House of Needles

In the spring of 1929, the house was more beautiful than it ever would be again. It was on a property perfect for the two children. They could run through it without ever worrying about a rock. Soft grass was all their feet would touch. There was enough room to have a small garden. Tomatoes and lettuce and strawberries and watermelons would make a great addition to the family’s meals. Unfortunately, the Colinsons cared not for growing fresh fruits and vegetables and herbs. 

The purchase of the house was not an ordeal. Jeremiah Colinson was living off the wealth of a deceased father, but what is a lost family member when money is involved? All Jeremiah Colinson knew was that as long as his money was well invested, there were no more worries for his family. His father had owned a collection of lumber mills, which were left to Jeremiah upon his father’s leaving this world. Jeremiah sold every last one until he had the money his father had only dreamed about.

There was not a hint of idiocy within Jeremiah Colinson. When he gained his father’s money and corporation, he did not hesitate to sell all of his father’s old possessions and stocks. He invested in new stocks and kept only what he needed for his family. That was three months prior to the buying of the house. When spring danced throughout the state of North Carolina, the Colinsons were happily wealthy and settling into a brand new home. Those who lived nearby did not know where the Colinsons came from, nor did they care enough to ask. They just knew the family was good and their pockets had money.

Little Maddie Colinson was fascinated by the house. It was beautifully painted without the color red, which was a color she did not fancy. The little girl ran around it and gave it a thorough inspection. She walked inside the house. There was only one item that truly peaked her curiosity. It was a beautiful shotgun, which hung over the fireplace. It was the only possession of her grandfather that Jeremiah kept, but not even his own wife knew why. Little Maddie walked back outside and continued to play in the yard. To her, there was not a single flaw to her new home. To Jeremiah, there was not a single flaw to his Little Maddie. Though she was his youngest child, he felt that she was the greatest miracle of his life. He did not call her in for lunch, for he dared not to spoil her fun.

Matthew Colinson knew enough by the age of fifteen to understand that his father cared not for him like his father did for his sister. It did not divide the two, but rather drove Matthew closer to his mother. Julia Colinson was the one person who gave Matthew the love he felt deprived of. Julia loved her children equally. Since the days when they had innocently entered the world, she adored her children. She was a woman all men could appreciate. Her cooking and good nature brought comfort to all who came under her roof. She loved her family, and her family loved her. There was love and happiness at the Colinson’s house in the spring of 1929.

In December of 1929, the children were attending school and Jeremiah was frantically finding a job to attend. He had not lost all his money in the stock market crash, but he lost more than he ever could have imagined. He was not going to risk losing the house, so he found it necessary to obtain a job while he still could. As the children sat and learned in happy ignorance, the parents stood in a house that seemed to grow cracks with each passing day. Julia’s mind was too full to put her regular amount of love in the food she cooked. This did not help to stop the bitter taste of defeat in Jeremiah’s mouth and the tide of newly formed white hairs on his head. 

His head carried not only hairs of black and white, but of unfortunate thoughts of his own misfortune. Where calm had taken place in him, there was now anxiety that seemed to be a sort of paranoia. He feared that their food would run short, so naturally they ate less. Even more than this, he feared that his Little Maddie would starve. If her plate were cleaned, Jeremiah would take the plate of his son and put any remaining food on hers. After it happened three nights in a row, Matthew questioned his father. He almost received his father’s fury, but Jeremiah’s control kept him from contact this time. After this warning, Matthew started eating quicker, but this resulted in livid shouting from his father. Matthew was left with no choice but to accept his fate.

His paranoia extended beyond food. Money meant a great deal to Jeremiah. Not even a cent of his money was left unknown. He trusted no one, not even his own wife, to handle the money in their possession. Even when he found a job after forty-two days of searching, he handled his money with extreme caution. 

Matthew learned his lesson about money when he started delivering newspapers. His family was one of the few that had not sold their child’s bike for a few extra bucks. Julia was very proud of her son for taking that responsibility, but Jeremiah was not informed until Matthew was a few weeks into it. It was on a Saturday when Jeremiah was told, and that particular Saturday was when Julia and Little Maddie went to get groceries. They were given a very specific list from Jeremiah of what to buy. When Matthew got home from his round of deliveries, he came home to a house that to him seemed empty, but to the one person in there, it was full.

The front door creaked open. Matthew took one step inside the house. To him, it was just a step in a normally empty house. To Jeremiah, who was sitting silently in his chair that faced the fireplace, it was an echo that was a poorly played drum. As Matthew whistled an innocent tune, the arms of Jeremiah’s chair were being gripped by hands with white knuckles. As Matthew took one step up the stairs, he heard, “Boy!” be shouted from the tortured chair.

