Hudson House [Now available for the Kindle]

Chapter 14

The door slam still echoing in his ears, Eric almost laughed at his notion of reasoning with the house. It had been a childish belief that if he stood up to his aggressor, he’d persevere. The house would respect his bravery and agree not to bother him any more. A chuckle did spill out and Eric immediately covered his mouth. Only crazy people laughed in situations like this. If he let himself laugh, he’d end up screaming.

The candy apple smell intensified like the vat of caramel candies was directly under his nose. Perhaps it was. The woman in white might be in the basement beneath them stirring the cauldron of goop so that the aroma drifted into the ceiling and teased the boys’ taste buds. What would happen if they found that pot and ate the syrupy candy? It might set their guts on fire, and the woman in white would roar with her own laughter while their skin melted like wax.

Tommy pulled open the pantry door and stepped into the world beyond. He kept the door propped open with one hand. “We didn’t come here to stand in place.”

Eric resisted the urge to call for Ed again. Most likely, Ed hadn’t moved from the doorway and the slamming door had blocked him out. Hopefully, the door hadn’t crushed him. But these were childish thoughts again full of innocent hope. The house wanted all three of them—Ed had entered the house and then the door slammed.

Eric walked to the pantry door, took a breath, and entered.

The same empty shelves protruded from the walls and the same boarded-up door prevented escape. This house is very special, Tommy had said. That depended on the definition of “special.” The house was not special unless the word meant the corruption of normal, something askew from reality, something tilted toward wrongness. Eric would decry the place as evil when safely outside of it, but not inside, deep inside where the house could get at him anyway it wanted.

Tommy’s flashlight cast a circular glow on the far wall as he had done the last time. This time, however, the yellow beam did not dim as it hit the old wood. Dark splotches patterning the wall turned Eric’s stomach; they were like liver spots on an old person. Eric’s eyes gave him no clue about the offness of this place, but his other senses inundated him with warnings. The floor rocked gently from one side to the other as if the house were set on a gentle tide. With each sway, Eric’s stomach tightened. The movement increased, the drops to either side deepening.

Eric had gone camping with Ed’s family two summers ago and one of the days had been spent canoeing the giant lakes of western New York. Eric and Ed had shared a canoe while Ed’s parents shared another. The day had been beautiful and clear, but the deep water had troubled Eric. He hadn’t minded the streams they traversed but when they rowed across a wide expanse of water, Eric’s heart beat a little faster and he couldn’t resist staring into the black depths from which giant seaweed arms reached toward him. What would happen if he dropped into the water? Even with a life jacket on, the seaweed might tangle around his legs and yank him under. That night lying in his tent, Eric had felt the ground swaying side to side for hours. When he shut his eyes, he was back on the boat, only this time he fell in the water and slithery arms wrapped around his ankles. He stayed awake for hours, his mind simulating the canoe’s rocking. It had gotten so bad that he almost vomited.

“Do you feel that?” Eric asked.

“It gets better,” Tommy said. Did he mean the rocking would stop or they’d get used to it?

The smell of candied apples soured into a stench of decay. The odor coated his nostrils and sluiced into his throat with the weight and vileness of toxic waste. He gagged against the taste and hoped he wouldn’t vomit.

The air thickened like during a humid day, only this air was sandpaper; it scraped at Eric’s hands and face. He expected scratches to appear on his skin and blood to flow from those wounds.