FROM THE SAME AUTHOR

Love Life

The Vampire’s Treaty

(The Peter Chronicles)

Happy Ever After

G.S.O.H Essential

A Fresh Start

PETER

All Good Things

9 Months Book One

9 Months Book Two

9 Months Book Three

Non-Fiction titles

im fine

PlentyOfFreaks

Wasting Stamps

Self-publishing: Releasing your book to the digital market

Short Story Collections

Scribblings From a Dark Place

Reviews, Critics & Mystery Shopping

The Story Collection: Volume One

Novellas

Smile

The Dead Don’t Knock

Writer’s Block

Buried

The Last Stop

The Chosen Routes

A Christmas to Remember (YOU choose the story)

Romance is Dead

The Breakdown

Picture Books

I Hate Fruit & Veg

With thanks to all those who follow, and support, my work.

Without you I’d have no voice with which to tell my stories.

© Matt Shaw

The right of Matt Shaw to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any format without written consent from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a magazine, newspaper or broadcast.

The characters, and story, in this book are purely fictitious. Any likeness to person

WITH THANKS TO:

Elena Helfrecht of Apokryphia Art

For the awesome job she did with the cover design and photography.

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PROLOGUE

“Dad, I’m bored!” my youngest daughter, Ava, yelled from the backseat of my Dodge Ram. I winced in pain as I bit my tongue. How can she be bored? She has everything she could possibly need back there. She has a television screen built into the back of my seat playing her favorite cartoon movie, the pink Nintendo DS she got for her sixth birthday last week after begging and pleading with us for several months prior, a stack of games to play on; most of which were also on her extensive present list she deemed fit to drop on our laps at the start of her birthday month. She even has the magazines she begged Susan for at the last gas station we visited. And yet she’s bored? She should try sitting in this traffic. She’d soon understand boredom then.

I looked in the rearview mirror at Jamie, my eldest daughter, who was staring out of the window blissfully unaware of her sister’s boredom thanks to the headset of her MP3 player replacing Ava’s whining voice with Heavy Metal. What happened to my sweet little girl? As soon as she turned seventeen years of age her pale complexion was made even paler with thick, white foundation and her dark brown eyes were suddenly surrounded by black eye-shadow and eye-liner. When she first started wearing it I teased her saying that she looked like a panda bear but she paid no attention; just grunted at me. The grunts being another side effect brought on by her seventeenth birthday. I’m just waiting for the day she comes home with tattoos and piercings all over her body. Susan, my snoring, open-mouthed wife in the passenger seat next to me, promised it was a phase. To her everything is a ‘phase’.

“Dad! I’m bored!” Ava yelled again.

I wonder whether Susan is even asleep or just pretending so as not to have to deal with Ava’s constant moaning. I swear, when I get home I’m selling Ava’s toys. Wonder if I can sell Susan too...

“Dad!”

It’s a shame I can’t get away with pretending to be asleep. I twisted the rear-view mirror to make it easier to see her, “Play your game,” I said. I tried my best to sound ‘friendly’ despite my tired mood wavering towards psychotic.

“It’s boring,” she moaned.

“Well play another one.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t like them.”

I am definitely selling her toys, “Then watch the film!”

“I don’t like it!” she moaned. I hate it when she moans. Thankfully it isn’t very often. Nine times out of ten she’s a good kid. I guess she stayed up too late last night. No doubt, when Susan wakes up, that will be my fault.

“How about a game of I-Spy?” I suggested if only to keep the peace. I-Spy with my little eye - back to back fucking traffic.

“Noooo...” she whined.

I want to meet the person who put the rule in place which states you can’t hit children. I’d like them to borrow Ava for the day. Make that a week.

“How much furtheeeer?” she asked. I hate it when she moans. She seems to add extra vowels to the last word of the sentence to make it even longer and more whiney than if she had just said it normally.

“Stop whining,” I snapped. I don’t dare tell her we’re hours away yet. It’ll only set her off. Hopefully she’ll fall asleep when the truck starts moving, once we’re out of this God-awful traffic.

“Where are we? Are we there yet?” asked Susan as she stirred from her unexpected slumber. I shot her a look. I can see the headlines now, Local author guns down family out of frustration. “What?” she asked.

“We’re not even out of the city yet,” I replied.

“What? How come?” She looked out of the windscreen to see what the hold up was. “Traffic?”

I really wanted to say something like ‘No, I just thought I’d pull up to the sidewalk for a few hours but, instead, opted to go with, “Must have been an accident.”

“Mum, I’m boreeeed...” moaned Ava from the backseat.

“Play your game then,” said Susan.

“I don’t like them, they’re boring!”

“Then watch your film - it’s your favorite...”

It’s going to be a long trip. I reached across to the radio and turned the volume up.

THE CABIN

1.

“The kids are getting hungry,” Susan pretended to observe.

“They’ve got food,” I said.

“Chocolate isn’t food,” Susan argued.

“Try telling them that. If you let them, they’d live off it.”

“Okay, I’m getting hungry,” she corrected me, “and I don’t want to live off chocolate.”

“Oh, well, darling why didn’t you say so? Of course I’d love to stop off to get some food for you, and our delightful children, just as the traffic has all cleared and we’ve finally managed to make some fucking progress...”

“Watch your language. It’s not my fault the traffic was bad.”

“I’m hungry too,” Ava piped up from the back.

“I know, baby, we’re stopping off soon,” said Susan even though, technically, I had made no such promise. I didn’t argue with her and took the next available turning off from the highway. I could already feel my temper was frayed and it would only lead onto a shouting match had I started an argument; neither of us like to back down once we get going. My temper because of everyday stress and her temper because she’s from Brooklyn. I had hoped leaving the city would have helped me calm down more or less straight away but then my temper probably wasn’t helped by the traffic. There’s something about New York, something in the air maybe? Something, that is, other than smog and pollution. I always feel so stressed which is why I like to escape the city life when the pressures are too much and, with my agent breathing down my neck for a new book, the pressures are definitely too high at the moment.

“Are you okay?” Susan asked. The first time she had asked for as long as I can remember. I must really look like I’m close to cracking.

“I’m fine,” I lied, “I just can’t wait to get to Brattleboro.”

“You have looked more stressed than usual,” she pointed out the obvious, “the break will do you some good.”

“Yeah, I know.” Another lie to keep the peace.

I love how she thinks this is a break. The whole point of escaping to the family cabin, in Brattleboro, was to try and get my head down to do some serious writing. Instead, she decided to turn it into a family weekend away. It’s not even as though the kids wanted to come. She made them. She said it would do us some good to get away, as a family, and they’ll enjoy it when they get there. Ava will be wanting whichever toys we didn’t pack for the trip and Jamie will be missing her boyfriend Zak. I have a feeling I won’t be getting any writing done.

“Fresh air, long walks, peace and quiet - it’ll be perfect. Romantic.”

I smiled at her but desperately wanted to weep.

“Sounds great but I do need to get some writing done too,” I said. I tried my best to stress the importance of the writing without making it sound as though her own plans weren’t important too.

“I know,” she said. I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. “But it won’t take all weekend.” And, just like that, the relief I had just felt had completely disappeared and been replaced with dread once more. I suppose it’s my own fault as I tend to only write when she’s out of the house otherwise I can’t get anything done because she’s normally too busy fussing around me, or making noise, for me to be able to concentrate. Because she’s not normally present when I’m writing, the first she knows about my new book is when I tell her I’ve finished it; when I sit back with a cigar in one hand a glass of champagne in the other. My little rewards. The ‘speed’ in which these new books pop up probably makes her think they’re easy to write but they’re not. They’re incredibly draining. People don’t seem to understand that, as an author, you tend to experience all the emotions your character experiences too. What happens to them also happens to you and, if like me the authors write in the horror genre, well sometimes we can go through a lot of different emotions in any one given day of writing. Another good reason to ensure you’re home alone when you’re working. That way you don’t take your moods out on anyone else.

I turned into the car park for McDonalds, “This’ll do.”

“MCDONALDS!” screamed Ava with excitement. Finally something to break the sound of whining.

“You’re joking, right?” said Susan.

“What?” I asked.

“McDonalds? I think we can do something slightly better than McDonalds.”

“Are you hungry?” I asked. She nodded. “Good,” I said, “then you’ll eat it.”

I turned the engine off, undid my seatbelt, and climbed from the truck. Ah, fresh air. Immediately I felt my building headache begin to subside. We’d only been on the road for just over an hour and it had done me in. Perhaps stopping for food, if only for hour an hour, was the best thing to do for all concerned. Everyone can eat and I can unwind a little before setting off again. Definitely a good idea to unwind before we drive through Massachusetts regardless. If they still haven’t done anything to help the traffic flow there, other than to open the breakdown lane, I could end up getting stressed again as we go bumper to bumper once more. Maybe I should let Susan drive the rest of the way. Actually no, forget that. We’ll never get there whilst it’s still daylight.

Susan climbed from the truck still moaning about my choice of restaurant, “I just think we could go somewhere a little better than McDonalds. A nice steak house or something.”

“And I heard you but, right now, all I want to do is get to Brattleboro. We can get a proper meal there this evening. Whatever you fancy, I promise. Besides which,” I pointed towards Ava who was excitedly bouncing around in the back of the Ram, “the kids are happy. In fact, if I were you, I’d take a picture; this is probably going to be the happiest you’ll see them all weekend. Well Ava at least. I think Jamie’s forgotten how to smile.”

“I heard that,” said Jamie as she climbed from the backseat.

“Did I hear that right?” I asked. “Did you really just speak to me in something other than a grunt? You did, didn’t you? Honey, did you hear that? We communicated!”

“Stop winding your daughter up,” said Susan as she helped Ava down from the truck. Meanwhile Jamie just shot me a dirty look.

I simply smiled back. “I have such a happy family.”

* * * * *

Susan reluctantly agreed to get our dinners on the understanding I looked after Jamie and Ava at the table in the far corner of the fast food restaurant. Given the choice between standing in what has to be one of the longest queues I’ve ever seen or looking after our children I’d always choose the latter of the two. Well, not always. Today, though, I think I’ve had my fair share of queuing.

“One happy meal with nuggets for Ava, one Big Mac for daddy, a chicken wrap for mummy and a box of nuggets for Jamie,” she said when she finally came back to the table. She sat on the opposite side to me, next to Ava who was more interested in the toy which came with her meal than she was in actually eating the food. “Put that away until you’ve finished your meal please, baby,” Susan took the toy from her and dropped it in her handbag. Oh good, more junk for the house. Had she let her play with it now Ava would have probably been bored with it by the time we came to leave and we could have just dropped it into the bin with the rest of the rubbish, or given it to another family to be stuck with until their next yard sale at the very least. I didn’t say anything. No point.

I looked at my miserable looking burger and laughed, “Have you ever noticed how these things look nothing like the pictures on the wall?” I picked it up and held it in perfect line with the poster which advertised it. “Look at that, the burger in the picture is all plump and juicy - tasty looking - but this...”

“It’s flat!” laughed Ava.

“See,” I said, “she gets it.” I peered into the box which hid her food, “What do you have? A box of chicken heads?”

“No, daddy, nuggets!”

“Nuggets? You best let daddy try one of those! Just to make sure, of course.” I leaned into the box and grabbed a nugget before I popped it into my mouth.

“Daddy, their mine!” she shouted.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, “did you want it back?”

I opened my mouth wide enough for her to see the mushed up state of the nugget within and she laughed. Even Susan, the ice maiden, laughed.

“You’re so disgusting!” moaned Jamie. There was a time when she would have laughed too. I turned my head to make sure Jamie had a good look too.

A step too far for Susan, “Stop being disgusting!”

“Yes, mum!” I said. Ava and I laughed.

“What’s wrong with your burger?” Susan asked Jamie. Whilst the rest of us were tucking into our food she hadn’t touched any of hers other than her milkshake.

“I’m vegetarian,” she said before taking another sip from her milkshake.

“Since when?” asked Susan.

“Since seeing the state of this burger probably,” I said as I took another bite.

“You chose to come here so stop your complaining!” she said. She turned back to Jamie, “Why didn’t you say something when I went to get the food?”

“You didn’t ask,” Jamie answered back. This was typical Jamie. I had learnt to ignore it long ago but Susan always rose to the bait. Jamie would soon decide she wasn’t a vegetarian when the hunger kicked in. “Zak told me how the animals are treated right up until the time they die...Did you know sometimes...”

“I don’t want to hear it,” snapped Susan. “If you...”

I interrupted to save a full blown argument kicking off, “Do you honestly think they’ll stop killing them just because Jamie Hopkins of New York City decided to jump on the vegetarian bandwagon?”

“I don’t care...”

“What’s a vegetarian?” asked Ava.

“Someone who only eats vegetables,” said Jamie.

“Vegetables are yucky!”

“Do you know how they make what you’re eating right now?” said Jamie.

I had a feeling it was more of a rhetorical question and jumped in with, “They make it in the kitchen. Duh! Everyone knows that!”

“Yeah, everyone knows that!” shouted Ava. She mimicked my ‘duh’ sound too. A good effort. Jamie turned away. She’d already lost interest in the conversation.

Right from when I could first remember, Ava had been fussy with her food, the last thing we needed was for her to be scared off meat just because her sister was trying to impress some lad she had only just met in class.

“Did you want to get something else?” I reached into my pocket and pulled my wallet out. Jamie shook her head and started to eat her fries. I’m not entirely sure whether the fries are suitable for vegetarians but considering this is most likely, as Susan would put it, a phase - I’ll keep quiet. “How’s the chicken wrap?” I asked Susan. I don’t know why I asked her, I could tell by the expression on her face she wasn’t enjoying it.

“It’s good,” she lied. “Thank you for insisting we stopped here. I can’t believe I nearly missed out on experiencing this.”

Ooh, she nearly has the sarcasm as pinned down as I have. A little more practice and she might even be just as good as me.

“See I take you to all the best places,” I said. I flashed her a smile after ensuring my teeth were suitably coated in the various sauces found in my burger.

“Daddy!” laughed Ava.

“What?”

Susan gave me a playful slap on the arm and laughed, “You’re a dick!”

“Language!” I whispered. I have to confess it felt good to tell her off as opposed to the other way round. I wonder if she gets as much joy when she has a go at me for my occasional foul-mouthed slip up.

“Well at least your mood has improved,” Susan pointed out.

Jamie stood up and moved out from behind the table.

“Where are you going?” asked Susan.

“The bathroom. That okay?”

“Take your sister, please.” Susan ignored Jamie’s rolling of the eyes expression and turned to Ava, “Go with your sister.” She slid herself away from the table’s bench, so Ava could get out, and sat back down again.

Just the two of us.

“I’m glad your daughter has stopped whining,” I said.

“Ava?”

I nodded. “I’m not sure I could have taken that all day.”

