Darkwood Falls Paranormal Investigators Book One: The Dead Truth

Chapter Seven

"Rudeness affected Margaret like a bitter taste in the mouth. It poisoned life. At times, it is necessary, but woe to those who employ it without due need." - Elizabeth Bowen, The Last September.

     Jumping out of the warm van into the freezing January air was like stepping into the 9th circle of Hell.  I know what you're thinking; isn't Hell hot?  In the 14th century epic poem, Inferno, written by Dante Alighieri, the 9th circle of Hell was a frozen wasteland ruled by the truly damned, and occupied by the most tortured souls.  So...accurate for the situation.  While it was not raining at the moment, it had been on and off for most of the day, so the grass was still wet as I slipped a couple of times trying to follow the rest of the team to the house.

     I crossed my arms over my chest desperate for my own body heat as I glanced around at my surroundings to distract myself from how cold it was.  We were in a normal suburban neighborhood, where all the houses looked the same and were all lined close together.  The driveway of the house we had come to was only big enough to fit one car, so Richard had to park the van on the side of the street.  That wasn't a big deal because it looked like other people with more than one vehicle had to do the same.  The house we were about to investigate was the type of home that one would picture in their dream of having the typical family with their perfect children and spouse.  It had dark blue siding with white trim, that matched all the other houses in the neighborhood.  There was an area in front of the porch where there normally would have been the perfect garden, but since it was the middle of winter, most of the plants were dead.  There was even a white picket fence on both sides of the home.  I wondered how a house that looked so normal, could really be haunted.  Although, what had I expected to see?  Had I expected the cliché haunted house I used to see in picture books as a child?  You know, the houses that looked completely abandoned, surrounded by leafless trees, with a ghost's head sticking out of one of the broken windows?  Or perhaps there should have been a black cat standing outside next to a witch stirring a cauldron. 

     That's the thing though; things are not always as they seem.  Homes can look warm and friendly.  People can seem happy; their lives can look perfect to outsiders.  They look normal until you get to know them and discover all the unpleasant parts you wish you hadn't.  Too bad we don't get a warning.  I wish I had one before I walked in that house because I had no idea how unpleasant my night was about to get.  We followed Richard up the concrete steps to the front door, where he knocked a few times.  Waiting in the cold and shivering, I chanced another glance at Nick.  Hands in his pockets and looking sullen, he stared down at his feet as he kicked a couple rocks into the grass.  His head suddenly snapped up and his eyes fell on me.  It was as if he had felt me staring at him.  The Nick I had been laughing and joking with only a couple hours earlier seemed to have disappeared completely.  There was certainly no laughter or joy in those cold, dead eyes. 

     The front door to the house opened, and Nick and I tore our eyes from each other to look at our host for the evening.  In the doorway stood a woman only a couple inches taller than me with long, dark brown hair and dark lifeless eyes.  She had the complexion of a sweaty vampire and had a mole on her chin that looked like a chocolate chip, but was certainly not as delightful as one.  While her demeanor was one of a basement-coffin-dwelling-creature from a Stephen King novel, her attire was completely different.  She wore bright purple leggings, a neon orange skirt, and a t-shirt with the Joker from Batman on it . . . the Heath Ledger version, not Jared Leto.  Her clothes were like the outside of her house; it seemed cheerful and friendly, but the harder you looked, you knew you were about to find something undesirable that the exterior was trying to hide.

     "Are you the paranormal investigators?" It sounded like a demand, rather than a question.

     "Karen, right?" Richard said, holding out his hand to shake hers.