A lot can be inferred from the tone of a man’s voice. Matthew should have run far away, but instead he turned towards the living area and walked. While Jeremiah heard his son’s slow footsteps, Matthew heard only the beatings of his heart. An unreasonable fear overcame his body and made pale his face. “Move it!” is what Matthew heard next. 

“So,” Jeremiah, the father of Matthew, said cooly, “your mother told me you have found a job.”

The color in Matthew’s face returned and a smile started to form on his face. For once, he was hopeful. His father was going to be proud of him! He was going to be acknowledged by the man…

His thought was not even complete when his eyes opened back up. His smile had not even finished forming when he came face-to-face with the floor. The left side of his face burned. A looming shadow chased away the light on his face. A large, rough hand grabbed Matthew’s head by his hair and pulled it up slightly. His eyes locked with a monster’s.

His father’s deep voice started off quiet as he said, “And you’ve been earning money from this job, correct?”

Matthew’s voice shook as he responded, “Yes, sir.”

Positive correlation is a relationship between variables that move in the same direction. There were three events that caused the others to increase. As Jeremiah’s voice grew louder, his grip on his son grew tighter, and as his grip grew tighter, Matthew’s screams and cries grew louder, which caused his father’s grip to grow tighter once more. The cycle continued. Jeremiah did not just interrogate and intimidate his son. He shamed and tortured Matthew. Matthew felt like his head was being torn apart. His vision blurred to red. No one but Jeremiah could hear him, and it only fueled Jeremiah’s anger even more. His grip could only tighten.

Finally, Jeremiah let go. Matthew was panting with tears still running down his face. He felt like his head would explode. He was not given enough time to recover. “How much have you spent?” spat Jeremiah.

“Th-thirty c-c-cents, s-sir,” Matthew whimpered. 

As there were no vegetables or fruits or herbs, there was not a scarecrow on the Colinson property, but if there was, it would have ran. Any person would have ran from that house. It sounded haunted. One would think that it was filled with monsters. It was only occupied by one, and no one would have guessed it was once a father.

Julia was told that her son fell off his bike. There was no proof of anything else, for Jeremiah forced his son to remove any red from the house. Julia should have known better, but she would know soon enough. Matthew became distant from both of his parents and suffered internally. Little Maddie remained in blissful ignorance of all that happened around her. Her mother became distracted with the worries of her husband’s head. Her brother avoided the house for as long as he could each and every day. Only her father was there for every single want. She knew an ignorance that kept her from knowing her loving father’s heart.

When the summer of 1930 finally came, even the daughter of Jeremiah was hesitant around her father. The house smelled of booze not bought with money earned by the consumer. With every drop Jeremiah consumed, he himself became consumed. He was consumed by his life, by his choices, and by his mistakes. His life was filled with mistakes he could not see. His eyes were blinded by weakness and idiocy, and what he did see was his family. Two mistakes and one miracle slept alongside him under his roof. 

When he was not at work, Jeremiah sat in silence. Julia had learned her lesson about interrupting his silence. From then on, none were to go anywhere near Jeremiah while he was in his chair, and they had gotten so much in the habit that they did not bother him even when he was elsewhere. His only companions were his father’s shotgun, which had ever only taken one life. and the chair that had seen a once good man spiral. 

Little Maddie felt a recent uneasiness at the red marks on her mother’s face. She was always reassured, but Julia had a sadness to her that made her daughter feel distant. Where beautiful auburn hair had once been was tangled hair with grey streaks all throughout. It did not compare to the amount of white and grey hairs that had captured Jeremiah’s scalp. This had not given her reason to worry, though, for she knew her father was growing old. Little Maddie also missed her brother. He was inside the house only when he needed to be and he stayed far away from the people he shared a last name with.

“Will you play with me?” Little Maddie asked hopefully. She had found her brother sitting on the property like a lone tombstone waiting for a visitor, but in this case he was content with being solitary. 

“Not today,” he replied with a tired voice.

“Not today, not any day!” Little Maddie cried.

“I just want to be alone,” Matthew said in the same voice as before.

“You always want to be alone!” Little Maddie shouted as tears started streaming down her face. “You hate this family!”

Matthew did love his sister, but he could not bear to show it. As Little Maddie ran back to the house crying, he felt guilt. He wished it was different. He wished life had treated him differently, but it had thrown him around like his father. It had chosen favorites like his father. It had a hidden evil, just like his father.

