The House in the Fog
Fog had begun to roll in as I reached the last stretch of forest road to the family vacation home. Although I had been here countless times ever since I could remember, in heavier fog than was obstructing my vision even with my headlights set to their fullest blinding brightness, still I somehow found myself filled with a heavy disconcerting unease. I had even been here alone in the dreary weather, and nonetheless I found my heart beating faster as I pulled up in front of the house and parked. If it was my desire or not, I found myself sprinting to the door and unlocking it as quickly as humanly possible hoping that somehow getting inside would ease the disquiet that I was suddenly feeling. I stretched my hand across the wall as I leaned against the door trying to stop the trembling as I found the light switch and turned it on, giving silent thanks when the room lit up. After standing there pressed against the door with my arm still against the wall, searching the room for the invisible thing that I felt was causing my tension, I finally rolled my eyes at myself and pushed forward to enter the house fully.
“Honestly, what is wrong with you, B?” I spoke aloud to myself as I strolled boldly into the kitchen and dropped my purse and keys on the counter. “You’ve clearly been watching too many horror movies lately.” I continued while opening the fridge with a small twinge of worry in my stomach. However, this was less from the fear of a boogeyman jumping from the depths of the cold-keeper, but instead the knowledge that the last one to use the vacation home was my brother Craig, notorious for leaving things behind to fall rancid and be cleaned by the poor soul that found it. I held my breath in my lungs, releasing it only when a quick inspection found both the refrigerator and the freezer empty of any such ‘science experiments’. “Right, now that’s settled… Just need to get the cooler from the car.” I looked back toward the front door, attempting to kick that unease that I had forced away back down.
Taking a step out of the kitchen and back toward the front door I felt a chill run down the length of my spine. “Good lord, it’s just fog, B!”
Picking up the pace, I marched out the door and back to my little sedan, defiantly threw open the back door and took the cooler from where I had tucked it on the floor and finalized my resolve by giving the car door a swift but gentle kick to close it before returning inside with my prize. Pulling my phone from my jacket pocket, I set it down beside the ring of keys and bag, putting my playlist on to kill the quiet of the foggy wilderness outside as I stocked the fridge and freezer with the items I had brought with me from home- just enough to last the weekend, so if I decided to stay longer I would need to make a trip down to the small town nearby.
Finally, with a cheap beer in hand I snatched my phone from the kitchen counter and returned to the front room to collapse onto the couch as I opened my drink and leaned back to relax, the needlessly squirming insides quelled. “It sure has been a long week, B. Sure, sure has...” I stared up at the ceiling as I took another drink from the bottle, thinking back to the events that had driven me to come out here in the first place.
My boyfriend had left me after confessing that he had been seeing someone who I had considered a close friend for nearly a year. My boss had informed me that my position at work was ‘outdated’ and that I was ‘being let go’. The independent archaeology group I had been studying with had lost its funding and come to an abrupt end. The professor committed suicide, leaving a note that simply said “I’m sorry.” We- that is the entire of the small class and the professor- had been very close, to the point where he had been intending to take us on his next trip. He had even given each of us jewelry that he had created by hand that ‘embodied our personalities’. The necklace he gave me was one of my most treasured items.
I had just returned from the funeral to find that my pet parrot Elvis had become ill and died before I had even had the chance to get him out to the veterinarian to see what was causing the sickness. Back on my parents horse farm, the same fate had befallen my favorite horse Bart. It was as though I had lost several close members of family all at once, with such painful speed that I had been unable to say goodbye. Even with those awful preparations that I’d had to make for my lost friends, I thankfully still had some money in my bank account that would allow me to stay out here for some time to recover before I had to force myself to make the decision between hunting for a job or taking one back home with my folks. They had asked me back several times when business- training horses as well as breeding and training Border Collies. These things were a passion for me, and it wasn’t as though I disliked my family, but when I left to study I had hoped to do something ‘of my own’, something ‘more modern’. I still had that option, I just had to find another program and hope it wouldn’t lose funding the way the previous had. Still, though, the real problem was deciding if my income would come from a new job or returning home.
As the thoughts played over in my head, I traced Professor Gibbons’ necklace over in my hand. It was silver cord with a carved jade ring. The color of the jade had darkened as I wore it, and I recalled worrying to him over it as he smiled that broad smile of his and told me that, far from a bad thing, the darkening color was a good sign. My fingertips slid to the crack that I had found in the jade just before getting the call about his death, my heart beginning to ache over again as I wondered if I really could convince myself to continue to chase this dream, or if I would have to return home for my own health. Clearly nowhere near any decisions, a deep rumble echoed through causing me to jump to reality- the reality of the fact that I had just dropped my bottle of beer and shattered the glass and contents all over the hardwood floor. I cursed under my breath although no one was there to hear, flipping over the back of the couch to return to the kitchen for a towel and other tools required to clean the mess I had just made. “Seriously, B… You need to chill, that’s what you’re out here for.”
