Don't Make Me Go Back There

Growing up, I always loved visiting my Aunt and Uncle in the Pacific Northwest. They had a secluded house out in one of the sprawling pine forests, and owned a large portion of the surrounding untouched land. It was lonely, but not lonesome; far away, but not without a touch of civilization within driving distance.

​

My Uncle Vern built the place from the ground up. Together with my Aunt Ellie, they gradually renovated it from a small cabin, into the kind of place that could’ve made a ridiculous amount of money as a rental property. They loved living there too much to even consider it.

​

Every year, near the end of summer, my folks and I always made the trek up to visit them. Twelve hours in the car both ways, but entirely worth it. Watching the sagebrush infested desertscape slowly transform into the lush greenery of Washington State felt as if I was venturing into a fantastical place, lost wholly in another time.

​

I grew real close to my Aunt Ellie amongst those trips. She really is – was – something else. While Uncle Vern was a contractor turned carpenter turned master artisan, making a mint performing renovations for folk who did want to turn their rural slices of life into lucrative rentals, Ellie was this hermit survivalist that wasn’t so much living out in nature, but living as a part of it. If you’re thinking something along the lines of some fantasy druid, you’re definitely in the ballpark.

​

She knew everything there was to know about the surrounding woods. Literally, she had an encyclopedic knowledge about every plant and critter within a hundred miles. By memory alone, she could trace out paths into the forgotten depths of the woods, reaching beautiful retreats you’d typically find only on some travel-exploration blog. 

​

Most importantly of all, she loved to show me all of these neat things out in the wilds, and I couldn’t get enough of learning about everything she told me.

​

It’s largely why I kept up the tradition of going and visiting her. Even after I grew up and started living on my own, Ellie would still call every year and ask if I would be making the trip. With how amazing she made every visit feel, it was impossible to say no. More so after Uncle Vern died.

​

There was no exception when she called a few years back. We made the usual arrangements, and my departure couldn’t come soon enough. The moment I was on the road, bound for the deep forests once more, I remember my heart soaring in a way I haven’t experienced since.

​

And possibly never will again.

 

It was early evening when I arrived. The sun was already dipping low as I pulled into the gravel driveway, its distant light not quite able to fully pierce the enveloping shroud of nature. That deep quiet took hold immediately after stepping out of my car. Even with only enough of a breeze to occasionally nip at my nose, I could hear it rustling through the pine needles.

​

There was no one within a five minute drive.

​

Curiously, the house was dark. Excited as I was for the trip, I made sure to call Ellie that morning to confirm that she was expecting me. She sounded ecstatic when we spoke, so I quickly reasoned her being out at this hour could be any number of things.

​

Grocery shopping in town came to mind as I made it to the front porch. There also might’ve been some kind of emergency at the workshop she inherited alongside ownership of Uncle Vern’s business. Or maybe, just maybe, she was out there in the woods as she always was, and had simply lost track of time.

​

Didn’t matter much, I had a key and the alarm code memorized. I let myself in without any issue, and dropped my bags off near the door. There was time enough for those later, as I was drawn further into the beautiful home both she and Uncle Vern had put so many years of their lives into.

​

The floorplan wasn’t anything special. The front door opened into a short hallway that had Uncle Vern’s now unused office just off to the left. At the other end of the hall was the living room. A lofty, two-story arrangement, with tall windows lining the far wall that looked out onto the rear of the property. Every inch of those walls was polished wood, with the columns separating the windows being hand-carved by Uncle Vern himself, featuring an ornate woodland motif. Against the left wall, aside the stairs leading up to the second floor, an alcove housed a not especially modern entertainment center. Its wide, adorning archway and the mural above of two anglers fly-fishing on a river were more of my Uncle’s masterwork carpentry.

​

I took it all in, swiftly retreating back to the simpler days of my youth. I was all but ready to sink into the sofa and turn my brain off, before I remembered my luggage was still in the cramped entryway. Hoisting my bags up the stairs to the second floor, the guestroom I typically used during my stays was right there at the top. Curious, I glanced down the hall to both the bathroom and Ellie’s room, finding them just as dark as the rest of the house.

