Authors: Carol Weekes
“No. I think you just got scared today and you’re relating it to this room.”
“I’ll shut the lights out in there,” Robbie said.
“I’ll go with you.”
Robbie saw he really wanted to do it.
“Okay. But I don’t want you coming in here by yourself.”
“It’s supposed to be our study,” Cole argued.
“Maybe we’ll use one of the attic rooms instead.”
“And what’ll you do with this room then?” He looked like he was ready to laugh. “Seal it off?”
Robbie started at the words.
“Don’t push me,” he told him. They walked into the bathroom together and Cole made a face at Robbie in the mirror.
“Just a stupid old mirror,” he said. “It’s fuggly.”
“Fuggly?” Robbie asked.
“Friggin-ugly,” he said. “Actually, it’s the other F-word, but…”
“Ah. I tend to agree. I’m going to try and talk your mother into putting a new one up in its place.”
Cole shrugged. He walked out and Robbie shut the light off. Cole trudged back to his bedroom and closed his door. Robbie left the dark room and glanced back into the dim cavern.
“Don’t ever touch my children,” he whispered to it. That rank smell again, like desecrated things. He made a point of remembering to give Des Hawkins a call tomorrow. He wanted to know about this room; if anything bad had ever happened in it; anything: a senior dying in bed, an accident—any blighted history that could suggest why this space felt so wrong. Normally, he’d laugh at such notions, but not now.
He went back to bed but didn’t fall asleep. He watched the sun creep up as a reflection on the opposite wall, saw the corridor leading to
it
gradually lightening, studying for any sign of a shadow or sound that might try to make a move towards Cole’s bedroom across from it. Nothing occurred, yet the feeling of impending doom remained.
* * *
At 8:00 AM, Robbie got up. Tanya rolled over in bed, smiled at him, and leaned to kiss Cory on the forehead.
“How’d you sleep?” Tanya asked. “You still look tired.”
He shrugged. “First night disorientation,” he lied. “You?”
“I slept like the dead.”
He shivered at her words.
“I’ll convince him into his own bed tonight,” she continued. “Every time I went to roll over, I’d feel his knees or his feet in my lower back.”
“He’s right next to us anyway. We’ll hear him if he gets up.” He dearly wanted to believe that and thought about how he’d thought he’d seen their sleeping son’s frightened image in that foul mirror last night. He showered, dressed, and joined Tanya and Cory in the kitchen a few minutes later.
Cory, still in his pajamas, ate a bowl of cereal while fiddling with a small toy truck that he pushed along the tabletop.
Robbie grabbed coffee and sat down opposite him.
“How’d you sleep, Cory?”
Cory glanced at him, his eyes heavy with the early morning.
“Okay, I guess.”
Robbie tried hard to not look like he was observing him. “Just okay?”
Cory shrugged. “I guess. I dreamed of our old house, and that you were looking for me in it.”
Robbie started. The coffee sloshed, almost spilling over the edge of the mug. “What do you mean? I
was
looking for you yesterday afternoon.” He pondered; should he push the point or not? “Where did you go to play yesterday, bud?”
Cory stopped pushing the car and looked at his father. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I was in my bedroom and I had to use the bathroom. Cole was using the big bathroom, so I went to the other one.”
“The other one in the guest bedroom?” Robbie gripped the mug.
“Yeah,” Cory said, resuming the pushing of his toy. “And then I woke up on the floor when you found me.”
Robbie felt his gut plunge. He chose his next words with care.
“Cory…I want you to think carefully. Do you remember where you explored inside the house? I’m not upset with you. I’m just wondering if there are any neat places that I haven’t discovered yet.”
Cory looked at him, confused. “No—I was going to the bathroom and then…”
Robbie glanced over his shoulder; Tanya had left the kitchen to carry a load of laundry down to the basement. “And then
what
?”
“I looked at the mirror.”
“What happened with the mirror?”
“I don’t know. I saw the bathroom, except the bathroom in the mirror was different…there was candy on the other side. I wanted to touch it. I…I don’t remember.”
Robbie felt sick. “Candy? What kind of candy?”
“Lollipops,” Cory said. “Different colors with white sticks. They were sitting on the counter in the mirror.”