Before long I had cleaned the mess successfully without cutting myself on the shattered glass. Due to the shattering, however, I poured my next beer into one of the plastic cups that we always kept stock in the house so as to not have to remember to pack them each trip. Just as I was sitting back down on the couch, thankful the beer had missed the furniture, another deep rumble would moan, coaxing the lights that I had so quickly turned on to go out without even a flicker. “OH COME ON!” I shouted. “WHAT AM I BEING PUNISHED FOR?!”
I groaned, leaning into the cushions and taking a drink in a disgruntled huff. At least, I told myself, I still had my tunes. For once I was happy that there was no internet for me to link to my streaming music to have left me in not only dark but silence as well. “No,” I reassured myself out loud as I found the edges of my consciousness sinking into anger, “This could be fun. A weekend pretending to rough it while still in safety. It’s perfect, just pretend you’re on site doing a dig.”
Yes, that was the ticket. Don’t fall into the darkness. Remind myself of the good things I had instead of focusing on what I didn’t have or had lost. I don’t know why I always had such difficulty doing this, but that’s exactly why I was out here- to calm myself and not fall prey to drowning myself in substance. As that thought occurred, I slowly glanced to the plastic cup filled with alcohol. At first I thought to myself that it was weak alcohol, and that I had only slipped a 6 pack in the car. I then sighed to myself as I pointed out that I had needed to obtain the alcohol sneakily so that I wouldn’t be scolded for it despite my age. With that sigh I stood, making my way back into the kitchen to pour it down the drain. “Behave, B. You’ll be fine, but only if you work for it.”
As the drink poured away down the drain a crash would reverberate through the house. Once more I would jump and drop the cup from my hand, this time into the sink rather than the floor, my hand reaching up to take hold of my necklace for comfort as I spun around to see the front door thrown wide open and the fog creeping its way in while the wind hissed and heaved. Had I locked the door? I quickly and frantically searched my memory, confirming that I had not, in fact. With this a solid fact in my mind I relaxed, crossing the room to push the door closed a bit harder than I had before, this time pointedly locking it behind. Clearly I had simply not closed the door as properly as I thought and the gust of wind had shoved it open.
“Right.” After checking again that I had most certainly firmly closed and locked the door, I returned to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I took out a soda this time, eyeing the remaining beer that seemed to stare back into my soul as the nerves had crept back down my spine in the darkness. “No. You already made that decision, you aren’t going back.” Setting the soda on the counter, I removed the beer and placed the bottles in the sink- hot beer was far less appealing, hopefully that would keep my mind off it until I could dispose of it more properly somewhere else.
Taking the soda I once more returned to the couch, turning up the music on my phone as I checked the time. “I’ve not even been here an hour?”
I couldn’t help but groan, sliding down a bit as I took another drink, wondering if possibly I had made a mistake by coming all the way out here and perhaps being alone was the last thing I truly needed right now, even if I didn’t want to see anyone. As I thought it over, the mistakes I had already made by buying the beer, and the disquiet that I had repeatedly kicked further down into my gut, I was just on the verge of making the decision to go to bed and drive back to the farm in the morning. After all, if I needed my alone time I could take one of the horses out for a ride- that horse just wouldn’t be Bart.
“Don’t go.”
Once more the drink in my hand fell, though this time I managed to shoot my hand out and catch it, splashing the sticky fizzy drink onto myself rather than the floor. I hardly had even had time for my heart to renew its ache over my Bart before I had sworn I heard someone call out. I picked up my phone, looking at the song playing- those lyrics were definitely not a part of the song.
“Honestly, B!” I sighed, wiping the outside of the can on my shirt before setting it on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you bring your suitcase in with you? Is the fog really that bad? No. No it isn’t. You’re being stupid.”
As I stood up, I wiped my hands on my shirt to get as much of the liquid off as I could before I changed clothes- it was already soaked, there was no reason for me to find a towel or get water just yet, a little more wouldn’t do it more harm than was already done. Tucking my phone into my pocket for the continued comfort of the music I once more crossed the living room, putting my hand on the door and turning the knob with once more mustered confidence.
The knob turned easily in my hand, as it should with the force I put behind it to convince myself to go out into that howling wind and the rain that had since joined in that still, I could see from the window, had done nothing to clear away the fog. Perhaps it had even made it worse, I could barely see the car.
“Don’t go.”
