The House by the Road

“We took the correct turn, dear” he said a little annoyed. He had Google map right in front of him and it was yet to let him down. The fork in the road was a bit tricky in the fading light. It did not look at all like he had imagined inspite of the faint street light. But the map. When in doubt trust the map. How about ancient mariners with just a compass and an infinite directions to mistake.

I explained all this. But she was not convinced. I could sense that. But thankfully she remained silent with just the wrinkle at the corner of her tight lips revealing anxiety.

The road we took merged slowly into a rough rock strewn path I had never anticipated. The map said, go on. But I do not want a flat tire out here with only the headlights of the vehicle to cut a swathe in the solemn, silent darkness which swallowed our car. I slowed down. Maybe that could avoid a deadly skid. There could be a ravine on either side of the pretend road for all I know.

I did not want to scare her. So I did not tell her that the map no longer showed the road. It had disappeared. As the map said I should be nowhere and that is where I felt I was. I should have listened to her.

I can drive back to the road to before the fork which did not exist. Toying with that idea, I worried about the ravines I had imagined. But I have to turn back while the chance remained.

“We are turning back.”

She did not say a word. Not even when the car came to a halt. Not even when headlights abruptly blew, both of them, leaving my dark car as a speck of harsher darkness. The darkness was so solid that I fancied we could walk on that.

The key refused to turn the engine. The car is dead.

I climbed out into the cold obscurity of the outside. I couldn’t see myself. Never has a night been as dark. I suppose a night in a dark matter world would be akin to this. But this is no time for fun. The chill is getting to my bones.

“Hey. We need to move. Are you with me?”

She was.

She pointed to the left of the road. There is a point of tiny light over there flickering like a frightened candle. She walked towards the light. I followed. There was some hope ahead; none at all behind.

It was a house, dismal, grim. Even the door seemed to forbid friendship. But she just pushed the door open and walked inside. Again I followed her.

There is a kind of glow inside the house. I suppose that must be the lighting. Weird kind of lighting, oozing up from the bottom of the walls like a dribbly faucet of light fighting out of some restraint. The light followed us.

I saw the stairs just before I stumbled on a wrinkle in the carpet. A crude carpet made of coir. A pretend carpet.

The shadows played with my rational mind conjuring images from childhood nightmares. One shadow fell upon me from my left, like the hand of darkness. It fondled me coyly like a long lost companion. Is that a nose? Yes the shadow has a nose. The shadow is smelling me. Tasting me too, perhaps.

I could not see her. The whisper of a door softly closing itself reached my ear. It is hard to place the noise, may be near me or deep from the bowels of the house. It is a nasty whisper beckoning me to itself. It is a fearsome whisper bereft of pity. It came just once. My legs decided for themselves and I walked towards the sound buried in the grim shadows. I walked into the impure light and realised it is warm in here.

The door was a piece of darkness in the wall. The door had swung inward a bit and the angular shadow fell on the floor like a black lightning following the thunderous whisper.

She must be in here. I could smell her fragrance. But the room held nothing live inside it. I saw that and felt the lack of anything. She is here though. I sense it.

I wish I had brought a torchlight. There is one in the car. But where is the car.

A whiff of putrid air was all I felt and all I needed. It could be dead mouse. Or it could be. No that is not possible. Such a thing cannot be, not at this time, not in this place. This house is no place for me. Or anything living.

I need to find her and she is not in this room. I called out her name. I wanted to. But no sound escaped. Only a feeble quack like a dying duck. I called out to her to come out. Where ever you are please come out. We need to leave.

The answer is silence and the mocking darkness.

The pressure of the house pushing in on me is oppressive. The silence bellows into ears. But I have to get her.

I turned back into the hall I was in, into the speckled black hall with the strange light still waiting.

Did she go up the stairs. That is impossible. I would have seen her. I looked up the never ending steps and no longer felt sure about that. Weasel like shadows darted about on the stairs daring me to step on them. They held a secret that will not be revealed to me. So they said as they flew around.

They beckon with dark talons. I am certain she is up there among the fleeting, taunting shadows in the belly of the house which now pulsed with a wicked amusement.

I stepped on the stairway and was surprised. It is solid wood, maybe from thousand year old tree. The flicker of light followed behind my feet. I have been climbing for a while with every step taking me farther from something I needed. But I am too high up now. Too far from earth up the shadowy path.

I suspect I will not see her. She was wise. Maybe she knew. Maybe she is already at her destination. I am the one lagging. Unable to comprehend, unable to accept.

I can see a light now at the height of the stairs. Far away with many more steps to go. I feel you are already there. I am coming.