The Elm House Read online

  “Eat up,” Mary told Jesse.

  Jesse’s eyes slowly glanced at Mary then back at Brad. The creepiness sensation, Brad felt was terrifying and uneasy. There was something wrong with her, Brad assumed. She didn’t appear to be the “Jesse” that Brad knew well. A subliminal change, almost dark and sinister, shined throughout her core. Redness around her eyes, Jesse had. This terrified, Brad to the bone.

  “Are you okay, Ladybug?” Brad asked Jesse. Ladybug, a nickname, was Brad’s name for her at times. When, of course, he isn’t aggravated with her, he’ll often show her how he cares.

  “Eveline, doesn’t like you.” Jesse said, sounding deep and raspy—almost possessed like—that sent chills up and down Brad’s spine. “She told me—you need to pray more.” She crackled like a witch mixed with a bit of madness from captivity in a mental ward. She stopped suddenly, placed her hand on her brow. “I don’t feel so good,” she cried.

  Mother and father both looked at each other with concern. Mother placed her hand over Jesse’s head.

  “You’re burning up, honey,” she said. She glanced over at her husband. “In the morning, I’ll take Jesse to the doctor. But for now,” she said, turning to Jesse. “Maybe, buttercup needs to relax for the night.”

  Jesse nodded her head slowly. She appeared deathly ill, Brad thought.

  “Is she okay?” asked Brad.

  Mother nodded her head, confidently.

  “Absolutely. Our little buttercup is just fine, just under the weather.” She led Jesse by the hand to her bedroom and came back down minutes later. She sat back down at the table and sighed.

  “There’s this nasty virus going around at her school. Perhaps, she got it from one of her classmates.”

  Father shrugged.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Season is changing, most people get sick around this time. A co-worker came down with it also. Boy, he was a mess alright. It looked like death just rolled over him. He came in—his face pale as a sheet—throwing up all over the place.”

  Brad made a repulsive face as he could vividly imagine his father’s co-worker throwing up chunks in the shop. Yummy… not!

  In the morning, mother brought Jesse to Dr. Finkleston—Evergreen’s general physician over at Evergreen Hospital near their old second-story home—then hours later, came home. Brad sat on the living room couch, watching television when they both came home.

  “How is she?” Brad asked, turning his head.

  “Mom—”

  He got up, headed towards the hallway, looked into the kitchen then started towards the hallway.

  “Mom,” he called out again. He believed that he had heard his mother enter the house. In fact, he could’ve sworn it on his very own grave. Brad doubted the fact that he was hearing things. But he thought that he heard his mother enter the house.

  “Mom?” He stared up the stairs leading to the second-floor hallway. Then Brad slowly walked up the stairs. His heart pounded in his throat. His sweaty and clammy hands groped the stair railing as he headed up the stairs. Brad felt a slight icy-cold tingle on the back of his neck. As he reached closer and closer to the second-floor hallway, the goosebumps on the back of his neck raised. He stood at the head of the second-floor stairs, looked left then right down the hallway.

  “Mom?” he called out again. His eyebrows furrowed, peeked inside Jesse’s room, but they weren’t there. He turned around, jumped back a bit as he saw the attic door slowly creaking open. Brad’s spine tingled as fear rushed through his veins. He rushed towards the attic door and slammed it shut, headed briskly down the stairs to first-floor hallway. His heart thudded against his rib cage.

  Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

  His heart pounded harder and harder, faster and faster. The front door swung open, and Brad jumped backwards, giving a loud yelp.

  “What is it, darling?” Mother asked as Jesse and she entered through the front door.

  “I thought… never mind… how is she?” Brad asked his mother.

  “It’s the common flu, Dr. Finkleston had said. Nothing to worry about.” She looked down at Jesse as Brad’s sister looked tired. “Isn’t that right?”

  Jesse nodded, sniffling and wiped the snot (dripping slightly from her nose) onto her long-sleeved shirt.

  “Can I eat peanut and butter sandwich?” she asked mother.

  “Anything for my little girl,” mother said, stroking her long beautiful hair. They both headed into the kitchen.

