Billy was awoken by the sound of beeping vehicles, seeping from outside his window, and blowing past the drapes into his room. He sat up, as the wind blew the curtains to the side, and he sun beamed suddenly into his eyes, making him hold his arm to his eyes to shield them, and he nearly stumbled from the bed, and his head fell onto his dog Jackson. The one year old Jack-Russel Terrier leapt up in fright, jumped off of the bed, and stared out the window. Billy stood, and rubbed the back of his neck, then lay back down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. He pondered the possibilities of what had woken him up so early on a Sunday morning, and then he heard shouting and more sounds coming from out the window. He shot out of bed, and stopped, stretching before he moved to the window and looked out at the field before him. There was nothing but grass swaying in the calm breeze. There was nothing north or east, but when he looked out toward the west, where ht sun rose above the distant row of pines, he saw the top of a house, beaming over the horizon. He’d never seen the house before that day, and of all the times he’d explored the property, he had never seen the house that lay behind the tall row of tree’s. While he stared, he reached down and pulled on a pair of blue jeans. He threw off his night shirt, and put on a red and blue striped polo shirt, his pajamas making their way to the already cluttered floor. He had meant to clean it, as his mother had told him several times the previous week, but the thirteen year old hadn’t done it yet. He walked to the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror. His brown-blonde hair caught the glare from the overhead light, and he picked up a comb, running it through his hair making it straight, then putting the front up slightly. He admired himself in the mirror. He was not averagely strong, but by no means a scrawny boy. He was tall, five foot seven, which where he went to school, was not far off of the average height of his classmates. He looked at the bathroom mirror, at the reflection of the window behind him, and saw the top of the mysterious house from over the treeline once more. Jackson came trotting into the room, whining and holding his tail between his legs, and Billy said,

“Gotta go out boy?” As he set the comb back down on the counter and went downstairs. The front door was at the bottom of the steps, so he opened it, and out flung Jackson into the field, sniffing eagerly every new scent that the night had left for him. Billy smiled and closed the door, hearing noise in the kitchen. He walked into he living room, and past the foyer that lead into the dining room. He saw his mother, furious at work with a mass of dough that sat on the kitchen counter, which was covered in flour, as was the apron she wore.

“Well good morning Billy,” she said, grunting slightly as she pushed and pulled the mass on the counter top.

“Hey mom,” Billy said, as he walked past her, and went to the pantry. He opened the door, and looked inside for something to eat.

“There’s cinnamon rolls, I’m about to put them in,” she said, gesturing to the left of her, on the counter that sat alongside the stove, to a pair of pans with the rolls in them. “If you want to wait ten minutes, I’ve just got to bake and frost them,” she said, turning to him, then back to the dough with a soft grunt.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks,” said Billy, still trying to rub off the effects of his sleepiness. He went past her again, and pulled a stool out opposite the counter, and sat watching her knead the dough.

“How long have you been up?” Billy asked his mother, glancing over to the clock on the preheated oven. It read nearly ten-o-clock, and he looked over to his mother who replied,

“Oh, since about six-thirty or so, couldn’t sleep so-”

“So you decided to make cinnamon rolls? At like seven in the morning?” Billy asked, looking over at the prepared pans on the counter, then back at the pile of dough.

“Yeah, basically,” she said, grunting again, before backing away from the dough, and standing straight. She whipped her hair from her face, and wiped her hands on her apron, then looked suspiciously at Billy.

“And what are you doing up so early? I would expect you to be sleeping in a little longer than ten,” she said, looking over at the clock on the oven.
“I heard noises, over there in the woods,” Billy said, pointing in the direction of the long line of pines that bordered the entire length of his driveway, “I’m gonna go check it out, it looks like there’s a house over there,” His mother looked curiously at him,

“I never knew there was on over there,” she said, “But then again, I don’t get out of the house much do I?” Billy heard Jackson scratch at the door, and he moved off his stool to let him in. He ignored his mothers comment about not getting out much, because any attempt to make conversation in it’s regards, be it positive or negative, only brought about the death of his father, a talk that neither wanted to speak of to each other since the tragedy nearly six years ago. So he didn’t say a word, as he walked back through the living room, and went to the door. Jackson stood on the wooden porch, prancing about eagerly, looking around and chasing the beams of light that reflected off of the wind chimes. He saw the open door, and ran inside to the living room, where he put a rope toy in his mouth, and proceeded to throw it around like a dead animal. Billy admired the dog, and the warm air, before he shut the door, and walked past the dog and into the dining area once more. He pulled the stool out, and sat back on it, seeing Jackson cease play with his rope, jog out of the living room, and seat himself at Billy’s feet. He looked up at him, begging, and Billy patted his head to his delight. Jackson wagged his tail across the ground, and Billy watched as his mother resumed kneading the dough. She had to have put the rolls in when he got Jackson, for the smell of fresh spices filled the air. He sat on the stool, and watched as time crept past him, seeming to slow down as he awaited breakfast. Finally, the timer beeped loudly, and startled, he nearly fell from his seat on the stool, but he regained himself before he did. His mother moved from the mass of dough, which now sat on the flour free counter, in a corner where it was wrapped in plastic, and over to the oven to retrieve the rolls from inside it. Setting them down on the counter, she closed the oven, and moved to the fridge, and pulled out a large mixing bowl full of white, sticky frosting, and set it on the counter.

“Just hold on,” she said, seeing Billy squirm on the stool, “I’ve got to frost them,” She moved to the drawer next to the oven, pulled a spoon, and began pouring the icing over the tops of the steaming rolls. Billy’s mouth was watering, and his mother looked at him laughing, as she pulled a plate from the cabinet, spooned an oozing cinnamon roll onto it, and passed it to Billy. He took a fork at it eagerly, and his mother leaned on the counter laughing, all the way up until he stood off of his seat, prepared to leave.

