***PREVIEW*** Chapter 3: WTF?! and Conversations with Roy

Chapter 3

WTF?! and Conversations with Roy

I am awakened by the sound of static. Then no static. Now more static. I’m only half awake and I don’t know what’s happening. I see Paul get up and turn the TV off, but a few minutes later it’s back on again. It turns itself off and on several times, Paul turns it off and comes back to bed and again it goes on and off. I had taken some Benadryl before bed so it still doesn’t sink in that the TV is turning on and off by itself. Paul unplugs the TV and we go back to sleep. I wake up the next morning with a vague memory of it; however, for Paul it is a very clear memory. “I don’t know what was happening last night,” He says to me the next morning. “The TV was turning itself on and off. Do you think the power was flickering?”

“No,” I say to him, “none of the clocks are out. Something like that would have knocked at least one of them out. I didn’t know what was going on. I thought you were changing channels or something. This house is just freaky.”

“Well, it’s only temporary,” he says. He’s now turned on his mantra and his thinking off. I, on the other hand, am unable to dismiss it. We have now lived in the Voodoo House for 3 weeks. I have avoided going outside for fear of what Burned-Out Car Guy might try to say to me and for fear of being caught in the middle of a drug deal gone bad on the other side. Now it seems the weirdness was following me inside the house. There’s a coldness in one of the rooms upstairs that’s unexplainable. It’s the same room where I watched from the window as Burned-Out Car Guy, aka Roy, mouthed the word “bones” to me. You never really feel alone in the house either, and not in the good way. My children don’t know what’s going on, but it is obvious they feel whatever it is. Arden doesn’t sleep at night. She runs around the 2^nd floor and comes in my bed almost every night. Julien does sleep, but if he is awake, he doesn’t want to be in his room at all. The faster he gets out of there and downstairs, the better he is. We all enjoy any time that we have during which we are not at Voodoo House.

Later that evening, after a lazy Saturday wherein I have refused to do much of anything in my lethargic malaise, I decide that it’s time to venture back outside the Voodoo House. I am bound and determined to find out what happened here that tends to make it so fucked up. It’s become my new obsession. Paul is obsessed with ignoring it and I am obsessed with getting to the bottom of it. I see the red light glowing in Roy’s window. I hear a noise from his backyard. It seems that he is tending to his cars again. I walk slowly up to the fence. He is talking to the cars. “It’s alright. I know. You’re safe now.” He says. I have no idea what it means. “No. No. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. It’s all over.” I gently knock on the gate.

VRHH - Chapter 2 - The First Day

Paul was already up when I woke up.  In fact, everyone else was already up when I woke up.  It’s amazing how everything always seems to look different in the morning.  The house doesn’t seem so bad with everyone sitting around the table having breakfast.  The grotesque car collection doesn’t seem so grotesque and the prospect of a drug dealer next door seems absurd.  I even doubt that the guy next door mouthed the word “bones.”  I mean, it didn’t make any sense.  Even the strange silver pot with the lid on it out in the backyard seems normal.  “How did everyone sleep?”  I ask.  Everyone said they slept fine and the kids looked full of energy and ready to go.  We planned to move the rest of our things into the rental today.  My dad and husband were going to go load the truck and my mom and I are going to stay and try to make some semblance of home out of the place.  I decide to go out front and see if Burned-Out Car Guy is sitting outside.  He really seemed to want to say something yesterday and I want to try to prove to myself that everything wasn’t as it seemed last night.

 He was out there; sitting on the porch, staring at the road.  I don’t know if I should try to talk to him or not.  He had tried to talk to me twice yesterday.  It seemed like he had something to say to me.  Then he turns, just like yesterday and looks at me.  “Bones,” He said.  Clearly.  I wasn’t imagining what he had mouthed to me last night.  “Bones…out there…they are out there…bones!”  He points towards my house.

“What do you mean?  Bones where?  What kind of bones?”  He didn’t answer me.  He turns back to the road and he has a faraway look in his eyes.  I hear the door to his house opening.  I didn’t realize anyone else lived with him.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”  An older woman walks out of the house.  “Go inside Roy,” She said to the man who immediately gets up and goes inside without any hesitation.  Then she turns to me, “You see, he ain’t right.  He ain’t been right for years.  Just keep away from him and he won’t bother you none.”  She goes back inside leaving me no chance to ask any questions and leaving me convinced that something wasn’t right in this neighborhood or in this house. 

I stood there for a bit wondering what he could possibly mean.  Was it really that he wasn’t “right” as she said, or was someone keeping him from talking?  And if they were keeping him from talking, what is it that they were hiding?  I look up at the house, into its eyes and I swear I see someone quickly run away from the windows, but no one is there.

