The Edge of Town (part3)

The Fourth of July weekend kicked off with an all-day Little League tournament at the baseball field. After having our fill of hot dogs and soda pop, Pete and I found ourselves bored with watching the games. As we sat in the cool shade of the bleachers wondering what we could do, a strange thought occurred to me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the idea wasn’t my own. The idea came from somewhere beyond my understanding. It was if an unsceen entity was gently calling from deep inside of my head, summoning me from a far away shadow.

“Hey, I know what, let’s go somewhere we have never been!” I offered excitedly.

Pete was curious and he asked, “Where?”

I just smiled and said, “I’m not going to tell. Just follow me!” I jumped on my bike and started pedaling. Pete, followed, not knowing where I was leading.

There are places where you are warned never to go. Every town has such places and ours was on the East outskirts of the city limits. It was an old wooden, two-story house, long past being inhabited, that sat in the middle of an unkempt field. Behind the house ran a winding creek, whose musky waters had clawed their way deeply into the black soil. It was a place where not even the teenagers went to have their keg parties. It was a place that held dark secrets. I was just a kid looking for something new to do and this journey seemed like an adventure.

When we neared the overgrown dirt road that led to the house, Pete skidded his bike to a stop.

In a strange voice, he asked, “Where are you going?”

I braked also and turned back to look at Pete. I was grinning, but stopped when I saw his face. For the first time in my life I saw white-eyed fear. This wasn’t the ‘scarey monster jumps out in a movie’ look, this was true fear. It took me a few seconds to recover from the shock of seeing Pete like that.

“What’s the matter? Come on, let’s go check this place out.” I coaxed.

Pete never attempted to consider my offer. His mind was made up. The stories that he had heard about this house were enough to keep him from even looking in it’s direction.

“You’re crazy if you think I am going up there. That place is evil!” With that, Pete spun his bike and headed back to town. He never looked back, but I did. I couldn’t help it.

Slowly, I pedaled my bike closer to the house. The road disappeared completely, swallowed by the shoulder-high Johnson grass that swayed hypnotically in the summer breeze. As I looked at the black eyes of the house’s broken windows, the grass began to whisper. In the blistering heat of the midday sun, the air was heavy, as if I were in water. I stared for a long time at the house. I became stupefied by the heat, and sat on my bike listening to the mesmerizing hiss of the tall weeds, beginning to feel light-headed and weightless.

The eyes of the house watched me silently, drawing me to them. They looked cool and inviting, offering a haven from the sun’s rays.

I heard my bike drop to the ground, but didn’t remember stepping off of it. I felt the Johnson grass whipping tiny cuts into my arms as I pushed my way through. I wasn’t dreaming, but now I was far away from being awake. I was somewhere in between reality and unconsciousness. The house knew that I was vulnerable.

I was just a kid looking for something new to do…and the darkness was waiting for me inside.

To be continued…