​

By the time I finished unpacking, she still hadn’t put in an appearance. Not yet concerned, I headed back downstairs, through the living room to the kitchen, and eventually out the backdoor onto the rear porch. There was someone else here I could visit with, of sorts.

In keeping with my Aunt’s nature concerning nature, the rear of the property was dedicated wholly to being as self-sufficient as possible. Near the large porch in the back, she kept a small herb garden that paled in comparison to the much larger acreage further out dedicated to fruit and vegetable cultivation. In front of the farmland, a small barn stood with a fenced off pasture large enough to accommodate a single steer.

​

Hank was his name, originally purchased when Uncle Vern wanted to try his hand at cattle raising. However, upon arrival, Ellie promptly deemed Hank was too damned cute to be eaten. Since then, the old boy had been living the good life as an entirely pampered pet. The big oaf was about as friendly as most dogs, and just as lovable.

​

However, just like Ellie, old Hank was nowhere to be seen. Both his pasture and the barn were empty. The massing of hay he slept in was there in the corner as expected, and not a single thing otherwise out of place.

​

Gawking dumbfounded at the empty barn, some things started to click. Hank might have been the reason Ellie wasn’t here to greet me. This wouldn’t have been the first time Hank had escaped and wandered off. He could be out there roaming the forests like the oversized, innocent goof he was, with Ellie hot on his trail.

​

Grabbing my cell from my pocket, I was about to try and call my aunt when I noticed the No Service message featured prominently upon the screen. That was rather strange, as I never had any issues with my phone up here. It was then that I remembered Ellie had mentioned that reception had been spotty recently. My conversation with her that morning had only been possible when I called her landline.

​

With that realization, I made my way back into the house to try and reach her by calling from there. Along with the TV setup and the alarm system, the cordless telephones were about the only hints of modern technology about the house. Sure, the kitchen had a full range of common large and small appliances, but were all dated by a minimum of twenty years.

​

Dialing her number on the handheld, the call failed to ring even once before it went straight to voicemail. Seeing no immediate alternative, I left her a message that I had arrived safely, and I was concerned about her and Hank. Thereafter, I tried to assure myself everything was fine, and issue reminder that she was beyond capable in about every situation that came calling around here.

But I just couldn’t.

​

Wandering over to the TV, I flipped it on and parked myself on the couch with the requisite remotes in hand. The shifting tides of silent static filled the screen, and I began hunting through the local channels for any sort of news program reporting troubles in the area. Problem was, the only thing I could get out of the TV was that same shower of salt and pepper on every channel.

​

Concern mounting deeper, I tried the satellite box next. It powered on readily, but when I swapped to its input, only a reception error message came up on the screen. Even the guide failed to load properly.

​

By the time I had given up on the TV in frustration, it was well into the evening. I stood facing the hall back out to the front door, keys in hand, trying to decide if it was worth a trip into town to ask around. I was still half convinced I was making a mountain out of a molehill at this point, and any moment Ellie would walk in with a story to tell.

​

Though, honestly, I believe what held me back at that moment was my lack of knowledge about the area beyond the woods. Sure, I’d been coming up here since I was a kid, but most of that time spent was largely in the house or the surrounding woods. Occasionally, we’d make a trip into the nearby town but only over to the diner, Uncle Vern’s workshop, or the gas station. I could tell you plenty about the clearing a five minute hike northwest through the pines, but when it came to the town itself I was an absolute tourist.

​

Eventually my apprehension won out. I resigned myself to making dinner, instead. Finding the fridge stocked, likely in anticipation of my visit, I quickly threw together something for the both of us, hoping she would return sooner than later.

​

After dinner, I tried the TV again with no luck. Looking for any alternative to simply fretting away, I snatched an old Erle Stanley Gardner novel from Uncle Vern’s office. Not sure how far into I reached before I dozed off there on the couch in the living room.

​

Can’t say I slept long, as a house-shaking crash of thunder woke me around midnight. Dazed from the abrupt awakening, not even sure if it was actually thunder that I heard, I dragged myself over to the large windows. Sure enough, a storm had descended, with an absolute onslaught of staccato raindrops hammering against the house.

