Old Oaks

The following short story appears in A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People by Shawn Jolley. Enjoy reading the entire thing below, and pick up the short story collection here.

Old Oaks by Shawn Jolley

What the house really needed was a wrecking ball and a few dozen sticks of dynamite. The location, in a remote corner of the Colorado Rockies, might have been great for a bed-and-breakfast, but it was useless because the road leading up to it was more like a hiking trail than anything else.

There was a town five miles to the south, but the small community, consisting mostly of abandoned mobile homes, wasn't a place people visited by choice.

The truth was, the house, although Victorian in style and large enough to accommodate the biggest of families, had been doomed since the first nail had been hammered into the first board. The original builder, one Arthur B. Kingkiller according to the faded plaque next to the front door, obviously hadn’t cared about resale value, much to the disappointment of many modern investors. He wanted the house to be built in the middle of nowhere, and so it was.

The outside of the house was supposed to be white, but the paint had chipped in large and small chunks, revealing dark and rough rotting wood. Rain gutters gilded in rust clung to the edges in an attempt to remain part of the structure. Shingles littered the flower beds where plants should have been growing.

Having been unoccupied for forty-two years, the neglect and misery manifested themselves in every man-made piece of the scene. Even the surrounding trees looked unnatural in juxtaposition to the broken home. The rumor was that somebody, or something, more than likely dead, still roamed the hallways, stood in the rooms, and watched the road from the shattered windows.

Nobody knew if the rumors were true, only that they had started with the mysterious disappearance of the previous homeowners. The county police department still had the original report that was filed on the night Mr. and Mrs. Kingkiller left town, but the facts were vague.

At the time, the Kingkillers had been in the process of moving west for more employment opportunities (the local mine having shut down), but they had left earlier than they had said they would. This, coupled with the fact that there had been traces of blood near the house’s front entrance, along with some teeth, made the whole county uneasy.

Despite the evidence, there had been no weapon, and there had never been a hint of motive. Without any further evidence, including bodies, anything pointing to foul play was deemed null by the police department.

In fact, the people from the area say there was never a proper investigation, but that everything had been swept under the rug.

As the years passed, urban legends took the place of truth. Lights were seen in the windows, music was heard down the road. Hunters claimed there wasn’t a deer, bear, or wild goat within fifteen miles of the place.

The house hadn’t changed much over the preceding decades, aside from the natural wear and tear of abandonment. The same oak trees surrounded the backside of the house; their leaves changing color the same way they did every autumn.

Early in the year, during the spring and summer months, the constant warbling of blackbirds, swallows, owls, and brown creepers who nested in the woods filled the air.

On this day, there were no songs, but two blue jays flew overhead, apparently ready to find warmer weather elsewhere. The two birds went unnoticed by two teenagers, a boy and a girl, walking hand in hand on the lone mountain road that led to the house.

Shay stopped walking when she saw the house, a dizzying sort of feeling having spread through her head. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and zipped her jacket up with her free hand. Her boyfriend, Aaron, stopped beside her and glanced over.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You?"

Aaron hesitated for a moment. "Couldn’t be better." He squeezed Shay’s hand. "Are you ready for your surprise?"

"Of course I'm ready. I’ve been thinking about it all week." She smiled unconvincingly and scrunched up her nose. Aaron shook his head.

"I thought your stomach was feeling better," he said. "Why don’t you sit down for a minute?" He helped Shay to the ground. "Do you think it’s the burrito fiesta casserole?" he asked while smiling.

Shay laughed. "Probably. School lunch sucks." She leaned against Aaron as he rubbed her back.

A man dressed almost entirely in spandex jogged past the two of them with a courtesy smile and nod. A dog followed closely behind the man with its tongue hanging to the side of its mouth. Shay thought she recognized the jogger but couldn’t remember where she had seen him.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Who?" asked Aaron, looking around.

"Who do you think? The man who just passed us with his dog."

Aaron raised his eyebrows and waited for a punchline, but when it didn’t come, he changed the subject. "We can do this another time," he said.

Shay dropped the subject of the man and his dog. "No, I’m good. Come on." She stood up, trying her best to look healthy and happy.

Aaron took her hand without question. They walked up to the house together. It looked much bigger up close than it had from the road.

Shay's stomach pain lessened as they approached the front porch, (the burrito fiesta casserole apparently having settled) and she became genuinely excited.

"You’re positive you’re ready for your surprise?" asked Aaron. He had turned to stand between the door and Shay.

She nodded her head and looked over his shoulder. The door was old and faded, but it looked like it weighed a lot.

"You’re not scared, are you?" Aaron moved his head back into Shay's line of sight.

"No," she said with a giggle. "Should I be?"

Aaron didn't laugh. "I don’t know. Maybe." His face had gone pale.

"Are you scared?" she asked. She lifted her hand to his face and started moving her thumb in circles across his red, stubbly beard.

Aaron shook his head away from her hand. "Nervous."

Shay was about to ask what Aaron had to be nervous about when she noticed three large bullet holes in the center of the front door. She stepped around Aaron and poked the holes. Looking back, she said, "These are old, right?"

"Yeah," said Aaron, nodding. "It was probably just a bored hunter passing through." He pushed the front door open; it creaked on its hinges.