  I’m possibly losing it, or this house is playing with my mind. Yeah, that’s it! This house wants me all stir crazy, so I end up in the looney farm. It has to be! Just maybe, Brad, is onto something here.

  CHAPTER 7

  Brad was comfortably asleep like a little baby. When his bedroom door squeaked slowly open, he was not even disturbed. Until he jerked himself away after feeling an icy palm on his shoulder.

  “Wake up!” An unfamiliar voice whispered to Brad. A voice that sounded like a small boy.

  Brad’s eyes widened.

  “Who are you?” Brad asked the boy. It’s that boy again—isn’t it? He remembered Jesse asked him one day.

  Who’s Matt and Margaret? He remembered mother asking Jesse.

  Brad’s my brother, Brad remembered Jesse telling some invisible thing in the attic.

  I must be dreaming… yeah, I must be dreaming. I’m dreaming, right? Or am I totally insane, now?

  “Who are you?” Brad asked again, but the boy stayed silent and stared at him, softly smiling at him. The type of smile a person gives strangers while being polite but shy at the same time. But this boy didn’t appear ghastly white or semi-transparent; he appeared flesh and blood—like any other person would be. Solid and fleshy, the boy’s appearance was.

  “Come with me,” the boy said, beckoning him with his index finger, turning around then headed out of Brad’s room.

  Brad threw aside his blanket and arose from bed to follow the boy.

  It’s odd because the boy seemed to be from a different era. If Brad had to guess, he would possibly—take a ballpark guess—say the boy was from the early 1900s—maybe even 1920s. It was a rough guess, of course, but the boy’s fashion of clothes seemed more Victorian or much earlier on. The boy wore a newsboy hat, and plain white button shirt with a tie, nickers and ankle boots. The boy lead Brad through the hallway, down the stairs, and out to the backyard.

  The night’s sky was naked with stars that brightly shined. The moon, bright and full, illuminated as its casted shadows upon the damp—recently trimmed—grass. Brad continued to follow the boy in the backyard near the Elm tree that stood near his bedroom window. The boy turned, facing Brad, and stared blankly at him. He wasn’t next to the Elm tree, but he appeared (to Brad) to be standing at some important spot that had some kind of importance.

  What was he trying to show me? Brad questioned himself.

  “What is it?” Brad asked the boy.

  The boy’s mouth opened widely into a scream but nothing came out from his mouth. His face began to deteriorate, transitioning from the pinky flesh to pale ghastly pale, and rotting away like a corpse. His eyes became sunken in, deeper into his eye sockets. His fleshy skin became flaky and withered, shriveling up like a dried raisin. The whites of his teeth exposed as his rotten gums shriveled upward. His eyes became murky and cloudless, no signs of the spark of light, as they stared back at Brad’s horrified face. Finally—a deafening high-pitched, horrifying, scream released from the boy’s throat. And the smell of decomposed flesh left his breath. Then the boy turned to ashes that fluttered about in the night’s slight breezy air.

  Brad’s eyes bug eyed, and his heart inside his throat. He closed his eyes tight.

  I must be dreaming. This is a dream. This has to be a dream. I need to wake up. I need to wake up. I’m dreaming… yes, I’m dreaming… I need to wake up. Wake up, Brad! Wake up, Brad! Wake up!

  Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

  His heart pounded harder and harder. Faster and faster, Brad’s heart pou
nded. A scream left his throat as he jolted awake from his bed. He breathed faster and faster.

  Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

  His heart still pounded faster and faster. Harder and harder, his heart pounded. Sweat trickled down from Brad’s brow as he realized it was just another horrible and terrifying nightmare. Which he had encountered before, but Brad’s nightmares were progressing worse each night. He plopped his head back down on his pillow, stared blankly at the ceiling, and sighed. Was that Matt? Brad questioned. What was so important about the Elm tree outside my window? Someone around this damn town must know more about this house.

  Brad slowed down his breathing and pacified his heart before he fell asleep, again, like a baby.