​

It sounded bad out there. Like dirt roads being washed away, kind of bad. I immediately checked the house and found it no less empty then before I passed out. Ellie’s dinner was still on the table, cold and uneaten, and all I could think about was her being stuck somewhere out there in the rain.

​

Grabbing my phone again, No Service was still displayed, meaning no messages had come in while I slept. I went for the cordless and punched in Ellie’s cell number once more. Momentary relief came when it didn’t go directly to voicemail. That faded shortly after the ringing tone cut out, with someone answering on the other end.

​

They didn’t say anything. Not even after I said hello, and asked after Ellie. The only thing I heard from the other end was a hoarse, ragged gasping.

 

Unnerved as I was by the sound, I quickly blurted an apology and something along the lines of wrong number before ending the call. Trying to settle my racing heart, I rationalized the whole thing as simply waking someone in the middle of the night. Calm somewhat returned, but didn’t stay after confirming that it was Ellie’s number that I had dialed.

​

Thumbing the redial anxiously, I put ear back to the receiver, anticipating the ringing once more at the other end. It never came. Only those same painful, staggered gasps.

 

After shouting myself hoarse to no response at what I could only imagine was an injured Ellie on the other end of the line, I hung up and went for the emergency numbers posted on the fridge. Finding the contact info for the Sheriff, I punched in the numbers, double-checked all were correct, and fumbled for the talk button.

​

I couldn’t have been waiting for all that long before someone answered, but each droning pulse of the call ringing out heightened the panic. I wasn’t sure what was going on with Ellie but, if those calls were any indication, it definitely wasn’t right. I nearly leapt right off the couch when the call connected, and the voice at the other end announced I had successfully contacted the Stevens County Sheriff.

After a stretch of rapid-fire exposition, the Deputy stopped me short and calmed me down. After a deep breath, I was able to explain who I was, and all about Aunt Ellie’s disappearance. He asked me a few more questions to better establish my identity, and repeated a few bits back to ensure he had taken down everything correctly.

​

Unfortunately, that was all that could be done at that point. While the Deputy promised to send someone out eventually, it was unlikely to be any time soon. The storm had hit the area harder than anyone had anticipated, and the unpaved roads outside of town were far from safe.

​

That was nothing unreasonable. As much as I wanted this all to be over, and my aunt home safe, there was only so much that could actually be done. Even if she was lost out there in the woods, it’s not like a search could be safely conducted with how bad the storm was.

​

Without anything else to do, I convinced myself to try and sleep instead of worrying. I checked the locks around the house and made sure the security alarm was properly armed. Not that I was entirely expecting trouble, just old habit formed amidst my many visits. I then hauled myself upstairs.

​

Focusing on my nightly routine didn’t really help steer my mind away from the dark thoughts that kept bubbling to the surface. I sure as hell couldn’t get those raspy gasps out of my mind, even as I headed toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. Convinced it wasn’t something my panic-stricken mind had trumped up in the heat of the moment, my imagination began running wild with the possibilities. Not a single one of them even remotely pleasant.

​

Preoccupied as I was, I suffered an awful start as a flash of lightning shone in through the window at the end of the hall. My attention focused just in time to catch sight of the storm’s fury ripping through the darkened sky. Entranced by its brilliance, I was drawn to the window in hopes of catching sight of an equally marvelous repetition.

​

Another glaring barrage erupted, branching through the sky brighter than the last. In that fleeting moment, it illuminated the whole of the property below. Maybe my memory was filling in the gaps, but I swear I could clearly see all of Hank’s pasture and the adjoining barn.

​

That, and a figure lurking there at the far fence.

 

My skin rippled as I tried to make sense of the dark shadow. It stood out starkly against the blanched landscape burned in my eyes. Someone was out there, and I had never felt surer of anything else in my entire life.

​

Immediately my thoughts turned to a waterlogged Ellie, barely managing to drag herself out of the storm. Without realizing, I was already halfway back down the stairs. It wasn’t until I reached the living room floor that the possibility crossed my mind that it could be someone else out there.