“Last I checked she was our daughter...”

“No, she’s our daughter when she’s being good and your daughter when she’s being bad. She falls into the latter of the categories when she’s whining.”

“She was just hungry. She didn’t eat much for breakfast. You seem better now,” Susan pointed out.

“Was just the traffic. Wound me up. Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve been a dick recently. It’s just I’ve had a lot on my plate. My agent is rushing me to get this novel to them and...Well...I’m struggling to be honest. That’s why I wanted a quiet weekend down the cabin.”

“It’ll do us all good to get out of the house for the weekend,” she said. She still didn’t take the subtle hint I wanted a quiet weekend down the cabin. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

A sweet gesture but an empty one as there was nothing she could do. Well nothing other than stay at home and that ship had sailed already.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll figure it out. I have a good feeling about this weekend.”

Susan smiled and took another bite of her chicken wrap. Her smile faded when she noticed a hair sticking out of the wrap’s salad.

“See,” I said, “that could have been in my burger. I definitely have a good feeling about this weekend,” I laughed. Susan flashed me one of her speciality ‘angry’ looks as she hooked the hair from between the lettuce leaves and placed it on the side of the tray. I pushed Jamie’s nuggets towards her, “I don’t think Jamie’s going to be eating them,” I said, “not now she’s a vegetarian...”

Susan pushed the nuggets away from her, clearly put off by the stray hair nestled in her wrap, “It’s just a phase...”

2.

“This is your fault,” Susan helpfully pointed out. She was referring to the bumper to bumper traffic we were sat in. “You jinxed us when you said you had a good feeling about this weekend.

“Are we nearly there yet?” asked Ava.

“I can’t even see why you want to come up here anyway, we could have gone to the coast. What’s so special about this cabin anyway?” Great, even Jamie was starting too.

“The coast? I thought you people burn up in direct sunlight?” I snapped back. In the rear-view mirror I saw Jamie pull a face.

“You’ve got such a lovely face,” Susan turned to talk to Jamie, “why do you have to hide it behind all that make-up?”

“I’m in mourning for my lost childhood,” retorted Jamie. Credit where credit was due, that was a good comeback; quick, witty and remarkably inoffensive by her usual standards although I’m not entirely sure whether it’s from a film or not.

Susan ignored her and turned back to me, “Why don’t you come off the highway? It might be easier taking the other route.”

“Did you want to drive?” I snapped. The traffic was getting to me again and the damned air conditioning was broken. Too much pollution and noise, outside, to want to have a window open.

“I’ll drive!” said Jamie with a flash of the excitable girl she used to be.

“I don’t think so,” I said. Might as well kill off the excitable little girl once more, I’ve grown fond of my truck and don’t need her crashing it! Besides which, I’m getting used to the black ‘mourning’ make-up she seems to favor. I’d probably die of shock now if she were to come downstairs with normal make-up on.

“When are you getting to let me drive?” she moaned. “You’re so unfair!”

Ah, I wondered when we’d get the ‘so unfair’ whinge from her. I had my money on actually being in Brattleboro before we heard it. I guess I just lost that bet. Thankfully she didn’t continue with listing the ways in which her mother and I were so cruel to her, like she normally does, instead she just sat back and continued staring out of the window at all the lucky people who have been allowed to drive.

“Are we nearly there yet?” asked Ava once more.

“Soon, baby,” said Susan.

Why does she always insist on calling her ‘baby’? It’s no wonder she seems to be maturing slower than the rest of the kids in her class; the poor kid is probably confused. Mum calls her a baby so she continues to act like one.

“I’m boreeeeed!” she whinged.

“Shut up moaning!” Jamie snapped.

“You shut up!”

“You!”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!” I snapped.

“Honey...” said Susan with her typical disapproving tone.

“What is up with this fucking traffic today? It’s not even rush hour yet! If we hadn’t stopped for McDonalds...”

“...We’d be sat in traffic somewhere else. I’m sure it will start moving soon.”

“Well I’m glad you’re so sure,” I said.

True enough we did start moving. Not to a speed which could be considered ‘decent’ but I’d take what was offered. At least we were moving.

“We still could have gone to the beach. We would have been there by now.”

“Your father wants to visit his cabin,” said Susan.

“I just don’t see what’s so special about a cabin.”

“Tell them,” Susan urged.

“They’ll just think it’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” asked Jamie.

“His dad used to take him to this cabin every summer. It just used to be the two of them for the whole weekend...”

I cut her short, “It was nice.”

I used to love the trips away with my father. Whenever he was at home he was always highly strung fretting about the state of the business and finances; worrying I had what I needed for my education and that mum was able to keep the cupboards stocked with decent food. When I was younger I never understood why he was always in a bad mood. I remember constantly feeling the need to tread on egg shells around him; tip-toe so as not to cause him to get angry. It was different when he took me away. It was almost as though our father and son holidays were his way of apologizing to me for his moods. Just him and me. For those three days, sometimes four, he left all of his worries and stresses at home or in his office.

I hadn’t been to the cabin for years. In fact I think I had only managed to get there once since Jamie was born, and that was when I needed to finish my  first horror novel, ‘The Spider’s Web’. The first piece of many works I had written which was picked up by a literary agent; the book which finally got me a decent publishing deal and afforded us the luxury of moving to a better neighborhood. Every year I promised myself a trip out there to make sure everything was okay but every year there was another reason why I couldn’t go. It’s stupid, really, considering it’s only four hours away from my home.

“Does it at least have a shower?” asked Jamie.

“Yes, Jamie, it has a shower,” I said. At least it did the last time I was there. God only knows what state the place is in now. For all I know, we could end up checking into a bed and breakfast. I hope not. That won’t exactly help my writing; the real reason I’m even going to the cabin in the first place!

“Is there a play area?” asked Ava.

“There’s a nice Princess Tower you can visit,” I said.

“Craig! Don’t!” Susan barked.

“What? I didn’t do anything!”

“You know what,” she said with a stern look on her face.

“Jamie would love it there...I bet you anything.”

“Love what?” she asked from the back of the car still trying to sound uninterested.

“The cabin is a short walk away from a large, stone tower. It was built by patients of the Vermont Asylum in the late eighteen hundreds...”

“So?”

“Craig, they don’t need to hear this.”

“At the time doctors believed hard labor could help patients regain some of their stability so some of them were made to build it as a nice, scenic overlook of the Asylum grounds. Rumor has it that, in the years following it’s construction, a number of patients threw themselves off of the top of the tower onto the rocks below. But, you know, you get those kind of stories at most derelict constructions. The thing, with this one, is that hundreds of people have reported seeing an airborne human-like form at the top of the tower which just suddenly disappeared into thin air and other people have come forward to speak of seeing ghostly shadows in the woods...All pretty creepy.”

“Bullshit!”

“Jamie!” Susan snapped.

“What? That’s bullshit! Clearly!”

I gave Jamie a quick look in the rear-view mirror and her expression gave a different story to the false bravado in her outburst. She looked nervous.

“It’s fine,” I said to Susan. I looked back to Jamie in the rear-view mirror again, “I said the same thing to my dad when he told me the story but then...ah, forget it. You’d just think I was stupid.”

“No. What?” she asked. A clear look of nervousness on her face.

“Well...It’s just that...When we were at the cabin..I’d hear strange noises during the night...Like someone was walking around outside. I remember waking my dad up, to tell him, but he didn’t believe me. Not until he heard it too; footsteps walking along the wooden porch which lined the front of the building. They passed right by his bedroom window and stopped at the front door. We both heard them, clear as day. I remember there was the briefest of pauses before a loud knocking on the front door...” I knocked on the truck’s dash four times for added drama. “Dad told me to wait in his room whilst he went and opened the door, to see who it was, but he said there was no-one there. He just heard the loudest, most blood-curdling scream he had ever heard. He said it was as though whoever was doing it was stood directly in front of him yet there was no one. Scared the life out of him - and me when he told me. The next day he asked in town if anyone had experienced this and people got pretty nervous. Eventually we found out that, anyone who had heard the scream...A year later they were dead. And, as you know, a year later my dad had a massive heart attack and died.”

“Is that what really happened?” asked Jamie.

“Of course it is! I’m hardly likely to make something up about my dad, am I? Actually that tower I told you about...There’s a nice walk we can do which let’s us see it. Can head out there in the morning, if you want. See if we can see any shapes falling from the top.”

Jamie didn’t say anything unlike Susan who, unsurprisingly, wasn’t impressed with my story, “That’s really nice! When the girls have nightmares tonight, you can go and sit with them and I’ll be the one staying in bed.”

“And good news, kids, we’re now officially in Vermont! Not too much longer now!” I said as we passed a road sign for Windham County.

“Can we see the Princess Tower too, daddy?”

“Sure, sweetie,” I said.

* * * * *

I nudged Susan awake after I had stopped the truck, on the side of the road, next to the store. I’ve never known a passenger to fall asleep as much as her.

“Are we there?” she asked; her voice still sleepy.

“Hey! No. Not yet. Nearly.” I whispered, “I’m getting some supplies. Did you need anything?”

“What are you getting?”

“I don’t know yet. Probably just bread, milk, juice, potato chips, toilet paper...That kind of thing. Anything you can think of?”

“Not off the top of my head,” she said. “Can always pop down in the morning?”

“Okay. Sure there’s nothing you can think of now?”

She shook her head again and closed her eyes, keen to get back to whatever dream she must have been enjoying. “Don’t be too long, okay?”

I nodded, not that she saw, “The girls are with me,” I said. Had Susan paid attention, when I woke her up, she would have noticed they were already waiting for me outside. Susan didn’t answer back.

I climbed from the car and noticed Jamie and Ava were chatting to some kids to the side of the store. Kids? Not kids. They look older than Jamie. Six of them in total, five lads and a girl. The eldest looking one standing uncomfortably close to Jamie. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

“Jamie! Ava!” I called out. “Come on.” Ava came running over to me. She was excited to go into the store, no doubt, because she wanted to choose a chocolate bar. “Jamie!” I called again. I stopped by the store’s entrance and waited for her.

“Dad, I’m chatting to some friends! I’ll be in a minute!”

“Come on, Jamie, you don’t even know them!”

“Be cool, dad, we go to the same school!” shouted the eldest of the group. “We’re in the same class.”

“Oh, really, and what school is it you all go to?” I asked.

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me!”

I shook my head disapprovingly and walked into the store with Ava, who was practically dragging me in by my jacket anyway. Jamie’s big enough to make her own mistakes and it’s not as though I’m going to be very long.

“Hi.” I greeted the shopkeeper, a podgy old man with white hair and a bushy white beard, as I walked past him towards the first aisle. It was quite weird seeing him, the last time I saw him he had jet black hair. He looked a lot slimmer back then too. The years have been unkind. Probably best if I don’t mention it. He looked at me the same way most small town shopkeepers look at strangers - a look of suspicion on his face. Obviously he doesn’t recognize me.

“Help you with anything?” he asked.

“I’m good thanks,” I replied as I continued into the first aisle where Ava was waiting, “just getting some supplies...”

“Supplies?”

“Staying at my old man’s cabin down the road from here,” I called back. “Just for a weekend with the family.”

“Well the weather’s on your side,” he said.

Ava ran over to me with a packet of toilet roll, “That one?”

“It’ll do...Now see if you can find us some bread.” Ava smiled and ran off down the aisle before disappearing around the corner.

“You can put everything on the counter if you want; I’ll ring it through and bag it,” offered the old man. I wish I could remember his name. My dad used to chat to him for ages whilst I waited outside, kicking stones around impatiently. Although, when I was growing up, there weren’t as many idiots hanging around out there.

“Thank you,” I said. I put the toilet roll on the counter and, just as he said he would, he rung it through before placing it in a brown paper bag.

“Got the bread!” shouted Ava from somewhere in the store.

“Milk! We’re going to need milk!”

“The milk’s down the last aisle,” offered the old man.

“Ssh!” I said. “Trying to tire her out before we get to the cabin. It’ll be dark by the time we’re there so it would be useful if she just wanted to go to sleep!”

The old man laughed, “Not a lot to do in the woods at night for a young ‘un.”

“Exactly.”

“So what brings you down these neck of the woods? Just a vacation?”

“I was hoping for some peace and quiet,” I said. “Trying to make some progress on a book I’m working on.”

“Reading or writing?”

“Writing,” I laughed.

“You’re a writer?” he asked. “We used to have another writer come stay this way...Not seen him for a while...Wonder what happened to him...”

I smiled, “He died.” The old man looked at me. “He was my dad.”

“Well I’m sorry to hear that,” said the old man. “He used to spend hours in here talking about his work.”

I laughed, “And I used to stand outside kicking stones around whilst he did.”

“That was you?” the old man seemed surprised that I had grown up over the years.

“Taller and uglier!” I said.

“Decided to follow in your pa’s footsteps, huh?”

“I got the milk!” shouted Ava.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the old man. I called out to Ava, “Bring it all here then.”

I was sorry too. I’d have loved to carry on chatting with him. Who knows I probably would have had it not been for the group outside. Not too comfortable at the thought of leaving Jamie out there any longer than necessary and I’m pretty sure my dad would have felt the same had it been me out there with them. Ava appeared from the far side of the store and handed over the milk and bread.

“Anything else you can think we need?” I asked her.

“Chocolate?”

“Quickly then.”

She smiled a broad smile and ran towards the rack of different chocolates.

“You written anything I would have read?” the old man asked as he seized the opportunity to engage in conversation again.

“My most popular book is ‘The Spider’s Web’.”

“No. Not read it. Don’t much like spiders.”

“Well it’s not actually about spiders...”

“Bit of a strange title then really, if you ask me...”

There was no sense arguing with the man. I don’t think he meant to be rude.

“Daddy...” Ava came bounding over with a bar of chocolate in her hand.

“Okay,” I said, “pass it to the nice man...”

Ava held it out for the man but he didn’t take it, “That’s okay,” he said, “you can have that on me.”

Ava looked at me, unsure of what to do.

“What do you say?” I said. She carried on staring at me. All those years of teaching her not to talk to strangers or accept anything from them - she’s probably confused.

“Thank you?”

“Not to me...”

She turned to the old man, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he turned back to me, “will that be everything?”

“For now. Sure there’ll be some other bits and pieces.”

He pressed a few buttons on the cash register, “That’ll be three dollars twenty-five...”

I fished around in my pocket and handed him the money I pulled out. He, in turn, handed me the change.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You be sure to come again.”

I thanked him again and left the shop with the bag of shopping tucked under my right arm, my left hand on top of Ava’s head who was already tucking into her chocolate bar.

Outside and Jamie was still chatting to the youths. Her mobile phone was in her hand. Don’t get mad. She’ll never see the kids again even if she does have their number. Another good reason not to let her drive yet. I walked over to the car and threw the groceries in the back, after Ava jumped in, before opening the front door.