  Brad’s first day back to school after his suspension. Which he shouldn’t had been suspended, in the first place, from that fight with Ted. After class, Brad had a chit-chat with Ms. White. She was at her desk, going through her pupil’s homework, when Brad distracted her.

  “May I ask you a question?” Brad asked her.

  She glanced up and gave a warm smile, adjusting her glasses. Normally, she wouldn’t wear reading glass, but she did look more sophisticated. Her buttoned blouse was slightly unbuttoned but not sleazy, in any way—more eye candy and beautiful in a way, as she wore a 24-carot gold Cross around her neck.

  “What is it?” she asked, leaning back into her chair, placing her delicate hands on her stomach.

  “Well… it’s about my house. The house I live at on 333 Elm Road. Is it true what they say—it’s haunted?”

  She breathed in, looked down at papers of her pupil’s homework, and sighed. She sat upright, held the papers firmly in her hands and smirked.

  “You shouldn’t believe stories like that. Right?”

  What is she hiding? Does she know something or not? Brad impatiently thought. Why this whole beating around the bush, nonsense?

  “There’s a boy, my sister tells me, named—Matt.”

  She gazed away from the papers, placed them down on her desk, and stared into Brad’s eyes.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s haunted. But I would most definitely say this… people that moved into your home… they seem to either move out as fast as they can, or they do bad things to their family members. Is it haunted? I don’t think so. But it’s uncanny that families would move out fast and never look back. It’s strange to think that multiple families had done bad things to their loved ones in the house. You seem to be a bright young man, Brad. It shows on your homework and test results. If you’re interested in knowing more about your house, you could try the town’s clerk. Perhaps the local librarian would provide better assistance. I, for one, am not truly a native to this town, so I wouldn’t know very much about your house—only hearsay from other town folks.”

  Bad things happened to family members? Previous families moved out as fast as they moved in? Now it makes sense. Their precious belongings still inside the attic, dating back ages ago.

  “Thank you, Ms. White.” Brad smiled, turned and headed out of her classroom.

  “You’re welcome,” she called out as Brad left her classroom and into the hallway.

  Timmy’s cheesy smile spread like butter on toast.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Do you and Colin wanna come with me to the town’s clerk office and library after school?”

  Timmy shrugged, nodded his head.

  “Sure, why not,” he said. “Can’t say about Colin, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s bedridden,” Timmy said. He slapped Brad’s arm and stopped. “You hear that?”

  Bedridden?

  “Sick?” asked Brad.

  “But do you hear that though?” Timmy asked.

  Hear what? Brad thought. I hear students just talking and yapping with each other.

  “No,” Brad said. “What am I supposed to hear?”

  Timmy gave Brad a disappointed face, shook his head.

  “Ted’s not here, anymore, after that fight. There’s no flailing screams in the hallway—not one peep, just total silence—since he’d been gone.”

  “Oh, yeah… maybe he’d been expelled. But his father—The Iron Fist of Old Willows Brooke—would shut down the school before Teddy is expelled. His father is one mean-spirited bastard, alright.”

  “His father is scary. I’ve heard through various of people that his father is connected, to have people air out his dirty laundry.”

  “Air out his dirty laundry?”

  “Brad, you’re having one of those blonde moments, again—aren’t you?” Timmy asked, laughing.

  “He has people that make other people sleep with the fishes, so to speak.” He paused a moment. “Hey, Johnny, I need you to do me a favor… will ya? Make Bobbie take a dirt nap, capisce?” Timmy spoke like a mobster boss.

  “Now, I got it.”

  “There’s a reason why Daggard let’s Ted get away with murder around this school,” Timmy said.

  Now, that’s explainable. Where are we going? Right, I forgot—there’s an important announcement at the gym.

  After the announcement in the school’s gym, some of the students could be seen frowning and shocked. Some students showed zero empathy that the fact he had passed away. How he passed away? The school wouldn’t disclose that private information to everyone. It was tight-lipped to protect Ted’s family wishes. Some of Ted’s victims were slightly relieved, yet they appeared to miss the routine of being pushed into lockers, forced to drink toilet water, and forced to kiss the bottom of his shoes. They were “the abused” and some odd reason or another; they seemed to enjoy Ted’s masochism. Nah, they couldn’t possibly miss the Prince of Douchebag Town—right? Brad questioned.

