The House in The Graveyard

“My mom said an old lady used to live here. Everyone thought she was a witch,” Alexis said.   

“Oh yeah?” Wes said, unbelieving. The young couple strolled towards the quaint, boarded-up house that stood precariously erect in the cemetery. It was raining; not much, but enough to make this night exciting and perhaps even romantic.  Alexis and Wes were entirely carefree, existing within their own microcosm of adventure, illicit substances (the tamer ones, namely marijuana and alcohol), and groping hands.  They hadn’t yet had sex, but the tension was there, so much so that it was almost comedic. Neither one of them minded waiting. In fact, they preferred it. They felt that it intensified their bond.  They knew that they would do it. Probably soon. Maybe even tonight. But they had had their whole lives ahead of them, so they were in no rush.   

“Yeah, my mom and her friends used to come here after she died and shit would happen,” Alexis said.   

“No way.” Wes pulled her closer to his side and his hand slipped to the small of her back. She pushed him away with flirtatious playfulness.   

“Way,” she said and lit a cigarette. She and Wes took turns puffing on it as they approached the house. When they reached the door, Wes told her that he liked her outfit. It was cute today, different from her usual attire, which consisted mainly of oversized t-shirts, flannels, and sweats. She ordinarily didn’t put tremendous effort into her appearance, knowing that Wes found her desirable in whatever she was wearing, or not wearing, for that matter. 

“What kind of shit used to go down here?” He tossed the now unlit cigarette, which they had quickly smoked down to the filter, into the dewy grass.   

“I don’t know. Weird shit. Help me with this.” She pulled a rotting board from the barricaded door and Wes did likewise.   

“We’re definitely not going to spend the night in here,” Wes said.  He pried open the swollen door and the pair hesitated, exchanging a subtle, hungry look before stepping inside.  It was a stuffy, one-room building with a loft that was so close to the ceiling that anyone taller than a small child would have to crouch to fit.  This building was more like a playhouse than a habitable one.   

“Pussy,” Alexis remarked. Wes shook his hair out and Alexis ran her fingers through it.  They shared a kiss. Wes pulled away first and ventured further into the house.   

“I think I’d rather sleep out in the graveyard,” he said.   

“Well, you just rest in peace, then.” Alexis undid the top button of her shirt and whirled away.  Wes looked defeated and gave in, watching her as she opened a small, nearly hidden closet in the wall. She ran a hand over the collection of modest, old-fashioned dresses inside of it and a flurry of moths fluttered out.  She took a stumble step backwards.  After regaining her composure, she picked up a dress and held it against her body, posing seductively.    

“Hot,” Wes said.   

“Should I put it on?”  

“Only if I can take it off.” Wes smirked. Alexis tossed the dress back into the closet, not bothering to hang it up again, and they continued to explore.   

“Did your mom say anything about her having a dog?” Wes reached up into the loft and pulled down one of many jars filled with dog food.   

“Yeah. It has three heads and rips people to shreds,” Alexis said. “Hey, check this out.” Wes put the jar back in its place and joined Alexis on the other side of the room.  She was pointing to the words, ‘EMERGENCY SWITCH’.  The ‘S’ of ‘SWITCH’ had been crudely scratched away.   

“You know, we’re probably not the first kids to scope this place out in hopes of finding some spooky old lady that wants to make us into soup,” Wes said.   

“We’re probably not the first kids to do this in here, either.” Alexis grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. With uncharacteristic force, she pinned her boyfriend against the wall. A jar from the loft fell and shattered.  Wes shoved Alexis away.   

“Jesus,” Alexis said. “What’s your problem?” She sounded hurt, rejected. Andrew shouldered past her.   

“I’m not feelin’ it. C’mon, let’s go,” he said.  At that, Alexis started to chuckle.   

“Are you seriously freaked out? The story isn’t real. It’s not even a good story. Not even remotely chilling,” she said.   

“Let’s just go back to the campsite and get high,” Wes said.   

“I’m staying. With or without you,” Alexis spoke with defiance.   

“Alexis...” Wes was standing over the broken jar and its spilled contents. His voice was low and wavering.  “You said she had a dog, right?” Alexis’s mocking demeanor shifted as she joined Wes.   

