Guests Read online

Guests

  by

  Mark James Wooding

  Copyright 1987, 2010 Mark James Wooding

  All Rights Reserved

  ******

  The House is very old, but it's also very beautiful. Yes, it's so beautiful. It can be naughty at times, but even so, I've loved it ever since I bought it. Let's see, that must have been about twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five? No, it's been twenty-nine years, now that I think about it. Twenty-nine long, happy years.

  Sometimes, though, sometimes it gets a little lonely. That's why we like to have guests, the House and I. It's been a long time since we've had any guests. Much too long. The last ones were so much fun.

  It was in the fall of the year, and I wish I could say that the lightning that evening was so bright it nearly hurt my eyes. But there was no lightning. I love a good storm, and when the thunder rattles the windows almost to the breaking point I think it's so exciting. But there was no thunder that night. It's usually a nice storm that brings visitors to us, but not this time. However, it was a beautifully dark night.

  I sat down to enjoy a nice cup of tea. There was a cozy fire in the fireplace, and I watched it contentedly.

  The House is located far from the city, and many women my age would be afraid to live without neighbors nearby, but I'm not afraid. The House takes care of me, and I take care of the House.

  The only sounds that night were the grandfather clock ticking away, the crickets in the woods outside, and the crackling of the fire. Those were the only sounds until the loud knock on the front door. I wasn't expecting a knock at that moment and it startled me. I was surprised, but pleasantly so, and in my hurry to get up and answer the door I nearly spilled my tea. But I was careful to get myself under control. I didn't want my excitement to show.

  “Just a minute!” I cried out.

  Before I opened the door I checked my hair in the hall mirror. There was entirely too much gray in it, but there was nothing I could do about that at the moment. It wasn't messy, but I passed a brush through it a few times anyway. I applied a fresh coat of lipstick, then blotted my lips with a tissue and tossed the tissue into the little waste basket by the hall table. I checked my teeth in the mirror to make sure I hadn't gotten any lipstick on them, then examined my clothes. My dress looked like it should, but I smoothed it out with my hands anyway. I was so happy I couldn't help but smile. I took a deep breath to compose myself, then went to open the door.

  My late night visitors were a young couple, teenagers by the look of them. Their clothes weren't soaking wet, I'm sad to report, and their hair wasn't dripping like wet mops plastered to their heads. But they looked so miserable anyway that I wanted to laugh. But I didn't. The boy looked embarrassed, and the girl appeared a little angry.

  “Please, won't you come in?” I invited. I stepped aside to give them room, and I smiled my most welcoming smile. Their expressions changed from embarrassment and anger, respectively, to uncertainty. They looked as if they thought they might have made a mistake by coming here. My welcoming smile sometimes has that effect. Again I almost laughed. But I didn't.

  They hesitated. I said, “Please, come in. I won't bite.” I smiled again, and they looked at each other. I could tell they wanted to run away, but they didn't run. They must have been desperate. They came into the house and I closed the door behind them. I still wanted to laugh, and this time I couldn't help myself. I laughed and laughed.

  The look of terror on their faces made me laugh again. “I'm sorry,” I said. “Please forgive me. It's so seldom that we see any visitors here that I get excited.” They didn't seem at all reassured.

  The girl said, “Uh, we don't want to be any trouble. We just want to use your phone, please. Our cell phones aren't getting any reception out here.”

  “Two of our tires went flat and we need a tow truck,” the boy explained.

  Two flat tires? I don't suppose that could have been from the bottles I broke in the road, could it? I nearly laughed again, but I restrained myself.

  “Two flat tires?” I asked. “What happened, if you don't mind my asking?”

  “There was some broken glass in the road,” the boy replied. “And some roofing nails.”

  I'd forgotten about the roofing nails. They tend to do the trick when the glass isn't able to.

  “You don't say?” I sympathized. I started to laugh, but I caught myself in time. “Well, I would be delighted to let you use my telephone. But first, I need to turn off the stove. I'll be right back.”