“Jamie, say goodbye to your friends, we’re on our way.”

She slipped her phone back into her jacket’s pocket and walked over to the truck. “I’ll call you later,” she called out to them. I can rest easy. The woods are so thick, I doubt she’ll have phone signal.

“You see who your daughter has been hanging out with?” I asked Susan who had just woken up due to the noise Ava and I had made climbing back into the truck.

“My daughter?”

“Yep, I’ve told you before...When they’re bad...Your daughter...When they’re good...Our daughter...”

“Who were they?” asked Susan.

Jamie jumped into the truck and slammed the door shut, after giving her new friends a final wave goodbye. “His name’s Josh. He plays for the school football team.”

“Of course he does,” I said as I turned the truck’s engine on.

“Are we nearly there yet?” asked Ava with chocolate smeared around her mouth.

“Did you get me some chocolate?” asked Jamie.

I ignored them both as I pulled out from the side of the road with a little spin of the wheels...Not a lot...Just enough to give Josh and his friends a coating of dust and dirt.

3.

“We’re not staying here!” said Jamie.

I killed the truck’s engine and just sat there, staring at the front of the cabin.

“Honey I’m sorry,” Susan said quietly in my ear.

“What? No. No. It’s fine. It’s cool,” I said. It wasn’t cool and it was far from fine.

I opened the door and climbed from the truck to get a better look at the cabin; the place which held so many happy memories between my father and I. A better look at the graffiti which decorated the front of it. I called back to the truck where the girls were waiting, “It’s probably just some bored kids, right? Probably Jamie’s new friends. You know what it’s like around here, there’s nothing to do so they make their own entertainment...” Their own destructive entertainment. “It’s probably purely cosmetic,” I said. “Inside will be fine.”

I walked towards the front door with the keys in my hand, not that I needed them as I noticed the door had been kicked open. I should have known I couldn’t just leave the cabin vacant for a number of years and expect to come back to find everything as I left it. No sense stressing about it, just go in and assess the damage. See if it’s fit for us to stay here. So much for a peaceful weekend writing.

I heard Susan open the truck door behind me, “How is it?”

I pointed to the various colors of spray-paint plastering the outside wall, “Colorful? It’s probably fine inside. Wait there,” I said. I pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

First impressions it isn’t that bad. They’ve been good enough to leave the windows intact. Just looks as though someone has been using it as a little hideout. Somewhere to take shelter...I spotted some beer cans on the living room floor...Somewhere to drink....Potato chip packets scattered around the place with various empty sweet wrappers...Somewhere to snack between meals...I walked into the first of the two bedrooms. A dirty sheet was on the bed with condom packets scattered around the floor. Somewhere to fuck. Nice. A quick look in the second bedroom where the kids would be sleeping showed nothing that different in there; more of the same empty wrappers and evidence of kids having a good time. Nothing which can’t be scrubbed down and cleaned up. I should, at least, be grateful for that much.

“Well?” Susan was stood behind me. The sound of her voice made me jump, I didn’t even hear her come in.

“I told you to wait in the truck.”

“How bad is it?”

“Nothing which can’t be fixed. I should have expected something like this; a cabin in the woods...Asking for vandalism really. We should be thankful the place isn’t torched to the floor,” I said.

“Not from the want of trying by the looks of it.”

“What do you mean?”

She led me back through to the living room, which led onto the porch, and pointed to the middle of the carpet where there was a large black scorch mark. “Looks like they tried to start a fire.”

“No, I don’t think so. It would have been easy enough to set this place alight if they really wanted to. Probably just trying to keep warm.”

Susan looked around the room, “I don’t suppose you have some cleaning products here?”

I shrugged and walked through to the small kitchen. On first appearance everything looked as though it was still in it’s rightful place. The oven even looked as though it had been used. The cupboards were open, though. Open and bare.

“That’ll be a no then,” said Susan as she followed behind.

“I’ll pop back to the store and grab some bits,” I said. “You want to come with me?”

She shook her head, “If you want to stay here tonight it’ll probably be a good idea to start clearing this place out.”

“Thank you,” I said. I leant forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll start our holiday tomorrow, yeah?”

“Looks like it! What if they come back?” she asked.

“I doubt they will. Look at the place. Doesn’t look as though anyone has stopped by here for a while. Probably just used it as a shelter last winter.”

“You think?”

I nodded.

“I’ll take Ava with me. Don’t need her picking anything up which she shouldn’t. Jamie can give you a hand,” I said, “I’ll go and get her.”

“Sure she’ll love that.”

“It won’t kill her,” I replied. I gave Susan another kiss on the forehead and walked out of the kitchen, through the living room and out of the cabin towards the truck.

“Tell me we’re not staying here,” said Jamie when I opened the truck door.

“Come on. Out! Go and help your mother, please.”

“You have got to be joking. I’m not cleaning that shit up!”

“Come on!” I repeated. “I’m taking Ava back to the store with me to get more supplies. Looks like we’re going to need them.”

“Why can’t I come with you?”

“You really want me to leave your mother here by herself?” I asked.

Jamie didn’t say anything, at first. She knew I had a point but the silence couldn’t last forever. “So unfair!” she moaned. She undid her seatbelt and jumped from the truck. “And what if whoever did this comes back when you’re not here?”

“Can’t you just text him and ask him to stay away?” I joked as I slammed her door and climbed into the driver’s seat. “I mean you are best friends for life now, right?”

“Josh didn’t do this...”

“Because you know him so well.” I closed the door and fired the engine up once more. In the process I drowned out more of Jamie’s moaning. I’ll call that a success. Ava, bless her soul, didn’t say a word.

* * * * *

I pulled up by the side of the road, opposite the store, once more. Thankfully it was open. Sadly the youths were still hanging around to the side of the building; the same place I had hit them with a dust cloud earlier.

“It’ll probably be easier if you wait in here this time, Ava.”

“Can’t I come in and see the man again?”

I shook my head. I knew exactly what she meant by that. She was hoping he’d give her another bar of chocolate. “Not this time, daddy’s in a rush.” I pulled the key from the ignition and jumped from the truck. “If you wait here, like a good girl, and promise not to tell your mum...Might even get you another bar of chocolate.” A huge smile spread across her face. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes!” she nodded with the grin securely fixed into place.

“That’s my girl! Now wait here and I’ll be right back!” I closed the door and pressed a button, on the key-fob, to lock the door behind me.

“Hey, man! That was uncool what you did earlier!” said, I presume, Josh as I approached the store’s entrance.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about...”

“You know,” he said. He positioned himself between the entrance and me. I looked at him. If he was Jamie’s age, he was big. Even if she hadn’t told me he was on the football team, I would have guessed. Looking at him now, up close, I doubt he’s her age, though. If anything, he has to be a couple of years older. Older than the rest of the group for sure. “I think you need to say sorry, man.”

“Yeah...Not going to happen. But speaking of apologies, do you guys owe me one?”

“Fuck you talking about?”

“You lot been hiding out in the woods at all?”

The youths looked at each other. Josh was the first one to speak again, “What the fuck are you talking about? I just want a fucking apology for the shit you covered us in.”

“And I want a fucking apology for the state you left my cabin in.”

“Ey! Yo! Just hit dis motherfucker, Josh!” said one of the other lads. The rest of the youths closed in around me. Part of me started to wish I had left Ava back at the cabin with Susan and Jamie. Josh, spurred on by the cheering of his friends, squared up to me.

“Step off. I won’t tell you again,” I warned him. I didn’t want to hit an embryo but, if it came down to it...

“What’s going on out here?” asked the old man. Over Josh’s shoulder, I saw that the old man was standing in the doorway of his store; an angry expression on his face.

“Go back inside, old-timer,” said Josh.

“I said what’s going on out here?” the old man repeated. This time he pumped a semi-automatic shotgun that must have been in his hands. I couldn’t see the gun, from the middle of the youths, I just recognized the sound of the pump-action being primed.  A sound, for some reason, the youths were also familiar with. The group separated and turned to see the old man. He was aiming the gun directly at Josh.

“Nothing’s going on. We were just having a conversation.” Josh turned to me, “Ain’t that right?”

“Cabin’s been vandalized,” I said ignoring Josh, “just come by to get some cleaning products.”

“Well,” said the old man, “come on in then.” He stepped to one side to allow me entrance to his store but kept the gun aimed at Josh. “You lot got a home to go to?”

“Sure, we were just leaving.”

“I thought so.” The old man stood and watched as the youths slowly dispersed. They went so slowly it was almost as though none of them were worried about having the gun aimed at them. Had that been me as a teenager, I would have run and not looked back. When they were away from the store, the old man lowered the gun and came back into the store.

“Thank you for that,” I said.

“I saw what you did earlier...wheel-spinning off like that. Had no business covering them in dirt...Asking for trouble. Inviting it in.”

“It was an accident.”

“Bullshit. Look I don’t want any trouble. Business is quiet enough without having trouble from that lot to worry about. Just get what you came for and leave.”

I nodded. There was no point in arguing about who was right and who was wrong. “Can you point me in the direction of the cleaning products?” The old man pointed towards the middle aisles. “Thank you.” I walked down the aisle, as directed, whilst the old man returned to behind his counter. As I picked up the floor cleaner, I heard him put the shotgun down on the wooden flooring. I tried changing the subject to try and get him back on speaking terms, “We got to the cabin and it looks as though kids have been using it as a den; littered with all kinds of rubbish.” No answer. “I left my wife there to make a head start on the clean-up operation but I’m not sure we’ll be able to stay there tonight. You know of a good place with a couple of beds for the night?” No answer. “Or a locksmith? They kicked the door open to get in, busted up the lock real good.” Still no answer. Jesus. He had his say, how long’s he going to sulk for? Had it not been for the fact we spoke earlier, I’d have thought he was one of the inmates from the asylum. Or simple. “No matter,” I said, “the wife’s mum and dad live a couple of hours away, I suppose we could go and stay there for the night. Head back to the city tomorrow. So much for our family holiday, hey?” Again there was no answer. I’ve made enough effort, I feel. I continued to get the cleaning supplies trying my best to ignore the uncomfortable silence.

Maybe I should have brought Ava in with me too. I doubt he would manage to ignore her as well - not without coming across as really rude anyway. Mind you, he probably doesn’t care and I, for the sake of a conversation, I don’t think I’d want a shotgun waved around in Ava’s face!

I took the last item, a roll of black sacks, from the shelf and staggered across to the counter with the rest of the goods I wanted to buy. The old man didn’t even look in my direction when I dropped everything on the counter. He just stood there, staring out the front of his store. He didn’t even bat an eyelid when the roll of black sacks rolled off the counter and onto the floor by his feet.

This is ridiculous. “Look, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t like the way they were talking to my daughter. I just thought I’d have a little fun that’s all. No harm, no foul.”

The old man turned to me, “You live in New York?” I nodded. “Thought so. You big city folk are all the same...You come through here thinking you’re better than everyone...”

“No. That’s not true. Come on, man, let’s not do this. Can I just buy the stuff? I’ll get right out of your hair and, if you’d rather, I won’t even come back.”

The old man went to say reply but stopped short when he noticed someone enter the store behind me, “Now look, I don’t want no trouble...”

I span around to see who had him spooked; Josh. He looked angry; angrier than he had appeared earlier, outside of the shop during our confrontation. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t feel I needed to, not with the knowledge of the old man’s shotgun waiting behind the counter for times like these. Josh didn’t say anything.

“What the hell you want, boy?” the old man suddenly blurted out.

Josh reached inside his jacket and pulled a handgun from within. Both the old man and I jumped back in shock, neither of us having expected that.

“Not nice is it,” said Josh as he waved the gun between the old man and I, “having a gun shoved in your fucking face. How’d you like it?”

“Now look, son,” said the old man, “we don’t want any trouble...”

“Come on, Josh...That is your name, yeah? Come on...I’ve got a daughter waiting for me outside.”

“Fuck you!”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the old man slowly try to reach for his own gun. “Look,” I said, “let’s all calm down...” I cautiously edged myself between the old man and Josh. Whilst I was nervous of Josh’s trigger finger, I knew for certain the old man would shoot without hesitation. No one needed to die. “I’ve got money,” I said. “Whatever you want, you can have it...Just name it.” At this point I’d offer anything to get him to lower the gun. “Come on, I have a little girl in the car. You don’t want to do this. What’ll it take?”

“An apology,” said Josh. He aimed the gun directly at my forehead.

“What?”

“You heard me!” he shouted.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for covering you with dirt earlier,” I said. I knew an apology wouldn’t be enough to make him lower the gun. He was just playing the power card; showing me he was the one in charge. He is the one in charge too. For now. If I side-step to the left, or the right, and the old man has the shotgun in his hands...Josh won’t be in charge of shit. “Come on, I’ve said sorry.”

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg for your fucking life.”

I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t pull the trigger. I didn’t know him; didn’t know what sort of person he was. I knew nothing about him. Not even his family background. For all I knew he was on day release from the asylum, or the retreat as they prefer to call it these days...No, he couldn’t be from there. He’d have never got his hands on a gun so quickly.

“Step aside,” the old man urged me.

“I can’t do that,” I said. A statement aimed at both Josh and the old man behind the counter. If I did step aside, Josh would be dead; just another statistic. Maybe he’d get a shot off as he gets hit and the old man would die too? And I don’t want to beg for my life. I’ve given him the apology he most likely deserves but I’m not begging. Not even with a gun in my face.

“Step aside,” the old man said once more with a tone, in his voice, which suggested he wasn’t messing around.

“Ava!” I suddenly turned to the door. Josh turned too which was just what I wanted him to do. Ava wasn’t stood there but it gave me the distraction I needed. With a sudden surge of adrenalin, I Iunged forward and grabbed the barrel of the gun. A bit of a scuffle as Josh tried to maintain control of his weapon and a loud, ear shattering bang as he accidentally released a bullet from the chamber. A hard punch to his face was all that was needed, after that, to make him release the gun completely.

“Don’t shoot!” he screamed, putting his hands in the air, as I turned the gun on him.

“Call the sheriff!” I urged the old man. He didn’t answer. I turned to address him face to face, in case he didn’t hear me due to his ears ringing from the gunshot. As soon as I saw him stood there, I felt my life stop. He was looking down at his chest. Blood was seeping through his shirt’s material. He looked up at me and tried to say something but couldn’t. Before I knew what was happening, he dropped to his knees before falling to the floor behind the counter.

“You shot him!” screamed Josh.

I didn’t do it. Did I? No. Josh pulled the trigger. He did it. That doesn’t matter now, though...The smoking gun is in my hand. My prints all over it. “No, that’s not what happened,” I said. “That’s not what happened...You did it,” I said, “you had control over the gun...It was your finger which squeezed the trigger...”

