She Said Yes

Kenan turned off the engine and pulled down the driver’s side visor, giving himself a once over in the mirror. Exiting the car, he used his reflection to straighten the collar on his shirt before patting his pocket, double checking for the ring box, and started up the walkway. The two story house loomed over him like a monolithic doll house, casting doubts into his heart. He’d never considered the possibility that she would say no, or that her family may have some issue. Elizabeth had been there for him through everything in the last two years, and he couldn’t imagine a life without her.

There was no doorbell, only a sleek pink plastic looking ring underneath a peep window. The knocker’s bright color contrasted the snow white of the door, looking less functional and more like a drawer knob on a child’s play kitchen set. Despite the appearance, the door represented a turning point and growth in their relationship. Beyond its frame stood an answer and positive or negative, life would never be the same.

“Fortune favors the bold,” he said, inching his hand upward and grasping the cool lifeless plastic.

Seconds later, Elizabeth opened the door, allowing a rush of air conditioning to land on Kenan’s face, carrying with it the smells of a veritable smorgasbord from deeper within. Just inside he could see a baseball bat and glove leaning against the wall at the base of a massive coat rack that held old looking but otherwise prim garments..

“Give me just a second to make sure everyone is in place, ok babe,” she said giving him a quick kiss and retreating back into the smells and cool air and leaving him with the growing anxiety. A cloud passed in front of the sun, casting shade on the neighborhood. Seconds later, the door reopened. This time, a woman looking strikingly like Elizabeth but ten years older stood into the threshold.

“You must be Kenan, we’ve heard so much about you. I’m Elizabeth’s mom, Marie. Come on, let’s get you in out of the heat,” she said. If Kenan hadn’t already known Elizabeth didn’t have a sister, the woman before him certainly would have passed for one. She sported a teal sweater draped over the shoulders of her white blouse and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail like Barbie getting ready to hop into her pink convertible for a weekend trip with Skipper.

Inside, the air felt even colder than Kenan was expecting, pulling the warmth from his body and sending a shiver down his arms. The pale blue wallpaper gave the illusion that he’d just stepped into the taiga, contrasting with the dark wood moulding and framework. To his left, a young boy in a green and white striped shirt played with toy cars on a circular rug. 

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” she said. She locked her arm around his. “Georgie loves spending time out in the front room when he gets the chance. Let me show you to the dining room.” Her pull was gentle and delicate, if not a bit robotic, like a soft breeze nudging him forward. As they walked, a door to the right caught his attention. It was the same color as the dark wood moulding, but looked far older and decrepit than anything else in the house. A padlock rested unlatched on the frame. The smell from behind the door was unidentifiable yet familiar, and carried a trace of warning.

“Never you mind the cellar now,” Marie said. The pull on his arm grew stronger to match the sudden and terse change in her voice. He felt her breath touch his neck on the final word, carrying more command than mere suggestion.

A man who couldn’t have been more than five years older than Kenan sat at the dinner table, newspaper in hand. His glasses and haircut gave the spitting image of Buddy Holly in his early forties. With his foot resting on his opposite knee and navy sweater over collared button-up, his pose looked more like a department store mannequin than a father greeting his daughter’s lover for the first time.

“Hey, there’s the big guy. Put ‘er there, Chris Mortensen. But you hardly need an introduction after all the stories I’ve heard,” he said, extending his hand to Kenan. Chris’s grip was light but decisive, and cool to the touch. Goose pimples shot down Kenan’s arms with another shake. Their electricity bill must be through the roof, this entire house is an icebox.

“Georgie, put your cars away and come here, dinner’s almost ready,” Marie called. The boy trudged in, one car still in hand. Georgie stood in the entryway to the kitchen and locked eyes with Kenan, giving all the suspicion of a child at the doctor when told he wouldn’t feel a thing.

“You’re not supposed to be here. This isn’t your place,” he said. His morose tone took Kenan by surprise, reminding him of Marie’s comments in the hallway.

“Now be nice Georgie. Kenan is our guest,” Chris said. “Why, one day he may even join the family himself.” Kenan felt his potential father-in-laws eyes drift to the square bulge in his pocket and understood the statement for the blessing it was. Georgie, not satisfied, slumped his shoulders like a marionette given slack.