I jerked my hand, slamming it into the knob as I let go, turning on my heel to slam my back against the door and look frantically around the darkened living room. I hadn’t even given myself the time to freak over the thickening fog before I’d heard it again. I didn’t even need to check my phone this time- it was in the midst of the silence between songs. The next one would begin on cue, and as always seems to happen, lightning would flash and thunder roar out so loud that I couldn’t even identify what song had come on. Still, for once I was happy for the lightning illuminating the room- empty. Of course empty. I was the only one here, so this ‘voice’ I was hearing had to be my own.
“Okay, B. We’re getting a change of clothes, we’re going to bed… And we’re going to schedule a psychiatrist in the morning, because you are clearly too far gone. You know the signs. Not ignoring them and saying you’re fine is the first step to help. Everyone would remind you about that.”
I didn’t wait for my heartbeat to slow, turning back to the door and ignoring the throbbing in my wrist from smacking it. That throb did slow my ability to turn the knob again, however, and brought me to a stop halfway through twisting it, elevated heart rate jumping in speed as I felt my breath catching in my throat along with it. “I locked it.”
My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the sound of the driving rain just on the other side of the door, eyes stinging as they stared at my hand grasped around the half-turned knob. “I didn’t unlock it.”
The words echoed again, though this time definitely in my own head. Don’t go? Don’t go. Don’t go.
“Why is it unlocked?” I let go, stumbling back away from the door. “Why is it unlocked?” The words came from my lips again, voice raising in pitch and fear. I had locked it, I had locked it and checked three times to have made sure that I’d done so. But it was unlocked, and I had not done that. “Why is it unlocked?”
This time I couldn’t stamp out the fear. I couldn’t even begin to try. I only turned my back to the door when I neared the staircase, turning and booking it up them, throwing myself into my bedroom and door slammed behind myself, taking a dive across the floor into the bed and under the sheets. I don’t know why I thought I was safe there, or even comforted. If whatever was out there could unlock doors, it could most certainly pull a blanket off a bed.
Sitting there under the slightly musty smelling blanket, my hand slipped up to hold tightly to my necklace again. I felt a wave of comfort wash over me as my fingers traced over the jade, and the crack in it. I could tell the crack had grown even since the time I had touched it just under an hour ago. Normally that would send me into a panic. After all, Professor Gibbons wouldn’t be giving me another, it was irreplaceable. But here, sat trembling over something unseen, I felt held and comforted. He would have believed me, rather than turning white and suggesting I see another shrink. He probably would have had an explanation for it too, and even a solution.
“The doll.”
I heard the voice again. The same one that had warned me not to leave. Somehow the sound of it eased the pounding of my heart and began to restore calm to me. I reached into my pocket with my free hand, pulling out the little pocket doll that the Professor had given us at the very start of the class. My other hand still gently stroking the jade pendant, I turned the doll slowly in the other. I had always found it rather curious, wondering what he had made it of, though he would never say.
It was very small, only just half the length of my pointer finger in height and what felt like properly proportional to that in girth. There were no features on it, unless you counted the small swirls that resembled roses etched rather deeply in. I had always been rather fond of the etchings that had been different on each student’s doll. Everyone’s had a distinct beauty, but I had deeply fallen in love with mine, to the point where occasionally it had even distracted me from working as I took it out to examine it over again. But no matter how often I looked, how long I touched, or what I compared it to, I could never identify the slightly velvety feeling black material. The doll was heavy for its small size, too, I thought, but then again perhaps that was all due to whatever material it was made from. These two objects were my only treasures left from Professor Gibbons. I was thankful, now more than ever, that the doll seemed unbreakable. No matter the accidental dropping abuse that my clumsy hands dealt it, the doll never even took a scratch. With the necklace about to become a desk decoration, knowing I could keep the doll on me brought another wave of calmness.
“Put it outside.”
That voice again. More instructions? It felt that way, but as the words settled in my ears I balked. Put the one thing that was bringing me even the smallest amount of joy out there with whatever was clearly hunting me?
“No.” I found myself retorting aloud rather than in my head. “There is no way. This is mine.”
Confidence was once more swirling around me as I lay down in the bed, softly clutching the doll in my palm. Moments ago I had inwardly sworn not to lay down and be ready to flee should it- whatever it was- come into the room after me. But I suddenly held no fear of it. So what if it could unlock a door? As a matter of fact, I knew the truth. I had to have unlocked the door before I turned the knob. It was such a natural part of opening the door that I had simply overlooked the fact that I had done it. Yes, that was the truth. I was overreacting. But still, I was already in bed, there was no reason to get up and go outside for a change of clothes.