“Fuck you! You did it!” Josh moved towards me.

“Don’t fucking move!” I screamed. Josh hesitated for a moment before he called my bluff and moved closer still. I need to get out of here. “We’ll call the sheriff...We’ll tell him what happened...” I reached into the right hand pocket of my black pants and pulled my cellphone out.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to call the sheriff...”

“I can’t let you do that!” Josh suddenly ran towards the counter. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was going for the old man’s gun. “You’re not calling the sheriff! I can’t go back...”

No time to second guess what he meant by that, as he dove to the floor behind the counter. I turned and ran from the store, keeping the gun in my hand. I can call the sheriff from the cabin. Let him know what happened. Explain it. As I hastily approached the truck I hid Josh’s gun beneath my jacket - tucked neatly into the top of my pants. Ava’s innocent face was looking at me through the slightly tinted window.

“What was that noise?” she asked as I climbed into the driver’s seat. I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. Didn’t know what to say. I had just killed someone...No...We...Josh and I had just killed someone.

Quickly I turned the key in the truck’s ignition, firing up the engine, and sped from the scene - Josh, in the rear-view mirror, was standing in the road with the old man’s shotgun. I kept watch of him, not caring what was in front of the truck, as he raised the gun in our direction. Please don’t fire. Please don’t fire. Please don’t fire...Not with Ava here with me. Please don’t fire.

No shot came.

“Daddy you forgot my chocolate!” Ava noticed.

4.

By the time I came to stop the truck, outside of the cabin, my hands were still shaking and my ears were still ringing. I can’t believe he’s dead. Had I not left the youths in a dust cloud...Had I not answered them back, outside the store...Had I begged for my life...Had I not tried to wrestle the gun from Josh...The old man might still be alive. He might still be running his store. He might have sold me the cleaning products I needed...The group of teenagers might still have loitering outside, by the road...Teenagers...Teenager...Josh is a fucking teenager...Why’d he have a gun?! I swear to God this country has gone to shit.

“Craig?!”

I looked up from the steering wheel and saw Susan standing in the cabin’s broken doorway. No doubt she was waiting for the cleaning products.

“What are you doing?” she asked. I didn’t answer her. I just kept on staring. Truth be told, I’m not sure what to say. “Did you get the cleaning products?” I shook my head.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” asked Ava. I only registered I needed to answer after she shouted, “Daddy!”

I turned around to talk to her, “Wait here, baby.” I climbed from the truck and called out, “Jamie!”

“She’s inside. What’s wrong? You look upset...”

“Can you get Jamie, please.”

“Honey, what is it? You’re scaring me...”

“NOW!”

Susan leaned into the cabin and called out, “Jamie, your father wants you...”

Seconds later and Jamie appeared at the doorway. Susan stepped to one side so Jamie could talk to me. “What is it?” she asked.

“Get in the car, please, it’s time to go.”

“What? I’m in the middle of cleaning...” she started to say. I gave her a look to shut her up. Honestly, I ask her to clean and she starts an argument with me. I ask her to stop and she starts an argument...

Susan knew something was wrong and backed me up, “Get in the truck, Jamie.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Jamie pushed past Susan and stormed over to the truck.

I waited until I heard the obligatory door slam before I stepped up into the cabin so the girls couldn’t hear me. It was bad enough Ava heard the bang, I didn’t need her catching wind that someone had died...I didn’t need either of them hearing. Susan followed me in, “What’s the matter? Why were you gone for so long?” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to break it to her that I had just witnessed someone die and, more than likely, was to blame for it. “Craig! You’re scaring me! Say something!”

I tried my best to hold back the tears, “It was an accident.”

“What was?”

I need to tell her. I have to. “There’s been an accident.” I pulled the gun from under my jacket.

“What have you done? Who’s fucking gun is that? Craig?!”

“There was an argument at the store. Josh and the rest of the group blocked my path from getting into the shop...The old man came out with a shotgun and chased them off...”

“Who’s gun is that, Craig?”

“Josh. He came back, whilst I was shopping for supplies...He had this with him...”

“Then how come you’ve got it?” she asked. Her face had gone as white as mine felt.

“I wrestled it from Josh but it went off...The clerk was hit in the chest...” I couldn’t hold the tears in anymore, “I think he’s fucking dead, Susan...”

“What?”

“We killed him!”

“Where’s the boy gone?”

“I went to phone the sheriff...Josh went for the shotgun...”

“What?”

“He didn’t want me calling anyone...said something about not wanting to go back...You don’t understand, I thought he was going to shoot me. I ran...”

“My baby!” Susan screamed as though she suddenly remembered Ava had been with me.

“She didn’t see anything. She was in the truck. She only asked what the noise was when I got back...I didn’t tell her. Of course I didn’t. She’s fine. She didn’t see anything...” and that was a relief. A girl so young, I couldn’t stand to have her innocence destroyed at such a young age. I know I do a bad job of it but I even try and protect Jamie from the badness which oozes from the world. I’d do anything for my girls.

“What are we going to do?” asked Susan. I had been wondering the very same thing myself. All I know is, this is my mess. It’s nothing to do with them and I don’t want them caught up in it. “Craig? What are we going to do?”

“You need to leave.”

“What?”

“You have to go. Now,” I said.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“I’ve just witnessed a murder, Susan...Just saw an old man gunned down before my eyes. I need to stay and fix this.”

“Fix this? What are you talking about? How are you going to fix this?”

“I need to tell the sheriff what happened...”

“What if they try and blame you? What if they say you shot the clerk?”

“I don’t know, Susan, I don’t know! I can’t just leave it. I can’t just drive off. You realize how bad that would look if they did trace anything back to me?!” I felt myself getting wound up by the stress of the situation and tried to reel it in a bit. After all, there was no sense shouting at Susan.

“You left the scene anyway. That won’t look good!”

“He was going for the other gun! Josh...The boy...He ran for the store clerk’s shotgun...Had I stayed...I didn’t want to have to shoot him and I sure as Hell didn’t want to get shot! What was I supposed to do?!” She didn’t answer me. She knew I was right. What was I meant to do? It wasn’t a situation I had ever found myself in before. “Take the girls up to your mum and dad’s house...Stay there until you get a call from me. I’ll call the sheriff and ask him to meet me here...”

“I can take you to the station...”

“No! I just want you out of here...I don’t want the girls getting wind of this. None of you need to get in the middle of this. I’ll call you just as soon as everything is sorted. I promise. I could even get a cab up to you...We’ll take a completely different route home so as not to have to pass through this town again...It’ll be fine. It will all be fine. I promise.”

“What do I tell the girls? Jamie’ll know something is up.”

I paused for a moment before hatching an idea, “You can just tell her I’m staying here to make sure this place is secure and sorted and I’m joining you all later on. A couple of hours. Worst case, I’ll be with you by morning. Just tell her this place isn’t fit enough to stay in. She’s seen it in here! It’s not exactly a lie!” I cast my eyes, briefly, around the living room - the lack of cleaning products had certainly slowed down their progress with regards to sorting the mess out. Not that the mess is really an issue anymore. It’s taken a back seat along with my novel.

“I don’t like this,” said Susan.

“I don’t either but it’s for the best. The girls don’t need to know. Everything will be fine. The sheriff will know it was an accident. It’s not as though I have a record to worry about. What’s the betting the same can’t be said for the lad? He said he didn’t want to go back...Want to bet he’s been on the wrong side of prison bars before?” Susan didn’t say anything. “Look, go to your mum and dad’s, don’t tell them anything other than I’ve stayed on to sort this place out...”

“They’ll want to know why we didn’t stay to help. You know they will,” she said. Her voice was shaking.

“I really need you to hold it together Susan. It’s fine. Everything is fine. This is my mess and I’ll put it right. I promise. Look at me...” she looked me in the eyes, “I swear I’ll put it all right. I’ll sort it. Tell your parents you went on to their place without me because I told you to. I didn’t want the first day of the girls’ holiday to be spent cleaning...Okay?” She didn’t answer. “Okay?” I repeated.

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, give me a hug.”

I put the gun down on the side cupboard. She moved in close and put her arms around me. I put my arms around her and rested my chin against the top of her head. I’m not sure whether the hug was more to calm her nerves or mine. I pulled her closer.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

I pulled back slightly and kissed her on the forehead. “Everything will be fine.” I stepped back and wiped a rogue tear from my eye, “come on,” I said, “put your happy face on...The kids will be wondering what’s taking so long.”

“Okay,” she said. She too stepped back, wiped her eyes, and then - together - we both took a deep breath and stepped out of the living room and out of the cabin, towards the truck where the girls were patiently waiting.

As we neared the truck, I passed her the key.

“Call me when you get to your mum and dad’s,” I said, “let me know you’ve got there okay.”

“Okay,” she opened the truck’s door and sat down in the driver’s seat. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

I nodded, “Of course...It’s only a bit of mess to clean up,” I said. I tried to act cheerful although I’m not entirely sure if I managed to pull it off. Neither of the kids said anything so I guess all was good. “Soon as I’m sorted I’ll give you a ring.”

“What’s going on?” asked Jamie.

“We can’t stay here,” I said saving Susan from having to tell a lie as I know she hates them. “I’m going to stay behind, clean up a bit and fix the door and then come and meet you guys...”

“Well where are we going?” Jamie asked again.

“I’m taking you to your grandma and grandpa’s. We’ll spend the weekend there...Be grateful,” said Susan, “at least they’re close to the beach.” Susan did well. Had I not been part of the conversation in the cabin, I’d have believed everything was fine. I certainly wouldn’t have believed someone had been killed. She turned to me, “You have got your cellphone, haven’t you?”

I nodded, “Actually, that reminded me...Jamie, can I see your cell?”

“Why?” she asked from the backseat.

“Jamie...Your cell!” I held my hand out. I’m fed up with having to justify everything to her. She moaned under her breath and passed me the handset.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

I didn’t tell her. I just opened up her contacts and found Josh’s number. As soon as I had it highlighted, I deleted it. Goodbye Josh.

“Thank you,” I passed her phone back. “You best get going,” I said to Susan. “Drive carefully, won’t you.”

“You sure you aren’t coming now?”

“I need to fix this,” I said. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can, okay?”

Susan looked as though she was going to cry but managed to hold it back. She looked like she wanted to tell me how scared she was, how she was worried about what was going to happen but she couldn’t. Just as I couldn’t tell her all the things I wanted to.

“Love you,” I said once more as I closed the truck’s door.

She fired the engine up and, after a beat, started to reverse down the dirt track towards the main road. I stood there, in the clearing, watching them go. Susan did a three-point turn when the track presented an opportunity. I could see Ava, she had turned her head to see out the back window - her little hand waving frantically. I gave her a wave back. In the panic to get them out of here, I forgot to say goodbye. I forgot to say how much I loved both of them dearly, just as I loved their mother....Even if I could be temperamental from time to time. I’ll just have to remember to say it when I see them both next. Hopefully it won’t be long before we’re together again...And away from here.

5.

The sheriff, and his partner, didn’t take long to get to the cabin. I gave them a minute to get out of their car before I walked over, having stepped down from the porch when I saw their car coming down the dirt track.

“Thanks for coming,” I said. I was unsure of what to say given the circumstances.

“Well that’s what we do when someone phones up to report a murder,” said the Sheriff; an older, stern looking man who looked as though he had lost every ounce of whatever patience he had. “Now care to explain why my partner and I are way out here instead of sitting down to supper with our respective other halves?”

I looked over to his partner. He also looked as though he had little to no patience in him. I guess it must have been a tough day for law enforcement in the little town of Brattleboro...

“There’s been an accident...” I went onto explain.

The Sheriff cut me short, “Accident? We’re here for a murder. Which is it, son?”

“Accident...Well...Murder....”

The two officers looked at each other wearily before turning their attention back to me. “Why don’t we take it from the top?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure whether to own up to spraying dirt and crap over Josh earlier or whether I should just keep that to myself. Was it relevant? Would I be seen as provoking what happened in the shop?

“If it’s easier we can do this down the station,” said the Sheriff. He walked to the back of his car and opened the door so I could climb in.

“He had a gun...I tried to get it away from him but it went off...” I said. “It was an accident but the store clerk, he got hit...”

“What store clerk?” asked the Sheriff.

“I don’t remember his name!” I said. I could feel myself getting upset as I recalled the look on the old man’s face when he noticed he’d been shot. I remember the look in his eyes as he went to say something to me. I wish I could remember his name.

“Get in the car, let’s continue this conversation down the station,” said the Sheriff.

I didn’t argue with him. Not whilst he had that stern expression on his face and six-shooter in his holster. “I’ll just close the cabin up,” I said. The two officers stood and watched as I pulled the door to - as much as the broken hinges would let me. “I don’t suppose you know someone who could fix this?” Neither of them answered me. “Well, maybe you’ll be able to point me in the right direction after we’ve spoken down the station,” I said. I walked over to the car and climbed into the back whereupon the Sheriff slammed the door shut. I put the seat-belt on and waited as the two officers climbed into the front of the car. The Sheriff started the engine. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever been in a police car...” No one said anything. Not even a ‘well done’.

The rest of the drive down the dirt track and through the pretty town of Brattleboro was done in relative silence, other than a strange whistling noise from the Sheriff’s nose and a funny ‘throat-clearing’ noise he’d occasionally make. I didn’t think anything of it other than he must be coming down with a cold, or something. I didn’t feel the need to ask given how chatty both the officers had already proven to be.

“We conducting the interview tonight?” asked the Sheriff’s partner.

“Not sure,” the Sheriff replied. “Already got one in the holding cell. Could just wait until morning. I have things to do tonight.”

“Sorry but can we do it tonight?” I asked having presumed they were talking about me. Nothing gets on my nerves more than being spoken about as though I’m not there; like I’m not worthy enough to talk to. “It’s just my wife is expecting me.” The officers didn’t acknowledge that I had even spoken. “Well, if that’s the case, can I at least call her when we get back to the station?” Again, they didn’t give me an answer one way or another. “This is fucking ridiculous,” I snapped. “I want to report a murder to you and...”

“Accident,” said the Sheriff’s partner.

“What?”

“You said, earlier, that it was an accident. A night in the cell might help you get your story right in your own head,” he said. He twisted in his seat to look at me, as though he wanted to gauge my reaction. I tried my best not to show one.

“Look, I saw someone get shot today...The store clerk...He’s dead and I saw it happen. I just want to tell you guys what happened and get back to my wife and children.”

“And where are they now?” the Sheriff’s partner asked.

“They’ve gone onto my mother-in-law’s house. I didn’t want the children involved with any of this...”

“If they were witness to a crime...”

