The Ax Murder House

“Right this way sir” the nurse led me down a dimly lit hall. I had taken the first train that morning once I received word, yet it had still taken me an entire day of travel to arrive at the hospital. Evening was now quickly encroaching. Candles had been lit on patients’ bedside tables, and I studied the faces illuminated by the flickering flames. I couldn’t help staring at each figure as I passed. Some groaned in restless sleep, others peered back at me with vacant eyes. The room was filled with gurgling coughs, and I wrinkled my nose at the overwhelming odour of formaldehyde.

           The nurse stopped at the last bed in the hall and knelt beside the figure, murmuring softly. I stood at the foot of the bed and watched, trying to collect myself my nerves.

           “I’ve told him that you’ve arrived, so I’ll be leaving you then” the nurse addressed me as she stood. Nodding, I watched as she started back down the corridor. I turned and approached the bedside of the figure. I couldn’t recognize the face that I saw.

           “James, it’s been so long. The last time that I saw you Pa could carry you on his back” the man said, his voice was hoarse. His skin was tinged a sickly yellow, and dark, sunken eyes met mine. I forced a smile.

           “It’s been almost 20 years Walter” I murmured. “God, I barely recognize you now.”

           “Has it really been that long?” Walter mused.

           Silence fell between us, other than the occasional wheezy cough breaking Walter’s labored breathing. I crouched by his side, reading his face. The faint memories I had of him were barely traceable in the man before me now. He wasn’t the tall, broad-shouldered man I remembered as my brother. He seemed entirely changed, shrunken and sinewy.

           “James, I’m dying” Walter didn’t look at me, just kept staring up at the dark corner of the ceiling.

           “Why did you call for me? I didn’t think you wanted anything to do with our family anymore Walt.” I couldn’t understand what the point of this was. I didn’t know why I obliged his request to see him. Something had compelled me.

           “Death has a strange way of reminding you of the past, James. I’ve been lying here for months, slowly waiting, waiting, waiting for death to knock. I started thinking of you, and Ma, and Pa, but I’m supposing they’re dead now.”

           His bluntness disturbed me. “So then, you wanted to see me?”

           “Yes James. I wanted to see you. I wanted to see your face, all grown up.” A shadow fell over his face and his expression changed as he motioned with his hand, beckoning me forward. “James, I asked for you because there is something you must do for me.”

           “What is that, Walter?” I asked softly. The hall had darkened as night fell, save for a few candles that were still lit. I wondered when that nurse had gone and extinguished the others, time seemed to have ceased while we spoke. Moonlight seeped through large windows opposite to the row of beds, sending shadows crawling up to shrouded corners remaining on the ceiling.

           “I want you to destroy something, a house, or whatever is left of it now,” Walter suddenly shifted and clutched my hand.

           “Walter whatever do you mean? Are you mad?” I exclaimed, struggling to free my hand from his grip.

           “The year I left, what year was it?” Walter’s blank gaze fell on me now and I shifted uneasily.

           “1912, I think. God Walter, release my hand.”

           “Ah yes, I remember now. James, you must destroy it, the house.”

           “What house? Whatever for?” I again attempted to wrestle my hand away from him, much to my agitation, he somehow managed to grip it tighter.

           “After I said goodbye to Ma and Pa, and you, I took a train,” Walter paused to let out a feeble cough. “I took a train, and I stopped in a small town called Stanton. It didn’t matter to me then where I got off, but you must remember it for when you carry out what I ask of you.”

           I remained silent as he spoke, I couldn’t possibly fathom what he was to say.

           “I found a nice family James. A nice little family just like ours, except they had two girls. I watched them for a while, from a distance, I’d just watch. Then one day, when they went out, I snuck in.”

           I inhaled sharply as the air seemed to extinguish from the room. I couldn’t open my mouth to speak, I found no words there.

           Walter continued, his voice lowering, “I hid in the cellar, and I waited James. They stored wood in it, and an ax too.”

           “That’s enough! I don’t wish to hear any more” I finally managed to retract my hand from his grasp and sprang back from the bed in fright.

