Blind Date A Book 2020 – Book #3
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Chapter 1
I was thirteen when I discovered the truth about 1342 Lindley Road. The place had always been there but I never paid much attention to it because I was young and dumb and had better things to do.
Now that I’m no longer around it, I still don’t like to think about it as much as I used to but then the nightmares returned. They made it hard for me to sleep; my therapist encouraged me to write this because there isn’t any other way for me to shake it off.
Like any other house, this place had its share of ups and downs, cries of sadness and moments of joy. This was the start of something both lovely and fierce but in the end they all eventually picked up and took off, never be seen or heard from again; the only traces of their presence were marked by the imprints of their furniture branded into the carpet. Memories were made, love fluctuated, children grew by the inches marked into the doorways by felt tip pens and parents aged over time whilst shaking their heads about how much this generation had changed compared to theirs.
The summer of two-thousand-thirteen was the best summer a girl like me could’ve ever asked for. My mother Larissa had taken me to the movies three times a month and my father Kyle and I would walk the trails around Lake Campbell until sundown and then take the shortcut back home depending upon the weather. I still had a month of summer vacation left before I had to drag my ass back to school and we all know how much of a toothache that was going to be.
We lived in a two-story brick-on-clapboard house with a shingled-green roof and a cobblestone patio with a steel mesh-topped patio table with metal-cushioned chairs, a firepit and one of those large propane grills that look like those hibernation chambers you see in sci-fi movies. The back yard wasn’t much to boast about so we’d have to play badminton and toss Frisbees around the patch of grass sitting across the street from the front of our house.
The day I became familiar with said house was the day when my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Bruce came down for the annual cookout with my favorite (and only) cousin Jared in tow. After we ate, we asked Dad if we could ride our bikes around until Ruth and Bruce were ready to leave; he said yes, of course. We hopped on our bikes (I had a spare one here because my parents had bought me a new one last year before summer began) and followed the gravel road hugging the right side of our house and back around while our parents who sat around the table discussing things that we didn’t care to hear or weren’t even supposed to know about.
The gravel road veered upward and led us to the top of a gently-rising slope that took us to the top of Lindley Road. Once we got there, we grinned from ear to ear and flew down the hill with our legs stuck out from the side of our bikes.
The wind whipped at our clothes and blew wayward strands of curly blonde hair across my face; we knew we were acting a bit childish for our age but we didn’t care. Back before cell phones could do everything but microwave our lunch, it was the little things in life that meant so much to us.
Jared and I had so much in common it was almost uncanny. We had the same taste in video games, TV shows and music but food was where we drew the line; he liked hamburgers and I preferred chicken. Mom always reminded me that Jared and I had been no different than the relationship she once had with her cousin Sandra, who was currently living in Oregon.
That night, a bright pink horizon sent bottle-gas blue flames of dusk flaring across the sky; the treetops loomed above us like strange cryptic steeples. Waves of pine sap filled my nostrils and rode on the same cool breeze that ruffled our clothes and skin. Once we reached the bottom of the hill, we had to push our bikes to the top and then go again; the windows from the downhill stretch of cozy houses and double-wides occupied by old retirees and middle-aged bachelors sitting on modest lawns were sparsely lit from the mixed backwash of lamp light and television screens.
After we did it three more times, we called it a night.
When we reached the top, our chest rising and falling with each breath, Jared glanced over at The Larson Place with a probing look on his face. It was a squat-green clapboard house that sat low to the ground so that the lawn could hide its façade as if it had some kind of facial deformity. A turkey-necked street lamp was fixed to the edge of the roof on the left side of the house and stared down at the end of the driveway which then dropped down at an angle toward a thick wall of dark-green pines.
“Do you know who lives there?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Not rea–”
“Well do you or don’t you?” He chuffed.
“I don’t know.”
“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” He said, his eyes beaming with excitement.
He glanced back at the house, his face creased by a wide baleful grin.
“They’ll kill us.” I whispered.
I glanced back down the road toward my house; a tiny radiant orange light beamed across the front lawn. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but all I could hear were the crickets chirping from inside the forest and the wind whispering softly amongst the trees. A loud metallic crash rang out in my right ear and startled me so that I tightened my grip on my handlebars and felt my skin prickle with fear.
