The Old Cottage

     The morning the rain had stopped Rory decided he needed a break. A beam of sunlight reached through the sliver of opening in the drapery covering the large windows right next to his bed and kissing his eyes lightly like the soft lips of a mother gently waking her sleeping child. Rory groaned and rolled over away from the sun, whipping a pillow full force at the light. The sun, unaffected by this sudden act of aggression, kept on shining through.

        Rory threw his blanket over his head and wished himself back to sleep. He was dreaming about being a kid again and spending the summer on his grandparent’s farm in the middle of Nowhere, Pennsylvania; milking cows, playing fetch with their six-month old sheepdog, napping in the barn on a pile of hay, and rolling around in the mud with the pigs.

        Mom was always upset when I came back to the house all covered in mud. Rory thought to himself, trying to trick his body into believing he was still asleep. But to no avail. Rory flung his blanket off to the side of the bed and sat up. He lifted both his hands to his eyes to wipe the crust off, when he caught a whiff of his rancid breath. Jerking his head back suddenly from the smell, and flailing his nostrils, he stretched his arms back and let out a monstrous roar of a yawn. He turned and let his feet drop off the side of the bed, and one more time rubbing his eyes in an attempt to fully wake up.

        He stood up and glanced down at the time on the alarm clock resting on his nightstand. 8:13. Exactly seventeen minutes before his alarm would have gone off. He was glad the sun woke him up beforehand—however, disappointed at waking up sooner than he had hoped—because the sudden siren of the alarm would always send his body into a slight spasm and scare him nearly half to death. More often than not, too, he was still half asleep and would have no idea where, or even who he was. He reached his hand behind the alarm clock and slid the alarm switch to Off.

        Rory then proceeded to walk over to the curtains, open them the rest of the way, fully exposing himself to the dreaded thing that had woken him from his solemn slumber. He then remembered:

        “It wasn’t even a farm.” He said aloud, “It was a cottage.”

        As the memories of summer’s spent at his grandparent’s cottage came flooding back, he started getting ready for the day.

……

Two Weeks Later.

        The sun was just starting to set as Rory pulled up to the abandoned cottage after the eight-and-a-half-hour-long drive. He let out a sigh of relief at the thought of his arrival, and his four days of relaxation finally coming to fruition. No work. No alarm clock. Just him and his only two friends away from the stupid people at the fast-paced retail job that was slowly starting to suck the life right out of him.

        “Wake up, you drooling assholes,” Rory said, patting his hand on the center seat that separated his two sleeping friends. Both had passed out onto their assigned window. Instead of enjoying the farmland and cows, the two took it upon themselves to rest up, leaving Rory the important responsibility of the drive with no one but his thoughts to talk to. Rory didn’t mind. Besides, they had no idea where they were going anyway. “We’re here.”

        “What?” Thomas said. Rory’s oldest friend. They met playing soccer when they were kids, and since neither of them were actually any good at the sport, they were able to bond on the sidelines as they watched their team kick the crap out of their opponents. Their team had actually made it all the way to finals their first season. But lost when the ref made the coach throw them in the game in the last half. “Already?” Thomas glanced at his watch.

        “Where’d the sun go?” Andrea asked. Andrea was Thomas’s girlfriend.

        “Behind the tree line.” Rory pointed to the edge of some woods stood behind the cottage. “Help me unload the car.”

        Rory quickly got out of the car and grabbed his small suitcase out of the trunk, eager to get inside and relax. Partly excited to show off his favorite part of his childhood. Partly because he was eager to drink himself to sleep on his grandparent’s old couch he was hoping was still there. His parents had told him they had done a good job at keeping up the old place. But didn’t visit often because the floorboards creaked all over the house and it creeped his mother out.

        Thomas and Andrea stepped out of the car and met each other at the trunk as Rory creeped up the old stone steps of the cottage. After grabbing their bags, Thomas slammed the trunk closed and grabbed Andrea’s hand. The pair walked up to the steps to Rory standing unusually still in front of the door.

        “You okay, Rory?” Thomas asked, “They key not working?”

        Andrea noticed that Rory’s keys were still bulging in his back pocket.

        “The door is cracked open already,” Rory took a step back and looked at his friends.

        “Maybe your parents forgot to close it all the way the last time they were here,” Andrea suggested.

        Rory looked down at his friends from the top step. “Stay right here. And don’t move.”

        Rory knew his mom wouldn’t have forgotten to close the door. His mother had severe OCD and would never have forgotten to lock up. Rory lightly pushed on the center of the old wooden door with his hand and let it slowly creek open. “Stay here,” he said, one more time, emphasizing his concern.

        Rory walked into the old cottage. Thomas and Andrea could hear the floorboards creak with each step he took. They saw a light turn on through the window on the outside of the cottage. They could only assume it was the living space. Thomas listened for his steps as they grew fainter the further he walked into the house. From the open door, which had slightly closed on itself, they could see more lights turn on. Something had spooked Rory. Thomas had never seen him act this way.