“They didn’t see anything. They were at the cabin. I had popped to the stores to get some cleaning products to try and sort out the mess...You did notice the graffiti, right?” The Sheriff’s partner gave me a stern look. He obviously didn’t like the tone of voice I was using despite it being their fault I had a tone in the first place. I tried to get it back to a more ‘normal’ tone. No sense getting angry with them, despite wanting to...Not whilst they’re already being difficult. It’d only make things worse. “My wife and children waited at the cabin,” I said. I didn’t bother telling them Ava was in the truck while I went into the store; didn’t want them deciding they have a need to question her too.

“So what happened at the store?” asked the Sheriff’s partner. He was still twisted in his seat looking back at me.

I fired a quick glance to the Sheriff. He was staring dead ahead, at the road he was driving down, unblinking. Was he even listening?

“There was a group of kids there...”

“How old?”

“What?”

“How old were they? How many were there?”

“What? I don’t know - late teens, I’d guess. Six or seven...I can’t remember. They stopped me from going into the store. They blocked my path...”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just having a laugh? They said some stuff to me, I said some stuff to them...”

“Like what?”

“I can’t remember! I didn’t think I’d be needing to recall the conversation later on...Anyway, it got heated...”

“How so?”

“They started squaring up to me. One of the teenagers was encouraging the older of the boys to hit me and that’s when the store clerk came out. He had a shotgun and scared the group off before letting me into his store.”

“And they just left?”

“They had a shotgun aimed at them. What were you expecting them to do?” my rhetorical question earned me another stern look from the Sheriff’s partner. “I went into the store to get the cleaning stuff I wanted and that’s when the oldest boy came back - this time with a gun.”

“A gun? What sort of gun?”

“I don’t know...The firing kind. He was waving it at the store clerk...saying how it wasn’t nice to get a gun pointed in your face and then he turned to me. He wanted an apology from me. He wanted me to say sorry for how I’d spoken to him...”

“So why didn’t you give him an apology?”

“I did! He had a gun in my face.”

“So what happened next?”

“He wanted me to beg for my life.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“What was the store clerk doing all this time.”

“I had stepped between the two of them. He had picked up his shotgun. He told me to step aside. I didn’t want to because I thought I could still talk the lad into putting the gun down. Had I stepped aside, the store clerk would have shot him. You know he would...”

“The store clerk was protecting his business and himself, maybe even you. The other was waving a gun around in a threatening manner. I know what I’d have done...”

“I didn’t think anyone needed to die!”

“So what happened?”

“I went for the gun and we wrestled with it...It went off...I turned around and the store clerk had been hit. He just dropped to the floor...”

“And now who had the gun?”

“I did.”

“So you shot him?”

“What? No. It was in the lad’s hand when it went off...I then got it free from his grasp and turned it on him...”

The Sheriff’s partner looked to the Sheriff to see his reaction but even he couldn’t get one from him. He turned back to me, “So where’s the boy now?”

“He knew I wasn’t going to shoot him...I’m not a murderer...He went for the clerk’s shotgun and I ran...”

“You ran?”

“Yes. I ran. I’m not in the business of shooting people. I didn’t want to shoot a boy...A fucking child...So I did what felt right and ran to my truck...Got in and sped off. As I was driving away I noticed the boy, in the rear-view mirror, standing in the middle of the road with the shotgun in his hands.”

“Did he fire?”

“No. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to hit me. I wasn’t exactly taking my time to drive away from there.”

“And where’s the gun now?”

“I left it in the cabin,” I said. A genuine mistake. I didn’t mean to leave it behind. I had meant to tell the officers where it was immediately so they could take it away and do whatever they had to.

“You keeping it as a memento?” asked the Sheriff’s partner.

“Look, this is all happening quite fast...I called you guys to tell you what happened and you’re not exactly being the most warm and friendly, you know what I’m saying?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“What has that got to do with anything?” I realized he wanted the answer regardless, “I’m an author. I write books for a living...”

“So you’re good at making up stories then?”

“You think I’m lying?” I asked. The officer smiled and turned to face forward, in his seat, again. “You think I walked to the store, shot the clerk and then left without taking the bits I needed or any of the money in the register? Why would I do that?!” Again, my question was ignored. “I want to call my lawyer,” I said.

“You’ll have your chance to make a phone call when we get back to the station,” said the Sheriff, finally breaking his self-imposed silence.

Maybe Susan was right. Maybe we should have all just left and hoped for the best no one noticed and reported my truck leaving the scene.

Back at the station I was frog-marched through to the holding cells at the back of the building as though they had already decided I was the one who murdered the clerk. Once there, the Sheriff opened the cell door, and invited me to step inside with a helpful shove from his partner.

“What about my phone call?” I asked as they closed the cell door.

“You can have your phone call in the morning,” said the Sheriff.

“This is ridiculous,” I said, “you’re treating me like a fucking criminal.”

“No, we’re treating you like a material witness,” said the Sheriff. “This is for your own protection.” The sly smile on his face suggested otherwise.

“Look, Sheriff...”

“Why do you keep calling me Sheriff? I’m not the Sheriff...”

“What are you talking about? It says it on your badge...”

“Oh, I know what it says on the badge, it’s the reason I took it off his bloodied shirt. I thought it looked good.”

“What?”

The man I thought was the Sheriff pointed over to a desk at the far end of the office. A foot clearly sticking out from behind it. “That’s the Sheriff...Well, it was the Sheriff anyway.” He laughed, “I think it’s fair to say the inmates are running the asylum now.”

My heart skipped a beat as panic set in...

* * * * *

I opened my eyes with a jump. I was sat on one of the living room chairs. I don’t even remember falling asleep; only that I sat down because the room had started to spin due to the stress of the situation, lack of proper food and general tiredness. At least, I presume it was because of those factors.  I never intended to actually doze off. The longer I leave stepping forward, about the murder, the more suspicious it will be. What’s the betting a store that size doesn’t have any CCTV which actually works?

I stood up and walked over to the door, which I had blocked shut with the single seat before I had sat down on the other chair. I pulled the chair away and the door slowly swung open. It’s getting dark outside.

I forgot how creepy the woods were, looking out from the cabin, when darkness fell. Years ago, I used to sit on the end of my bed and shine a torch out of the window into the darkness beyond just to check that nothing was out there that shouldn’t be. I blame my father for scaring me with all the local ghost stories before I was supposed to go to sleep; they never did invite me towards a peaceful slumber. I don’t believe in ghost stories and I don’t believe in things that go bump in the night but, even so, I’d give my right arm for a torch right about now.

I reached into my pocket, for my cell phone. No sense putting the phone call off. The body has, no doubt, already been reported so they’re probably already looking for me. I’m sure the Sheriff will believe what I have to say. After all, I have no priors. Never even had a speeding ticket or parking fine. Shit...I checked my other pocket. Nothing. Where the Hell’s my phone? Don’t say I dropped it back at the store when I went to call the Sheriff’s department? I remember having it in my hand...I don’t remember still having hold of it when I got to the truck, though. Or did I? I might have thrown it onto the passenger seat...Shit. I think I did.

I looked outside again. I don’t fancy walking through the woods in blackness. It’s about a two hour walk to get to the main road from here. Yet, when driving, it feels like no time at all. Still walking in the darkness, that’s probably asking for trouble. Dammit. Why didn’t I check I had my phone before Susan drove off?

I should walk in the morning. In the daylight, there’s less chance of tripping on something and doing myself a mischief. Also less chance of stumbling into a predator. Not sure what’s in these woods but I’m pretty sure there’ll be some kind of nocturnal creature which will look upon me as a snack. I turned back into the cabin - shit everywhere. Kind of wish I had managed to grab some of the cleaning products before I left the store. Not quite sure where I really want to sit in here!

6.

I took refuge on the living room’s chair having moved the single seater across the door again, blocking me in once more; for two reasons - the first was so it would keep the draught from blowing a gale through the wooden cabin and the second was because it looked eerie as Hell outside as a sudden fog seemed to have started to descend, weaving its way through the thick rows of overly tall trees.

I felt nauseous. I don’t know whether I’m simply tired, hungry or nervous about what the morning will bring with the Sheriff. What if he doesn’t believe me? Could I end up going to jail? What about my wife and kids? They’ll have to carry on living their lives with people looking at them and judging them because of what I’d done. At least, what everyone else will presume I’d done if I do get sent down for it. I know I didn’t do it. It was never my intention for someone to get killed.

Jesus, what was his name? That’ll probably end up haunting me along with the look on his face when he realized he had been hit. I had a hand in a man dying and I can’t remember his name.

I stood up and walked back over to the window, looking out into the eeriness beyond. I wished I still had my phone so I could call the Sheriff and get this over and done with. I had ages to wait before the sun would start to come up - enough, at least, to make it possible to see where I’d be treading outside. That’s hours and hours worth of time to build it all up in my head and panic that everything is going to go extremely wrong when I do finally get to talk to them.

I started to wish that I had stayed at home instead of coming out here now. I should have sold this damned place when my father died. I should have known it stood a high risk of getting vandalized. I suppose I should be grateful there isn’t anyone living in here. Mind you, having said that, if someone was living here then I wouldn’t have had a reason to go back to the store and the clerk would still be alive.

I can’t quite believe how my feelings for this place have changed so fast. At the start of the day I was actually excited about coming back here and seeing the cabin again. I liked the idea of looking around it and having memories of my dad pop into my mind once more but now, when I look around, those happy memories are tainted.

Outside the fog is getting heavier. Can barely make the trees out more than a few hundred yards away from the cabin. Never seen it so thick. It’s probably a good thing that Jamie and Ava have gone with Susan, they’d both be freaking about now. My little ghost story, in the car earlier, wouldn’t have helped with that. I might have had to tell them that I had made it up...Well, not made it up so much. Just added to it. The locals always used the story of the asylum‘s ghosts wandering around the area and the scream but I’m sure high stress levels and a poor diet were to blame for my dad’s eventual heart attack a year later. The timing was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence.

I heard my dad’s voice in my head reminding me of the inmates, “They’d scream and scream, all night long in their tiny little rooms, banging their heads against the walls...For weeks their screams of terror, desperation and, of course, madness echoed through the corridors of the asylum driving the doctors to despair. Eventually, the doctors had had enough and they started performing procedures on the loudest of the patients whereby they’d cut down their necks and remove their vocal chords silencing them forever...” at the time my dad told me the story, he even demonstrated where the doctors would make the incision by running a pen down my neck. A move which would always make a cold shiver run down my spine. I remember my dad telling me what the locals had told him after he mentioned the ghostly footsteps and the scream whilst on a shopping trip, the following day, “You’d never see the ghosts, not properly. You’d only catch a glimpse of their shapes out of the corner of your eye and you’d hear their stolen, vengeful scream; an ear-piercing shriek to steal the lives of anyone who heard it.”

My dad always had a glint in his eye when he told that story and, when I grew up, I always wondered how much of his story was true to what the locals said and how much he had embellished. After all, being a writer, his imagination was more warped than that of the average man on the street and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to miss the chance of putting his own stamp on the story.

As I continued staring into the grey night outside, I couldn’t help but feel a chill run through me as I remembered the stories my dad used to tell. The more I think back, the more I have to question whether this really was a father and son holiday time, as I used to believe, or just the chance to scare the living shit out of me without mum close-by, ready to shout at him for taking a story too far.

“A car broke down just along that dirt road,” my old man had whispered once as I laid, as an eight year old boy, in bed with the duvet tucked around me, “the driver, a man in his forties, turned to his wife, a pretty lady in her late thirties, and told her to wait right there whilst he walked back to town to fetch help...She begged him not to go and leave her because it was dark outside, just as it is now, but he insisted. He said they couldn’t spend the cold night sitting in the car hoping for someone to stumble upon them. He kissed her on the forehead, reminded her that the town was only about half an hours walk back in the direction they had come, and whispered that he wouldn’t be long. Half an hour passed. An hour came and went...Two hours passed and still there was no sign of her husband. On the third hour there was a bang on the roof of her car... BANG! and then another... BANG! as though something heavy was being smacked against the car’s metal roof. She froze with fear as the heavy thuds continued to rain down upon the car and felt a huge sigh of relief when she noticed oncoming headlights in front of her. As the car neared the thuds on the roof got louder and heavier and more constant...BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! She didn’t move, though. She desperately wanted to climb from the car and run towards what turned out to be the Sheriff’s patrol car. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! on the roof. The Sheriff jumped from his car and called for the lady to get out of the vehicle and walk towards him...He told her, whatever she does...She mustn’t look back...”

BANG!

Something heavy hit the wall of the cabin behind me and I jumped from my memories back to the present. I span around to where I thought it had hit. Whatever it was, it sounded so hard, I thought it could have come through the wall. What the Hell was that?

BANG!

I looked out of the front window again. It doesn’t look windy out there. I thought, perhaps, it could have been a branch knocking against the wall. If anything, it looks stiller than I’ve ever seen it before.

BANG!

“Hello?” I called out. I waited...

BANG!

“Hello?”

BANG!

Curiosity got the better of me and I pulled the single-seater away from the cabin door and stepped outside into the darkness. This would probably be easier with a torch. I walked down the porch, which ran the entire length of the front of the cabin, and turned down the side of the building. From out here, I couldn’t hear the banging anymore. Even so, I continued to the back of the building. Nothing there. Not even any trees close to the back wall which could have been knocking against it had there been a sudden gust of wind. Weird. I peered into the darkness to see if I could see anything but it was too dark and, even if it hadn’t been, the fog was almost impenetrable.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Another chill ran down my back. A grown man and I’m getting creeped out by the woods and a little fog. My dad would be laughing in his grave if he knew the effect his stories were having on me. I about turned and hurried back to the cabin’s living room. Once inside, I pushed the single-seater against the door again and took a step back.

BANG!

I jumped again. It came from the same place, on the back wall. I walked over to where I thought it came from and placed my hand on the wall. I jumped again when whatever it was banged against the wall once more. Whatever it is, it feels heavy. I bet, if I check in the morning, there’s a mark against the wall. What could it be? I held my breath as I waited for another impact but there was nothing. A minute passed and still there was nothing.

BANG!

It came from the next room; the bedroom just off the living room. I ran through, stopped in the middle of the room, and waited. Come on, you son of a bitch. Where are you?

BANG!

Back in the living room. I hurried back through and pulled the single-seater away from the cabin’s front door. Had I stopped to think about it I would have realized what a stupid idea it was, to try and catch whatever it was banging against the wall. For all I knew it could have been one of the inmates from the asylum...Don’t be so stupid. Within seconds I was stood out the back once more but there was still nothing to see.

“Hello?”

Leaves rustling in the wind were the only thing to respond to my call out. Nothing else.

“I have a gun!” I shouted just in case there was something else, other than the dancing leaves, out there. I waited a moment longer than entirely necessary giving whatever it was plenty of time to reveal itself yet nothing came and nothing happened. Thinking of the gun, as much as I hate them, I’m kind of glad I have it. I returned back to the inside of the cabin and retrieved the gun, from the side where I had placed it earlier.