  “Well, there’s no Ted,” Timmy said. Almost like he was trying to figure out who the next bully would take Ted’s place, Brad thought. Every school has bullies, Brad knew with certainty. Once a King of Bully-Town leaves, another douchebag sits cozily in their new throne.

  “How bad is Colin sick?” asked Brad.

  “Sicker than a dog.”

  Brad remembered how his sister’s face was ghastly white and ran a 102-degree fever. He’d heard his mother occasionally check up on her. Also, Brad couldn’t help but to overhear his parents arguing that night. That night, Brad heard his sister vomit from his bedroom. Luckily, mother gave Jesse an empty trash bin to puke in. He didn’t have the best of sleep. Brad remembered waking up around midnight, heading down to the kitchen, boiling some water to make Jesse some tea. She’d sip away at brewed tea. Her crusty rolled up tissues tossed onto the floor. Jesse’s pillow had beautiful green cake of snot. And we can’t forget the pungent smell from her trash bin.

  Brad tried not to look inside the trash bin, but his nose smelled her vomit. Brad became queasy and green in the face. He’d smile, politely, and asked if she’d need anything else. Jesse shook her head and told him, “Thanks.”

  “Night-night, Ladybug.” Brad took the cup from her before he’d left her room. Jesse certainly looked like shit and death rolled over her.

  I wonder if Colin has the same common flu? Brad thought. He warped his attention back to the present as he and Timmy walked down the hallway to their next class.

  After school, Brad headed home. He wanted to ask his mother if he could get a ride to the city hall. She was inside the kitchen, wash cloth in hand, cleaning the countertops. She turned around as soon as Brad entered the kitchen doorframe.

  “Well, hello!” she said, turning her attention back to cleaning the counter tops. “How was school?”

  “It was fine. Ted, the boy that bullied me, had died recently.”

  “Well, isn’t that just awful. How?”

  Brad shrugged his shoulders.

  “I don’t know.”

  He paused a moment, watching her clean the countertops.

  “Can I go to the town hall?”

  His mother turned her face towards Brad with a question mark above her head.

  “What f
or?”

  “I want to look stuff up.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  Brad reluctant to tell her, but he decided she wasn’t like his father.

  “Well… I want to see who lived here before.”

  “Oh?” his mother said. “What has gotten you so interested about who lived here?”

  “Ms. White, my English teacher, had told me some of the family members do bad things to each other. And families move out faster than they moved in.”

  Mother scoffed. “Those are probably stories that are meant to scare you. This house is perfectly fine.” She tossed the soaked rag into the kitchen sink, turned around and folded her arms in front of her chest.

  “If you insist, I can’t stop you. So, what time do you want to go?”

  She must think that getting this out my system will work, Brad thought. I can’t help to notice that there’s something odd about this house. It’s not like she’s blind to it, too, right? She has to notice some of the eeriness!

  “Sooner the better,” he said.

  Mother nodded.

  “How about now?”

  “Sure,” he replied, smiling. Will I find anything? Will I get some type of clue? Maybe, just maybe, I’ll find out who this Matt, boy, really is.

  Brad headed to the town hall’s recorder’s office on the second floor. The town hall of Old Willows Brooke had three floors with multiple offices. Soon as Brad entered the town hall, there was a billing department for: property taxes and water. Straight ahead from the billing department were two main elevators that headed to the third floor. The second floor had the recorder’s office and other offices. The third floor had social security services and the mayor’s office—Ted’s father. Brad hoped he wouldn’t face the mayor, anytime soon.

  Once, he got out the elevator off the second floor. Brad headed down to the recorder’s office which had a sign above its office door. He opened the office door and started inside the office. Brad was greeted by an elderly woman, possibly in her 60s, that wore thick rimmed glasses and had her hair pulled up in a bun. Her skin seemed to still shine a healthy radiant glow. She saw Brad and smiled widely from ear to ear.