“Give me your light,” she said. Wes handed her his phone, and she shone the flashlight over the lumpy piles of dog food that had splattered on the floor.  She leaned in for a closer inspection, but soon leapt up again, repelled. She threw her arm over her nose and mouth. Wes looked at her, concerned. When she removed her arm from her face, Wes saw that she was devoid of color. He had never seen this look in her eyes before; a look of stark terror, repulsion, and something else. Was it disbelief? Denial? He knelt to see for himself. What he saw made his stomach sink, turn, and then go belly up, if that were possible. Whatever was in those jars smelled bad.  Worse than anything Wes could even try to compare it to. It looked like chunks of meat, mixed with some sinewy pieces, and glazed with a viscous fluid that shimmered under the light. The crawling inhabitants that had cozied up inside now scurried over, under, and through the clumps. Wes stood up more slowly than Alexis had.   

“What is it, Wes?” Alexis asked. Her hand was starting to make its way up to cover her mouth again.   

“I don’t know. Meat? It’s dog food, right? You said the lady had a dog, right?” Wes sounded like he was choking down vomit.   

“I don’t know! It’s a story, Wes!” Alexis said. She chuckled a bit, but she had that sinking feeling in her stomach, too. “It’s probably meat.  Some kind of animal.” She had to clarify. “We’re in the middle of Bumfuck Maine. Everybody and their mother hunt up here.”   

“True.” Wes nodded. Alexis and Wes had come here to freak each other out, feign fright, and get into each other’s pants. “Should I go get our stuff from the car now?” Wes offered.   

“Sure. You brought the weed, right? We should totally smoke out in the graveyard.” And that’s exactly what they did. Wes went to the car after Alexis told him she would be fine by herself for a few minutes. He returned as promptly as he could, and the two set up camp outside of the house, which they had both deemed eerie and disgusting at this point. There wasn’t much more to see, anyway.  The only part left unexplored was the loft. The jars were up there, and that was all they cared to see. What they didn’t see, was the thing behind the jars. It had been watching them the whole time.   

Later, a young couple, their relationship on the outs, argued on their way home from a bonfire party.   

“I would never do that! How could you even accuse me of that?” the girl, Rachel, swept her hair from her face. She was flustered and drunk. She had been crying.  

“I can’t even look at you right now, let alone talk to you,” the boy, Eli, said.   

“Good. You shouldn’t look at me, anyway! You should be looking at the ROAD!” Rachel screamed.   

“Jesus! Rachel, SHUT UP!” He was looking at the road, but Rachel’s shriek caused him to veer off. It happened fast. Too fast for either of them to know what was going on. The car flew off the road and crashed into the side of the small building in the cemetery. A moment passed, a moment that seemed to last ages, and Rachel sat up in the passenger seat.   

“Eli?” She was in shock. Her voice caught in her throat.  Eli didn’t respond. He didn’t sit up, and he didn’t move. Rachel said his name again and nudged his shoulder, gently at first and then harder. She resumed crying, but this time she was sobbing uncontrollably. She had seen cars explode after crashing in movies, so she hastily unbuckled herself and climbed out of the car. She felt a warm wetness traveling down the length of her leg, but nothing hurt. She took one last look at Eli, who was crumpled over the steering wheel which had been rammed into his chest and pinned him against the seat. She plunged her hands into her pockets to find her phone. She fumbled with it, and found it was as dead as Eli probably was. In a stupor, she limped away from the car and towards to entrance of the house in the cemetery. 

She didn’t make it that far, though, before she collapsed to the ground. She gulped in mouthfuls of air, but each breath was harder to draw in than the last. Before her, positioned in front of the house like Halloween decorations, were two figures. They were fastened to wooden structures by their wrists and ankles. They were both naked and mutilated. The female figure’s limbs were splayed apart, the grisly arrangement of her leaking innards on display. She had been disemboweled, and in a barbaric hysterectomy, her uterus had been pulled out and stretched over the rotting corpse of a fetal deer.  The male figure was nearby, his body turned to face the female, as if to watch the gory scene.  But he wasn’t watching anything. His eyes had been scooped out of their sockets and stuffed into his mouth.   

Rachel’s own eyes widened impossibly so, and she had a difficult time tearing them away from this presentation. She scrambled to her feet, which was also difficult, because her entire body was beginning to feel the pain from the accident. She walked backwards, slow and quiet, before whirling around and bolting back towards the road.