I pushed the door to but didn’t block it with the seat this time. I want to be ready if the noise happens again. I don’t want to give whatever it is any idea that I’m coming for it. I’ll just run out there and squeeze a few rounds off into the darkness. Perhaps I should do that anyway without waiting for the noise to happen again. If there is something out there it will soon disappear if I start firing bullets. It would show I’m not afraid to use the gun and that’s not a bad thing to reveal even if I don’t really want to kill anything. A couple more minutes went by with nothing happening and I started to relax a little - well, as much as I could given the circumstances.

BANG!

It came from the kitchen area of the cabin. I ran out the front of the cabin and ran to that side of the building with the gun raised high in the air - pointing to the black sky.

“Fuck you!” I yelled. I pulled the trigger twice letting off two rounds into the foggy air. With the gun still raised I froze and waited, listening for the sounds of something running from me. Nothing. Either there really is nothing out there and I’m going mad, hearing things, or - whatever it is - it’s not scared of bullets. If it’s the latter, I really don’t want to know what it is or what it wants. A few more silent seconds went by. I lowered the gun and walked backwards, towards the cabin’s entrance, keeping my eyes on what I could see of the tree line.

Back in the cabin I moved the larger of the living room’s seats in front of the broken door. I slid the single-seater across the room from where I had pulled the larger one. With that done I closed the curtains to the windows. Seeing outside was only fueling my childish thoughts of monsters in the fog. With everything done I dropped down in the single seat once more and rested the gun in my lap.

“You know there’s nothing out there,” my dad used to tell me on the nights where I was so scared I couldn’t fall asleep because of his stories; the nights when he pushed it too far.

“There’s nothing out there,” I repeated his words out loud. “Nothing out there.”

BANG!

* * * * *

It’s been about twenty minutes or so and everything’s gone quiet. Whatever it was, out there, must have got bored and wandered off. It was probably the people, or person, responsible for all of the graffiti and general damage. I expect they came back and saw me here...Probably tried to scare me off so they can take refuge in their den.

“See I told you everything was okay,” my dad would say once he’d proven there was nothing outside waiting to get me as soon as I closed my eyes. I wish he was still here to reassure me - not that there’s nothing outside, despite my over-active imagination, I know there’s nothing outside. At least, nothing waiting to get me. I just wish he was here to reassure me that everything’s going to be okay when I see the Sheriff tomorrow. I’d give anything to hear his voice. Anything.

Yesterday I couldn’t wait to come to the cabin for some peace and quiet. Some isolation. Now I just want to disappear, though. The isolation paired with the guilt I’m feeling is killing me and reminding me more and more of memories I’d sooner keep buried. This cabin was supposed to remind me of the good times with my dad, as well as give me the peace needed to write, not drag up the shit I’d rather forget.

“How long have you been seeing her?” I had asked dad after I burst into his study; a small room where he used to sit and write his novels.

I remember how my dad swiveled around, in his chair, to look at me. He didn’t even get up to talk. Just sat there and tilted his head down so he could peer at me over the top of his black-rimmed glasses. Already he had had a look of denial on his face but his eyes gave him away just as they always had when he was guilty of something or simply bending the truth to put himself in a more favorable light.

Mum had suspected for years that dad was seeing the other woman. Every year he’d get the Valentine’s Day cards, penned in the same styled handwriting as the birthday cards he thought we never knew about; the secret cards he’d stash in his office despite putting all the others out on display in our front room. Why else would you hide something away other than to conceal a guilty conscience? What made it worse is that she wasn’t even that special, this woman he chose over my own mother. Just a cheap tart who liked to dress herself up in high market clothes and designer jewelry to try and make herself look important. Even then, the jewelry was most likely paid for by my father. No matter how you paint a turd, though...A turd will always be just that.

I never told mum. I never told her how I found the notes between dad and this woman. Dad hadn’t been around. He must have popped out to pick something up or run a chore and simply forgot to lock his study like he normally did. He often went out without locking it but would always remember it and come back to close it up as soon as he possibly could, even if it made him late for meetings. This time he wasn’t there, though, and a constant ringing of the alarm was annoying me so, despite knowing he didn’t like people going in his study when he wasn’t there, I went in. There were notes scattered all over his desk. Most of them seemed to be about a new book he was working on but one in particular caught my eye. Obviously I was going to take a closer look. I’m only human. I wish I hadn’t. If I had just ignored it I’d have never seen the messages backwards and forwards with this woman. This piece of shit friend of the family. The most two-faced human you could possibly imagine. Numerous messages where they declared their love for one another and called each other by their sick-inducing pet names.

Despite bursting in on my dad and confronting him, I never told him I had seen the notes. I wanted him to be man enough to admit to me that he was cheating on my mother. His wife. But he couldn’t even do that. Not man enough. It’s funny, I always thought he would have been given his dislike of anything less than ‘honest’. Maybe it’s the way I burst in on him? Maybe if I had handled it differently he would have responded truthfully? I was young, didn’t have much control over my emotions back then. Especially when it came down to people, or things, hurting my mum.

I’d never forgive my dad for what he had been doing behind my mum’s back but I’ll always regret not being able to establish some form of relationship with him again before his heart attack. The last words we had were said in anger and it tears me apart inside. I sat back in the chair and wiped a tear from my eye. So much for reminiscing  about the happier times.

I closed my eyes and tried to block it all out; the guilt from what I had been a part of earlier in the day, the deep feeling of regret at not being able to patch things up with my dad before his heart attack...I was even feeling guilty about how I had been treating Jamie this past year. She was obviously going through a difficult time, trying to discover who she really is, and I’d just take the piss out of her if I’d even comment on it in the first place. More often than not, I’d simply shut myself away in my own little study and work on my own pieces of fiction. With things feeling a little strained, from time to time, between Susan and I as well...Am I turning into my father? I hope not. I promised myself I’d never do that. I promised myself I’d be a better father and a better husband but at the moment it feels as though I’m failing on both accounts.

As soon as I see them again, I’ll start to make amends.

Another promise to myself.

7.

A gentle knocking on the cabin’s door stirred me from my unexpected sleep. There was no light coming through the cracks in the curtains so I couldn’t have been asleep for long. Was there even a knocking or did I imagine it? I didn’t move. I just stayed rooted to my seat with the gun still in my lap and my hand close by, ready to grab it should it be needed.

“Hello?” I said quietly. Deep down I hoped that, if there was someone out there, they wouldn’t hear me and they’d leave. I’ve learnt from writing horror and watching films over the years, hell even watching the news on television...I’ve learnt that if someone is out walking in the woods, late at night, it’s generally a good idea not to open the door to them should they come knocking. “Anyone there?” I asked again in a quieter tone than strictly necessary. I waited in silence desperately hoping no one would answer. With a general feeling of unease creeping over me I took up the gun in my writing hand and raised it towards the door. Part of me just wants to put two bullets through the door on the off-chance someone is out there but I hold back from firing. Good self-control. Guess I’m hearing things. Either that or I dreamt it in my shallow sleep.

A couple more seconds passed before I heard the familiar sounds of heavy footsteps walking the length of the cabin, away from the front door. My heart jumped in my throat as I recalled the sound from my childhood when it woke me from my sleep and I had gone running into my dad.

Someone was out there.

I leapt up from the chair, with the gun in hand, and dashed through to the bedroom, as quietly as I could, where the sounds of the footsteps were headed. With any luck they’d pass in front of the bedroom window and I’d be able to see who it was but by the time I crossed the bedroom, to the window, the footsteps had all but disappeared. Whoever it was had obviously stepped off the wooden porch, down onto the soft mud to mute the sounds of their unwelcome steps. Dammit. I peered out of the window but, again, could see nothing. Even less by the time my heavy breathing had misted the window panes up. I wiped them clear with my free hand and suddenly screamed, falling backwards onto my ass, when I saw the pale face of a young boy staring right back at me, inches away from my own face.

Whoever it was stepped back, into the blackness, out of view. I rushed over to the window again and peered out but they were gone. 

I closed my eyes tight and tried desperately to remember his face in case I recognized him as being one of the youngsters hanging around outside the store earlier but all I could recall was a long scar running down his neck. Did I really see that or did my imagination paint that picture to fool me and make me feel even more nervous? I opened my eyes again and squinted into the eerie night-air.

BANG!

The thud echoed through the cabin causing my heart to miss a beat once more - a horrible feeling becoming all too familiar.

“Leave me alone!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I didn’t believe my yelling would help. If the sound of bullets flying through the air didn’t scare off whoever was trying to mess with me then I’m sure my pathetic cries would do nothing apart from maybe encourage them to continue.

BANG!

I don’t know why but I hurried back through to the living room, where the noise was coming from, and froze in the middle of the room as I nervously waited for the next bang.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

I span around, on the spot, to face the front door; someone’s knocking again.

“Who is it?” I demanded. I raised the gun to what I thought would be head level for whoever was out there. “Who’s there?” I watched, in terror, as the door handle started to slowly twist counter-clockwise. “I have a gun!” I warned them. The handle stopped moving. It seems, whoever it is, does have some common sense in them after all.

BANG!

I span back towards the wall behind me. How many people are here?

“Fuck off!” I yelled. Yelling is all I can do. I’m too afraid to move the seat out of the way of the door to run out and confront whoever it is. It’s fair to say the image of someone standing at the window and old memories of what I had heard when I was here with my dad, all those years ago, have me more or less frozen with fear. Morning can’t come quick enough.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

I looked down at my watch. It’s only just turned midnight. There’s at least five hours before the sun will start to come up, illuminating enough of the woods to allow me to walk into town.

BANG!

I can’t take five hours of this. I turned my attention back to the door handle which had started to slowly turn again. I hesitated for a split second before raising the barrel of the gun back towards the door. I mentally gave whoever was out there a couple more seconds to stop moving the handle. One. Two. I squeezed the trigger and put a hole straight through the door. The handle stopped moving immediately. I lowered the gun and froze, waiting to hear if someone would cry out in pain or if I’d hear the sound of someone dropping to the floor like a dead weight. There was nothing. Did I even hit anyone?

“Hello?” I called out nervously. No one replied.

Suddenly, with no warning, a loud ear-piercing scream echoed through the house followed by loud banging noises from what felt to be all of the cabin’s walls. I too screamed as I dropped to my knees, letting the gun fall to the floor beside me. I placed my hands over my ears to drown the racket out.

Before I knew it the only noise in the cabin was the sound of my own screaming. I stopped. My throat was sore from the strain I had put upon it. I nervously moved my hands away from my ears. Silence. Blissful silence. I wonder how long for, though? I didn’t get up. I didn’t move in case my movement triggered it all off again. I just stayed there, on my knees, in the middle of the living room.

This is stupid. I’m stupid. No. I’m being stupid. There’s nothing out there. My dad told me so. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Ghosts are nothing more than figments of a tired imagination or cruel tricks of the mind. It’s probably just a group of teenagers mucking around. Probably the same people who caused all the damage to the cabin. I expect they came back to hang out in their den and were annoyed to see me here. They’re probably just trying to scare me out; a logical reason to calm my shattered nerves.

My logical reason isn’t helping much. I’ve fired three shots now; two outside and one through the door. How would that not have scared them off by now? Had the shoe been on the other foot, I would have run after the first shot had been fired. I certainly wouldn’t have hung around to encourage more bullets to be shot towards me.

Slowly, and quietly, I pulled myself up from my knees and onto the seat. Once comfortable, I reached down and collected the gun from the floor. If the gunshots weren’t enough to deter whoever is trying to scare me, maybe I’d be better off just leaving the cabin and letting them have it. I mean, if they want it that desperately they fear no bullets...Perhaps they deserve it?

“There’s no one out there,” dad had said after I’d woken him up to tell him about the footsteps I’d heard out the front. Dad seemed to be more annoyed by the fact I’d disturbed him than by the fact someone could be outside pacing up and down in front of his cabin. I’ll never forget that. On the rare occasions when one of my girls had woken me up, in the past, to tell me something was wrong - I always checked out their story with no hint of my annoyance, no matter how tired I was. What if they had been right and someone was in their closet or someone was stood at the back window, looking in?

“There is someone out there,” I had insisted as I tried to pull him from his bed.

“Just ignore them,” he had replied, “they’ll soon go away.”

Is my subconscious serving up that memory as a way of telling me to simply ignore whoever is out there? Is that what I need to do? Just ignore them and they’ll leave. Worry about them if and when they decide to try and walk through the front door. Why should I feel scared anyway? I’m the one with the gun after all. Perhaps they should be out there fearing me?

This is silly. They’ve gone quiet again. I’ll do the same. I’ll creep around here, until morning. I won’t shout at them anymore. I won’t go running out there or start screaming. Whatever they do, I’ll just ignore it. I just need something to help distract my mind; I’m sure it’s my own mind making this feel a lot worse than it actually is anyway. I’m tempted to try and go back to sleep but I know my body won’t let me. I know I’ll regret the lack of sleep in the morning, when I go to the Sheriff’s department, but I have too much adrenalin flowing through my system at the moment. Besides, if I did doze off, whoever’s outside will only give me a jolt awake again when they start their scaremongering once more. Fuck that. I won’t give them the satisfaction. And I had best be on my guard on the off-chance they do happen to come in. I’m not saying they’ll try anything, if they crossed the threshold but, even so, I’d rather be ready for anything. Sleep can wait. So much for trying to distract my mind from thinking of them. I think, since deciding that, I’ve actually thought about them more.

I shook my head and stood up as quietly as the creaking chair allowed me to. I wonder if any of my dad’s old paperwork bits and pieces are still here? The last time I was here, I found some stashed in a drawer in the office. I had always promised myself to have a flick through, in case there were any notes or anything I could use for a new story, but I never got around to it. Despite wanting to do it - I never seemed to manage to find the time. Well, time is all I have now...

I crept through to my study, and my father’s study before that, and sat down at the desk where we used to write. Where he used to scribble notes down, on various scraps of paper, at the desk - before using a typewriter - I used to just bring my laptop and do everything on that. It was much easier. Back in those days, though, I guess my father didn’t have the luxury of computers. Even when he could have turned to them, towards the end of his writing career, he never bothered. He said he preferred the feel of using his typewriter. He wasn’t superstitious with most things in life but he did always worry his words would never flow so well if he changed from using his trusty typewriter.

For a while, after his death, I tried to use his typewriter after my mother passed it down to me. I hated it. I guess I make too many mistakes to use a typewriter. It’s much easier with a computer; the ‘backspace’ key in particular.

I sat at the desk, on the old wooden chair, once I had brushed the various bits of rubbish from the surface of both of them. The wooden table used to be a fine piece of furniture but now there’s hardly an area which doesn’t have some kind of childish etching scratched into it; whether it’s some silly slang or some immature doodle.