​

Someone that might account for why my aunt and her pet steer were now missing.

 

I froze there, white-knuckling the banister, recalling the Deputy’s words about it being unlikely they would be able to send anyone out here. At that moment, I knew I should have gone back upstairs, barricaded myself in the guestroom, called the Sheriff, and start praying that I’d live to see morning. I couldn’t do it, though. The idea that it was Ellie in need of help wouldn’t leave me be.

​

Instead, I made my way over to the fireplace, guided by the various nightlights placed in wall sockets around the house, and grabbed the poker. I then passed through the darkened kitchen and into the adjoining mudroom. I was reaching for the switch that would turn on the rear porch’s flood lights, when I stopped suddenly.

​

It took me a minute to figure why. As I was standing there, listening to my own frantic breathing, I realized that it was the only thing I could hear. Not a particularly uncommon thing this deep in the woods, where good insulation deafened the sounds of the forest at night.

​

But why couldn’t I hear the rain anymore?

 

Before any reasonable answer took form, a bolt of thunderless lightning tore open the night. Shining through the large window in the door, it cast an impossible shadow through the mudroom. Someone, or something, lingered at the threshold, towering well over the door’s height.

​

I couldn’t move. The rain-choked night of the rural woodland had reduced everything to utter darkness. Even without the clouds and the rain, unless the exterior lights were on, you often couldn’t see more than a couple feet in front of you after sunset around here.

​

Even if I couldn’t see it, something was out there. Every hair on my body now standing on end. Primal sensation taken hold. Ancient fear, an unspoken reminder that there were reasons why we were once undeniably afraid of the dark.

 

Dread held me fast. Standing there, shivering from a cold I couldn’t feel, my ears begin to itch. Faint at first, but growing louder over the silent emptiness, a simple repetition filled the void.

 

Tap. Taptap. Tap. Taptap.

 

As I realized it was coming from the door, another ill-fated flash of lightning arrived and the impossible shadow remained cast. In the brief moment as the brilliance burned away the dark, I vaguely remember bloodless skin, pale near-blue, pulled tightly over a frame far too elongated. A finger with too many knuckles extending towards the door.

​

I choked on my scream.

 

Back through the house full pelt. Nearly sliding into the wall at the foot of the stairs. Up and up and up. Door slamming loudly.

That was it. It’s all that I can remember amidst the blur separating seeing what I saw, and the first gray light of dawn. The pain in my hands came soon thereafter, having been wrapped tightly around the fireplace poker all night. Shakily, I rose from where I had been kneeling opposite the bed from the door, trying take careful stock of both surroundings and situation.

​

Aside from a few cramped muscles and a racing heart, I was largely fine. The guestroom door was still firmly shut. I held my breath a good long while, remembering what sent me running up here, terrified that at any moment the tapping would resume upon the door.

I heard the rain steadily pounding upon the roof before my chest started to burn. Other than that, the house brooded in stony silence. I reminded myself that if someone had tried to force their way in, the alarm would have been screaming bloody murder.

​

That set my mind at ease long enough to recall I had brought the cordless up here last night before all the commotion. Dialing up the sheriff’s station from the phone’s memory was easy enough. I could only hope the threat of a prowler on the property would be enough incentive for them to send someone over sooner than later.

​

I was anxious to the point of bouncing my knees as I sat on the edge of the bed. The moment someone answered, I fell straight into frenzy. Ranting close to gibberish, I hastily tried to recount the prior night’s encounter.

​

Managing to deescalate my madness in a kind and concise manner, it was clear I was not this Deputy’s first stark-raving lunatic. Once composure returned, I told him about the prowler, though I left out more of the incredulous details. At that point, I wasn’t exactly sure if my mind was just playing tricks on me.

​

After taking everything down, the Deputy promised me that he would see what he could do about making this a top priority for the department. Given a promise that someone would be by within the hour, pending hazardous driving conditions from the storm still in progress, I reluctantly hung up.

