Off the Path

The dirt mingled with the dust, puffing into the air as the door swung open.

“What is this place?” Mac asked, glancing through a hole in the ceiling. Beyond was a blue sky and skeletal tree branches. The floor just under it was soft and littered with leaves. If the room had been a little brighter she suspected she would have been able to see the mold she was sure was growing there.

“Not sure. I found it the other day.”

“And you didn’t investigate?”

Carl fixed his glasses, pushing them back up his nose so he could properly see her. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Weird to do it alone.”

Mac knew the real reason for his caution. He was afraid. And that was perfectly fine. What wasn’t fine was that he refused to admit it or any other emotions for that matter. “It isn’t any weirder than asking someone to go with you to check it out. Now we’re just weird together.”

“I suppose that’s a valid point.”

“I suppose. I’m going to turn my light on, are you ready?”

“Are you?”

In the dimness of the room, Mac rolled her eyes. She knew he couldn’t see her, but her reaction was automatic. She had grown up beside Carl. They rode the bus together, she drove him in every day after she got her license (he failed his driving test twice), and they had even gotten their first jobs together. He had been by her side through everything, but the more she thought about him and their friendship, she wasn’t sure if she ever had a choice in the matter. She believed he would have tagged along beside her even if she didn’t acknowledge him. He was terrified of being alone and of the unknown, but he didn’t know himself well enough yet to see that. She had noticed it early on in their friendship, probably around 4th grade when she had tried to spread her own wings and found that they continued to bump into the cloud that surrounded Carl. He clung to her because she was the known, she was his comfort blanket. They were now in their mid-twenties and nothing had changed. Except, now Mac had a serious boyfriend who was also getting more than a little irritated by the constant tag along. Bruce had offered to go on this particular adventure with Carl, had said Mac could stay home, but she couldn’t bring herself to let the two of them do anything alone together. She assumed it would only result in them arguing and Carl becoming upset. Bruce didn’t worry about hurting Carl’s feelings and despite herself, Mac looked out for him.

She knew she would be able to glue back together any pieces Bruce may sever if left alone with Carl, but she really didn’t want to be faced with the effort.

Mac turned her flashlight on, the blue-white beam bathing the room in light. Curtains still hung in the two windows, the glass still intact. At least, Mac believed they were as the dark colored curtains were perfectly straight. Cobwebs covered almost everything. They spanned from corner to corner, decorations left by mother nature. A half burnt white pillar candle that had been on the mantle looked like it had a few bites taken out of it by mice and droppings littered most surfaces. Mac cleared her throat and stepped deeper into the room.

There were a few pieces of mail still sitting on the coffee table, yellowed with age and other things she didn’t want to think about. Carl made his way to the bookcase, his finger touching the spines of books and wiping away dust that had collected. Moss was growing on covers and a few novels had swollen with the absorption of water. Pages were crumpled, wrinkled, and dried.

Mac moved her light over the walls, looking for a sign of identity. The mail said Hally Meveline, but that didn’t tell her who Hally was. She supposed the books would give a glimpse into the woman’s identity somewhat, but she wanted to put a face to the name or at least see what she cared to have photographed.

The walls were mostly free of photographs, but there was one frame that held an image of a small family gathered together in a field. She imagined the field was somewhere beyond the walls of the building. Perhaps, the field existed before the trees took hold. The house at least stood before some of the smaller Pine trees encroached around it. One day, the house would be gone but the trees would still be there, growing taller every day.

The family in the picture consisted of an older woman, her daughter, a man that Mac believed was the daughter’s husband, and three children. There was no date, but judging by the clothing and the black and white image, she assumed it was from the 50s. There was no way the old woman was alive now and the children featured were most likely in their 80s by now. She wondered where they could be now and what had caused them to leave the house so abruptly. It was strange that there was still mail sitting on the table and books on the shelves. The house appeared to be waiting for their return. But how long had it already been waiting?

She was about to open the piece of mail when there was the sound of scuffing upstairs. Her face jerked up and she met Carl’s eyes. He shook his head and pointed towards the door. He wanted to go. But it was too late. She was there and there was a mystery afoot. She pointed to the ceiling and started walking towards the kitchen, where she suspected the staircase to be.