BANG!

That’s cool. Ignore it. They’ll go away. Besides, it came from the living room and I’m not there anymore. They’re not even near me. Forget about it. I pulled open the desk’s drawer and was confronted by an old photograph of my father and I. My heart sank as I realized it had been drawn on. The young image of me was untouched but my father’s image; his eyes had been crossed out and a line, with stitches, had been drawn down the length of his neck. Had my dad still been alive, it probably wouldn’t have angered me as much. I took the photo from the drawer and placed it on the top of the table.

BANG!

I wet the bottom of my thumb, with my tongue, and ran it across the ink but it made no difference. I had hoped it would have wiped it clean off but no such luck.

“They said, if you hear the scream, you die a year later and your soul goes to haunt the very same woods where you originally heard the scream...” dad had told me. His face was so serious, why wouldn’t I have believed him as he passed on what he was told by the locals. Twelve years old, I would never have believed he’d lie to me. I had no reason to doubt him. Not until just under a year later when I discovered the affair more or less detailed in the many notes. Part of me wonders why he had kept them. Surely, for a man who liked to keep his own business private, he’d have just burned them once he had read them and savored the words within. I’ll never know for sure but maybe he was planning on publishing them; a cruel way to inform his wife, who read all of his work, that he was actually having an affair with this whore. I digress. Before I read those notes... I’d have never doubted him and so I never doubted what he said the locals had told him about the footsteps and the scream.

Although I still dreamt about hearing the footsteps, I more or less had forgotten about the story until dad’s death. Practically a year, to the day, since the final night of our last happy holiday together. It was but a few months, from getting home from our cabin adventure, that I ventured into his empty office and read the truth about my father.

Now his story is at the forefront of my mind and I can’t shake it out despite knowing, deep down, it’s ridiculous.

“...your soul goes to haunt the very same woods where you originally heard the scream...” his words echoed through my mind as I tried to ignore the  footsteps which were pacing the front of the cabin once more.

“It’s just a story,” I said to myself. “A story to scare kids from venturing into the woods by themselves. That’s what all ghost stories are - simple, yet effective, storytelling methods to keep you from doing something stupid.”

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“It’s just kids out there. Nothing more, nothing less. They’ll get bored eventually and they’ll go home. Worst case scenario, they’ll come in and then you can scare them away with your gun...” I whispered to myself. The sound of my own voice offered me little comfort.

Your gun? I’d rather not get used to referring to the gun as mine. It’s not my gun. It’s Josh’s gun. It’s the murder weapon. Don’t refer to it as ‘your gun’ again.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Why did I have to leave my cellphone in the car with Susan? This could have all been dealt with by now and I might have even been on the way to meeting her at her mum’s. I picked the gun up, once more, and crept back through to the living room, where the knocking was coming from.

I’ll wait. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll wait until they go quiet again. And then I’ll creep out of here, into the woods, where I can watch the cabin. I’d bet my last dime that, as soon as I’m out, they’ll all come in and start their partying. It’s just kids. It’s just kids. It’s just kids...I crept across to the chair, opposite the door, and quietly lowered myself into it before I placed the gun to my side. I’m just going to sit here until they go quiet and then I’ll make my move.

‘What if there’s no one out there and no one runs in the cabin, after I vacate it?’ a random thought asks in the back of my mind. I don’t even want to think about it. If it’s no one fucking with me then I’m going mad. There’s no other explanation.

I’m just grateful Susan and the kids didn’t stay here tonight. I’d have hated for them to have to sit through this too. I know it would petrify Susan and Jamie but Ava...She’s too young to be exposed to these kind of mind games. She’d never sleep again. Not entirely sure I will yet.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

* * * * *

“Yes?” my dad had called out from his office door. He needn’t have bothered.  I would have gone in regardless as to whether he had invited me or not. I hadn’t meant to knock on his door, when I went to confront him. It was force of habit. I had meant to just burst in and have it out with him.

I stormed over to his desk. So young and yet acting so old I demanded to know, “How long have you been seeing her?”

Dad span around, in his swivel chair, to look at me. He didn’t even bother getting up. I remember, at the time, how it annoyed me; the way he dared to look at me as though it was I who was in the wrong and not the other way around. He tilted his head down and looked at me over the top of his black-rimmed glasses - couldn’t even be bothered to take them off to address me properly.

“What are you talking about?” he had asked me.

“I know, dad, I know...”

“Know what?”

“Just tell me how long you’ve been seeing her?”

“What do you think you know, son? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me!” I remember I shouted at him. The first time, and not the last, that I’d dare to stand up to him; dare to point out how he, Mr Perfect, was in the wrong.

“Look, I’m really busy at the moment. These books don’t write themselves...What do you want?”

“I want to know how long you’ve been cheating on my mum!” I yelled.

Dad didn’t say anything. I remember how he just looked at me as though I was muck on his shoe, like I was nothing more than an unpleasant inconvenience to him. I remember, at the time, wondering whether the previous times we’d spent together, laughing and generally being happy, were nothing more than a lie on his part. An act he’d put on to keep both my mother, and I, happy so as to give him a relatively easy life. It’s amazing how one look from someone can ruin years and years of ‘progress’ with regards to a relationship.

“Son, I don’t have time for this...” he had told me. It was at that point, in the conversation, he originally turned his back on me and, from that moment on, it felt as though he had his back to me for the rest of his life.

I’ve just realized that everything is quiet outside. They must be taking another break before they start again. Okay...This is it. Stick to the plan. Get out. Keep watch. And then it’s my turn to scare the shit out of whoever comes in. I grabbed the gun, tucked it into my belt, and stood up. With the adrenalin back to pounding through my body, I stood up and made my way over to the seat which blocked my exit. Not quite sure how to do this...Do I do it quickly and risk making noise and making it obvious as to what I’m doing or do I try and keep it as quiet as possible? Noisy. Has to be noisy. I want them to know I’m vacating the property. Okay...Here we go...

“Leave me alone!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I ran from the cabin, having unblocked the way to the front door. As I ran, as fast as I could, down the dirt track which I drove in on, I panicked that the gun was going to slip from where I had it hidden. The last thing I need, right now, is to drop that. I hoped that whoever would have been watching me run away would think I had left the gun inside - giving them more reason to go in; anything to get them to come out from the darkness they hid in.

As soon as I was out of view of the cabin I stopped running. I took a moment, bent forward, to catch my breath and turned back towards where I had just run. I felt that went well. I especially liked my acting abilities begging for them to leave me alone. Hopefully they bought it as I had intended them to.

I quickly walked over to the trees and stepped off the dirt track. If I’m careful, I’ll be able to sneak through the woods until I can see the cabin again. From my new, hidden, vantage point, I’ll hopefully be able to see them enter the cabin. As I crept through the undergrowth my heart was beating fast with the surge of adrenalin. Not because I’m scared. I’m not scared anymore. No. Now I’m excited. I’m looking forward to catching whoever it is and giving them a piece of my mind. If they’re willing to go to such extremes to get me out of the cabin, you can bet it was them who trashed it in the first place. Little fuckers. I wondered what the chances were of getting some money out of them to cover the damage they had caused and the necessary clean-up operations. Chance would be a fine thing.

As I crept the last few hundred yards, towards the large oak tree I had my heart set on as my lookout post, I tried desperately hard not to tread on any of the many branches and sticks which littered the muddy floor. With every ‘snap’ and ‘crunch’ I accidentally caused I increased my chances of being seen, or heard at the very least.

For this to succeed I’m going to need the element of surprise and I really, really want this to work out.

8.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been waiting here now. The only two things I’m sure about are the following - it’s damned cold out here and no one has gone into the cabin yet. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to check my watch before I got too carried away with spying on the door.

Come on, they must have seen me leave and even if they didn’t see me, they surely must have heard me running and shouting as I left. What are they waiting for?

I heard something snap behind me and span around to see what it was. Nothing there. Could have been anything. I waited a few moments more to see if anything moved in the many shadows but it was dead out here. Had it not been for all the banging, footsteps and the scream earlier - I’d have believed I was completely alone. I wished I was. Actually, no, I wished my wife was with me. I wished my wife and my children. I wished the cabin was fine and I wished, more than anything, the whole incident in the store didn’t happen. Seeing as I’m wishing for the impossible, I might as well wish for it all.

“Come on, come on, what are you waiting for?” I whispered.

They can’t have been that desperate to get in there. Maybe they were more interested in seeing if they could scare me out and they didn’t actually want the cabin for themselves? I looked at my watch in the limited light on offer. I’ll give them another fifteen minutes. No. Twenty. I’ll give them another twenty minutes, just in case they’re watching the cabin to make sure I’ve definitely gone. I don’t want to have done this for...

SNAP!

I span around again as another branch snapped behind me. I couldn’t tell exactly where it came from other than to my rear and that it sounded close. I held my breath and laid perfectly still, amongst the dead leaves and fallen branches. Could just be an animal. Could be nothing. In my mind I see the face of the boy, with the scar running the length of his neck, staring at me but I’m quick to shake it off. Ghosts don’t exist. Just an animal. I turned back to the cabin. First impressions show nothing has changed since the distraction behind me. The door is still half open, the lights are still on and, more importantly, I can’t hear the cheering or laughter of any kids who’ve succeeded in what they set out to achieve. Where are you, you little fuckers? I know you’re out there somewhere, hiding like the little cowards you are. Come on, show yourselves...

Suddenly the same haunting scream, from earlier in the night, filled my ears as though it was coming from close behind me. I span around to see if I could make out where it was coming from but was soon distracted by another scream coming from my right...And then another scream coming from my left. I jumped up and wasted no time in getting back to the dirt track. As soon as my feet touched the solid dirt of the track I started to run, as fast as I could, back towards the cabin - all the time the screams filled my ears. I pulled the gun from where I had it stashed, down my belt, and carried on running with it close to my side on the off chance anything jumped out on me.

It didn’t take me long to reach the cabin’s porch. I leapt up the two wooden steps and bounded over the porch and into the living room where I quickly span around and slammed the door shut. Seconds later the larger of the seats was across the door and I was standing at the window, peering out from behind the old, tatty curtain with my heart pounding in my throat. Seconds later, all of the screams stopped. Regardless of the silence, I stayed at the window in case I could...what the fuck...

I see it. Down in the dirt track where I had just come from. It looked like a young lad was just standing there watching the cabin. It was so dark out there it was hard to make anything else out, other than his size. I let the curtain fall back into place, blocking my view in the process, and stepped back shaking, violently, with fear.

I took a few deep breaths. I should go out there. Confront them. It’s only a lad. One of many, probably. It’s not a ghost. It’s not a ghost. Just a lad. They only want to scare me. They succeeded.

I stepped forward, back to the window, and pulled the curtain across again. The dirt track was deserted. Whoever it was had disappeared into the night. I let the curtain drop to the side and pushed the chair away from the door again. I pulled the door open and stepped onto the porch.

“Who’s out there?” I called out. “Come on, I saw you! What do you fucking want?! Money?! I have money! If that’s what you want...” I stopped speaking and gave them a chance to answer but no one spoke out. “Come on, this is stupid. I’m sure there are places you’d rather be than out here, right? Hello? Anyone?” still no one answered. “What’s the matter? You too chicken shit to face me?!” I yelled.

When it was apparent no one was going to step forward, I returned to the living room and pushed the door to. I didn’t block it this time. Instead I’ll simply sit opposite and wait for them to knock again. If there’s nothing to stop the door from opening, the force of their hand, against the wooden door panel, will expose them to me.

“There’s no one out there,” my dad had said.

Time’s have changed. There is someone out there and we’re going to have words...I went to sit on the seat, opposite the door, when I noticed a piece of cloth, on the arm of it, which wasn’t there earlier when I had been sitting there. I walked over and picked it up. On closer inspection it looked to be a piece of cloth torn from a shirt. Perhaps from a pocket you’d find on the chest area? Red ink in the corner where a pen could have leaked...I froze. I recognized the pattern on the cloth. It belonged to the store clerk’s shirt. How the Hell did it get in here? I ran through and checked the other rooms to see if any of the windows were open. None of them were. They couldn’t have come through the front door, though. They couldn’t have! I was watching it the whole time.

Unless...

I only took my eyes off the door from a split second, when I heard the snapping sound from behind me. Could they have run in and out again in the time it took for me to make sure nothing was behind me? Surely I would have heard them? Everything else, out there, was so deathly quiet. It’s practically impossible to walk on the cabin’s wooden porch without your footsteps being audible. I should know, I used to try and do it years ago when I tried sneaking up on my dad.

“The screams would be of the dead, haunting the woods as they sought vengeance for what had happened to them when they were still breathing,” my dad had told me years ago. The inmates were given jobs around the town to help with the rehabilitation program. What if the store clerk was previously one of the inmates and now his ghost had been added to the others which haunted the town? The cloth is a sign he’s come for vengeance for what happened to him? No. That’s stupid. Just my overactive, guilty imagination again poisoned with memories from my childhood. It’s ridiculous. I know who it is. It’s Josh.

Josh and his friends are probably trying to scare me out of the town completely so I don’t go to the Sheriff. Another negative thought sprung to the forefront of my mind; what if he wants to do more than scare me? What if he wants to make sure I never say anything to anyone? What if he wants to silence me permanently? He’s already shot one person and even though it was an accident, he didn’t seem very remorseful. Even less guilty when he ran for the dead store clerk’s shotgun...I’m even more grateful for having made Susan and the kids leave now. They don’t need to be part of this. If that is the case, though...If he is here to silence me for good...How come he hasn’t already done it then?

I glanced down to the gun in my hand. I don’t want to have to use this other than to scare someone away but if it comes down to it...If it’s between him and me...I’ll do what needs to be done. All I can do is sit and wait him out...Him and his friends...Hopefully nothing more, other than noises, will happen before morning and I’ll be able to get away from here and into town. Once I’m in the town I know I’ll be okay. Even better when I’m sat opposite the Sheriff in his office.

I quickly walked through the cabin closing all of the doors. I figured if they tried to sneak in through one of the windows, to surprise me, I’d hear them come through the door and be able to act accordingly. Other than that, all I can do is sit on the living room’s seat, again, and wait. If they’re going to make a move, hopefully they’ll do it sooner rather than later. I just want to get this over with. This whole nasty experience. I want it finished and as far out of my mind as someone’s dead body resting on my conscience will allow.

I sat down on the chair, opposite the door, and mentally prepared myself for what I might have to do. I didn’t have to wait very long.

BANG!

Ah, I wondered where they’d gone. It obviously took them some time to get back to behind the cabin, from after they’d surrounded me further down the dirt track. Come on, you son of a bitch, stop playing ‘ghosts’ and come say hi.

BANG!