“Why would he want to do that? So he can go to his room and not leave until he’s been a good boy too?” Marie gave a chuckle at her son’s indignation. The boy threw himself into his chair maintaining a firm grip on the car..

“Before we get settled, would you point me in the direction of the restroom Mrs. Mortenson?” Kenan asked. The butterflies had returned, dancing pieroets in his throat.

“Back down the hall we came down and take the second door on your right,” she said. “Be sure not to get lost and end up going down to the cellar now.” She paused. “Actually, Georgie, would you be a darling and lead him so that he doesn’t lose his way?”

“No that’ll be quite fine. Second door on the right,” Kenan said. The thought of Georgie even complying without argument seemed unlikely and something else was beginning to nag at him. Elizabeth was taking a long time getting ready. Did she know what he was planning? Was she trying to make sure everything was perfect, or was she preparing for a way to let him down easy? The butterflies morphed into hornets, buzzing up from his throat into his head until he could barely think.

Georgie stood without word and took him by the hand, still holding his car in the other like an old worry stone. The boy’s movements seemed forced, as if not entirely his own, though his face grimaced, showing all his displeasure at having to parade this stranger around his home. In the hall, Georgie paused outside the cellar door. It seemed to be drawing them, pulling their attention deeper within its recesses.

“Mom and Dad don’t want you to see the cellar. They say it’s a mess down there but I know the truth,” he whispered. “There’s a monster down there.”

“A monster?” Kenan said, a slight grin pursing his lips. He knelt down to Georgie’s level.

“Yeah, a monster. And once you’re down there, you can only come out sometimes when the monster decides it wants to play with you.”

“Well, I’m here now. You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not afraid of the monster,” Kenan said, hoping some of the confidence would transfer to the boy.

“You should be.”

In the bathroom, Kenan splashed warm water on his face. The house was growing colder by the second, like a plastic toy left in the yard cooling with the setting sun. The restroom felt warm. It was the warmest he had been since the front porch. The pastel pink walls and yellow towels gave a cozy, safe feeling.

K’THUNK. 

The sound came from deeper in the house. Kenan dried his face and stepped outside.

“Georgie, you ok?” but the boy wasn’t there. The house was silent now. No noise from the dining room either.

Kenan looked down the hall and saw the cellar door was cracked open. His heart skipped a beat. Georgie must have tried to be brave and fell down the stairs. Rushing forward, his hands gripped the old wood door and pulled forward. Flies swarmed in his face. The smell of rot, of death, wafted up from the depths and hooked its fingers into his nose.

He put his foot on the first step, testing its strength and eliciting a loud groan. The others gave similar protest as he descended further into the darkness. The air grew heavy and hot and the odors consumed him. Georgie’s story of the monster suddenly seemed not just plausible but likely.

At the bottom of the stairs, Kenan’s shoes clicked against the cement of the floor. The light of the hallway seemed to be several stories above him as it trickled down the stairs, landing in a narrow rivulet on a dangling cord attached to a light bulb. With all the trepidation he faced at the door knocker, He lifted his arm, now weighing a thousand pounds, toward the pull cord.

The light clicked on and the nightmare before him twisted his mind, completely oblivious to a shadow of movement into the depths of darkness as one of the objects slid down.. 

An old table covered in dust and cobwebs sat surrounded by five chairs. The two furthest from him were empty but his eyes danced back and forth between the occupied seats, one of which dropped down and landed.

Mummified corpses sat around the table like a nuclear family. The two larger ones had their mouths agape, while the smaller, newest arrival to the dinner party, leaned forward, resting its brow on the dirty surface like a broken old doll forgotten on Christmas morning. Frozen in its hand was an old faded toy car. 

Flies and bugs flitted between the open mouths and eye sockets of the other two. They were so aged and shrunk and wrinkled their faces were indistinguishable. All three had rotted to baldness from years of decomposition. Their clothes all waved at the slight breeze of Kenan’s breath; patched and worn and motheaten.

As the scream welled up in Kenan’s throat, he heard the faintest scrape against the floor behind him.

“Now you’re mine,” Elizabeth said. “And we can be together forever.” She brought the baseball bat down against the base of his skull and he became one with the house.