was growing backwards into her head while the bare parts of her body began to grow fluffy with tiny feathers. Her clothes, like Kelsey’s, began to simply fade away. The top of her head turned black and her cheeks turned white as did the back of her neck. Olivia 's arms began to flatten and widen into the long gray feathers that were her wings, a gray tail growing outwards behind her. Her belly rounded out, carpeted with tan feathers as her legs became skinny and gray, her shoes gone to reveal clawed bird feet. As all of this happened, Olivia continued to shrink until she was no bigger than Shane's fist. As fast as the transformation started, it was over, this process as with Kelsey happening in seconds despite how it unfolded in such slow motion before Shane's eyes. 

Olivia opened her beak and let out the sweet “cheeseburger,” that was the call of the area’s chickadees. Olivia was no more, this was a little bird that stood before Shane. “Cheeseburger,” It chirped again and then flitted its wings and disappeared up into the former Kelsey’s branches. 

Shane could only stare up into the pine needles. It had all happened so fast. His body felt numb. He was still shaking. He could barely breathe. He turned to look at the Shadow. He nearly fell backwards. It stood a mere foot from him now. 

Closer, it was no different. Still featureless. As before, Shane couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He wanted to apologize for coming there at night. He hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place. He had wanted to heed the warnings. He couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. He looked at the Shadow. It was the only thing he seemed to be able to do even if he didn’t want to. He felt so small, so defenseless. He felt as insignificant as he always felt. He had never gotten close to doing what he really wanted to do, just flitted from job to job waiting for the right moment. Too afraid to step out. Now, it was all over, and he was never going to have a chance to do any of it. He wished he could go back, start over, wake out of this crazy nightmare, and go back to when things were simpler…

The Shadow took another step closer. 

Shane felt his vision going fuzzy at the edges. 

This is it.

The world went black. 

***

“Oh, Harry, it’s beautiful out here!” Marie called out as she danced up the trail ahead of him like a gazelle. Her ponytail bobbed out behind her. The morning sun beamed down upon them, soft and gentle. It was only eight in the morning. The harsher afternoon sun that burned and scorched so much more easily, bringing forth a thicker sweat, wouldn't come for hours. 

Harry didn't pick up his pace. Instead he stopped and called out. “I told you it would be, Honey!” before pulling his water bottle from his backpack and taking a few good swigs. By the time he caught up with Marie, she had made it to the top of Miner’s Point. 

When he crested the hill, he swept his gaze across it. The open clearing was spotted with sage bushes. Pine trees dotted the edges closest to where the trail was. One tree sat by the edge of the clearing where it opened to the vista of the world beyond, a lonely sentinel marking the view. It was only ten feet tall, a younger tree than many of the others around. He wondered how it might have ended up where it did. Marie stood beside this tree, but she wasn’t looking at the view. Instead, she was looking down at the ground beside the tree. All the joy that had been on her face before was gone.

“Marie, what’s wrong?” Harry asked. 

He moved to catch up to her and his foot caught on something. He looked down to find a scarecrow sprawled on the ground beside the path. It was fully intact besides its left hand had been separated from it and was sitting about a foot away. The ground was littered with straw. 

What the hell could that be doing here? He thought, but that was all the attention he gave it before his focus turned back to his wife. He stepped over the straw man and trotted to cover the last bit of distance between Marie and himself. 

When he stood beside her, he looked down and saw what she was so concerned about. A tiny boy with rumpled light brown hair was curled up in the fetal position, completely naked. His thumb was jammed in his mouth. His brow was furrowed, and his right foot was twitching like a dog in a dream. 

A bad dream by the look on his face, Harry thought.

“Oh Harry, the poor thing can’t be more than seven or eight,” Marie whispered, putting her hand on his arm. When Harry turned to look at her, she was watching him with wide, sad eyes. 

Harry frowned. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. They had to go to the police, right? First, they had to make sure the kid was okay. Maybe the kid could tell them where he came from. If he had simply run away, they wouldn’t have to report anything, just take him home. He was moving, so clearly, he was alive. 

