My Darkest Rose

Chapter 10

Moonwood

Rain drenched the car as he drove away from the store. The windshield fogged, making it impossible to see more than a few feet of road in front of the car. Theodore meowed miserably from the back seat.

He turned the wipers and defrost to high and leaned forward over the steering wheel. Swaying trees lined each side of the road tossing Maple seeds and sticks that looked like shriveled hands onto the hood of the car.

A leaning sign labeled 1000S marked the small, gravel road that led to his house. The car headlights illuminated the white, reflective numbers as he turned, and brought back a memory of the night he and Fauna drove home from his mother's funeral. It had stormed that night too.

The driveway to his house was just ahead. He could see, even from a distance, that the gate was open when it should have been closed and locked. Someone had cut the lock and pushed the gate open, not even bothering to close it behind them and cover their tracks.

Why should they? Moonwood resembled a ghost forest more than a place anyone would live.

He pulled into the driveway, pulled just past the gate, and stopped.

"Be right back," he said to Theodore. He got out of the car, and ran back to where the gate stood ajar.

Lightning struck nearby in the woods followed by a near-instant clap of thunder that shook the ground. As the rumbling subsided, he looked around. Nothing but forest as far as the eye could see. And shadows. Lots and lots of shadows and places to hide.

With growing discomfort, he pulled the gate back into place over the driveway. Years of rain and snow had pushed the gravel deeper into the earth, leaving a large gap beneath the gate that hadn't been there before. One of many problems to remedy, he thought, and he wasn't even at the house yet.

A gust of wind reminded him that he wasn't safe standing out in the open in the middle of the woods during a storm. He ran back to the car and climbed inside.

Rain fell harder as he drove up the driveway. He began to dread seeing the house, dread being there at all. He was stupid to think he could come back on his own and handle this like a normal person. Jack was not a normal person. He was the kind of person who saw monsters.

Despite his reservations, he continued up the gravel driveway. Leaves and sticks littered the path and he could see places where someone had moved aside larger limbs that had fallen over the years. They lined each side of the driveway like debris after a flood.

The rain was so heavy, the house didn't come into view until he was parked right in front of it. In the stark light of the car headlights, It looked utterly transformed by neglect.

Once painstakingly manicured by his mother, the landscaping was now nonexistent. Ivy grew over the windows. The roof was littered with years of debris and seedlings grew from the gutters like conquering flags of an invading army, some on their way to being full blown trees.

Cobwebs hung thick around the front door and under eaves. The wooden shingles were black with algae and mold. Across the front door, someone spray-painted KILLERS with black paint.

It was all about as inviting as a cave without a flashlight. How could he possibly get out of the car, let alone go inside? And he'd thought he could stay here? There were likely generations of possums living inside.

Theodore meowed, reminding Jack that he didn't have only himself to think about. He leaned over the seat and unlatched the door to the crate. He didn't have a litter box in the car, but he could at least give him some space to move around.

Lightning struck nearby and Theodore moved deeper into the crate, refusing to step one paw outside. Jack looked back at the house. What option did he have? Drive back to Chicago?

Checking his phone was no comfort either. There was no reception. Even if he wanted to call Fauna, he couldn't. And at that moment, what would he even say?

Help, I'm too scared to go inside our house but Theodore really needs to pee and is probably thirsty, can you come? I may have "some balls" but they're not big enough to handle this.

Sighing in resignation, he shut off the car engine and switched off the lights. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car was deafening.

He checked his keys for the house key. It was there, just as it had been the last seven years. Maybe he'd get lucky and the deadbolt would be rusted shut.

Yeah, I tried, but wouldn't you know it, I couldn't get the door open! Oh well. Guess I'll go home now.

He imagined telling Fauna he'd failed. He imagined Andrea teasing him about it, saying she knew when she first heard he was going home that he wouldn't actually get anything done. He thought about that little J pendant she'd worn at his opening and wondered if she still had it on, or if she'd taken it off after last night.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he opened the car door and climbed out into the rain. He took Theodore and the crate from the back seat. As he ran toward the house, the rain changed to hail, pelting him on the back and banging against Theodore's crate.

Gusts of wind bent the trees overhead as he ran up the front steps. He slid the key into the lock. It turned, effortlessly, as if someone were on the other side of the door guiding it, welcoming him. The door swung inward and he stood there, unmoving, as hail pounded against his head and shoulders. He stared into the shadowed belly of the house.