 

For a good long while, I sat there listening to the stillness of the house. Nothing stirred within, and there was only the rain falling upon the roof and windows. The quiet gave me heart, or at least enough to go take a look around.

​

Upon cautious footfalls, fireplace poker clenched firmly, I began roaming the house. I checked every room, opened every closet and cupboard. I concluded I was assuredly alone after checking the mudroom with no small amount of apprehension. No one lurked therein, and the easily broken glass pane remained wholly intact. The door was locked, dead-bolted, while the alarm interface nearby proudly displayed Armed.

​

Feeling a bit more secure about things, and confidently attributing last night’s scare to an overactive imagination, I settled on taking a shower while I waited for the Deputy to arrive. I was in and out rather quickly. Though lessened, the lingering threat of a home invasion prompted swiftness more than missing the Deputy’s untimely arrival.

​

After showering, I headed into the living room to try the TV again. The satellite was still complaining about reception, and nothing local was coming through, either. Fortunately I didn’t have to grouse over it too long, as the Deputy arrived shortly thereafter. However, I wasn’t about to let anyone inside without peeking out the window in Uncle Vern’s office first.

​

When I saw the clearly marked Stevens County Sheriff insignia on the truck, I opened the door without any further hesitation. The Deputy himself was a trim man of no remarkable features aside from the uniform and badge. These days, I couldn’t picture him even if I really tried.

​

He asked me a lot of the same questions as we systematically moved through the house. I rehashed both Ellie’s disappearance as well as the story of the prowler. It didn’t take much to convince him it was worth going around the property exterior. He gladly did a twice-over, before we reconvened on the back porch.

 

Mostly a whole lot of nothing was what he came back with. If anyone had been here last night, the persistent rainfall washed out any and all tracks. The only other thing that caught his eye, was that the satellite dish up on the roof had been torn free of its perch. Something else he attributed to the weather.

​

Aside from more reassurances that they would begin looking into Ellie’s disappearance immediately, and another promise to send someone by later that night to check in on things, nothing else could be done then and there. Before leaving, he mentioned that the department had their hands full with a number of accidents brought on by the sudden and unrelenting storm. He stressed that I should exercise all due caution, and it might be a good idea to stay inside until the storm let up.

​

So there I was, alone yet again, and largely unable to do anything productive. Anxious and upset, I was stuck trying to stave off imaginings of all the worst case scenarios. Before I could start screaming in sheer panicked frustration, I resolved to head into town to see if anyone had seen Ellie recently. Hazardous road conditions be damned.

​

Deciding Uncle Vern’s workshop might be as good a place as any to start, I grabbed my keys and ventured out into the rain. Once in my car, I wasted no time slotting the key in the ignition. The electrical system came to life, as expected, but the engine repeatedly failed turn over. Glancing down to the fuel gauge, the display read empty in no uncertain terms.

​

An impossibility to join all the others currently surrounding me. I had refilled while driving through town yesterday. There was no way the 30 minute trip thereafter could have depleted the entirety of the tank.

​

Getting out the car again, I recalled a time before where my car wouldn’t start due to the gas cap not being fully tightened. Highly unlikely that was the case this time around, I still felt compelled to check it. As I reached the rear of my car, however, the faintest touch of gasoline hit my nose. Faint, but present, in the same fashion that a gas station smells of the stuff.

​

The scent drew me downward to beneath the car itself. It grew only stronger there. Not particularly staggering, but strong enough to confirm that it was gasoline I was smelling.

​

Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I turned on its flashlight. I nearly dropped it when I saw what was waiting for me. Just past the rear passenger door, the undercarriage was gouged deeply. A quartet of long, violent streaks had torn through it and the gas tank beneath.

​

I may have taken a hard bump about a mile or so down the road when I was coming in, but there was no way it caused the severity of the damage I was looking at. No, something else did this. After pulling myself up in a dazed state, my gaze unconsciously fell upon the woods opposite the road from the driveway.

​

Darkened from the perpetual storm, the deep shade beneath the pine boughs turned sinister as creeping sensation prickled at my neck. I didn’t actually see anything lurking there, or at least I don’t think I did. Yet I was gripped by the overwhelming sensation that someone, or something, just beyond the treeline was watching me.