“But you didn’t have real lollipops with you?”
“No.” Cory stopped pushing the truck. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, son, but do you remember what happened after you saw the lollipops? Did you touch them? Try to remember.”
Cory’s lower lip trembled. “Are you going to be mad at me?”
“No. I just want you to remember what happened.”
Cory started rolling the truck, hard this time, back and forth, the toy clinking against the porcelain bowl. “They were real. I got the red one. I was in the other bathroom, but I could still see ours through the mirror.”
Gooseflesh broke out on Robbie’s arms, neck, and shoulders. “Do you remember feeling the glass when your fingers reached the mirror?”
Cory shook his head. “I don’t remember. Is there something wrong with the mirror, Daddy? The lollipops were real. I ate the red one. I don’t remember what happened. I was in their bathroom, and I heard you call me. Then you found me.”
Robbie couldn’t drink any more of the coffee. A shiver broke through him, making him shudder. He looked at Cory.
“When you say
their
bathroom, who are you talking about?”
Cory stared at him. “Wherever that other room is. I don’t know how I got there. I saw the lollipops and I felt scared when I saw our bathroom on the other side, and then I just woke up.”
“Daddy wants you to promise me that you won’t go in that bedroom or bathroom again until I take care of some things. Just use the regular bathroom. Promise me?”
Cory banged the truck into the bowl. Whack, whack, whack, the sound of it making Robbie’s jaws tighten. The air in the kitchen went tight and still.
“Promise me.”
“Okay. I won’t go in there.”
They stared at each other.
“What’s the matter with that room, Daddy?”
He could sugarcoat his words but his son still knew that something was wrong.
“I don’t know, Cory,” he said. “But I’ll take care of it.”
Cory’s next words shook him.
“Is there something wrong with this house? If there is, can we leave?”
The truck hit Cory’s bowl; bang, bang, bang.
“Cory, stop hitting your bowl with that truck!” His words came out sharp.
The truck stopped.
“No. The house is fine. The mirror is old and maybe it’s cracked or loose or swings open somehow. I’m going to take a closer look at it. Just don’t go near it again.”
“Yes, Dad.” Cory looked like he might cry. Can I go now?” He’d lost interest in eating any more of his cereal.
“Yeah,” Robbie said.
Cory walked away from him. Robbie listened to his son climb the stairs, a part of him wanting to rush after him to make sure he didn’t go near ‘that room,’ while knowing that he also couldn’t overreact, lest he truly frighten his family. He heard the washing machine come on in the basement and Tanya loading clothes into the dryer.
“Don’t fuck with my family,” he said into the room, to the air in the room, to the house. He got up and found Des Hawkins’ business card and made a call.
* * *
Tanya placed wet laundry on top of the dryer, then loaded a basket of whites into the washer. She got a kick out of the dumb waiter but hadn’t reconciled with the idea of opening a door and tossing linens into a chute yet. Maybe it would eventually grow on her. The basement was humid and smelled of wildflowers and mold. She heard Robbie and Cory’s muted voices and smiled. Her boys had so much
room
to move about in this property! She sighed, contented, making a mental note to contact the local schools and see about getting the boys registered for the autumn. She heard Cory’s footsteps skitter away a minute later, then Robbie making a phone call.
She hummed a little while she added soap to the washer. She shut the washer lid, turned around to go upstairs, and stopped, her gaze taking in something in front of her on the concrete floor. She paused, her mind trying to make sense of what it saw in the morning light flooding through the basement’s windows.
“Oh…my gosh, gross!”
She looked at the mutilated body of a large field mouse lying in a shadow near the wall. Tanya crept forward for a closer look. The mouse had been ripped clear along its middle, like someone had taken a blade and gone to town with it, leaving lacerations that allowed its blood and entrails to bloat.
“What the hell?” she said. Sure, an old place would have the occasional mouse; not that she cared. But this mess? The mouse looked
shredded.
She glanced around, wondering if something feral had made its way into the basement, possibly through the crawlspace beneath their kitchen. She’d get Robbie to clean this up. She took a slow circle through the basement, peeking into corners, the storage room with its dusty shelves and milky, filtered light, the furnace room where the furnace sat hunched like a sleeping bull. All windows were shut, none broken. A filament of cobweb spun in the air.