“Did you clean your room?” She asked as he stood. Billy winced at the comment, wanting badly to leave and explore,

“Not yet...But, I’ll do it later,” he said, almost questioningly, as he turned to walk out the door.

“Billy, if you don’t clean that room by tomorrow, I’m packing all of your things and sending them to Africa!” She yelled after him, as he stepped foot out the front door, and onto the porch. The trees swayed in a calm breeze, and the air smelled fresh of summer as he walked among the bending blades of grass, careful to avoid area’s where Jackson had relieved himself. He started for the driveway, and Jackson stopped abruptly, leaned forward with his hackles raised, and growled intensely.

“Jackson, are you coming or what?” Billy asked, as thought the dog would answer him. But he did not answer, he didn’t even budge, he just leaned forward menacingly, and growled in the direction of the treeline.

“Jackson!” Billy shouted, as he stepped quickly toward the dog, snapping him from his trance. The dog looked longingly at Billy, who stared back in disbelief, and turned to continue walking. Jackson whined, and sat, but got back up when he saw that Billy was not pausing in step. Jackson reluctantly followed him to the dense pine treeline, and as Billy stepped foot into the woods, the smell of dead leaves and the sound of crackling leaves and needles underfoot, accompanied by the sudden darkness of the canopy, provided for an eerie ambiance. Billy walked slowly at first, but started faster as he approached the middle of the deep forest. He could see the light on the other side, but it seemed like it kept running from him. He finally breached the trees, and looked around him. He hadn’t walked straight in, as he’d started out, and he was now in front of the looming house. There were two moving vehicles, and about twenty moving men that ran quickly into the house, carrying various items, such as couches and lamps, and then quickly retreated back to the trucks. At one point, the men appeared to have been worn out, as though they had been running in a marathon, and sat wearily on the loading ramps of the vehicles. A few men removed a couch and a large table from the back of the truck, ran to the back of the house, and came running back again, as though they had been frightened of something. Billy ignored the men at first, and they didn’t seem to notice him either, so he took to exploring the large structure. The front of the house held an average sized garage to the far left, and as he moved right, there was a small porch, with small bay-like windows that looked onto the front yard. He turned and looked at the property that surrounded the house, and noticed two outbuildings on opposite sides of the field-like front yard. The grass was dead long before he, or anyone else arrived, and the condition of the house was to match. The garage door leaned to one side, and was bent in the middle, and the shingles to the roof had been peeled or blown away with age. The house was worse, however, having not been lived in for some time, and showing it. The front door was large, and as he walked past it, he noticed a long wooden walkway that lead around back of the house. As he walked along it, he noticed that the rails were rotted through, and that several, if not all poles were missing along the way. He wandered around to the back of the house, and after he turned a corner to the left, he saw a large window, that ran from one side of the wall to the other. He stood in front of it, and pressed his hands to his face, against the glass, peering inside. The living room as it appeared, was wood floored, and the gloss still shined as though it was new, and the fireplace mantle to the left of him was as beautiful as the hardwood. He took from looking at the inside of the house, and turned to look back at the deck in front of him. It was a two story wooden structure, with entrances on the first and second floors, and a stair case that spiraled to the top. The first floor held a small bar like area, with a few plastic lawn chairs that had been chipped with age and dry rot, as well as several spots of grass that had grown through the cracks of the surface underfoot. The treeline sat behind it, farther on than the treeline was Billy’s house, and the tops of the trees seemed to block some sunlight, making for an eerie sight. The ghastly house was shadowed amongst the dead grass and pines, and Billy shivered, not necessarily because of the sudden cold in the air, but because of the sense of something being wrong with the house. He continued his exploration, and wondered why the moving men had left the furniture that he’d seen being carried earlier, on the back porch. There, in front of the sliding glass window, sat a large couch, but it was different than the one he had seen before. The couch he saw now was covered with holes, riddled with tears, and filled with large gashes, as big as his head. The color of the burgundy couch was now a rotted brown, and he peered closely at it. He head a sound, a scampering of sorts coming from somewhere unseen, and when he looked closer, he could see a million red eyed rats, burrowed into the couch. Without warning, they came pouring out of the piece of furniture, and covered the ground around him like a large black blanket of moving bodies. He jumped back and screamed, startled by the sudden torrent of mammals, and as he turned to run, he tripped on a loose board, and fell face first toward a large deck pole that lay sticking from the wooden structure.

 

2: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 

Billy fell forward with his eyes closed, but when he opened them, he became aware of the large, meaty hands that grasped him by the shoulders, helping him from sudden death. He looked around dartingly for the heap of rats that had frightened him, but they had vanished, and no trace of them appeared to be left in the area from which they came. He stood up with the help of Meat Cleaver, and looked around to his savior. The man who had saved him was a large one, but more stocky than heavy weight. His structure was big, his head large like a bowling ball, and his legs strong like support beams on a bridge. He had a small beer gut, and he wore a ‘Moving Men’ uniform around it. He was joined by two other men, who were much taller and less heavy than Meat Cleaver, and they asked,

“Whats wrong, drop something?” Said the first man, who looked at Meat Cleaver with judging eyes. Billy took that it wasn’t the first time he’d ever dropped something while on the job, but he’d done good on saving Billy.

“No John, I din’t drop nothing,” said Meat Cleaver, and his voice sounded almost a surly southern accent as he spoke,

“This here boy bout’ fell on that there pole stickin’ up,” he said to John.