​

Watching and daring me to try and leave.

 

I sprinted hard back to the house, slamming the door and bolting it. When I mustered enough courage to peer out through the door’s window, I genuinely expected to see that same haunting shadow bounding up the porch. Nothing was out there, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

​

Even after I triple checked every lock in the house, I still holed myself up in the guestroom, almost going so far as to slide the heavy dresser in front of the door. The day might have only been half over at that point, but I was already feeling exhausted. Bargaining with myself to do it the moment the alarm should sound, I wearily grabbed the cordless to call the Sheriff yet again.

​

No use. I must have listened to ten straight minutes of different Muzak styling of 90’s alternative music before I hung up. The Deputy wasn’t kidding when they said they were going to be busy that day. Dejected, but still far too antsy to simply sit on my hands and wait, I decided doing anything would be better than stewing in my own anxieties.

​

Well, almost anything – I still wasn’t feeling brave enough to chance wandering around outside in the storm.

 

So I took to searching the house instead. Looking for something, anything, which might allude to Ellie’s disappearance. I started in Uncle Vern’s office, and methodically tore through the house for even the slightest inkling of foul play. Barring that, some sort of intended destination.

​

It wasn’t until much later, nearly dark outside, that I finally made my way into my aunt’s bedroom. Last place to look, at least inside. I still really wasn’t up for checking out the barn.

​

Going through her actual personal stuff without her there felt bad. Hesitantly, I opened the keepsake box on her dresser. I was actually shocked she still had the chintzy plastic earrings in there that I gave her as a birthday present when I was a kid. Beneath those, lay Uncle Vern’s wedding ring.

​

As I picked up the gold band to admire it closer, it slipped from my grasp and hit the hardwood floor with a bounce. It went scattering across the floor, and beneath the nightstand next to Ellie’s bed. Chasing after it, I found that the gap which it had slipped through was too narrow for my hand to fit.

​

With no other choice but to move it, I displaced the lamp from atop it to the bed, and easily hefted it off to the side. Waiting beneath was not only Uncle Vern’s ring, but what looked to be a photograph, faced away as it leaned against the wall. Figuring it was nothing more than an old picture had slipped off the nightstand, I reached down for it.

​

As my fingers brushed its edge, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise. A sudden tightness in my throat. Something telling me that I really didn’t want to see what this particular picture depicted.

​

Retracting my grasp, I left it untouched. A few glances over my shoulder to the deepening shadows from down the unlit hall proved insufficient, and I turned to give them my full attention. I must have stayed posed like that, staring at nothing, for a good few minutes before the ominous sensation that the dark was watching me finally faded.

​

A bit more determined that my imagination was yet again running itself ragged, I turned back and carefully scooped up the picture. With a few steadying breaths, I flipped the glossy side up, bracing myself for the possibility that this was going to be Aunt Ellie’s last few moments alive captured sinisterly upon film. It was almost funny how confused I was when I realized what I was actually looking at.

​

Instead of something gruesome, it was a half-focused shot of a woodland scene. I recognized the same-styled pines as those surrounding the property, perched high above a woodland hollow. Large boulders free of overgrowth formed a ring around whoever had captured the photograph.

​

There, upon the one deepest within the hollow, for what I first mistook as a shadow gradually assumed its true form. The stone had been scarred heavily, and charred black. Etched deeply upon it, numerous branching lines surged outward in all directions from a single, intensely cleft starburst. Drawn immediately to it, I stared hard as my mind tried to puzzle together where I had seen this before.

​

I froze on the spot, my ears perking and straining. Flashes of light burned into memory, the long shadow cast. My eyes traced the wounded stone in the photograph once more. Impossibly tall was the silhouette these lines formed, with a large grouping surging together into a long, outstretched limb.

​

Then and there, I could hear it – I swear I could hear it – echoing from somewhere in the house. Tap. Taptap. Tap. Taptap.

Fueled by pure terror alone, I bounded toward the door and threw it shut. The whole of my weight then fell against it, bracing closed. I remained deathly still, listening to everything and anything in the house.

