As a TimeBomb news reporter, it was my job to uncover the facts surrounding a string of vicious killings along the coast. I had to rely on my instincts and powers of observation to report on the facts before the story was gone or I'd never get these facts for my first big story. I hopped on the next flight to the location and booked a room at the nearest hotel, ready to start the investigation.
By the time I got there, my source had given me the address of the house on the edge of town. The locals were superstitious about the place, but that didn't stop me. I knocked on the door and took a step back—I didn't plan for someone to answer.
The man who opened the door was broadly built, with a large brown beard and a navy blue police shirt. He didn't look like a local but he didn't look strange either.
"Hello, good sir," I said with a kind smile.
"Who are you?" he asked, eyes narrowing at me.
"I'm from [...] newspaper. I'm here to investigate a rash of recent murders and look into the house."
He shook his head and sighed. "The house is occupied, saavy. I insist you not tramp through my home, get into trouble, and then leave."
My mouth dropped open for a moment. He didn't look dangerous. I swallowed. "I'm a journalist. The truth of the matter is that since I got in touch with you, I've heard several rumors that state that there have been murders inside the house."
A ghost of a smile crossed his bearded face. "I have heard none of that. Why else would one tramp through my home?"
"You live here?" I asked.
"Yes, I do."
I grinned. "So, if there's not a house then, does that mean there's a home?"
"Very good," he said.
"I'm pleased that you think so. Well, in that case, I'd like to enter your home. At least, to the room at the end of the hallway. I want to take photos and gather more information."
"You will tramp through my home, get in trouble, and leave," he said turning away.
I reached inside my bag, pulled out my wallet, and opened it up. I held it out to him. "Please sir, just one photo, one short interview. All I ask is that you allow me to be a journalist, sir."
He took it, read the name at the bottom of the paper, and regarded me for almost a full minute without speaking. "Be my guest. It is your home after all. I won't get in your way."
The room the officer led me to was large, with wide open space and a window on the far wall that overlooked the ocean. There were boxes full of souvenirs, and furniture that looked like it belonged in an older home. An old bookcase was full of various books, the majority of them were stuffed with notes and newspaper clippings. I picked up a newspaper clipping and studied it.
"Hello?" a woman asked from the doorway.
I dropped the clipping, my heart leapt into my throat, and I turned to face the woman.
She was young, not very tall, blonde, and pale. She wore a poofy white dress and had a desperate look in her eyes.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm a journalist. I was just telling your husband here that I was interested in doing a small piece regarding the house. You know, that no one lives in and that there are deaths in it."
"Oh honey," she said, "He didn't make you tell him that, did he?"
"Excuse me?"
"He always makes people tell him. He sees ghosts and things."
Sometimes the best way to get a story is to get your source to talk. I nodded, took out my notebook and pen, and spoke.
"What do you mean by ghosts?" I asked.
She folded her arms, a frown on her face. "You don't know?"
"I'm a journalist, ma'am. I just wanted a quick interview and then I'm out of here."
"You're not going to stay in our house?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. Of course not."
She smiled the kind of smile that most people think is false. "My husband is dead."
For a moment I thought I had drunken too much coffee and was living in a dream, but her eyes were hard on me. I nodded and started asking questions.
"What... What happened?"
"His family moved back from the city after the last big storm hit the coast. They moved right next door and were surprised to see some of the family who were still there. My husband believed in ghosts, as most do. At first it was a joke, but then he dug up a grave and told me that there was a casket in there. He took down the headstone."
"And you believe him?"
"I don't know. I don't understand it all. It's been two months. We don't speak of it. Actually, I don't care what he did. He's here now. He's here to watch me and my kids."
"So, you think he's here because he's not afraid to keep his eyes on you if something terrible happened?"
She nodded. "Yes, I do."
"So, how dangerous is this house? How often does it have problems?" I asked.
"Bad stays at the house. But bad stays inside. I don't believe it's a touchy house. It's a place of death. I don't think there has been death in it for a very long time. Can I help you?"
I nodded. "No... Thank you. I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'm just trying to help your husband. I'm out of here."
"All right. I'd like that. No harm done in the house. My husband doesn't break all my things. There are other rooms in the house. All of them."
I nodded and listened politely until she walked away.
"You believe her?" The police officer asked as I shut the door behind me.
"I don't know," I said as I turned to leave. "Maybe. We'll see what else we can find out. Any chance I can borrow your badge?"
"Yeah, but the wife doesn't want anything to..."
"Sorry this must come as a shock. I'm curious about this house. It seems like a ring of death in the heart of a poor village. If there's a way to get information, I'm all ears."
He nodded and handed me his badge. I put it on and left, heading back into the village and meeting the eyes of the people who lived there. It was a working class village, one that sold and bought things in the city, but it didn't seem like a city place at all. It was like a place that had forgotten what it had been. I sat down on the front porch of a local business and ordered a coffee from Starbucks. "Here have a cookie."
I looked up and saw a thin, elderly woman holding out a small plate with a sugar cookie.
"Thank you," I said.
"It's nice to see a man acting strange in these parts. I've seen you around a few weeks back. Didn't think anybody'd sleep in this place. Good to see you back."