“Well what is he doing here anyway?” Asked the second man, who reminded Billy more of Robert Downy Jr. than anyone.

“How’m I supposed to know?” Asked Meat Cleaver.

“Well, Sam, let’s think,” said Jr. , rubbing his chin, “You’re not doing your job, and he, oh I don’t know, tried to steal something while yah weren’t lookin!” Said the man, as he stared intently at Billy, then at Jr.

“No, I wasn’t stealing anything, honest! I live over there, and I heard the sounds and-”

“That’s enough kid, I’m yanknin yer chain,” said Jr. , his true voice showing now.

“This here’s mah brother, Sam, and I’m Jack. That there is John, but ya’ll ‘ready know that don’tchya?”
“Yeah,” said Billy nervously, and there was an awkward silence that ensued. Billy looked at the house, then at the men.

“So, what scared you anyway?” Asked John, looking at Billy.

“The couch, it had a gazillion rats in it,” said Billy turning and pointing to the piece of furniture on the porch, but was startled to see it’s condition. It was brand new, as though it had never been touched before. Billy stammered some, and the men just laughed.

“But they were inside of it, and all over the porch and...” Billy stopped while the men still laughed.

“Sounds like we got an odd one,” said Jack, laughing in a southern drawl.

“Nawh, it’s the house man,” said Sam, looking intently at Jack.

“So, why did you guys leave all the stuff outside?” Asked Billy, looking up at the men.

“Well, it’s like this,” said Jack, walking over to the couch, “Yah see this house?”

“Well a course he see’s it dummy!” Said Sam, and Jack scolded him, not with words, but with his eyes.

“Anyway,” Jack said, ignoring Sam and telling his tale, “We were moving the stuff in here, and we were doin’ fine, sun comin’ up an’ all, but then...” He drifted off slightly, then began again, “there was like this weird pull, yah know?”

“No, course he don’t,” said Sam, looking at Jack, and rolling his eyes.

“Well, it was almost like we were bein drained sorta. We just kept getting more and more taired, and then, we just gave up. I’m tellin yah, there’s somethin bout this house...” Jack said, drifting off, and looking at the looming building.

“Yer scarin him,” said John, looking at Billy, and seeing the fearful expression in his eyes. But Billy was not frightened of the house, not as much as he was by the overly jolly men who were moving things into it.
“So, if the house is so bad, who hired you?”

“I dunno. Some guy outa California, said for us to come an move all his stuff in here, said he’d b here by now,” Said Jack.

“Hmm,” was all Billy could say. Suddenly, there was a light breeze, not strong enough to test the integrity of the house, but cold enough to bring a chill to everyone’s bones. No one spoke at the ominous sound of the rattling window panes and the cold air, but they all looked eerily at the house, and finally, Jack spoke.

“I’m gonna take the fella’s into the sun, bit warmer in the front, yer welcome to join us,”

“I think I’m alright, I mean if it’s okay with you, I’m going to stay and look around a little more,”

“Fine with us, just two things. Don’t break anything, and...be careful,” he said quietly, and as he turned, the others followed, and they disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving Billy and Jackson alone on the back porch. The wind died down, and they were left not only alone, but in utter silence. Jackson was the first to move, and he noticed a staircase to the left of them, and began sniffing it furiously, slowly taking a step up it. Billy looked over at him, and turning, followed after the dog as he pranced lightly up the staircase. Billy used the hand rails to support his weight, which they did not do a great job of, in that they creaked and leaned this way and that as he slowly climbed the steps. The stairs themselves bowed under his weight, and by the time he reached the top, he could have sworn that the entire staircase had bent over to the left by a half a foot or more. The top deck was much like the bottom, except that it was more open, excluding the large hot tub in the center. There were sliding glass doors here as well, and the wood was just as bad as the rest of the house. Jackson ran ahead of Billy, sniffing the edges of the hot tub manically, and then he stopped, raised his hackles, and growled intensely at the basin. Billy approached it carefully, and noticed that the lid was split down the middle, and hanging into the tub, which was laden with algae and dead leaves.

“Jackson, what’s wrong boy?” Billy asked the dog, who did not move a muscle.

“Jackson!” Billy snapped, and the dog, seeming to exit from a trance, appeared to smile at Billy, and returned to his side. Billy approached cautiously to the edge of the hot tub, and reaching out a hand, he rapidly flipped open the lid. In the darkest corner of the basin, there was a dead mouse family, a male and a female rodent, lying cuddled next to each other, in an eternal skeletal pose. Billy looked at Jackson, as though to confirm that this was why he was barking, and the dog seemed to relax slightly, and go on his way of further exploration. Billy gazed around him, at the edge of the woods that lay behind the house, and from the height he stood, he could see the edges of his house, blurred by the branches of the deep trees. He walked to the edge of the railing, and peered into the dark forest. From within, he could hear various sounds of birds, squirrels, and other wildlife, but above all, he swore he could hear a faint voice, whispering to him, beckoning him further...He was to caught up listening to hear Jackson barking, or to feel himself lean against the already structurally inapt railing, and tumble over the edge, falling ever quicker to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

3: Chapter Three

Billy was then aware of the weightlessness of himself falling, of Jackson barking, and his life flashing before his eyes, although he was never aware of it. He felt as though gravity and time had slowed down as he plummeted, and as he slowly turned his dead toward the ground, he could see a man, in his thirties, running with his arms outstretched. Suddenly, Billy felt gravity, felt the air on his face, and saw the man who had caught him. The man was wearing an off brown suit, with a blue dress shirt, a pinkish tie, and khakis. His shoes appeared to have been recently polished, but had some dust, which Billy assumed was from the driveway as he walked onto it. He looked around as the man set him down, and saw no vehicle that he could have driven, so he guessed he was dropped off by someone else.