"Spooky," said Shay. Aaron chuckled.

The living room was cleaner than Shay thought it would be, although it was extremely dark. Two small windows near the ceiling let in a few rays of light. The hardwood floor had warped in several places and was covered in a thin layer of dust.

Broken furniture, (which Shay found exquisite nonetheless) had been pushed up against the sides of the room. A staircase on the far side of the room led to the second story.

Shay tried not to react when she noticed rose petals on the floor leading to the staircase.

Aaron smiled and kissed her. "Wait here just a moment," he said.

"Where are you going?"

"To get things ready." Aaron winked and went upstairs. Shay listened to the wooden steps groan under his weight.

The silence that followed was unbearable. She may have been anxious because of the pending surprise or because the house was simply too big, old, and empty. Either way, Shay felt like she wasn’t a welcome addition to the lonely space.

Five minutes turned into ten and still, Shay waited in the living room. She softly hummed her favorite song—Blackbird—but with each passing moment, she became more anxious.

"What if something is wrong?" she thought to herself. The house was old: maybe he fell through the floor, or maybe an old chandelier fell on him, or…

"Aaron," she called out.

No answer.

Shay walked to the bottom of the staircase and repeated herself; there was still no answer. Her heart sped up, and she began to sweat. She saw that the door at the top of the stairs was open a crack. "I hope he won’t be angry," she thought.

The stairs squeaked rather than groaned as she climbed to the second floor. "Is everything okay?" she asked at the top of the stairs. Aaron didn’t answer, but a voice boomed through Shay’s head:

"He’s mine!"

Shay grabbed the railing to keep herself from falling. "I’m going crazy," she thought. She took a few deep breaths and waited for something to happen, but nothing did. "I just need to get Aaron and get out of here."

She pushed the door open and sighed with relief. Aaron was standing in the hallway. He was turned away from her.

"There you are," she said. "Can we get out of here?"

Aaron turned around. His eyes, black; his face, pale. Dark blood trickled down his chin and neck. His mouth opened and Shay gasped. He had no teeth. His gums were raw and red. The veins in his neck visibly throbbing.

"Aaron," whispered Shay.

He took a step forward and moaned. A white vapor rose out of his mouth and dissipated.

"What’s happened to you?"

He looked away for a moment then pulled a rusty hammer out from behind his back. He smiled a bloody smile.

"What’re you doing?" screamed Shay. "It’s me!" She took a step back.

The hammer, already covered in blood, looked dark and rigid. It swayed in Aaron’s grip.

"He’s mine!" the voice boomed again. This time, Shay fell backward down the steps and hit her head at the bottom. She looked up, disoriented, at the form making its way down the stairs.

"No, no, no," thought Shay. She got to her feet despite her hazy vision and parched throat and made a dash to the front door.

The sun had set and a chill filled the air. Footsteps sounded from the street and the jogger from earlier and his husky came into view.

"Help!" screamed Shay.

The jogger came over to her. "What's going on?" he asked.

"My boyfriend. He’s inside. He needs help. There was a hammer, and I don’t know." Shay burst into tears, and the man couldn’t get anything else out of her. He walked past her to the front door. His husky stayed with Shay and quietly whined.

"Hello," the man called out. "Is anybody in there?"

There wasn’t an answer.

The man looked back at Shay and pursed his lips. "This better not be a prank or something," he said. She barely heard him.

The man entered the house while Shay and the husky looked on. Shay scrunched her eyebrows and gasped. The jogger's voice had sounded just like the booming voice.

Five minutes passed before the jogger came out again. "That house is empty," he said.

Shay didn’t respond.

"I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you’re coming with me."

Shay placed her hands on the man's shoulders. "Who are you?" she asked.

"My name's Nick. Listen, we should go." He raised his hands to grab Shay's arms, but she dropped them quickly to her sides. She began walking down the road.

"Hey, where are you going? You don’t have to leave," said Nick. "I have a phone. I’ll just call for someone to come get you. To make sure you’re alright? No? Why not? Hey, what’s the matter?"

Shay had begun crying.

Nick sighed. "Look, I’ll stay here with you for as long as you need." Shay nodded slowly, and Nick bent down to pet his dog.

After Shay composed herself, she bent down and gave her companions a hug. Nick hugged her back and his husky’s tail wagged. "What’s your dog’s name?" she asked.

"Oh, I should have introduced you by now. I would like you to meet my best friend, Mary." Mary licked Shay’s face enthusiastically.

"Mary," said Shay. She stared at the front door and wondered if the night had been real. "You mean, ‘Mary,’ as in Mary Kingkiller," she said. An image of a framed photograph hanging in the front room of the house flashed through Shay’s mind: Arthur and Mary Kingkiller.

As she thought this, she turned and her eyes caught a glimpse of the upstairs window. Staring back at her was the face of Aaron. The perfect face with perfect teeth, perfect blue eyes, and perfect red hair. He was wearing a suit, standing perfectly still, watching her. Shay collapsed without a sound. The apparition in the window disappeared.

Nick let Shay’s body fall to the ground. Mary barked once and wagged her tail.

The following morning, the abandoned house looked the same as it ever had. Nobody would know just by looking at it that it wasn’t quite as empty as it had been the day before.