Once, Twice, A Third Time... (797 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: Fiction
Rating: 2 on 24 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by kaos-king (View user info) at 2005-08-18 14:33:24 EDT
The three cars pulled around the sharp bend, their lights illuminating the bridge before them. It was a narrow thing, gray steel along the sides with sturdy wooden planks across the floor. Each vehicle made a pass over it, the sound of the tires vibrating in the valley, loud like a growl. Once, twice, a third time. The three cars wound further down the road into the depth of the forest, the lights playing off the trees. One by one they turned into the park entrance.
The road twisted like a snake, weaving in between large pines that reached towards the heavens. A slight fog had begun to gather in the valley, adding to the atmosphere that hung here in a permanent gloom. The pines blocked out so much of the moon light, that even in the day in would seem dark. By night it was solid blackness. The cars continued back, back deeper into the fog, back to a parking lot hidden from the street that the bridge was on.
The cars stopped, the lights extinguished. For a moment there was nothing but silence, the night perfect in it's pitch and sound. This was a dark place. A place of reverence, of respect. Of course, it was about to be broken.
"Open the fucking door!" yelled Eric, trying to squirm out of the back seat.
A small assembly of young adults poured out of the cars, some still in high school, some recently graduated. It was summer in West Essex, and the youth of the the town had grown especially bored on this sweltering night.
"Did you see it coming in?" asked Brian.
"See what?" asked Tim.
"The house, you dumb ass."
The kids laugh and light up cigarettes, some fetching bottles of soda. No beer down here in this place, too much a chance of being caught by the park rangers. Together they make their way out of the parking lot, back down the winding road. Some of the girls squeal in mock terror, a sound closer to delight. They hug on to each other or their boyfriends, other young men, those not attached, race through the darkness. A destination is at hand.
And there it is, looming. Although that word is trite and does not capture the essence of the red washed farm house. A two story building, solid and square, its windows and doors barred tight long ago by those in power over the area. Boarded up to keep out the very young ones who venture here tonight. It sits on a slab of cement, rose bushes surrounding the sides.
This is the house of teenage fables, the home of such lore. Known only as Ester's House, it sits among the trees and picnic tables and swings. What is the legend that brings these younglings out here, you ask? Ester was a woman scorned, left at the alter by her only beloved. She died a spinster in a fire here that consumed the house, consumed the woman, but not the rage she left. What does she thirst for, but virgins, of course. The untainted blood of maidens that she may leech onto, sucking life out of, back into the house where her spirit still resides.
"Hey Emily! Go up and stand against the door."
"Shit, if she's a virgin, I'm the god damn Pope!"
More laughter. And an explanation to those who do not understand. The mythos of Ester's House is simple. A virgin should lean with her back against the main door of the house, and her lover is to knock on the door three times. This awakens the sleeping creature within. It will come out and rake her claws through the door, down the back of the girl, marking her for hell.
Of course this has happened. It occurred to a girl from a neighboring school. It happened to the friend of a classmate's older sister. It happened to the gym teacher's brother's friend. Everyone knows that.
The boys are more than willing to knock for any girl brave enough to try. The problem at hand seems to be finding a virgin. High school is a sexually charged place these days, and the innocence of youth is not what it once was. Of the two girls who have a possibility in engaging in this ritual, one seems unsure of her purity, the other completely unwilling to embark on the adventure.
"I'm telling you Erin, that one time with Sean doesn't count," argues Tim.
"I'm not sure it works that way."
"C'mon Julie! Just get up there. I'll knock on the door, and the old hag can rip you apart. It'll be fun!"
"Like you're ever going to be one of my 'lovers'."
This argument continues on for some time. The pressures of school time have given way to this game out in the darkness. The wind blows, ever so slightly billowing the fog around the ground. It rained earlier in the day, and the ground is still damp from the sky spilling its secrets. Fireflies glow like tiny stars here on earth, moving at the slowest of speeds. This is summer time in Ohio, a time when the weather can change at any minute, the temperature hovers high along with the humidity. The only thing as tense here in the park is the collective hopes and frustrations of our present youth. Back to them.