“You'd better be careful young man. This house is mighty old,” he said, gently standing Billy onto his feet, and looking at the railing which he had fallen from.

“Thank you for catching me, I could have died!” Billy exclaimed, and he could have sworn he saw a sly grin briefly appear on the mans face. The man, who looked around at random places, was not dressed for the weather they’d been having in Raven recently, rather for mid winter air. His caddy hat and wool coat shrouded him, and he wore a blue scarf and thick, black leather gloves.

“Its not good to talk like that you know. But your right, such a fall could prove painful or even fatal. I may need to fix that now, no telling what these people are willing to buy nowadays,” he said again.

“I’m sorry mister, but what-who do you mean?” Billy asked, looking at the house, then back at the man.

“A lovely couple and their only daughter have bought this house. Supposed to have been here by now, but they appear to be running late,” he said, gazing off again, and pulling a pocket watch from his coat, and looking at it in detail.

“Oh,” said Billy, looking at the driveway, “Sorry about the railing mister,” Billy said, looking at the ground and scuffing his feet.

“That’s quite alright young man, the people who bought this house love fixing them. They said that they were going to have a nice time taking care of the entire thing. You can call me Mr. Rogers, I’m a real-estate agent,” he said, tipping his hat then reaching into his pocket, he produced a card. He handed it to Billy,

“This is my card,” The card was printed on stock paper, and it read:

Fireside Realtors

No payments for six months!

Mr. Carl Rogers

Call: 206-66-9722

“Well, my name is Billy,” he said, putting the card in his back pocket, “I live in the house next door,” he said, pointing to the house behind the trees.

“Oh, a lovely home. I remember selling that a long time ago,” Mr. Rogers said.

“You do?” Asked Billy.

“Indeed. Quite a bit of land, I think the owner was going to farm it or something,”
“He never did,” said Billy, remembering his father for a moment. Mr. Rogers glanced away rapidly at the mention of Billy’s father, and turned back after a moment of silence.

“This is my dog, Jackson,” Billy said, pointing to the dog. Jackson reeled back on his haunches, and like earlier, raised his hackles and growled a low growl.
“Jackson!” Billy yelled at the dog, “I’m really sorry, he never does this,” he said to Mr. Rogers, who wimpy looked at the dog and sneered. Jackson seemed to be frightened by the sly grin, and whimpering while he walked, sat along the treeline, awaiting Billy. There were several moments of silence that were broken by nothing, not even the sound of the various animals. Billy looked around, and finally, the silence was broken by the sound of the moving trucks pulling from the drive, and a white van honking at on of the trucks as it pulled into the driveway, and parked on the aproachment, it’s rear facing the house.

“Looks like they’ve finally arrived. Uh, feel free to explore, just don’t fall off anymore railings, ok?”

“Yes sir,” said Billy. Eager to explore the grounds, he turned to face the treeline again, and walked along the back porch. He could see few moving men now, as most of them had left, and the remainder of them sat things along the outside of the house, no longer strong enough to bring them inside. Or they’re just afraid, thought Billy. He did think there was something odd about the house, but he didn’t think it was haunted by any means. The whisper was the one thing he could not get out of his head, and he only realized when he looked back at the treeline, why it shook him. The voice, was not just any creepy, scary voice, rather a soothing and longing voice. But most of all, it sounded like his father. He shuddered at the recollection of his death, nearly three years previous...

It had been a long winter that year, a cold and bitter wind that seemed to never end. It blew in from the north and kept coming, bringing with it ice and snow. It layered the roads, making them nearly impassible, and it covered everything with a thick, heavy layer of snow that was impossible to traverse. Billy’s father was a logger, and the snow never stopped him from his work. He was out nearly eight hours a day, forty hours a week, chopping logs with his bare hands and an ax, so that he could have enough money to feed his family. His wife didn’t work, she was a stay at home mother to their then eight year old son, so he was the only source of income for them. Times were tough, but he was stronger, and he worked in the bitter cold, and the freezing rain so that he could provide a life for his son. When he wasn’t working, he would play in the snow with Billy. They did everything together, built forts, snowmen, went sledding. The cold never bothered him, he was conditioned to it’s bite, and used to it’s sting. He could have sleep in the snow, he could have lived in it. This was something Billy knew, but himself could never accomplish. He would get cold, and they would go inside, where, on the counter would be waiting a hot cup of homemade coco. They did everything together, but the one thing he refused to do was bring Billy to work with him.

“It’s to dangerous, you never know what might happen Billy. I can’t stand to lose you little guy,”

“But I can do it, I can!” Billy would say, looking up at the bearded face of his father, who would say nothing more, and tuck the boy into bed before he himself got a well deserved sleep-

Billy was shocked out of his trance, by something. He couldn’t tell at first what it was, but came to realize that someone was yelling at him and he couldn't hear the mover his own thoughts. Before he knew it, someone had shoved him hard, onto the ground.