He’d lowered his bike onto the shoulder of the road that merged with the front lawn and disappeared behind the lone pine tree standing between the far left corner of the front lawn and the edge of the driveway. I scanned my surroundings, set my bike down beside of his and went after him, my face flushed with both shame and excitement. The thin wall of trees standing along the left edge of the driveway shrouded our parents from seeing us which, now that I think about it, was both good and bad in a way.
For the first time in my life, I wished that our parents would’ve called out for us but they didn’t. I’d have done it but I don’t think I’d have forgiven myself if he stopped talking to me because I’d snitched on him; he was my only cousin.
A thin sheen of sweat coated my forehead and dampened my hair and the nape of my neck. It might’ve been an ordinary house to a newcomer’s eye but there was something about it that soured on my stomach. Something glowed in the corner of my right eye, but then died before I could get a better look at it; if it’d been a passing motorist or the owner of the house then there was nothing we could say or do to talk our way out of it.
I cursed under my breath, stepped over and onto the driveway. I found him standing on the left side of the house, peering into a large window facing the end of the driveway. The glass was dotted with wayward spots of white paint and streaked with grime along the corners; flakes of white paint sprinkled the windowsill.
We saw a bare empty bedroom with outdated lime-green carpet and a small set of stairs that led past a curtain of colorful plastic beads and into the next room. Carpets of sour light poured through the windows, pooled across the floor and streaked the oak-paneled walls with cryptic shadows. The owners must’ve valued the tacky seventies interior enough to keep it there for sentimental purposes.
Jared pressed his face up against the glass, cupped his hands around his eyes like a pair of makeshift binoculars and squinted for a better look. I peered over the top of his head and found a crude symbol drawn across the wall beside of the doorway in what looked to be purple paint; it depicted a wide pathway leading toward a door sitting on the edge of a distant horizon.
It wasn’t just the weird placement of the symbol that heightened my anxiety; it looked fresh as if it’d been drawn just a few seconds ago. Why had they kept it there if they knew it would jeopardize the market value?
“Damn.” He hissed, spreading faint white clouds of steam across the glass. “These fucking beads are blocking my view.”
I’d heard him curse like that plenty of times in the past but never in front of our parents. He eased away from the window, walked to the middle of the driveway and peered across the darkened porch. A second carpet of light burst across the back yard, sending strobes of light rippling across the grass.
I took two steps away from the window and met up with him. I knew I should’ve taken the opportunity to get him away from here when it presented itself but I gave into peer pressure and my own stupid childish curiosity as well.
“I’ll try the front door.” He whispered. “Cover me.”
Just then, the goose-necked porch light gave a low hum and flickered to life. A large patch of sodium-purple light spread across the driveway and showered me like a spotlight on a police helicopter. I flinched, pressing my white-knuckled fists tightly against my thighs, and crunched a fallen twig under my right foot.
“Calm down, Mollie.” Jared whispered.
He stepped under the front porch awning, his pear-shaped body shrouded by a mixture of half-light and half-shadow, and approached the front door. Tiny flakes of red paint sprinkled the film of plastic-green felt covering the front stoop as he looked back at me and raised his hand toward the doorknob.
“We need to get the hell away from here.” I whispered. “If our parents catch us, we’re in serious friggin trouble.”
“Would you just chill out?” He said, then chuffed. “If the door is locked, th–”
The front door creaked open on scarred brass hinges and cut him off in mid-sentence; thin pockets of white smoke floated across the threshold, spun in the cool summer breeze and drifted up toward his face. Jared cocked his head toward the open doorway, his face sullen and guilt-ridden, and sucked deep pockets of sheer fog into his lungs. His body grew tense, but he stood his ground, his eyes riveted onto what was behind the door.
Fear rooted my feet to the ground and seized my lungs inside of its thick powerful grip, robbing me of the will to breathe. An icy chill snaked along the contours of my spine, prickling my skin and raising the hairs on the back of my neck. My cheeks grew hot as my heart pounded, blood throbbing against my ears.