"I still can't get used to the cold."
"I always try to remember what the one said to the other. It was our song, it brought us together."
"What did he say to her?" I asked.
"It let her know he wasn't out there. He was home, where he needed to be. He couldn't come in without her permission."
"What happened?" I asked.
"She said she couldn't come in without his permission. And he said there were no hinges on the door. That door had never been opened. Who are you?" She asked as she leaned forward on her cane. "Do you have family here?"
"No, no. I'm here to do a story. I'm hoping I can get some people to talk. I'm trying to find out about a house on the edge of town. They say some terrible things have happened."
"We've all heard stories of what happened to the people who lived there. It has something to do with the way the trees bend, the way the sun shines, the way the thunder claps. Terrible things happen under terrible circumstances. They always do."
"I like how you think," I said. "What were they doing when they all disappeared?"
"Well, you see, sir, there aren't that many people left in this town. Most of them came when they were young and left as they got old. But three families lived in that house. They were a group of tall, squat, redheaded folk. Some of them had eyes that were far too light, but you could hardly tell. They lived there and they came here... Until the ghosts called. Then they left. And then those three families were gone, too."
"And what about the house itself?"
She said nothing for a moment, then said. "It was haunted."
"Haunted or cursed?"
"Sometimes I wonder if it's anything someone said or simple curses. I believe they have their reasons. But what can you do with the spirits of an old house? You know, you see it, talk to it and give it some respect, but do you know what you do to it? You can't walk into a new house and say, 'I am you.' You must respect it."
"So, they only talk to the three families who lived there. Then the house is supposed to always be haunted?"
"The family that built it was a great family. They built it with a lot of love. It was a happy home and they were happy folk. They worked hard and played very hard. They always had money. They owned the town and that family, you know them better than I do because you are one of them, lived very well from their families. The first person that saw the house was Stacey Frost. A witch lived on the edge of the woods. She saw Frost and liked what she saw. She was a very evil woman and very tricky. She walked next door. I heard it from someone. He said he came home and was greeted by loud music. He found Stacey in the center of the house and for a moment they talked.
"Well, the next day, the music stopped and he never heard from Stacey again. He said she smiled and left his doorstep without a word. But the music stopped. That is what Stacey was doing. She was sending the man a message, saying she was coming. But you see, there was a story about the house before Stacey was born. Her parents had a younger brother, and later on her brother had a wife. Right before the brother passed, he left his house to his wife. He made her the sole heir of everything and everything went to her. Except for the house. And there she was, standing on that porch. But she was never heard from again either."
"Okay, so that conflicts with the story about Stacey. The house was built after her mother and father passed. So, only three families lived there. It gives it a different kind of meaning, doesn't it?"
"Why would it mean anything? I'm not an expert in the house. Only in the past. I would warn you, the blackthorn tree is a family tree. I think that's why every family had to leave. They couldn't live here because the tree was theirs. They couldn't live at the house because it was their house. Poor Death has a lot of what he wants, but he spent a lot on the house. It's why it's still standing. A great old house in an old village is not his best investment. If he didn't like the price, he would have gotten out of it easily. But he likes the people."
"Okay, but he wanted the house for his own family? It seems a bit extreme to me. If I had that house, I'd want to live in it, not keep it in the family forever."
"Well, you know it's not about what he wanted. It's about what he needed. Just because he likes you doesn't mean he won't hurt you. You are special on his list now."
"Okay, so what about the house?"
"The house is special when it comes to the town. The owners of that house, the Browns, were a very nice family. They were very kind people. If they didn't like you, you'd forgive them for that because they were nice. They were helpful. All three families are nice folk. Stacey Frost needs to be gifted with a family. All three of them were. The Crones could have waited a bit longer to get married to get a gift. But they were scared to wait too long. And you know that's what happens to people. They don't wait for anything anymore. That's why the house is so important in this town. It's because it's a family place."
"I don't get what you're saying."
"They'll never come back. You'll see. Good will be a hard thing to come by. You need your family here. If you don't have one, they'll find you. The tree will find you. The family will always come back. They'll leave, but they'll always clear their debts."
"It's a nice story. It's just that I'm here to do a story. I believe the house has a curse on it."
"Don't think that. Curses are simple and easy to take away. Twist the words on you. It's delightfully easy. We use it a lot. We have those little taboos and tiny rules that break those taboos. Sometimes we don't care where they come from. We just understand that you can't break them. That warning has to tell you something. Cleary have known that this story is suspect. Which part of it is a curse, I wonder. If you don't believe it, then I'll give you the last word. If there is no end to that house, doesn't make it good. And as for my final point, only I knew about the stories of this house before any of these people. A lot of people have heard about this house. But only one person has heard about the beginning of it. About the tree, the house, and the letter."
"What letter is that?"
"The one I might find. Sometimes, I do. I might not be able to read it. But if you've got a feeling about it, chances are I'll find it, but you can't ask me about it. That's your final warning. We'll talk more about it later. Right now I should take my leave. 'I've got some family obligations if you ever want to talk. I know a lot, but I had a feeling you wouldn't believe me. I wouldn't. Goodbye."
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