Harry knelt beside him. He hesitated a moment, and then gently touched the little boy’s shoulder. He didn’t even have to rock him. His eyes shot open. The child popped up into a sitting position. He looked around wildly, as if he were searching for something. He was breathing hard, his tiny chest moving in and out. He didn’t seem to notice Harry or Marie. “Jays-un. Kels. Liva,” he choked in a tiny, broken voice. 

Harry had backed away from the child when he had sat up, but now he moved back in, putting his arm on his shoulder. “Shhh. It’s gonna be okay, Buddy. We’re here to help you.” 

The child stopped. He blinked at Harry, seeing him for the first time. 

“My name’s Harry.” Harry spoke gently. “This is my wife, Marie.” When he pointed to Marie, the boy turned to look at her. When Harry dropped his hand, the child looked back at him. “What’s your name, Kiddo?” 

The boy looked concerned as he thought about it. After a moment, he deflated and admitted, “Don’t ‘member.” 

“Okay…” Harry bit his lip. He met Marie’s eyes, and she shrugged but urged him to keep trying. 

“Can you remember how you got here?”

The kid thought again. This time he started to look scared. “Jays-un was scarecrow. Kels big tree then Liva fly away. Shadow then…” the boy groaned. “Dark. Don ‘member.” 

“Okay, Kiddo, it’s okay,” Harry said, seeing how upset this was making the kid. He shot another concerned glance at Marie. The child was talking gibberish and couldn't form a sentence, could barely say full words it seemed. He was naked, alone, and couldn’t even remember his own name. He said something about a scarecrow and there was certainly a scarecrow, but that only made less sense. They had to report this.  

Harry moved to stand up. “Come on, Buddy. We’re gonna get you out of here. It’s still plenty early for breakfast. Do you like pancakes?” 

The little boy lit up. “Yes!” 

As the child jumped to his feet, Harry pulled off the flannel he was wearing as an outer layer, draping it around the little boy before scooping him into his arms. He was heavier than he would have liked to have to carry for two miles, but he would have to do his best. At least it was all downhill. 

When he was holding the kid, he met his wife’s eye again. He still looked at her, even though he addressed the boy. “Maybe with a little food you might remember some more.” 

They didn’t stay to admire the view they had come to see. Marie headed back down the trail first. Before Harry moved to follow her, he felt a prickling on the back of his neck.

He turned around, but there was nothing there. Then again… Maybe it was a trick of the eye, but there seemed to be an extra darkness hanging by the side of the trunk of that one tree, a darkness that hadn’t been there before, shouldn’t have been there the way the sun was positioned. 

Surely, it was his imagination, but then some of the child’s babble came back to him, “Shadow, then… Dark… don ‘member.”

No, it couldn’t be real. He looked down at the little boy. He was staring over by the tree where that darkness was. He looked pale, his eyes wide with terror. Harry felt his blood run cold. He didn’t look at the tree again. Instead, he whipped back towards the trail, hurrying to catch up to Marie. 

When the police arrived to investigate the scene Harry and Marie Moore had described to them, the scarecrow that Harry said he tripped over had vanished. They looked around the hilltop, but there seemed to be nothing to find. It was as it always was. Besides the tree that none of them, though frequent visitors to the spot, seemed to remember being there. 

They left. Had they looked over the edge of the point where Laura’s body had been, they would have found nothing but an empty ledge. 

From somewhere up in that strange pine tree’s branches, a chickadee called out. 

END

***

This story came to me in a whirlwind last year. By the time I was finished, I was hit with a heavy wave of, "Yeah, but what happens next?" Thus, what I am currently calling Goldhill was born. Technically, I finished a first draft of that one as well, but I have it in my "currently writing" section because there are a lot of holes that need filling and scenes that need replacing.

As I mentioned at the beginning of the post, Goldhill also features the character we will meet next week (though that story is set many years after the one I will be telling next Sunday). Another fun fact to sprinkle in here is that Shane in this story is the missing cousin of Charlie, who will be referred to at times in the Desiderium series. I discovered that connection last year as I was writing this story and couldn't pass it up. One thing you'll learn about me is I love it when stories connect. Whether it's ones I've created or am following, it always fills me with such an extra sense of joy when that happens.

Well, this means that there is but one story left in my February short story adventure. I sure hope you've been enjoying this journey as much as I have. Next week is another story fresh out of this month. We will be going inside The House on Crickford Lane.