​

The photograph remained as I left it, having landed facedown when I dropped it. I stared intensely at its blank backside. My ears stretched to painful ends as the silence persisted.

​

My legs began to cramp as the low rumble of thunder overhead brought me back to reality. By the time my dazed panic ended, the last streaks of sunlight were but a memory. The rain was hitting the roof as erratic flashes of lightning came muted through the window.

​

I was trying to get the blood moving back through my legs when the landline started ringing. Startled at first, but that was quickly dismantled when I realized it could be the sheriff station, someone from town in the know, or even Ellie herself calling. I made my way over to the base on the untouched nightstand, frowning when its paired handset was nowhere to be found.

​

Taking only a moment to check between the stand and the bed to see if it had fallen there, I was then hastily pulling open the door. Hope that I could find a handset before it went to voicemail quickened my pace. Halfway down the hall, however, the ringing chimes abruptly ceased.

​

That didn’t stop me from entering the guestroom where the handset was waiting for me. Sure enough, it was on the dresser where I had left it. Picking it up, I thumbed the button to display the caller ID, and my heart practically punched straight through my chest.

​

It was the same number I’d become far too familiar with since arriving here – Ellie’s Cell number.

​

Mashing the callback button, I held the receiver to my ear, nerves fraying as I waited for the droning tone. A crackled click came through instead, and then nothing. Frantically turning my blurring gaze back upon the handset’s display again, it showed the call was connected, but I still didn’t hear anything coming through.

​

I began shouting into the phone, desperately crying out for my aunt. Asking if she was okay, if everything was all right. Still nothing.

Only as I was about to hang up and try again, did I hear something from the other end. Those same slow and ragged gasps. I put the receiver back to ear, and had begun ranting anew when I was stopped short by a voice coming through the other end.

​

“It’s too late.”

 

Quiet, resigned, definitely not Ellie.

 

“It’s too late,” came the whisper again. “It’s too late.”

 

A numbness began spreading through me as I slowly lowered the phone. The decisive click of disconnection told me whoever was on the other end had nothing else to say. Within, the last bastion of reason feverishly trying to decipher the cryptic message was soon overwhelmed by the stark emptiness of shock.

​

I didn’t stay that way for long, as the clattering of the handset on the floor as it slipped my grasp brought me back to my senses. I was honestly startled by how loud it was crashing into the floor. Between its echoing impact and the blood already thumping away in my ears, it was hard to hear anything else.

​

It was too late, I realized thereafter, as the frenetic pounding of my heart grew louder still.

 

The rain, the thunder, all of it gone. I could see the lightning still flashing through the window, its glare splaying my shadow upon the wall opposite. Yet the air remained still.

 

Gingerly, I crept toward the door, seeking to shut it as silently as I could. I hadn’t even begun reaching for it when another eruption of light filled the darkened heavens. It wasn’t only my shadow on the wall this time.

​

I whirled around, throat closing fast over a scream never heard. I was alone, facing a darkened window whereupon noiseless raindrops splattered incessantly. Nothing penetrated the awaiting gloom, the dark night of the forest besieged by the storm held complete.

​

This time I didn’t stop to confirm if my phantom stalker was lurking outside the window. Blindly, I surged through the door. I wasn’t sure where my feet were carrying me, but I was willing so long as they carried me away from there.

​

I didn’t actually get far. The guest room was near the top of the stairs leading down into the living room. Pure instinct held me firmly in place, teetering upon the edge of the topmost step.

​

From beyond the room below, muffled and heard as if through plugged ears, came the sound of the alarm wailing in desperate and muted tones. My panic only deepened, thoughts blurred into one frothing mess that demanded sanctuary. Waylaid only by a sudden creeping chill that paralyzed me once more.

​

Just as distant and suppressed as the alarm’s cries, so too were the familiar beeps of the disarm code being entered.

​

The noise dropped off sharply, leaving me alone in shivering silence. My grip upon the banister tightened near the point of breakage as I watched a ponderous shadow drift between the now dimming bulbs of the scattered nightlights below. When it reached the foot of the stairs, I still couldn’t see what was now lumbering up toward me.