 

 

4: Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

Billy stared up at the person who had shoved him, and raised his hand to his eyes, to shield the morning sun. The morning dew soaked into his clothes and dampened his skin, making his butt wet. He looked up at the sky, and saw a girl, about his age, starring down at him. She was dressed in a yellow sun dress, with matching shoes, and had a bow in her pony tail that was the same color as well. He noticed that her fingers were painted with yellow flowers, and when he saw her eyes, he was taken back. They were a rich hazel, and the light shone down from an angle, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He stared into her eyes, like they were windows into her soul, and she smiled at him. She had small dimples, and a few freckles on her cheeks. Jackson came running up, barking as usual and the girl reached her hand out to help him up, but jumped back and shielded her face with her arms at the sight and sound of the ferocious wolf creature running at her. Billy stood himself up, and yelled Jackson’s name, and he immediately said,

“I’m sorry, he’s not mean, harmless really,” Billy said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. She smiled, and laughed a slight giggle, and Billy melted some.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to push you that hard,” said Anne, an apologetic look on her face.

“It’s okay, it didn’t hurt that bad,” said Billy, still rubbing the back of his neck. She smiled slightly at him, and he smiled nervously back, admiring the girl still. There was a short silence between them, and Jackson went about sniffing the girls feet, circling around her, and almost peering at her.

“This is Jackson, but you already knew that because I yelled his name earl-”

“I know,” said the girl, holding her hands together, and sort of spinning on her feet.

“My name is Billy,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, and extending his free hand to her, “I live in the house over there,” he said, gesturing to the treeline with his head.

“Oh, then we’re neighbors?”
“Yeah, guess so,” replied Billy.

“My name is Catherine Anne, but everyone just calls me Anne,” she said, looking at Billy, who contemplated the name in his head. He liked the name, simple yet elegant, but he was more entranced by how pretty she was.

“At least I’ll have someone to play with, I didn’t have many friends back home,”

“Where did you live before?” Asked Billy.

“California, it was sunny there a lot,” she replied.

“Oh, I bet. Did you ever have snow?”

“No, I lived further down state, it never snowed there,” she said to him. Billy’s grin began to widen,

“So, you’ve never built a snowman?” Billy asked.

“No, I’ve never seen snow in my life, except on T.V,”

“OH! We are going to have so much fun! We can build snowmen and have snowball fights and-”

“Heeeee,” Anne giggled, and her cheeks reddened some.

“Anyway,” Billy said, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed at his loss of control, “Where are your parents?”

“Oh, they’re moving stuff from the van to the house. We had quite a long drive from California,”

“You drove all the way from California!?” Billy exclaimed.

“Well, my daddy did, I’m only twelve you know,” she said, blushing some more, and they both laughed.

“So you haven’t seen the house yet?” He asked.

“No, but my mommy saw pictures on her computer and decided it was in good enough condition to buy,”

“So why did you move all the way from California?” Billy asked.

“My daddy’s job, he’s a construction worker,” she replied.

“Oh, that’s good,” said Billy, “Maybe he can fix that railing there, I almost died falling off of it. If Mr. Rogers hadn’t shown up, I’d be a goner,”

“Who?” Asked Anne.

“Mr. Rogers, the real-estate man, who sold you guys the house,” Billy said.

“My mommy never mentioned any Mr. Rogers, not ever,” replied Anne.

“Look,” said Billy, grabbing Anne’s arm and pulling her with him to the front of the house, “He’s right there,” he said and pointed to where he was standing.

“There’s no one there Billy,” she said to him. He glanced at her as though she was crazy, and then quickly back at the front of the house, and Mr. Rogers was gone.

“He was...” Billy drifted off.

“No one was ever there,” said Anne, looking strangely at Billy, and pulling her arms slowly back from his grasp.

“This is so weird,” he said faintly.
“Yeah....” Said Anne, looking curiously at him, “Now where was this rail you were talking about?” She asked, snapping Billy from his transfixed gaze on where Mr. Rogers had or had not been,

“Oh, right, the rail. It’s over here,” he said, running over to where the broken piece of the porch lay on the ground, shattered into several pieces.

“I was just up there, and the whole thing gave out, I fell right over. I swear someone caught me,” he said.

“They’d of had to, you’d never survive that fall,”

“So you believe me?”
“I didn’t sat that Mr. Roger caught you, I said someone caught you,”

“But he did, he even gave me his- His card!” He exclaimed, reaching into his back pocket, fishing for the card.

“He gave me his business card, and told me his name was Mr. Rogers,” Billy said, holding the card out to Anne, a smug look on his face.

“There’s...nothing on it,” Anne replied, looking even stranger at Billy, and backing a few feet away. Billy looked at her, then at the card. He faced it to him, and looked at it. There was nothing on the card stock, it was a blank piece of paper. No numbers or even a name, only paper.

“But...” Billy said, embarrassed and disappointed. They both of them stood directly beneath the porch, with no wind blowing Anne’s beautiful hair. But just then, a strong wind blew, and another piece of the railing came toppling off, heading directly for Anne.  

5: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

 

Billy ran as fast as he could, and pushed Anne out of the way, diving with her to the ground, hitting his knee on the soft ground, and grinding dirt into the area on his jeans. He heard the crash behind them, and when the wind died down, he sat up slowly. The rail, and split in two, and was stuck, much like the pole earlier, into the ground where they were standing. Billy let out a sigh of relief, and Anne halfheartedly gasped in fear and confusion. He stood, and reached a hand out to her,

“You okay?” He asked her.

“I suppose so, better than...” she said, looking over at the jagged dagger like pieces of wood that protruded from the ground.

“Yeah. Oh, your dress,” he said, looking down at the side of her waist, where a large grass stain had been smudged into the fabric.

“Oh, darn. I sure hope it comes out...” She said, tugging the dress around and spotting the smudge.

“See hat I mean though? Falling apart,” Billy said, pointing at the top of the porch, and looking around at the rest of the house.

“I see. Maybe my daddy can fix it, he might even have some fun,” she said, grinning and looking at the house.