  The stove wasn't on, but I had to get away for a minute. I was so excited I had to laugh again, which I did. It felt good to laugh, and feeling good made me want to laugh some more, which I also did.

  When I got back they were trying to open the door. The boy was pulling on the door knob as hard as he could, and the girl was urging him on.

  I knew the door would be locked, but I didn't lock it. It was the House. The House is so clever.

  “What's the matter?” I asked. “You haven't even made your phone call yet.”

  “Why have you locked us in here?” the girl demanded.

  “Let us out now!” the boy commanded.

  “Why, of course you can go if you want to,” I said. “Look, let me show you.” I smiled, and they stepped aside to let me pass. I opened the door with ease. “See, you just have to know the trick. It's the humidity that makes it difficult to open.” I closed the door again.

  I can see them now. She, so young and pretty, clinging to him, her anger forgotten. He, trying to be brave, but not very successfully. If she hadn't been there he would have been visibly shaken. I could tell. But he was strong for her sake. It was so perfect, and both of them looking like lost puppies.

  “We don't want to trouble you any further,” the boy said, quickly glancing at the front door behind me. The girl looked longingly at it as well. “If we could just use your phone,” he continued, “we'll head back to our car.”

  I leaned against the front door and I laughed. Then I laughed some more. The girl stepped next to the boy and he put a protective arm around her. If their eyes had been opened any wider I think their eyeballs would have fallen out. Which made me laugh again.

  “Trouble? You're no trouble at all.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “You have no idea how lonely it gets out here. We're so far from the city. I'm glad you've stopped by, although I'm sorry for your difficulties. But I know how much you want to be on your way. The phone is in the sitting room, through the doorway behind you,” I said, gesturing toward the room.

  They turned and looked cautiously into the room before entering. I so desperately wanted to laugh again, but my sides were beginning to hurt. With an effort I held it back.

  “It's over there, on the table by the window.”

  He practically ran toward it. The girl kept an eye on me and hurriedly joined her boyfriend by the phone. The boy looked at the phone for a moment before touching it. It was probably older than he was. It had a rotary dial instead of push buttons. He appeared unsure for a moment, then he picked up the handset. He tried pushing the buttons in the phone's cradle.

  “It's dead!” he said, looking at his girlfriend in dismay. Then he looked at me as if I could do something about the phone line. “The phone is dead. I can't get a dial tone.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, doing my best concerned voice. “Let me see.” I checked it. It had been disconnected over ten years ago, but I didn't tell them that. “You're right! It is dead!” I slowly replaced the handset. “Perhaps the line is down. You didn't hit the telephone pole, did you?”

  “No. I just pulled over to the side of the road after the tires blew.” He seemed afraid I'd be mad at him if he w
as the cause of the dead line.

  “I'm so terribly sorry,” I said. I smiled my most reassuring smile, but it didn't seem have a reassuring effect on the young couple.

  “Uh, why don't we, like, go back to the car, Brian?” the girl said to her boyfriend. “We can wait for someone to come by.”

  He looked at her with relief in his eyes. “All right. That's a good idea.” And then to me he said, “Well, thank you very much for your help. We'll just go down and wait in the car for someone to come along.” He put his arm around the girl's shoulders. “Come on, Ashley.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, “but your car wouldn't happen to be parked just past the curve on the shoulder of the road heading away from town, would it?”

  “Yes,” the girl replied. “Why?”

  “Well, a lot of the people who drive in the county this time of night tend to be people who've had a little too much to drink. When they come around that curve they come very fast, and if you're sitting in the car, it's likely there will be an accident. You wouldn't be the first ones to die on that curve. Or the second. Or even the third. The sheriff's department drive down this road several times each night. When the sheriff or one of his deputies see the car, and see that you aren't in it, then he'll come looking for you up here. This is the only house nearby. If you stay here then you'll be more likely to avoid a horrifying and painful death.”

  The girl and the boy looked at each other. They didn't seem convinced.