"Whatever, I'll do it," says Erin.
She is a thin girl, pretty in a stern way. Long, straight brown hair graces her down to her shoulder blades and just a handful of freckles have been sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Many believe her blue eyes are cold, that they have absorbed so much information from school books that they can not hold any more room for such baser emotions. Erin is a girl in control, that's all, a young woman with every intention of getting into a good college and making a name for herself in business law. Very respectable and thoughtful of her, really.
She steps up on to the concrete slab, its cool stone foundation jutting out from underneath the house by only a few feet. She examines the thick wooden door for a moment. taking the time to brush it off with the butt of her hand. Gracefully, she leans her small frame against the back of the door and looks out to the small crowd, a plethora of "Oohs" and "Ahhs" and nods of approval. Now she needs but a lover, a young man to knock on the door three times to summon the spirit of Ester.
"Doug, get up here and knock," she says to the boy she has been seeing these last few months.
Doug climbs up on the slab all smiles. He is proud of the part he gets to play in this little game. Leaning in he kisses Erin on the top of the head and knocks on the wooden door. Once, twice, a third time. He steps away to watch the reaction.
"Well, if nothing happens, I guess that means you and Sean really did..."
Now imagine if stone could scream. Imagine the sound of the earth being torn asunder with a path being routed directly to the infernal realm itself. Imagine the cries of a soul being burnt alive, but the rage that had inhabited that body being so rich, so alive, it clawed its way out before it could be dragged down into the lower pits. Imagine the sound of this hate pouncing like a a thing of nightmares back into the living world, back into a house made of wood and brick.
Imagine hearing all of this in only a few moments.
The door buckled in around Erin, shards of wood splintering off and flying at the spectators. The cement slab at their feet cracking and shifting. Gray lights pouring out of every nook and hole to be found in the squat little farm house. Oh, such sights, such sights. And of course the sounds.
Erin's screams are the loudest. The gray lights have her, holding her in place. Not really a source of illumination, they give off enough of a glow to show the frenzied claws of a horrible thing shredding at her back. More than tearing at her, it mutilates her. At some point her screams will die away, but there will be no one there no hear that, no one there to witness her lifeless body fall to the broken hunks of cement.
Bravery is admirable, but is afforded only to the justified. Her friends have fled, running, crying, screaming, into the forest at night. That is fine, Ester hears them. She is awake, and these woods used to be her home. She is not satisfied, not fulfilled. The young ones can not run fast enough, can not hide well enough.
Tomorrow, the park rangers will only find three cars in the parking lot. Search parties will never uncover the remains of the teenagers. There will be no trace of Erin's body at the house, and the house will appear as it has for the last few decades. Abandoned and rotting. This is the way of things here at Spruceville park, here at Ester's House. So come, try your luck at the mythos, at the legend. Place your girlfriend, your sister, your daughter up against the door and knock. Once, twice, a third time. But make sure you do not place your lips upon her head first...
User Reviews
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-10-17 13:58:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
me too. not sure why i missed it the first time round.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2007-10-17 12:42:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read this.
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-08-19 04:14:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome
Submitted by supadupapupa (user info) at 2005-08-19 02:00:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked this piece! I thought it had great potential to be a really good horror story. I have to agree with some of the previous comments that the language was a bit strange. I think the wording made it overly ominous which, for me, took away some of the scare factor. I'm actually upset that this couldn't be longer, sounds like part of a book I would be devouring...
Submitted by ajanssen (user info) at 2005-08-19 01:32:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I like your descriptive style of writing. Not that they were shitty to begin with but it seems like your post are gradually getting better. Good job.