“Perhaps I should take care of the-” Billy was cut off by the sound of Jackson, teeth bared, barking at the broken railing on the ground.

“Jackson, what are you doing now?” Billy asked the dog, who didn’t pay any attention and kept barking at the rail, “He never does this, really. Ever since we got here this...” he drifted off in a sudden realization that was more of a confirmation to doubts he had held within him. He was sure something was blatantly wrong with the house, Jackson and him could tell, but he still didn’t know what dark and foreboding things lay within. Jackson continued to bark ferociously at the broken railing, and no matter what Billy said, he wouldn’t stop. Anne began to back away,

“It really is a little strange,” she said nervously.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” Said Billy looking onward at the sight. The dog kept barking, ans Billy stepped forward intently, staring at the dog, who now looked at Billy whimpering, and then seemed to smile again and prance over to Anne’s legs, and sniff them more.

“Well, that was quite odd,” said Anne, looking at Billy, then at the dog strangely. Billy met her look with nervousness, and was afraid he’d burned his chance of getting to know her.

“Yeah, kind of was, wasn’t it?” He asked, almost choking, then changing the subject abruptly, he said,

“Where do you think I should put these boards?” He asked, looking behind him to see her skipping in a tiny circle.

“Oh, I don’t know...” she said, still skipping.

“Do you guys have a trash can?” Asked Billy, looking around.

“I don’t know, but we could try and find one in the garage,” she said, looking up at the front of the house.

“Oh, okay then,” he said, and they started to walk in silence, which was short lived by Billy speaking,

“So, why didn’t you have anyone to play with, you know, back home?” He asked. She didn't answer at first, and Billy immediately wished he hadn't asked what he did. She answered after a moments silence.

“I didn’t have friends, because I wasn’t normal,” said Anne, stopping briefly, and a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Billy couldn’t seem to stop staring at the tear, because it reminded him of the only time he ever saw his father cry, after his father had died one day. He locked himself in a room, and didn’t come out for hours. He was never the same after that, but he always loved Billy. Billy dropped the wood, and acting on impulse that he hoped wouldn’t make her think he was any more weird than she already thought, outstretched his arms, and embraced her in a hug. She hugged him back, and when they broke, Billy raised a hand to her eye, and wiped the tear from her face. She smiled and when they looked at each other, their eyes locked. Billy stood transfixed on her eyes, and then they both gave each other an awkward look, and broke completely.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said-”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago anyway,” she said in reply, and Billy noticed that she was almost as shy of him, as he was of her.

“ I didn't have friends because of my defect,” said Anne.

“What was it?” asked Billy, bending down to pick up the dropped boards.

“I couldn't talk,” said Anne. “Not a single word,” she said.

“Oh,” said Billy looking up at her eyes. She sat down and Billy, dropped some of the boards behind him, and sat next to her.

“It wasn't that I didn't know the words, it was something inside me, I couldn't physically talk,” said Anne.

“Oh, I can't imagine what that would have been like,” said Billy, lowering his head.

“Yeah, not that many people want to talk to someone who can't answer them,” said Anne.

“Well, I like talking to you,” said Billy, feeling his cheeks redden.

“Well you just met me,” said Anne, flattered.

“So?” Asked Billy. A long silence ensued them. Billy stood, and reached out a hand to help Anne from the ground. They continued walking, and when they rounded the corner to the front of the house, Billy saw again the white van, but now with many boxes nearly spilling out of the trunk of it, with various labels such as ‘KITCHEN’ and ‘LIVING ROOM’. He also noticed a large gray trash can, that sat just inside the front of the garage, nearly in the doorway to the pavement.
“Is that your van?” Asked Billy, knowing that it had to have been theirs, but asking for conversations sake.

“Yes, it is. My daddy sometimes calls it ‘Ole Faithful’,” she said, glancing at the vehicle. Billy tried his hardest to keep from laughing, but to no avail. He burst into a laughing fit,

“Oh, wow,” he said between laughs.

“What?” Anne asked, beginning to giggle as well.

“That name is just so..” he snorted, “Is just.... funny!” He said bending over in childish laughter. The two soon broke into hysterics, and were laughing so hard, that Billy was forced to lean on the trash can, trying to stay standing. Anne leaned on Billy’s shoulder, and kept snickering. The two’s laughs finally subsided, and they stood back to normal. Billy had dropped the boards at the side of the trash can, and after he and Anne wiped away their happy tears, he bent over to pick them up.Billy turned, opened the trash can, and dumped the boards in the bottom. A terrible stench arose from the can that reminded him of rotten eggs. He lammed the lid, covered his nose, and walked five or so feet away. Anne, laughing said,

“Whats the matter? Afraid of some trash?” She asked, giggling some more.

“No,” replied Billy, still holding his shirt over his nose, “ I think there something other than trash in there!” He said, looking down at Jackson, who was whimpering and taking quick glances at the trash can, then Billy, then the trash can. Anne, walked over to the trash can, lifted the lid, and screeching, snapped back a few feet.

“Whats the matter, afraid of some trash?” Asked Billy, mockingly.

“No, but I think our right,” said Anne, stepping back while Billy walked to the can, lifted the lid, and while fighting the fumes of rotten flesh, peered into the can. At the bottom lay a sticker, a lollipop stick, a few pieces of chewed gum, some receipts, the boards that Billy had thrown in, and what was making the sour stench, a large, decapitated rat. It lay in a pool of semi fresh blood. “Anne, there's a dead rat in here,” said Billy.

“Yeah I can smell it from here,” said Anne, her hands over her nose and mouth. Billy stopped talking about the rat because he figured Anne didn't want to smell the rodent in its decaying state. He put the lid back on the can, and turned to face Anne.