  “And I don't think you realize how lucky you are that you made it to the house safely.” I smiled. “It's a long walk from the road up the hill to the house. There's a pack of wild dogs that roam these woods, and they've attacked people before, but I'm glad you made it safely. Personally, I never go out at night, not anymore. But on the bright side, the dogs have driven off the wolves. And they don''t seem to have rabies, either, which is lucky, because there've been quite a few rabid raccoons around here lately. But you could probably outrun any of them with no trouble.”

  “Um, wild dogs?” the girl asked. “We didn't hear anything on our way up here except a lot of bugs.”

  “Oh, you wouldn't hear them, dear, not until they were right on you. And then it would be too late, I'm afraid.” I turned and pointed at the sitting room window. “If you look out the front window you can see down the hill toward the road. You can't see the stretch of road where your car is because of the trees, but you can see the road in both directions past that. I doubt if anyone but the sheriff would stop, but you'll be able to see from here if anyone approaches and doesn't leave. Don't you think it would be wiser to watch from here?”

  “Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to wait here for a little while,” the girl said.

  “What we could do,” the boy said, looking at the girl, “is I can go to the car by myself and you can wait here. When help comes I can come back for you.”

  She turned to face her boyfriend with her back to me. “What?” she said in what she thought was a whisper, but I could clearly hear her. “Are you out of your mind? You're not leaving me alone with her! What are you thinking? We're staying together. How could you even think of leaving me?” She looked at the floor for a moment, trying to calm herself. She looked at her boyfriend again and then turned back around to face me.

  “Are you sure it wouldn't be too much trouble?” she asked.

  “Trouble? Why don't be silly. You're not the least bit of trouble. And I haven't seen anyone here in so long. You would actually be doing us the favor by staying.”

  “Us?” the girl asked. “Who else is here?”

  “Why, Mr. Sylvester, of course. He's my cat. He's probably sleeping somewhere. He's the only company I have.” There was no cat, only me and the House, but I didn't think they'd understand about the House. Not yet, anyway. “Go ahead and stand by the fire and warm yourselves, if you like, and I'll go get us something to drink. Would you like coffee? Or tea? Or how about some nice hot chocolate?”

  “No thank you,” the girl replied.

  “I'll take some hot chocolate, if it's not too much trouble,” the boy requested.

  “No trouble at all,” I said. I laughed. I couldn't help myself. Things were going so well. “Please, make yourselves at home. I'll be back with the drinks in no time at all.”

  I left the room, and I felt so happy that before I got to the doorway I laughed again. My sides were still aching, but I couldn't help myself. When I got to the kitchen I laughed once more.

  I touched the tea kettle which I'd used for my tea, and it was still hot. I took three ceramic mugs from the cupboard over the counter, and I placed them on the counter. I put a packet of hot chocolate mix in each of the mugs, and I poured hot water over the powder. That's when I heard them trying to get out the front door again. I laughed out loud. The House had them. It was feeding on their fear, and getting stronger. I could sense it.

  The young couple were whispering frantically, and the sounds of their escape attempt grew louder. I laughed again.

  They weren't going to get out the front door. I heard them try one of the windows, but they weren't going out that way, either. Then there was silence.

  I began to slice some pound cake for our guests. They showed up at the kitchen door. I think they wanted to ask to be set free, but when they saw me with the knife in my hand they stopped, terrified. I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but laugh again, even though it hurt my sides. They ran like rabbits from a pack of hellhounds.

  The front door was closed to them. The back door was behind me in the kitchen. That only left two places to run: upstairs, or the basement. They chose upstairs.

  I heard their feet running up the stairs as I placed pieces of pound cake on a plate. I put the three cups of hot chocolate on a tray. Then I put the plate of sliced pound cake on the tray, too, as well as some napkins. After carrying the tray to the sitting room and putting it on the coffee table, I headed up the stairs with the knife. An old lady can't be too careful in a situation like this. Desperate people do desperate things.