Later that evening, I decide to go out and sit on the front porch with a hard pear cider.  I think that I must be going crazy.  Everything that has happened in the past few days seems surreal.  I think I must be making it seem like more than it is because of lack of sleep or who knows why.  The neighbor on the other side comes out of his house.  He doesn’t see me sitting on the porch.  I hear him on the phone.  “Come on over.  I’ve got what you are looking for,” he says to the person on the other end of the conversation.  I try not to jump to conclusions.  I don’t really want to know anyhow.  I just want to drink my cider and smoke my clove cigarette in peace.  I’m hoping that I’ll wake up tomorrow and none of this will have happened.  I’m trying to ignore Drug Dealer Guy.  I don’t even want to know.  He keeps talking, “Yeah, we have neighbors now so cut the lights off before you pull in.  They moved into THAT house.  Yeah.  I’m serious.”  What did he mean by “THAT house?”  The Clown Truck Realtor Guy had made it seem like the greatest property available.  He never once used the term “THAT house.”  I’m feeling a little tipsy from my pear cider and I’m starting to think about opening the silver pot in the backyard.  Voodoo Pot.  Should I really look?  I don’t know.  There is a red light glowing from the window of Burned-Out Car Guy’s house.  Another thing I’m not sure I want to know about.  I watch the little windmill turn in Drug Dealer Guy’s front yard.  He has already gone back into his house.  I’m just waiting for the person on the phone to show up.  I’m starting to think maybe the fumes from whatever drugs that guy is selling and/or making are causing me to hallucinate and all this craziness is just a drug induced cloud.  The windmill keeps turning.  I start to think how strange it is that the Drug Dealer Guy has a windmill in his yard.  Too much hard pear cider I think.  The red light is still glowing in Burned-Out Car Guy’s house.  I see shadows thrown against the window shade.

I go back in the house.  Everyone else has gone to sleep.  I’m wide awake.  I walk out to the backyard and stare at the Voodoo Pot.  It has a strange odor.  It is silver, but there are spots of rust.  I wonder how long it has been in this yard.  I hear a noise next door in Burned-Out Car Guy’s backyard.  It sounds like him, out there with his cars.  I walk over to the fence and peak through between the boards.  He sits down in one of the cars and he’s singing a song I can’t make out.  I can’t figure out what it is that he is doing in the car.  Its roof is caved in so far he can barely sit in it.  It has obviously been burned.  Some of the cars in the yard are not so burned, but this one is so destroyed that I can’t even tell what kind of car it was.  He looks over to the fence.  He sees me standing there.  He gets out of the car and walks toward me, but just as he is about to say something, a horn honks next door and he runs back into his house, slamming the door behind him.  It sounds like the deal is going down at the house on the other side.  So much for cutting off the lights.  What good does that do if a horn honks?  I go back inside and call it a night. 

VRHH - Chapter 2: The First Day (A Sneak Preview)

Here is a preview of Chapter 2:

Chapter 2

The First Day

Paul was already up when I woke up. In fact, everyone else was already up when I woke up. It’s amazing how everything always seems to look different in the morning. The house doesn’t seem so bad with everyone sitting around the table having breakfast. The grotesque car collection doesn’t seem so grotesque and the prospect of a drug dealer next door seems absurd. I even doubt that the guy next door mouthed the word “bones.” I mean, it didn’t make any sense. Even the strange silver pot with the lid on it out in the backyard seems normal. “How did everyone sleep?” I ask. Everyone said they slept fine and the kids looked full of energy and ready to go. We planned to move the rest of our things into the rental today. My dad and husband were going to go load the truck and my mom and I are going to stay and try to make some semblance of home out of the place. I decide to go out front and see if Burned-Out Car Guy is sitting outside. He really seemed to want to say something yesterday and I want to try to prove to myself that everything wasn’t as it seemed last night.

He was out there; sitting on the porch, staring at the road. I didn’t know if I should try to talk to him or not. He had tried to talk to me twice yesterday. It seemed like he had something to say to me. Then he turns, just like yesterday and looks at me. “Bones,” He said. Clearly. I wasn’t imagining what he had mouthed to me last night. “Bones…out there…they are out there…bones!” He points towards my house.

“What do you mean? Bones where? What kind of bones?” He didn’t answer me. He turns back to the road.

“He doesn’t know what he’s saying.” An older woman walks out of the house. “Go inside Roy,” She said to the man who immediately gets up and goes inside without any hesitation. Then she turns to me, “You see, he ain’t right. He ain’t been right for years. Just keep away from him and he won’t bother you none.” She goes back inside leaving me no chance to ask any questions and leaving me convinced that something wasn’t right in this neighborhood or in this house.