She was alone down here, and yet felt suddenly watched. Panic sent her rushing up the flight of uneven wooden stairs. She shut the door to the basement with a small bang. She found Robbie sitting at the table, his call ended.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked.
“I had a couple of questions for Des Hawkins. What’s up? You look a little flustered.”
Tanya walked over to the coffee pot and poured a mug. “There’s a dead mouse downstairs in the laundry area that you’re going to have to clean up.”
“Mouse?” Robbie shrugged. “We’re bound to have some.”
“It’s mutilated.”
“What?”
It’s
mutilated
. Torn apart like something took teeth to it.”
He stared at her.
“I’m not kidding,” she said. “Look for yourself.”
Robbie made his way down the stairs, his feet loud and banging.
“Damn!” he said a moment later.
“Do you think the former owners had some kind of terrible trap that it got out of before it died? Something that would mangle an animal like that?”
“I hope not,” Robbie said. “Anyone who would devise something that wicked needs to be shot.”
“Maybe we have a stray cat,” Tanya told him. “I thought I heard something run through another room.”
Robbie shrugged. “I don’t know how it would have gotten in. I’ll look around. In the meantime, toss me a roll of paper towels, would you?”
Tanya complied. Robbie bent to clean up the remains of the mouse.
“Quite the house-warming present,” she said, doing her best to lighten the moment.
“Yeah,” Robbie mused. “Ruined mice and phantom lollipops.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Just mumbling to myself.”
* * *
He tossed the bloodied wad of towel into a trash can and walked around the basement, refusing to be held hostage by this feeling of trepidation.
I own you
, he thought, regarding the house.
I’ve paid hard-earned bucks to be here and I’m staying. Don’t challenge me.
He grasped a broom in case a stray cat or some other form of wildlife should leap out at him and strode through the basement, the broom grasped like a battle sword. Nothing occurred. A couple of spiders in webs scurried away from his presence.
He paused and watched the quiet basement for a minute, feeling the bub-bub, bub-bub of his pulse thrum in his veins. His questions to Hawkins had been tentative, but inquisitive. Had the former couple mentioned anything
odd
happening in the house?
“Odd?” Hawkins had asked, sounding part defensive, part amused.
Robbie persisted. “Did they have kids?”
“No.” Hawkins was quiet for a moment. “They’d had a baby, but they lost it.”
“Lost it?”
“Crib death, about three months ago. Listen, it’s not the type of thing people talk about, or their agents, when you put a house up for sale. Stories like that don’t make for good business. I’m sure the sad memories are a main reason that prompted them to move.”
“They had no other children?”
Hawkins cleared his throat. “Only the one. Why do you ask?”
Robbie had chosen his next question with care. “Are there any spots in the house that a child could get into, like actually into the structure of the house—between walls or floors? Any trap doors?”
Hawkins response had been immediate, quizzical. “No. Nothing that I’m aware of and I’ve seen every room and closet in that place. Why do you ask?”
Robbie sighed. “My youngest took off on us for a couple of hours yesterday. We looked everywhere for him and couldn’t find him, inside or out. Then, I found him in the bathroom off the guest bedroom after already having searched in there, half asleep and drywall dust on him as if he’d crawled into a tight space somewhere.”
He didn’t dare mention anything about the lollipops.
“Is that old mirror secured to the wall?”
Hawkins was quiet.
“I don’t know what your boy may have gotten into, Mr. Parker; perhaps one of the old closets that hasn’t been used in a while, or exploring the cupboards in the bathroom. Plaster walls can create a bit of dust. Maybe he was curious, crawled into a cupboard to explore and fell asleep. There are no known crawlspaces in the house. As for the mirror, it’s an antique that was put up when it was built. It’s secured solidly. Why do you ask? Has it come loose?”
Robbie sighed. “Just thinking of replacing it. It isn’t my cup of tea.”
Hawkins laughed at this. “Well, it’s your place now. You can do whatever you want. If you discover some kind of hidden interior crawlspace, it’ll be news to me. Please let me know if you do. Otherwise, it’s a grand house. Beautiful place. You and your boy must have somehow just missed paths. He may have been elsewhere, then stumbled back into the bathroom, half asleep.”