If she had been paying attention to the room she walked through, she would have noticed that the kitchen wasn’t in as much disrepair as the living room. There was a clean bucket of water in the sink and a bottle of dish soap. There were fresh fruits sitting on the counter as well and a new knife that was free of dust and debris. The floor had even been swept and a pair of shoes were placed idly by the closet door, waiting.

Mac began walking up the stairs, keeping her fingers away from the railing and the dust collecting there. The stairs themselves weren’t as dirty as she suspected them to be, but leaves and other natural bits had made there way here as well. The ceiling above her was still in tact, it was just over the living room that it was falling apart.

The second floor was mostly open, it was another living area with a couch and two doors on opposite sides of the room that Mac assumed led to bedrooms. She thought the noise had come from directly overhead. She paused, holding her breath, and awaiting the next sound. Now that she was upstairs and Carl was stubbornly still waiting on the bottom floor, she wondered if she should have taken a weapon of some sort. If she looked, she was sure she would have been able to find something. She took a step forward and then paused again.

Beyond one of the doors she heard more scuffling. A rodent of some sort? She wanted to be sure.

Mac stepped towards the door to the left, being careful not to trip over a lifted part of the rug. On the table beside the couch was an empty bowl. She picked it up, feeling the weight. If a weapon was needed, she supposed it would do. If she were able to hit a predator over the head with it, it would at least take him by surprise long enough for her to get down the stairs and into the forest beyond. All she really needed was time to get away.

More scuffling.

Before she could change her mind, she threw the door open. It swung open only slightly before hitting a barrier. It was wide enough though, that she could make out the shape of the bed, the clothes littering the floor, and the roof hanging in. Tree branches lay across areas of the floor as well and she assumed the scuffling she had heard was coming from the wind outside. She let the bowl drop to the floor and stepped into the room, shining her flashlight around.

Someone had left this room in a hurry as well, it looked as though someone had been getting ready for an event. Maybe the young girl in the photo? Dresses and skirts were thrown across the floor as well as sitting on the chair and dresser. Makeup brushes had been knocked askew and a mirror was still tilted on the dresser, as though someone were trying to get a better view of themselves.

“Carl! You can come up! There’s nothing here!” Mac called, knowing he would want to see this as well. The entire house was like a time capsule, at least to Mac’s eyes. Downstairs, Carl was noticing the signs of someone else being there. His hands were sweating, his heart was thumping erratically in his chest. He looked towards the stairs, debating if he should go after her or walk out of the house. He had never been very brave, he knew that. But this was Mac. She had been the center of his life for so long he couldn’t quite imagine walking away from her. But who was here? Who could possibly be staying here?

He looked at the shoes that were waiting by the closet. They were dirty and tattered, but it was clear they were placed there recently. The floor around them was clean, swept and taken care of. The shoes themselves were large. They were men’s work boots. They were a larger size than the sneakers on his own feet. He stared at them and imagined the man that may wear them. He wondered what he could possibly be wearing now. He wondered where he could possibly be at this moment. Surely, he would be coming back for his shoes. If he wasn’t, the floor wouldn’t have been swept.

Mac called again, but the words were instinct. He wasn’t focusing enough on what was happening upstairs. It didn’t interest him at this point. The more he thought about the individual that owned the shoes, the more worried he became. Without saying a word, Carl turned around, and with his hands gripping his bag tightly, he walked through the living room and out the main door. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t bother closing the door behind him. Fear gripped him and propelled him away from the run down house in the woods.

He found his way to the path that would bring him back to his car. He had found the house completely by accident earlier in the day; he had wandered off the main path, something he often did when walking somewhere new, and stumbled upon the route that lead to the house. It wasn’t well traveled, he had assumed it was made by deer or some other animals, but now he wasn’t so sure. He just wanted to get back to his car; he was starting to feel guilty about leaving Mac, but survival was more important. He didn’t even know if they were going to come back, or who it was. But whoever was living in the woods in an abandoned house was not someone he wanted to run into. All signs pointed to Run.

“Carl!” Mac called again. She continued to investigate the room, picking up trinkets and using her pants to swipe off the dust. She turned back to the bed, noticing a strange form in the blankets. It struck her as odd that the bed was still made in the first place. Someone had taken the time to make the bed, but not pick up their clothing. She pulled down the dust littered comforter in one swift motion and screamed at the revelation.