“You said you've never been here before right?” asked Billy.

“No, neither have my parents. Why?” Said Anne, looking at him, and cocking her head to one side.

“No reason, just wondering,” said Billy. But what he really meant to answer by asking that question was if no one had been to the house until today, how did the rat get in there, and who killed hit? Another question yet to be answered was why it had been there for so long. Some one would have had to come here at least a week ago in order for the creature to be rotting. Just then, he looked up from his thought train to see Anne waving her hand in front of his face, and a man standing at the back of the van, talking to Mr. Rogers. Anne broke through his hazy space trip just in time to see Mr. Rogers lift a large box of glass items from the van, and heave it at the man who was talking to him.

6: Chapter Six

Billy looked on in awe and shock as the man fell to the floor, and Mr. Rogers vanished, not in a cloud of smoke, nor a poof of magic, but simply snapped away at the blink of an eye. Billy ran over to the man, as well as Anne.

“Daddy!” Anne shrieked. Billy lifted the mans head off of the ground slightly and said,

“Mister? Are you alright mister?” The man didn't reply, but kept rolling his head from side to side and moaning in pain. Billy stood up and looked behind him, for any sign of Mr. Rogers. But like before, he had disappeared.

“Daddy, are you okay?” Anne asked him, and this time, with some help, he said on his butt groggily.

“I’m fine honey,” the man said, rubbing the back of his head, where Billy could see a small amount of blood coming from a slight scratch, “I was just talking to the moving man, about how everything was left out of the house out back, the couch and everything, and when I told him I wasn’t paying him the full amount, he said ‘it’s not the money I’m after,’ and shoved the box at me,” the man said, and looked over at the spilled contents of the box.

“Looks like I’m going to have to get some new plates,” he said.

“It wasn’t the moving man though, it was Mr. Rogers,” said Billy.

“Mr. who now?” The man looked up at Billy confused, and then looked at Anne, as if expecting an explanation.

“Daddy, this is Billy. He lives next to us, over there,” she said gesturing to the tall pines behind the house.

“Oh nice to meet you Billy, I hope you have found my daughters company well fit,” said the man.

“She seems very nice mister-”

“Please, call me Mr. Chapman,” said the man, rubbing his head.

“Sorry Mr. Chapman. Anne seems very nice,” said Billy, looking over at Anne, who blushed slightly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, and Billy and Anne both helped him to his feet, where he balanced himself on the edge of the van. “Now who’s this Mr. Rogers fella your talking about?”

“Mr. Rogers, the real-estate agent who sold you the house,” Billy said, anxiously, looking up at Mr. Chapman, who looked at him with a look of utmost strangeness.

“We never dealt with, or even heard of a man named Mr. Rogers,” said Mr. Chapman.

“But-”

“There was a Mrs. Chang, but no Mr. Rogers. Come to think of it, we never met her in person either... No wonder the moving company was terrible,” he said, looking first at Billy, but then glancing over the roof of the house, and remembering the furniture and belongings left on the porch.

“But he was standing next to-” said Billy, abruptly ending his sentence because he didn't want Anne's father to think he was crazy, “Never mind,” he finished. Mr. Chapman looked at him a little strangely, and rubbed his head.

“So you live over there now?” He asked Billy, pointing toward the pine tree barrier between the properties.

“Yeah, I heard the moving vans this morning, and I came to have a look,” he replied.

“So you’ve seen the back porch? How’s it look?” Mr. Chapman asked?

“Oh yeah! Oh, about the back porch...” Billy said, exited at first, then remembering the disintegrating structure. Anne giggled some, and Mr. Chapman gave them an odd look of suspicion.

“Did a little exploring did you?” He asked.

“Yeah, I went with it the first time,” he said, as Mr. Chapman gave a disappointing look, and began to walk to the back of the house. Billy hurried to catch up, and then said,

“The second time it almost hit Anne,” he said, as Mr. Chapman glanced at the missing part of the porch, then at the part lying on the ground. Billy decided to leave out the part about Mr. Rogers, because one, he didn’t think he would believe him, and two, because he didn’t want Anne to think that he was any more crazy than he seemed. Mr. Chapman gave a considering look at the porch again, and then said,

“Well, it looks like I’ll have a little more work to do then,”

“I’m sorry Mr. Chapman,” Billy said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s alright, the porch really does just need to be torn down anyway,”

“Are you really going to do that daddy?” Asked Anne curiously.

“I might just have to, it’s already dangerous enough, I don’t think there is any fixing it,” Mr. Chapman said to his daughter, looking down at her, then up at the decking.

“That would be cool! Promise if you do it, I get to watch?” Asked Billy eagerly.

“Sure thing,” said Mr. Chapman, “Beside, you might just want to watch the job get finished,” he said, and winked at Billy. Anne giggled innocently, and Billy’s cheeks reddened while he rubbed his neck nervously. There was a short silence, while Anne looked at the porch with her father, and Billy turned in place to look at the rest of the property, that he had failed to see in detail earlier. On the corner of the property, in front of the house, there was a long pole barn, whose tin roofing and siding had rusted, and in some places, had hole where screws had once held parts of it together. There were windows in the front of it, that had been smashed, and along the edges of the building, where tall, dead grass grew, the glass glinted in the sunlight. To the right of the barn, adjacent to the driveway, surrounded by bushes and large branches, was a small shack, that had sunken at least a foot into the ground. Billy looked at Anne and asked,

“Hey, do you mind if I go over there?”

“No, not at all. I'm going to bring my dad inside and lay him down,” replied Anne.

