The house had sat empty for quite some time. I didn’t really care about the condition. Fixer-uppers are no problem for me. I was in a hurry to get a place of my own. My aunt let me move in with nothing down. She said to go ahead and start painting; just keep track of my receipts and start paying rent next month.
Back when my great grandmother lived here, it looked a lot bigger. I’ve got fond memories of family gatherings and Christmases past. It’s hard to imagine we could fit so many people in here. Most times, us kids were out on the front porch swing. Or we’d run around the fields like little heathens, then come back inside looking for cakes and pies.
It’s a step above what I’d call a shotgun shack. I can still see straight through from the front door to the back. The floors are creaky and bowed. Wind howls and rattles the panes. But it still feels like coming home.
There is such a thing as too quiet. The stillness of the night amplifies every sound to this strange intensity. Water dripping somewhere resembles footsteps. Branches scratching the eaves could be mistaken for claws. I tell myself that these moans and whines are just echoes from the highway drifting in on the breeze. After a night of tossing and turning in fitful broken sleep, I’m awakened by what sounds like crying – or was it screaming? – off in the distance.
I finally abandon any pretense of sleep and turn on the coffee maker to begin my day. From my periphery, I catch the fleeting glimpse of a shadow just outside the window. I run to fling the front door open, only to find the eerie calm of a world bathed in silver moonlight. Out here on the edge of town, there’s still plenty of critters running around at night.
I pour a cup of coffee and sit back in my recliner. Might as well watch the early news. Next thing I remember, I’m awakened by the knock at the door. It’s bright daylight now. I guess that with my not sleeping, nor drinking my coffee, I must have dozed off. Now I’m running late for work. They knock again, so I holler, “Come on in.” It’s got to be one of them kids, because I can’t see anybody’s head through the little window at the top of the door.
I open it to find this little old lady out on the sidewalk, way back away from the porch. “Good morning,” I tell her. She just stands there still, not blinking, not moving. Nothing. Her eyes are big. They have that milky blue look, like she’s blind or has cataracts. “Can I help you?” I ask. Still nothing. It’s cool outside and here I am standing in my boxers like an idiot. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Let me throw some clothes on. I’ll be right back.”
I grab a jacket and some shorts and run outside. “Honey, are you okay?” She’s still not talking. Just an outstretched hand with an upturned palm. “Are you hungry? Do you need some money? Where’s your car? Did you walk up here?” Suddenly the horn from my cousin’s truck distracts me. Then the blast of cold wind and whoosh from the wings nearly knock me back, scaring me half to death.
I’ve only seen owls up close just a handful of times in my whole life. To be that close to one when it takes flight is as amazing as it is frightening. Danny whips his truck into the drive and rolls down the window as he’s hollering, “Dude! Don’t you ever walk up on one of those things in broad daylight like that. It means they’re sick or something. They’ll scratch you with them claws, or sink that big beak into you, and you’ll probably catch something!”
“Where’d she go?” I asked.
He paused a second, then said, “Where’d who go? When I drove up you looked like you was about to touch it!” He’s yelling at me now, and cuts me off before I can explain about the old woman. “Look cuz, I need you to focus! OKAY?! You were supposed to be at my house thirty minutes ago. Not out here trying to get your eyes scratched out by some rabid barn owl! So, please, get dressed and get in the truck. NOW!” He jumps in and slams the door. He’s got the phone to his ear and is yelling at somebody else for a change.
Two minutes later, I’m chugging down cold coffee. I throw the mug in the grass beside the driveway and hop in the truck. Danny looks at me and says, “Sorry for yelling, bro. It’s just that this is a big contract. I don’t want us to be late the first day. I gotta have you 100%. That’s all. You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Did you see that blood on the sidewalk out there where she was standing?”
He isn’t even looking at me now. Just talking and driving. “That one was probably a big male. It had something in its talons as it flew off. Most likely a rabbit.”
I decide to drop the whole little old lady issue altogether. We had a big day ahead of us and Danny’s already got enough stress. Still. That poor old woman. Skin and bones. All stooped over like that. She was probably starving to death. There was something about her clothes too. Just rags really, of either a faded black or dark grey. With her scarf and shawl, she looked like some old peasant or immigrant woman from centuries ago. Nobody dresses like that anymore.
Work sucked. I guess we made a good showing for our first day, but my mind was someplace else. Throughout the day I felt confused and sluggish. Sort of like I was anxious or jumpy. All that gloom and impending doom seemed to be a premonition. I managed to cut my hand and fall off a ladder. All before lunch. I’m glad nobody saw me.
We got back to Danny’s and I help him unload the truck. There isn’t but four houses on our whole street. There’s a field in between each one. From his shed, we can see the outbuildings behind my place. The barns are all dilapidated and run down, but we still use the old well house and smoke house for storage. Our uncle built a two-story add-on as temporary housing when they moved here from California. There’s a hackberry tree out back. That’s where Danny says he’s seen the owl before.
I walk up the road, dead tired, hoping that I sleep better tonight. In the fading twilight, I can see my coffee cup sitting outside my front door. Strange. As I walk up, there’s a stick lying beside it. I bend down to pick it up, and it coils before taking a strike at me! I jump back and then run over to grab a plastic chair. The legs start breaking off as I try to kill the snake. I manage to spill the coffee cup and break it. Now the whole porch is covered in some kind of thick black gooey mess.
I unlock the door to turn on the light and there’s blood everywhere! It’s not all from the snake. That cup was full of it. It was all old and coagulated, with a dried skin over the top. It smells metallic, rotten, and foul. The snake is a copperhead. It’s late October. I’ve seen some snakes in the fall. I tell myself that it was just trying to get warm. But the blood. That was put here. I immediately think of that old woman and a chill makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I’m not really the spooky, superstitious kind. Nope. Now I’m just plain mad. I throw the dead snake out in the field and grab the hose to start spraying off the porch. When I turn off the water, I faintly hear that whining sound. It’s coming from around back. I run towards there and head straight for the two-story beside the smokehouse.
The door isn’t locked. I try to be quiet as I step inside. My little keychain light barely illuminates the pitch black. There’s boxes covered in rat droppings. Dust and spiderwebs are everywhere. The light is flickering as I make my way up the ladder. The upstairs floor is littered with bones and skulls of all sorts of animals. There’s more droppings and snake skins all over the place. My light goes all the way out and I wish I’d have grabbed my big flashlight from the truck. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see stars through a hole where the back wall meets the roof. I hold the sides of the opening and turn around to put my heels on the ladder to look behind me.
When the eyes opened up, they must have been only a few inches from my face. I’m frozen cold as adrenaline dumps ice water into my veins. Those eyes. That luminous blue-green unblinking gaze. I jump down to the floor. My whole body hurts as I lift myself and limp into the house. I slam and lock the door. I grab the baseball bat I keep under the bed as I sit there shaking. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The beating on the door rattles the entire house. I peek out from behind the curtain, only to be blinded by white light! Then my eyes reveal the most terrifying sight I have ever seen: “DALLAS COUNTY MARSHALL’S OFFICE! WE HAVE A WARRANT FOR YOUR ARREST!”
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