I closed my eyes and relaxed in against the bed. The stale scent of the blankets felt comforting as I felt the tenseness in my body ease away. It was almost as though I’d gone back to my childhood, running screaming up to fly into my ‘Away Bed’ before my parents had the chance to wash the sheets. All the hours spent running through the trees or splashing in the lake as I played with Craig or teased our father for his shorts. Coming up here was clearly the right decision after all. No matter what problems I always had, they would fly away right along with the crows and hawks.
Falling into dream, I found myself playing in under the sink in cabin, giggling as I listened to the sound of the dishes clinking in the sink as mother washed them, shushing myself because I swore she didn’t know I was there. I giggled and shushed louder as I heard Craig trying to tell mother I was there, and had fallen over in a fit of giggled and hissing shushes as she insisted that I was outside watching father clean the grill. Hearing the water draining and mother taking enough steps back to not be hit with the door, I threw it open and jumped out to an empty darkened kitchen. “HERE I AM!”
The blanket flew off me with such ferocity that I felt myself pulled a few inches along with it. I tightened my grip around both the necklace and the doll, but the comfort they had brought me had vanished entirely no matter how much I wished it would come back. Still I saw nothing through the darkness as I bolted from the bed to slam myself into the nearest corner of the room with no regard to physical harm. Why had I thought I was safe? I hadn’t unlocked the door. Why had I thought I was safe? If it could unlock a door, it could come up the stairs. What on Earth had I thought I was safe? If it could unlock a door and come up the stairs, of course it could throw a blanket across the room. I felt sticky. I felt sick. The last several seconds played over in my mind looping. Jumping from beneath the sink into darkness and calling out, the voice not my own. The voice louder than I was even capable of producing. The blanket flying, now laying crumpled on the floor between the bed and the opened doorway.
“I closed the door.” I don’t know what possessed me to speak out loud to confirm this. I don’t know what I thought it would help, or what it might prove. I wasn’t alone, but I most certainly wasn’t speaking to whatever was there with me. I found myself praying with my entire body that whatever it was didn’t reply. Please, please, please don’t say anything. I was talking to myself, not to you. Go away. What am I being punished for? Seconds passed, creeping by like hours dripping slowly as molasses poured from the jar. Silence. I finally released the breath held burning in my chest, ignoring the sensation of spinning and floating as I took a deep breath and a step forward toward the door.
“The doll.”
The blanket shifted on the floor toward me as though the invisible force had stepped against it. I paused, my grip tightening yet again, so tight now around the jade that I felt it had cracked even further while I lay sleeping. The doll somehow felt even more heavy than usual in my hand. I stepped right back against the corner, shaking my head repeatedly. It did nothing but increase the dizziness I was already feeling for having held my breath for too long. Why did I have to give up so much? There was nothing fair in this.
“The doll.”
Once more the blanket moved on the floor, now seemingly kicked out of the way and lying in a mound against the foot of the bed. The doll. It almost seemed to burn in my hand, as though it were a hot coal from daddy’s grill. Still, even though it felt as though the doll itself wanted to escape, I didn’t want to part with it. The doll, the necklace, they were both mine. Both gifts from the person I felt was the most precious I’d ever had in my life. I shook my head again, once more ignoring the world spinning itself around me, I burst into a run. Across the room, down the hall, down the stairs. Throwing the front door open- the thought that the bedroom door was opened and this was not did not even cross my mind at the time- I rushed out into the rain coming down in sheets. I could almost feel myself kicking through the fog as I ran through it, past the car and into the trees. The lightning flashed again, casting shadows in every direction and making me feel as though the world had gone from spinning to entirely upside down.
I don’t know how far or long I ran before my foot caught the root and I fell to the ground and curled to clench at my now throbbing knee and ankle. The pain seemed to bring me out of the fear as I lay there panting, slowly pressing my forehead against my knee in attempt to ease the pain. The rain pounded against me as though I was being showered with small rocks. The thunder and lightning clashed loudly in the sky like a couple in the middle of a heated argument that they had over and over again. The branches of the trees scraped against one another in a way that seemed to be hands scraping down to be the first to grasp hold of me. I took slow breaths, taking it all in along with the pain. Was I over thinking? Was I not thinking hard enough? Either way, I was certain that I really was over reacting, in my natural, dramatic fashion.
The doll.
I realized as I lay there that I had dropped it after falling. Turning my head up, the lightning would brighten the area with all of its ironic glory. The doll lay just a stretched arm length away. The flash of light had also lit something else- a pair of bare feet stood just further away on the other side of the doll. I knew without question that this was the source of all my unease. This was the boogeyman that was following me. The darkness had fallen, and although I couldn’t see the doll or the feet, I knew both were still there. The ache in my leg remained, but once more that calm had rushed over me. There were no words. No words, but laying there, the understanding flowed into me like a gentle tide rolling over me and then away.