“Oh, okay, I'll be over there if you need me,” said Billy, turning, and walking toward the shack which was closest to him. Anne turned back around and said,

“Just don’t fall on any railings,” and disappeared into the house. Billy started walking toward the shack near the driveway, as it was closest to him, and he took a quick glance behind him to see the trail of trampled grass he had left behind. He approached the entrance wearily, looking ahead for overlooked dangers, and seeing none, proceeded into the structure. The ground was concrete, which was hard to see under the thick layer of dead leaves and dirt that covered the majority of the surface. Glass crunched underfoot, and the roof had bowed in the middle, letting small amounts of light to shine in from above him. The walls were wood, and along them, many shelves held random odoties and various glass bottles, their contents long ago emptied. They were mostly wine and beer bottles, but some harder liquor bottles lay strewn in some corners. He picked one of the wine bottles up, and it read:
California Hills
Pinto Grigio, 1923

He discarded the bottle where he had found it, and it clanked against several other glass items, all with similar dates, 1920 through 1925. The shelves were all falling out of the drywall, or what was left of it, and he inspected the crevices in detail. Inside were carcasses of insects, dead long ago, and nails where the items had bogged them down. He was exiting the building, when he saw a piece of paper, fluttering from inside one of the crevices, and the light from the above sunken ceiling shone eerily onto it. He moved cautiously toward the shelf that hung from the wall by a single nail, and carefully plucked the paper from within. The shelf clattered to the ground, and startled him some. He looked at the paper intently. It was a piece of solid white paper, that was now yellowed with age, and it had been folded neatly several times. He held it into the light, and carefully unfolded it, revealing several words that had been written in calligraphy. They read,

“I know we've just moved in, but something doesn’t feel right about this house....” And that was all. The paper was not an entire piece, merely the top of another, larger piece, and the bottom half and left side of it had been ripped, leaving only the numbers ‘23’ on top, and ‘y 13’ beneath them. He inspected the paper, and considered possibilities, and returning the paper to it’s original size, shoved it into his rear right pocket, and walked out of the building. He looked around him, to the left was the front of the house, and to the right, a long stretch of woods seemed to go on forever, taking up the rest of the property in that direction. Along the edge of the dense woods, was even taller grass and scattered bottles of all sorts and kinds, mostly broken and intact glass bottles. Several soda and beer bottles lay around, and he stepped nearer to one of them. It too had a date that was between 1920 and 1925. He kicked it, and it rolled into the woods, and stopped against a long branch. He turned and kept walking, and he approached the pole barn with the same caution as he had when he’d entered the shack. The entrance was set to the right of the building, and had about the same height as the shack. It’s floor was dirt, and in the corner, among more broken bottles, lay a bundle of chicken fencing, and what he assumed had been the door that had into another part of the building to his left. The next part, to his left, went up about a foot and a half, and was a concrete floor. There were tall joists sticking from the dirt floor to the roof, and the walls were long gone, leaving an open space between the entrance and the rest of the building. He stepped up onto the platform, and looked above him. Several hornets nest’s hung from the ceiling above, but most of them appeared to have been abandoned long ago. He walked further, and a staircase lead down into the main part of the building. Where two large garage doors would have once hung, there were vast openings into the yard beyond the barn. To his right was a small hand built stage,which had collapsed long ago, and on the adjacent wall, was a small wooden tiki bar, with several torches surrounding it. Next to the staircase was an electrical panel, and upon opening it, he saw that several of the very old fashioned fuses had been smashed, or rusted with time. He clicked the lever to turn the power on, but as he suspected, the electricity had been cut off. He stepped off of the stairs, and looked above him. From the ceiling joists hung glass shards that were hung on strings, and glinted in the summer light. Among the top of the bar and stage was broken glass, and almost every square inch of the floor was coated in shattered glass, which crunched underfoot. He walked behind the bar, and saw several shelves underneath its surface, which once held bottles, that were mostly smashed or scattered about the floor. He kicked one out of the way, and watched it roll across the floor. Inside the clear, unlabeled container, was a rolled piece of paper, that rolled about with the bottle. He moved to it, and crouching down, picked it up from the floor. He looked, peering at its contents, and shielding his eyes, heaved it against the concrete, creating even more glinting shards on the ground around him. When the dust cleared a little, he moved over to the paper that lay in the pile, and picked it up carefully. He unrolled it with precision, and looked at its contents. It was a note, much like before, only this time, the left, top, and bottom had been ripped, leaving only the right side of the narrow strip of paper intact. The note read:

“My 'unrealistic' fears have been confirmed! Just last night Mary awoke to see a specter floating above her dresser! When she screamed, It vanished,” The note ended, but Billy had a feeling that there were more of them. He inspected every inch of the bar, and moved about all of the surfaces in the building, and found no other mysterious slips of paper hidden in any other crevices. He rolled the note back, and stuck it in his rear pocket next to the other. He exited the building, and walked through the tall dead grass to the house. He noticed that the van had been moved into the garage, and the boxes that were once on the encroachment, were now lying around the back of the vehicle inside of the building. He noticed the front door ajar slightly, and he walked over to it. He stood in the entryway, but heard no sounds from inside the house.

“Hello? Anyone in here?” He said into the open doorway. He stuck his head inside, and looked around the foyer, but saw nothing. Suddenly, from the stairs, there came a ghastly wail, and down the steps came a shrouded figure, whose tattered yellow clothes, accompanied by the lighting, made her look deathly. It seemed to glide down the stairs as though it were lighter than air, and it said in a raspy voice,

“I’m coming to get you Billy...”...