The banging noises which bounced off the various cabin walls didn’t even bother me now. They needed to learn some new tricks. Something I hadn’t grown used to hearing in the darkness. A little part of me felt disappointed they hadn’t yet started to moan, groan and rattle chains. Everyone knows that’s what evil spirits are meant to be doing as they haunt the living.

Footsteps started to pace the front of the cabin. This is it, I thought. This is it. I raised the gun towards the door. Come on then, Josh, stick your head through the gap. I dare you. I double dare you. The footsteps didn’t stop at the door, though. They continued past it towards the other side of the cabin. I tracked them, along the wall, with my eyes looking down the barrel of the gun. They stopped. They must have reached the far end of the porch. They didn’t stop for long, though, before they about turned and walked along the wooden boards of the porch once more - following the path they had just walked down. Again I kept track of them down the gun’s barrel. I had expected them to knock on the door this time but they didn’t and I watched as a dark shadow passed between the slight gap caused by the door not being closed properly. I didn’t even call out to them. I didn’t invite them in. Although I’m not worried about doing what needs to be done...At the same time, I don’t wish to invite it.

BANG!

Another thud on the wall behind me. Meanwhile whoever paced the front, of the cabin, turned and walked back down the length of the porch once more. Big, heavy footsteps. Either Josh knew some big lads who were in need of a diet or they were purposefully stamping their feet to make the steps sound louder in here. Regardless, they aren’t coming in. They’re just trying to mess with my mind. True to form a dark shadow passed between the gap as I had expected them to. Part of me was tempted to rugby tackle them to the floor when they walked on by but I didn’t. I stayed rooted to the spot. No need for me to invite trouble.

BANG!

The more they do it, the more pathetic they’re coming across. Surely they couldn’t have honestly believed doing the same thing over and over again would be enough to get to me? Sure, to start off with, it was a little unpleasant but not now - now it’s just laughable.

The footsteps out the front stopped just as sudden as they had started. Must be draining, stamping their feet like that. They probably need a little break. If that were me, out there, organizing things then I would have had a system set up which would see a few lads take it in turn to stamp their feet. That way they would get tired less quickly.

BANG!

But then maybe there aren’t enough of them out there to make that a possibility. The footsteps started again. I tried not to laugh out loud. Okay, I guess they just needed a little more time to switch places. No doubt the one who had paced the front of the cabin a minute ago is now standing out the back ready to hit the wall with whatever it is they’re using to cause such a thud and the youth who had been out the back...Well, now he is the one pacing.

Sure enough a shadow passed the gap in the doorway.

BANG!

I smiled. The other youth has now managed to take up his position at the back of the building. Absolutely pathetic. In fact, I’ve had enough of this. I stood up and dashed out of the front door with the gun raised.

“Okay, you little shit!” I yelled.

What the Hell? By my calculations the foot-stamping culprit should have been standing by the far bedroom window, the same window I had seen them through earlier, but there was no one there.

BANG!

They’re still around the back of the cabin. I’ll catch them there. I ran around to confront them but, again, by the time I got there - no one was to be seen.

“Okay, you’re quick. I’ll give you that...”

Slowly I backed up along the side of the building, towards the front, as I kept a watchful eye on the bushes which lined the back of the building. None of them were even swaying as they might have done had someone recently disturbed them. Everything was eerily still. Where the Hell do they run off to then?

“I know it’s you, Josh...This is pointless. You might as well just come out here and face me. Let’s deal with what you want...” I stopped moving and waited for a response. “I am going to the Sheriff in the morning...Now’s your chance to come out here and talk about what happened at the store...” Still nothing. No movement. No laughter. Nothing. Just stillness. “I know it was an accident...Come on...We can talk about this...Talk about what we’re going to tell the Sheriff...It was all just a big misunderstanding...What happened was an accident...They’ll be able to see that. We didn’t want anyone hurt. No one wanted anyone hurt. It just happened...” Still nothing. “Come on, talk to me...Show me you’re not as stupid as you’re making out...”

With no warning something hit the window next to me from the inside. I span around and yelled in terror as I saw the face of a young lad staring back at me in the brightness of the room. His skin was pale and I could make out tiny, blue veins all over his face, his eyes were cloudy-blue surrounded by red rings, hair greasy black, his teeth were stained yellow and his lips crusted over with dried skin caused, at a quick guess, by dehydration. Down the length of his neck was a long scar which looked as though it had been stitched shut in a hurry. He pointed a bony finger at me and his eyes went wide before I heard a god-awful scream. The loudest of the screams so far but it wasn’t coming from his mouth. His mouth remained as closed as his bucked teeth allowed. It was as though it was only heard in my head. I yelled again, shut my eyes and dropped the gun, choosing to cover my ears with my hands instead of pulling the trigger. By the time I dared to open my eyes again, only after the screaming had stopped, the boy was gone from the window. I pulled my shaking hands away from my ears and grabbed the gun from where it had landed amongst the dead leaves and mud, all the time I refused to look away from the window in case the boy appeared again.

“Okay, very good,” I yelled, “you got me...”

My voice was shaking, nearly as much as my hands, and my heart was beating harder and faster than it had ever beaten before. So hard, in fact, I thought it was going to burst out from my rib-cage. A quick check behind me to make sure nothing was there before I turned the corner of the cabin and talked myself into heading back in to catch whoever was in there. It was just make-up, I kept saying over and over again in my mind. Just make-up. There’s no such thing as ghosts. The lad just took the opportunity to run into the room, whilst I was outside, to try and scare me. Little fucker succeeded.

“Come out, I know you’re in here,” I called into the cabin, from the doorway. I waited to hear the laughter of someone who’s prank had just worked beautifully but there was nothing. No laughter. No gloating. Nothing. “Come on...You got me...Very good...Well done...” Still nothing. I raised the gun and stepped in. Weird, it feels colder inside than it does out. Forget about it. A quick look around the first room soon revealed it was empty. There aren’t even any places someone could hide in here. Definitely rule this room out. I opened the living room door which led onto the rest of the cabin...All the other doors were still closed, from where I had closed them earlier.

Another feeling of unease spread through my body. No. Ignore the feeling. They’re obviously good at whatever game they’re playing. It wouldn’t have been hard for them to close the doors behind them, even if they were in a hurry so as not to be spotted by me. They’re trying to keep everything as authentic as possible, of course they would have closed the doors. They wouldn’t go to all this effort just to ruin it there.

I opened the door to the bedroom where I had seen the boy. How old must he have been anyway? Hard to pin-point an exact age, given the make-up, but he didn’t look a day over ten years old. I wonder if his mother knows he is out so late. “I know you’re in here,” I said. “You might as well come out...I’m not angry.” Given what they’ve put me through, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t believe me but I felt it was worth a shot. I felt as though I’ve tried everything else.

Like the living room, there’s not much in here for anyone to hide behind other than...No...Surely not...I dropped to my knees and rested my head on the wooden floorboard so I could get a good view under the bed. No-one is there. Not just that but, considering the state they had left the rest of the cabin, there was nothing under the bed at all; no rubbish, none of my old bits and pieces, not even any evidence of spiders. Who’d have thought it would be the cleanest part of the whole damned cabin?!

I sat upright and instantly felt the hairs on my neck stand to attention as the feeling of warm air was breathed against my skin by someone standing behind me.

“I know you’re there,” I whispered. “What do you want?”

I didn’t dare turn around. I desperately wanted to just so we could finally finish everything but every part of my body refused to allow me to do it; too scared by the stories I grew up with and the night’s weirdness.

“This is silly,” I said. I tried to sound cool and collected but knew I failed miserably. I sounded as scared as I felt. “We can all be friends,” I continued shakily, “we don’t have to do this...”

Whoever it was didn’t say anything. They just stood there. I could feel they were practically on top of me. Why weren’t they saying anything? Why? All I could hear were strange gargled noises which sounded as though they were coming from the back of their throat.

“Why won’t you talk to me? What’s all this meant to achieve?” I tried to take control of the situation but was once again let down by my tone.

Nervously I turned my head to see who was behind me. I managed to twist my head halfway round before I froze with fear. Out of the corner of my eye I could see all I wanted to see.

“Please...Tell me what you want...” I begged. I felt my eyes begin to fill up as the fear became too much for me to handle. The sound of my own heart pumping was nearly drowning out the weird clicking noises from the back of his throat - perhaps forming where his vocal chords used to be.

With no warning he placed his hand on my shoulder and an ear-piercing scream filled the room.

9.

I opened my eyes. I was face down on the bedroom’s wooden floorboards. I must have blacked out; the shock of what was happening too much for my body to take. As soon as I realized where I was I sat up and cast my eyes around the room. It’s empty. I’m alone again. I must have been unconscious for some time as daylight is spilling in from the window on the side of the room. Thank God for that. I need to get out of here. It’s over...

BANG!

No. It can’t be. It came from the front of the cabin this time. What do they want? It’s daylight now. They must know it’s over. They must do. My dad used to tell me things only went bump in the night.

I heard footsteps across the front of the porch. Will they ever leave me alone? A knocking on the front door followed. No. I’m not having it. I’m not. I looked to the floor and spotted the gun. Without giving it any hesitation I grabbed it and aimed it at the door.

“I’m in here!” I called out. “Come and get me!”

Footsteps across the floorboards in the other room. The door opened and I pulled the trigger.

BANG!

I screamed and dropped the gun. It hit the floor before Ava’s body did. My daughter. My beautiful daughter. She fell backwards with blood trickling from the front of her delicate face. What have I done? What have I done?

“Baby?!” I called out as I scrambled over to her lifeless body.

More footsteps from outside which sounded as though they were running towards where I was sat, cradling the body of my youngest. What had I done?

Susan screamed as she came through the cabin’s front door.

“My baby!” she screamed. “What have you done?!”

I couldn’t answer her. I didn’t know how to. Jamie came in and stopped in the cabin’s doorway. Her face was pale as she took in the scene before her eyes.

I screamed out as Susan pulled Ava’s body away from me and cradled it in her own arms.

“Daddy?” said Jamie from the doorway where she’d just stopped in her tracks. Her voice was shaking.

“My baby! My baby! What have you done!” Susan kept wailing over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” I wept with my head in my hands; tears flowing uncontrollably.

“Call someone!” Susan demanded. “Make it better! Make it better!” she screamed.

Jamie dropped to her knees and started to weep, her black mascara running down her pale face, as what happened slowly started to sink in.

“Don’t just sit there!” screamed Susan. “Call someone!”

“I’m sorry,” I cried as I tried to put a comforting arm around Susan.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she screamed. The anguish and hatred in her voice flowing through every syllable.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.

I stood up and staggered out of the cabin, into the bright daylight of the warm Saturday morning. I didn’t even manage to get off the porch before I threw up over the side, into the foliage below. I’ve killed my daughter. I’ve killed my daughter. I desperately wanted to forget...Block out the pain...But the screams of Susan’s pain and the whimpering of Jamie, from the doorway, refused me the luxury of forgetting and pretending it never happened. I need to call someone. I need to get help. I ran over to the car...I didn’t even hear them pull up...It was an accident....Had I known it was them...I opened the car door, which must have banged shut when they climbed out, and reached into the passenger seat to grab my cellphone. I flipped it open and pressed ‘9’ on the keypad. I stopped.

Who am I supposed to call? Who can make this all better? No one can. There’s no one. No one can bring little Ava back to life. No one can erase the pain Susan, Jamie and I will feel for the rest of our lives. No one can take away the image of the bullet piercing the front of Ava’s face and the look of shock in her eyes. No one can fix this. They’ll never forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself. Our lives will never be the same again. I’ve destroyed them for good. People won’t believe what happened during the night to make me feel on edge. They won’t. They’ll just know I killed my daughter. And, if I did that, I must have killed the store clerk too. Josh wins. He’ll get away with it. They probably won’t even know he was even in the store when the gun went off. They’ll pin it all on the city-man. I’ve lost everything. I’ve destroyed everything.

I’m not crying anymore. I’m in shock. Nothing can fix this. Where do we go from here? How do we move on? I sat for a moment with only the sounds of the girls screaming keeping me from being in complete silence.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Moments later I knew what needed to be done. I know how to take the pain away. It’s the only way. I climbed from the car and walked back to the cabin. I passed Jamie who was still crying in the doorway and I tried to block the image of Susan cradling Ava as I stepped past them and across to the bedroom. With no hesitation I picked the gun up. This is the only way I know how to take their pain away. This is the only way. I’ll have to be quick. I’ll have to make it quick. They don’t deserve any of this. The least I can do is make it so they don’t know what happened.

“What did you do?!” Susan screamed from the other room.

I walked back to where she was huddled over Ava and apologized once more. I raised the gun to Jamie first and pulled the trigger. I shot her straight through the head; the force of the bullet sending her out of the cabin’s doorway and onto the porch. Susan screamed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. The shame oozing through the tone of my voice. “I’ll always love you. I’m sorry.” I turned the gun on Susan. Her final scream was cut short with the sound of a bang. She slumped over Ava’s body. I just stood there, for a moment, as I took in my actions. Seconds later, without even realizing I had started, I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

This isn’t my fault. This isn’t my fault. It’s whoever was tormenting me through the night. Whatever was tormenting me. If they had just left me alone, I’d have had no reason to have kept the gun so close to my side. Ava would have run into the room and into my loving arms. Susan and Jamie would have followed. Why did they even come back? Why? They weren’t supposed to come back. They were supposed to wait for me to call them. Susan must have known I didn’t have the numbers because my phone was on the seat. She must have come back to find me. She must have come back to make sure everything was okay. To make sure I was okay. Maybe her mum and dad weren’t in and they had had no choice but to come back? I screamed again.

“Please forgive me...Please...”

I walked through to my dad’s office and slumped down in his old chair. I looked down to the picture of my dad and me, for one final time. The picture had been changed again. My face had the eyes crossed out too, along with a scar drawn down my neck. I didn’t care how or why? Not anymore. I was past caring. I raised the gun to my head. As well as the cold metal of the gun, against my temple, I felt the horrible feeling of warm breath against the back of my neck. I didn’t care anymore. I was numb to it all.

“Please forgive me,” I whispered.

I squeezed the trigger.

CLICK!

“NO! PLEASE! NO!”

I pulled the trigger again.

CLICK!

No. It can’t be. It can’t.

CLICK!

It’s empty. It can’t be. Please God no. Let me finish it. Please. I frantically started squeezing the trigger again and again and again on the off-chance there was, somewhere, one final bullet in the chamber. I know I hadn’t fired them all. I know I didn’t. There should have been one left. There should have been one left. I wept as I realized the gun couldn’t have been fully loaded in the first place. Come on, keep squeezing the trigger. There must be one left. There has to be one left. Come on, please. Please don’t do this to me. I’ve been through enough. Please...

CLICK!

CLICK!

CLICK!

I screamed as loud as I could.

~ FIN