“Take it.”
I didn’t hear the movement, but I felt it. The doll lifted by the unseen hand of its original owner, both vanishing into the night as the pounding rain began to slow. If I had understood the significance of it, I would have done my best to return it. I stood, the pain in my leg having become numb as I began walking back through the forest without even a limp. Even though it was a gift from Professor Gibbons, if I’d known he’d taken it, and the others, from a burial dig site, I would have wondered what possessed him to do so and asked him to return them. I couldn’t understand why a man with such a passion for preservation would do that, and wondered if it were somehow connected to the simple message in his farewell note.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
The words were already burned into my eyes, and as I made it back to my car I began to feel the full weight of them. Slowly I leaned against the car, taking in a deep breath. The fog and rain had cleared along with my dizziness, but the pain had returned to the leg that I had most definitely twisted in my panic. A gift from the spirit for returning his soul doll. As this dawned on me, so too did the fact that the spirit held no ill will toward me for possession of his doll. My hand slid back up to the jade around my neck. The crack had nearly gone all the way through, what held the ring together now was so thin that it felt like touching it wrong would split it in half forever. There was something else waiting. Once more I realized that I had been over reacting in the forest.
“Something forced them on you...”
I somehow felt confident enough to put this thought into words, despite how many times I had frightened myself and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Something wanted those dolls removed from that place, and that something had somehow coerced Professor Gibbons into doing it, and then passing them on so that he couldn’t easily return them.
“You’re following all of us.” I spoke again as I looked back toward the house. Somehow I knew again that it- whatever it was- was inside waiting. “I don’t know what I can do… But I’m going to do it.”
Despite the pain I walked forward, keeping my leg straight. Although the doll was back in the original owner’s possession, I felt them walking with me and supporting my injury. I came to realize my knowledge was flowing through from them, another gift. I felt a small sting of regret for feeling as though I was being punished as I was surrounded by gifts and love. As I reached for the door once more, I stroked the jade ring one final time. I understood its significance now, protecting me from whatever was inside the home should it ever come to check up on the dolls that it was keeping from their owners, carefully crafted by the good Professor for this exact purpose. I felt the small strand still holding the ring in its shape, knowing it would remain intact until this had come to an end, but absolutely no longer.
I opened the door, stepping in boldly, closing and locking it behind me. I knew the lock was unnecessary, but somehow it bolstered my confidence even more. I both knew and didn’t know what I was doing. The silent instructions moved my body, and without fear I allowed myself to move. The words coming from my mouth were not my own. Unlike the memory of the dream, this voice was many, layered, soft and soothing. As they flowed from my lips I could feel the house shaking around me as though it were filled with anger. The windows shook with such violence that I felt the glass might shatter. The faucets turned on full blast, not only in front of me in the kitchen, but I could hear it from the bathrooms both down and upstairs. The stove top and oven sizzled to life, the heat spreading across the room more quickly than if the cooker were operating on its own. I continued to allow the words to flow out like a waterfall, the furniture began to slide around the room. Even as it rushed me, a barrier seemed to hold me me in safety, and I was never hit.
I don’t know how long it went on, stood in the darkness and trusting my health and safety to someone who I had never met, but somehow felt now as though I’d known my entire life. It ended as easily as it had begun. The room went silent. The lights flickered back on. The jade fell in two halves to the floor. The sound of it hitting the hardwood thundered in my head like the fireworks of the end of an era. Life wasn’t going to be the same anymore. So much was missing, yes, but so much too had been gained. I became aware of my cell phone playing a song. Perhaps, I should say, playing a memory.
This song had played and set my mood as I had rushed to join Professor Gibbons’ class. “Don’t worry.” I reached down to gently pick up the broken charm. “You don’t have to feel regret anymore. Everyone’s safe. And we’ll all be fine… I’m sure of it.”
I went over to collect the soda I had left out in my fear the previous night, now disposing of it properly before taking a fresh one with me out onto the porch to relax and watch as the sun began to rise. I felt relaxed again- sad, and more than a little lonely- but relaxed, and oddly a bit happy too. I had made my decision. I would do all of it- work a bit with the family, and continue to reach for my dream of archaeology. After all, I belonged in both places. Come Monday, once my leg was feeling better, I would head home and get started. For now, though, it was time to allow myself to sit in memory of my losses, assigning them their places in my heart and soul, before moving on in my life honoring their lives in turn.
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~**+**~ Pharaoh's Judgment ~**+**~
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