The blanket had been concealing a human skull and assorted other bones. They weren’t arranged in any fashion and she didn’t see any other signs of decay. Just the bones. Brilliant white bones and the hollow eye sockets staring at her. She dropped the blanket back down and turned to run. As she was making her way down the stairs, she was suddenly aware that she was alone. Everything in the house had settled and become unnaturally calm, everything but her hammering heart.

“Carl?” Her voice fell flat in the empty living room.

Outside there was a shout.

Instead of running from it, she headed towards it. She ran from the house as fast as she could, in search of her friend. She was confused by his absence. Where had he gone? Why had he left? Did he see someone?

But no, that didn’t make sense. He never would have run after someone. He would only run away. Her running slowed. She leaned against a tree to catch her breath and gather her bearings. The woods were silent again. There was no sign of commotion, no sound at all. Birds weren’t even chirping.

Carl had been making his way to the car while Mac was making her gruesome discovery. As he rounded the corner in the path, a large man passed him. Carl shouted in surprise, but the man said nothing. He barely looked at Carl. His eyes were set forward, intent on following the trail. He was searching for something. Carl believed he was searching for the path that Carl had accidentally stumbled upon, the same path Mac would be using to get out of the house, the same path that would take the man to the building. This was his chance. He could save Mac, if he could only delay the man or somehow stop him all together. Carl paused, fidgeting with his thoughts.

He could keep going or he could turn around.

Keep going.

Turn around.

He shook his head and kept moving. He needed to get to his car. It was too late.

Mac could hear someone coming towards her now. It was too loud to be Carl. She shrank back against the tree, lowering herself into the briars and brush. Her fingers gripped her flashlight tightly as she thought about what her best option would be. She didn’t have many. She was in the middle of the woods, alone, and someone was coming towards her. Someone or something. And it was big. She could feel their footsteps in the earth, she could hear the tree branches rustling with them. As they came closer, she could hear their breathing. And their…sniffing? They were smelling the air.

She held her breath. She hadn’t been wearing perfume, but Carl had worn the same cologne since junior high. It didn’t matter what he was doing, he always wore it. Had some of the scent attached itself to her? She shrank lower into the earth. Hoping, they would keep walking. Just keep walking.

And then she saw him, a beast of a man nearly seven feet tall with long stringy hair that had collected pine needles and twigs. His coat hung to his knees and she could now hear the jingle of keys. His pockets were full and weighed down. He was walking briskly, his face pointed forwards. She couldn’t make out his eyes, but saw a full dirty blonde beard. In one hand he held rope, he continued to wrap it around his fingers in a nervous manner. He continued walking, his boots almost stepping on her hands. He hadn’t seen her through the brush and briars that she had nestled herself into. She waited until he was out of sight before she breathed a sigh of relief. He was gone.

She waited a little longer and then crept from her spot. It was beginning to get dark now, the world taking on a blue hue. She could see, but not that well. She was afraid to turn on her light and draw attention to herself. She found the trail that would bring her back to the car and picked up her pace. She was ready to get out of here and was hoping she would stumble across Carl. Surely, he would be waiting for her. He would be close. He hadn’t left that long before her. Had he? She wasn’t so sure.

She reached into her pocket for her cell phone and to her surprise, found that it was not there. She cursed herself, thinking she must have dropped it when she was hiding. Or had she left it in the house? She didn’t know. It was too late now. Mac couldn’t help it, she broke into a run.

Her feet mimicked the beating of her heart. Thump, thump, thump, thump. Finally, she reached the parking lot. Carl’s car was still sitting in the same spot. With a sigh of relief she ran over to it and tried to open the passenger side door. It was locked. Confused, she flicked on her light and shined it inside.

What she saw made her blood curdle. She was unable to hold back her scream. It echoed throughout the clearing. It made its way to the house, it made its way to the stranger’s ears.

Mac ran for her life.

Katrina Thornley is a nature poet and novelist that resides in Rhode Island. She has two poetry collections currently published, a novel, as well as a short story anthology. Her poetry collections "Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature" and "Arcadians: Wooden Mystics" were inspired by a local park and life in her small rural town. You can find them on Amazon now!

Also, be sure to give her a follow on Instagram!