Drew
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2005-08-19 00:03:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
SunGod, I'll take any critical reviews of my work, as long as they're serious. Honestly, Thank you for writing out what you thought about the piece. I would agree with you that the story structure of the piece was a little... different. I was trying to capture a feeling of legend about the house, to make it seem more dreamlike. I think maybe I should have added more dialogue to go along with the narration. Maybe that would have given it a better flow. Hmmm... Anyhow, thanks again for your input. It's why I post these stories, so I can get feedback about what works, and what doesn't.
Submitted by TheSunGod (user info) at 2005-08-18 23:48:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
ok, here's a 2 to keep from breaking a lovely streak on a good piece.
BUT (and hope i hope you appreciate this rather than being angry at it) your syntax could use a bit of toning down. the words are wonderful and very well used, but so many big and dramatic words are used that your language almost seems gothic (not in the "wears black and sulks" kind of way). i think someone else mentioned it earlier, said you use weird words... and this is sort of the pot calling the kettle black, but i just find a piece more accessible when it's written in the everyday vernacular.
i don't know, i guess the language does work a bit for this particular piece. maybe just a little overdone?
Submitted by knucklesnelson (user info) at 2005-08-18 22:52:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2005-08-18 22:31:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Like Tales From The Crypt: "Beware all ye pure ones with lips between the hips."
+++
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-08-18 21:28:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-08-17 14:58:47 (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-08-16 20:13:45 (#)
Ranking: 1
Pretty good story, but goddamnit, man, learn to use apostrophes correctly! Please. Every time I see another one improperly used, another piece of my soul burns away.
THERE ISN'T MUCH MORE OF IT LEFT, YOU BASTARD
http://www.apostrophe.fsnet.co.uk/
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-08-18 20:44:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A damn good read.
Submitted by Aitsu (user info) at 2005-08-18 19:41:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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Submitted by silent1 (user info) at 2005-08-18 18:06:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it, kept me wondering where the story was going for a while.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-08-18 17:53:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're the best writer on this site. Keep it up.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-08-18 16:43:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Once again I will comment on how much I love how descriptive your writing is.
Submitted by DCWoody (user info) at 2005-08-18 15:49:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I get the impression that english isn't your first language.
Or you just speak damn weird. Great post.
Submitted by Professional_Peon (user info) at 2005-08-18 15:49:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Shoulda titled it "Suburban Legend" or something a little spookier.
I was kindof hoping you would go into detail about how she killed the others. But that's just me I love gore!
Good story though.
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-08-18 15:39:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Really this house actually exhists? That points a slightly more scary slant to the story.
It was this line that got me. "She died a spinster in a fire here that consumed the house, consumed the woman," Now that you explain it it makes sense but at the first read I was like "what? So is there a house or isn't there.
And yep I think we're splitting hairs on the virgin thing. Maybe it's just me but for me a lover is someone you make love to not just someone you're in love with.
Hope you take the critisim as it's meant ie constructively because I really did like it.
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2005-08-18 15:29:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
this was good. very creepy and detached. kinda twilight zone like.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2005-08-18 15:18:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Okay, 2 good questions. Actually, the second was more of a statemnt, I guess...
There really is an Ester's House in Sprucevalle, OH, in Beaver Creek State Park. The remains of the house still stand, but it's obvious there has been fire damage. Mostly, this is based on the legends that swirl around this old house that just stands in the middle of a park. Good call picking up such a inconsistency in my story, though. I should have written that clearer.
I wouldn't say that virgins don't have "lovers," but I can see where you're coming from. I suppose it would be more percise to say that Boy who is Courting the girl would be the one to unlock the curse with the kiss. The more I think about it, I guess "Lover" isn't the excat word I should have used. Perhaps "Beloved."
Submitted by AlexorGM (user info) at 2005-08-18 14:56:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-08-18 14:47:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great story!
Just two things though. If the house burnt down with her in it how the hell is it still there? Virgins by there very definition don't have lovers.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-18 14:44:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
spooky!
Submitted by Dead_0hi0_Sky (user info) at 2005-08-18 14:35:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hot damn.