​

No footsteps echoed as they always did when someone moved through the predominantly wooded living room. The third stair failed to creak as it did when any amount of weight was placed upon it. Only the sound of ragged and raspy breathing dared reach my ears.

​

Bordering on absolute lunacy, I ran. Back down the hall into Ellie’s room and threw the door shut. Between the swiftly closing gap, the shadow was seen rushing silently down the hall after me. Lock clicked easily into place, the dresser groaning across the floor.

​

I didn’t breath again until both its weight and mine were firmly against the door. Collapsing, I sobbed as I pressed hard against the dresser, driven to tears by a thick concoction of fear and frustration. Pounding fist against the floor in despair, I was answered by the dull buzz of the overhead light now intensely brightening. The drone of surging electricity came to a fever pitch, and before I could turn my gaze properly upon the sharpening glare, a loud pop preceded both shattering glass and immediate darkness.

​

Forcing a hand over my mouth to suffocate the shrieks of surprise, a dreadful clarity within told me how pointless it was. Whatever was out there already knew I was in here. The way the doorknob rattled violently as the lock held it firmly in place told me as much.

 

Then, all at once, it simply stopped. The knob was stilled, the groan of the doorframe as the hinges grated against them fell off into nothingness. Another flash of lightning through windows drew my gaze as I heaved my panicked gasps against hand pressed tightly to mouth.

​

I waited for it to appear beyond the glass, as it had when it first chased me from the guestroom. I waited for the next flash to cast that long, impossible shadow over me, as it had the night before in the mudroom. I waited for the slow tapping, its rhythm already echoing in my ears.

 

Tap. Taptap. Tap. Taptap.

 

Gentle, unobtrusive, and yet harrowing enough to make my soul burn with oppressive dread. I wasn’t just imagining it anymore. It was sounded upon the door behind me.

​

Bawling uncontrollably now, I pleaded for it to leave. Just leave, and let me be.

 

“Let me in,” came a voice that struggled to form the words between ragged gasps. It sounded distant, and distorted, like listening to someone on the other end of a poorly connected phone call.

​

“Let me in.”

 

And then came the words that stick with me even to this day. Words I had heard so many times before, that now leave me in frantic shivers. Something often heard even in that very house, echoing throughout my childhood.

​

“I want to show you something neat that I found.”

 

I have no idea what happened after that. It’s all gone – still gone. Reduced to a long stretch of repressed darkness.

​

The next thing I can actually remember was gradually coming back into awareness in a hospital room, being treated for shock, severe exposure, and a number of other smaller injuries. Apparently I had gone missing and, a few days later, Deputies found me roadside some sixty miles away from Ellie’s house. I was conscious then, but completely incoherent at the time. My condition was severe enough that they had to fly me by helicopter to the next town over for treatment.

​

After recovering, at least physically, I was released to go back home. The Sheriff was still investigating Ellie’s disappearance, but I couldn’t add anything more other what I could remember about the intruder. I left out the details that I couldn’t – that no one could – properly explain, but that was end of my involvement.

​

For a good long while, they kept looking for her. During that time, I was institutionalized for bouts of violent delirium whenever a thunderstorm descended. I eventually overcame the dangerous outbursts, but still see a therapist, and I need earplugs and a sleep mask to make it through a stormy night.

​

A few days ago, just as I was getting a handle on my life again, I received a call from the Sheriff of Stevenson County himself. Amidst my treatment and therapy, seven long years had already come and gone. With my folks passed on, I was Ellie’s only surviving next-of-kin. As she still hasn’t been found, he was calling to inform me that she was to be declared legally dead.

​

Lawyers began calling thereafter. I alone stood to inherit her estate, including the house and the assets from Uncle Vern’s now defunct business. They keep calling, and I keep postponing the meetings to go over the execution of the will.

​

I know the moment I finally show up, all of this becomes real again. I’m afraid I’ll have to go back to her house, even if only to sell the property. I can’t do that. I can’t go back.

​

What if it’s still waiting for me in those woods?

​