Little Maddie ran into the house crying. Innocent tears fell from her diamond eyes. As she climbed the stairs to her room, there was a disturbance. The last straw had been reached. A man with monstrous eyes rose from his chair. A beer sat on the side table. Two drops rested in the bottom of the bottle. They had been discarded and forgotten. The mouth of the bottle was still moist from the lips of a dry man. The bottle was picked up and the two drops danced as the bottle rocked along in the hand of Jeremiah.

Had Little Maddie not been so upset and drowning in tears, she would have heard the slow, yet heavy, thuds on the stairs. They continued for a short time, and still Little Maddie did not hear even one. The steps continued and were accompanied by heavy breathing. The sounds approached the door to Little Maddie’s room and walked in. “Why’re you cryin’, baby?” said the voice smoothly and calmly.

Through sniffles, Little Maddie responded, “Even though I ask nicely, Brother won’t play with me. He won’t ever do nothin’. He hates us all!” Little Maddie started sobbing. Her tears were needles stuck under Jeremiah’s fingernails.

“Don’t you worry about it,” Jeremiah said, comforting the poor child. “I’ll go take care of him for you, darling.” His mind was on nothing else. His daughter’s heart would be avenged. 

Matthew had not moved from his spot of silence. The grass that was around him looked more like hay. The sun reflected off of every blade as each one swayed in the wind. The grass was not dead, but rain had avoided it for three weeks. It still managed to provide a soft surface for the boy to rest upon. However, it did not stop the silence from being broken by the footfalls of Jeremiah. 

Matthew got lost in his own thinking when he sat in silence. It was not until Jeremiah’s final step that he could hear the grass be crushed into the dirt. His father’s eyebrows twitched, his hands shook, and his jaw tightened. When the sun became blocked by Jeremiah’s figure, Matthew quickly turned around to hear his father’s final footfall. Matthew saw a man darkened by light carrying a bottle of consequences. 

Jeremiah slowly raised the bottle. Time slowed as his life flashed before his eyes. He recalled every day of importance. He saw his son be born. He saw his son learning to walk and talk. He saw his son grow. A cold heart cursed and killed a man, leaving hatred and malice. Not even the terrified scream of a boy whom Jeremiah had raised could stop this. 

Matthew’s scream was cut short by the bottle of beer his father had been carrying. Glass shattered. He had cuts on his head that he could not feel. Jeremiah’s breathing grew heavy and intense. He was doing what was right. He reached into his pocket. He was making sure his Little Maddie was safe. He pulled out a pocketknife. She would never have to worry about her brother again. Matthew’s life was cut short by a knife bought with the money of a paranoid man.

Julia Colinson stood in front of the house with groceries. She had heard the cry of her son. Fear swept over her and she rushed inside. It was empty. All she heard were tears coming from above her. She carefully made her way to the fireplace and took down the shotgun of her father-in-law. Jeremiah was not in his chair. Julia quickly rushed up the stairs and burst into Little Maddie’s room. She was crying, but not from her lack of a playmate, but from the scream of her beloved brother. When she saw her mother she yelped and started whimpering.

“Where is your father?” Julia asked her daughter.

Through fearful tears, Little Maddie responded, “He said he was takin’ care of Brother.”

As color drained from the face of Julia, a fear as chilling as winter night overcame her. She grabbed Little Maddie’s arm and gently, but quickly, guided her downstairs to the back door. Julia looked down to comfort her daughter as they walked to the door. When she looked up, she saw horror.

Her husband’s grey and white hair was stained with specs of blood. His hands were soaked in it. Little Maddie no longer saw her caring father. She saw a red monster.

“Going somewhere?” yelled Jeremiah in a voice that was deeper than his own.

Julia screamed and pointed the shotgun at her son’s killer, but it was for nothing. There was not a single bullet in the entire house. 

Jeremiah rushed forward and stabbed his wife. He stabbed her, and stabbed her, and stabbed her. The knife went in and out of her in various locations of her body multiple times. Julia fell to the floor, and Jeremiah kept stabbing. The knife grew more red each time. All that could be heard were the cries of Julia’s daughter and the loud grunting of her husband. 

“Papa, stop!” Little Maddie sobbed.

For just a second, he looked at her with familiar eyes. It was just enough time for Julia to be seized by a surge of strength. She slammed the shotgun into Jeremiah’s head. She hit him, and hit him, and hit him. His face was unrecognizable. He was beyond dead. He suffered a fate far worse. Julia looked over at her trembling daughter and whispered, “Oh, my baby, I’m so sorry.”

She collapsed as blood poured heavily from her. Maddie Colinson sobbed uncontrollably as blood covered the floor like a carpet. There was no way to escape it. The house finally had red paint, and it would receive new coats of it in times soon to come.