        “Is he okay?” Andrea asked growing more concerned.

        “I don’t know,” Thomas replied.

        The couple stood there for a few moments before they heard Rory’s footsteps getting closer. Thomas started walking up to the door when suddenly it slammed in his face, nearly hitting him in the head. Thomas stepped back and tripped on the step beneath him, sending him falling into Andrea, and the two fell to the ground. Rory looked up and saw a shadow figure standing behind the curtains in the window of the cottage. Suddenly, the curtains flew open, revealing Rory who was laughing at his two friends now covered in dirt.

        “You fucking asshole,” Thomas shouted at Rory who was now opening the door.

        “You scared the shit out of us!” Andrea exclaimed.

        The two stood up and started brushing the dirt off of their pants.

        “I told you to stay there, didn’t I?” Rory said, still laughing at what was probably his best prank ever.

        Thomas looked at him with a smug grin, “Yeah.”

        “Come inside. Let me show you the place”

……

        After the tour, and the dinner Rory had made for them—pasta. It was the only thing he knew how to cook—the three of them sat on the couch and Rory had started telling them stories of his time at the cottage when he was a kid. Andrea had broken out a bottle of wine, Rory’s stories had started getting longer and less elaborate…less interesting, and the three friends started nodding off right in the spots on the couch where they were sitting. Rory was the last to fall asleep.

        As his eyes were getting heavier, and the cottage living space was getting blurrier, he saw a strange shadow figure walking up to him from what looked like the front door, which he knew he locked. With the reassurance from this final thought, Rory ignored the figure, thinking he had already started dreaming, and drifted off into the total blackness of sleep.

        BAM! CRASH! And then a scream.

        Rory was pulled suddenly from his subconscious and back into the real the world.

        Another scream. Rory blinked a few times trying to wake himself up and looked around trying to locate the where scream was coming from. Thomas was still next to him, only not for long. He bolted upright, stood up, and turned around. Andrea was standing behind the couch staring directly into the kitchen. Thomas grabbed her from behind making her jump and scream again. It was the familiar scream that had woken both of the men up.

        “What? What’s wrong?” Thomas asked with a shaky voice.

        “Look.”

        This time Rory stood up, and the two men stared in the same direction as her. The kitchen cabinets were all open and were clear of the dishes Rory’s mom had neatly placed inside of them.

        “I felt something grab my shoulder when I was sleeping, and then I heard the cabinets start to slam open and shut. I stood up to see if someone was there and there wasn’t anybody. The cabinet doors stopped moving and then all of a sudden everything flew out of them,” Andrea was almost in tears.

        Thomas had looked at Rory. Rory looked back at Thomas who looked as if he couldn’t believe what Andrea was saying. Rory looked outside. It was still dark out.

        “What time is it, Tom?”

        Thomas held up his watch, “3 a.m.!”

        Rory looked back at the kitchen and noticed a figure passing through the hallway. “What was that?” Rory pointed at the end of the house. Still too shocked to fully move, Thomas leaned over to try and see what Rory was talking about.

        “There! Down the hall!” Rory exclaimed, now pointing, “Something just walked out of the kitchen.”

        Suddenly, the bedroom doors that the group had completely forgotten about started slamming open and shut in unison:

        BANG! BANG! BANG!

        BANG! BANG! BANG!

        BANG! BANG! BANG!

        “We need to get out of here,” Thomas suggested. His voice was still shaky and his tone more serious.

        Suddenly, the lights in the living area that were left on the night before started flickering on and off. The sound of running footsteps on the creaky floorboards seem to be coming right at Rory. Right from where he had seen the figure move to. Each step getting a little bit louder. Each step getting a little bit closer. On instinct, Rory jumped onto the couch. Just then, the front door of the cottage flew open.

        Andrea screamed again. Even louder this time.

        The wind outside started to pick up and rushed through the front door of the cottage. A low-toned voice seemed to ride the wind, and when it spoke, it sent chills down the spines of all three persons, “Get out!”  

        That was enough of a sign for the small group of friends. Without saying another word, Andrea and Thomas bolted outside. Rory stayed behind and looked for his keys. The cabinets in the kitchen started banging again. Rory heard the water faucet turn on.

With the lights still flickering, and the doors still slamming, Rory found his keys and followed his friends out of the house. The front door slammed shut behind him all on its own. Then opened again. Then shut even harder. Fumbling the keys in his hand, he managed to unlock the car door and the three of them quickly got in.

Rory turned the car on and quickly put it into reverse. He backed out onto the main road, whipped the car forward, and drove off. As he drove passed the cottage, Thomas looked back and noticed the lights were off. The door was shut. And they were alright. Shaken up, sure. But alright.