  When I got to the top of the stairs I could hear them in the second bedroom to the left, which overlooked the front porch. A good choice. If they could get through that window they could climb out onto the porch roof, and from the porch roof to the top of the trashcans. Unfortunately for them, I knew that that window wasn't going to open.

  Then I heard a crash. I looked through the doorway and saw that they had tried to throw a chair through the window. The window cracked, but it didn't shatter. And then it began to heal. The cracks became smaller until they disappeared. The girl screamed. I laughed, and they both jumped.

  “Are you sure you wouldn't like some hot chocolate before you leave?” I innocently asked. “Or some pound cake? I make an excellent pound cake.”

  They looked like rats in a trap. Which they were.

  The boy picked up a lamp and jerked the cord from the wall. He held it as a weapon, and approached me as if to hit me.

  “You can't keep us here!” he demanded. “We're leaving and you can't stop us!”

  I held the knife in front of me so he would be sure to see it, but I didn't point it at him. That would have been rude. But I needed him to know that I wasn't completely helpless.

  “Oh, I haven't done a thing,” I informed him, although I'm not sure he believed me. I leaned forward and whipsered confidentially, “The House, though, that's another matter. The House has a mind of its own, and it really likes it when we have company. It doesn't like to see that company leave too soon.”

  They looked shocked to hear me speak about the House. I laughed at their expressions of surprise. They walked slowly backwards to the stairway. When they got to the top step they turned and ran downstairs.

  I sighed. This was so much fun. I slowly followed them downstairs. I couldn't keep up with them, you know. They were much younger, after all. I could hear them run into the kitchen and try the back door
, but they had no better luck there.

  They got back to the hallway as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Why have you locked us in?” the boy demanded.

  “I told you, it wasn't me,” I said. “It was the House.”

  “What do you mean,” the girl asked, “that it was the house? Houses can't do anything. They're just buildings.”

  The floor shook. The boy and the girl almost lost their balance, and I had the devil of a time not falling myself. I held tightly to the bannister with my free hand, keeping the knife safely away from my body. No need for an accident.

  “You've offended the House,” I said. “Most houses are just houses, but this house is alive.”

  “That's not possible,” the boy said.

  I shrugged. “It's true, so it must be possible. If you'd care to sit down for a minute, I can tell you about the House.”

  They hesitated.

  “Please, come into the sitting room. The hot chocolate is getting cold. It would be a shame to waste it.”

  I went to the sitting room and sat down in an arm chair by the coffee table. The couple reluctantly followed me. I held out a cup of hot chocolate to each in turn, but they weren't interested. They didn't even want any pound cake, which was a shame. It's one of my specialties.

  “The house was built by a man named Milton Maroogle. That's a picture of him and his family on the mantlepiece. They lived here for two and a half years before his wife took the kids and left. At least, that's the story that Milton told the sheriff. I don't know that anyone actually saw them again, but his wife wasn't from around here, so it could be that they moved back to her family's home and just never returned. Some people say that he killed them, but it was never proven. Personally, I don't think he killed them.

  “Are you sure you wouldn't like a piece of pound cake?” I asked. The girl shook her head, but the boy looked at the pound cake. I could tell he was tempted, but he shook his head in refusal.

  I cut a slice of pound cake in half, then ate one of the halves. I put the other half on a napkin and handed it to the boy. He took it, obviously conflicted between his reluctance to take anything from me and his desire to eat. His conflict was resolved when a drawer flew out of the small table and knocked the napkin and the pound cake out of his hand. The girl screamed, and the boy jumped back, terrified. But I was mad. I was proud of my pound cake, and I hadn't had anyone to share it with in so long.

  “All right now!” I shouted. “You behave yourself! I worked hard on that pound cake!”

  But my anger only encouraged the House. The coffee table went somersaulting until it hit the wall. It made quite a mess. So much of my poor pound cake was wasted. And I'd have a devil of a time cleaning the hot chocolate stains from the rug. But it was my own fault. I