           “Listen to me James! I am dying and you are my brother and you will listen to me! You must do this for me” Walter’s voice was guttural as the sound reverberated through the hall. His face had contorted, and his eyes flashed in the dim candlelight.

           I wildly glanced around the hall, searching for the nurse. She had gone from the room. Only a few roused in their beds, but the following quiet that ensued returned the hall to an eerie calm. I couldn’t move. In my shock, my feet remained planted to the floor despite every instinct urging me to flee.  

           Walter’s voice lowered to just above a whisper, “You know what I did James. I can see it in your eyes, the horror. I know that what I did was horrible. I never thought anybody would know, let alone my brother I left behind so many years ago. But James, there is a reason I am telling you this.”

           “You didn’t -” my voice faltered before summoning the courage to continue, “You couldn’t have.”

           “I murdered them, James. Yes. What do you think of me now?” Walter’s eyes stayed fixedly plastered on mine. His face was indecipherable as he watched me stumbled farther back from the bed, terrified.

           “I think you’re a monster” I whispered harshly.

           “I knew you would.”

           “I don’t understand” I wanted to escape, to forget the words that had transpired. Yet, something compelled me to stay. Whether it was shock, or some morbid curiosity, I don’t know.

           “James, the house they died in, it must be destroyed. I didn’t know it then. But I know it now. I’ve seen what awaits me as I lie in this bed. I’ll be damned by God and condemned to that house.”

           “Then that’s what you deserve!” I cried. “Why would I ever help you? Why in God’s name would I abide your request if what you’ve told me is true?”

           “I don’t have a reason to give you James. Nothing that could satisfy you.” Walter descended into another rattling coughing fit before continuing, “You were simply the only man I believed might oblige this task.”

           “Walter, I must say you are wrong, completely wrong. Don’t write to me, I won’t come.” I put on my cap and regaining control of my legs, began hurriedly back down the hall.

           Behind me, Walter spoke and the I heard his faint words as if I was still by his bedside despite the distance between us. “You’ll do it James. I know you will.” Quickening my step, I left without glancing back.

           Days later I received a letter from the hospital informing of Walter’s death. I felt relieved. I wished to put it all behind me, to forget his disturbing confession. I refused to give it any more time in my mind, to contemplate what I was to do with what I had learned. I told myself whatever had happened was more than twenty years ago. That if I went now, what would I say? Would anyone believe me? What would I possibly be able to do? And so, I decided to go about my life as before, and gradually my immediate dread of what had transpired that night faded. Months passed me by in this fashion, yet I often recalled what Walter had confessed to me, and his desire for my fulfillment of his dying request. Soon, what I was first able to push back into the recesses of my mind in my state of shock, soon became all I could ever think about. My inclination to find the house grew, until it consumed my waking hours.

           I wanted to find it, to know whether it was real. And so, I traveled to the little town of Stanton, Iowa in search of what Walter had described. It wasn’t difficult to find, the house had become somewhat of a spectacle after the townsfolk had discovered the grisly scene. As such, the house hadn’t been abandoned, yet carefully preserved in a timeless state. From the outside, it appeared as any other little farmhouse. Wooden boards painted white made up its exterior, and a porch bordered the front of the house. The door was closed but remained unlocked. No one lived in it now.

           The inside was left just as it was the day the gruesome scene had been discovered. Darkened bedrooms from drawn curtains. Unmade beds revealing bloodstained pillows. Vanity mirrors covered with black cloth. The ax was propped up against the frame of the kitchen stove. The door to the cellar was open.

           I went through the house silently, pulled the front door closed as I exited, and resolved my answer to Walter’s request. I approached the woman who had led me to the house as she stood waiting by the front gate.

           “Did you find what you were looking for sir?” she peered questioningly at me. I could tell they didn’t receive outsiders very often. Or maybe they were more wary of strangers now.

           “Yes, I did.”

           “It really was such a tragedy” she mused, surveying the house. “Whoever is responsible will rot in this house, people are beginning to say it’s haunted.”

           “Yes, I’m sure it is, thank you, but I think I’ll be going now.”