Sweat beads cascading down my face had secreted inside of my pits and glued the back and sides of my tee-shirt to my ribs. The breeze picked up, sending an odd smell drifting past my nose. It wasn’t the familiar scent of pine sap and wood smoke but instead it was the sickly-sweet smell of licorice.
From where I was standing, I prayed for a carpet of light to flood across the front porch followed by a crabby old man spouting obscenities at us while we scampered away like roaches. If that was what got us away from here, then so be it. If my parents were informed of this little incident, I would take my punishment and be done with it.
Everything I wanted to see was inside of that house, observed by the frozen hypnotic gleam flickering in Jared’s eyes. Whatever was going on in there, I wasn’t invited. The smell increased in both flavor and intensity, sparkling off my tongue like I’d downed a whole packet of Pop Rocks.
Something slipped out from behind the open door but I couldn’t see what it was at first. I squinted into the velvet darkness flooding the driveway until I saw what lay beyond and felt my chest tighten with fear. My eyes swelling with fear, I suppressed a wave of nausea rising toward my throat and forced it back down into the pit of my stomach.
A thick human arm hugged by a loose-fitting white shirt sleeve emerged from the swirling black folds of the doorway and extended across the front stoop. Its thick calloused fingers had a light-green tint and its neatly-trimmed nails were coated with slick pools of obsidian liquid. The wrist spun to the left, then to the right and slowly dragged its knuckles down both sides of Jared’s face, spreading large purple blemishes across his cheeks.
The cool summer breeze carried the soft chorus of eerie whispers from inside of the house and filled my ears with incubus murmurs. As a wide pleasing grin spread evenly across Jared’s face, tugging at the corners of his mouth, an alarm rang in the back of my head. A hot lucid tear protruded from the corner of my right eye, slid down the contour of my cheek and dripped off of my chin.
I shook the fear off my bones, brushed my tongue across my dry cracked lips and sprinted toward the front porch. My body switching to panic mode, I threw my hands up in front of me, slammed the front door shut with a loud hollow thud. I clutched a handful of Jared’s left sleeve in my right fist, dragged him away from the front of the house and back up the driveway, his feet teetering out from behind him.
We hopped onto our bikes and sped away. We were halfway down the hill, my ears filled with the soft hum of bike tread on hot pavement when he glanced back at the house with a heavy morose look on his face. My body racing on fear and adrenaline, my hands shook so bad I gripped the handlebars of my bike until they hurt and the color bled from my knuckles.
“What did you see?” I asked.
When I repeated myself, he shook his head and grinned.
By the time we reached my house, neither one of us spoke a word. Pinprick stars riddled the night sky; a sickly-white moon sat high in the east, glowing behind a roiling cloud cover. We arrived back at my house and found Aunt Ruth standing beside of the road, her mouth hanging open as if she were about to call our names but then decided not to when she saw us coming.
After we put our bikes away, I gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead. It was unusual not because he was cousin but because he was always shy about that sort of thing; we’d always make a little hide and seek game out of it. This time, however, he hadn’t protested at all.
When Ruth and Bruce made the short trek from the front of the house to the driveway in front of the garage, she noticed it, too. She crouched in front of him, her knees pressing into the cold cobblestone porch and grazed her left hand across his cheek. My spine tingled with fear as my mind reverted back to the same phantom hand that grazed Jared’s cheek in the same soft, tender fashion.
I hid my reaction so my parents wouldn’t notice and put on my best fake smile. Mom slipped an arm across the small of my back, waved at Bruce as he caught up with Jared and Ruth, and leaned against my left shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“I think I ate too much.” He mumbled in a sulking voice.
Bruce added. “You’re still going to school next week.”
Ruth raked her left hand through Jared’s hair, planted a soft kiss on the crown of his forehead and corralled him into the back seat. As they drove past the front of the house, Jared clipped on his seatbelt and peered at me with a brooding look on his face.
We waved at them as they started their long trek back to Columbus. Before their headlights were swallowed by the newly-risen darkness, I noticed the blemishes on Jared’s right cheek had disappeared.
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