TannerI don’t believe in ghosts.At least, that’s what I tell myself as I linger in the backyard of the old Gregory place. The swamp stretches out before me, the ancient cypress trees cloaked in green haze beneath the overcast sky. From where I stand with the house rearing up behind me, I can almost taste the fetid stench of the mire. It’s the smell of decay and rotting things, a primal scent that sets my nerves on fire.It reeks of danger and death.But is there something more out there, lurking amidst the sunken tombstones? My mind drifts back to the figure I followed into the swamp and the face I saw in the mirror, and I have my answer.“Stay the fuck away from us,” I mutter. Even though my voice is low, I have a feeling that the thing in the marsh will hear me anyway.I turn away then and traverse across the brittle lawn back toward the house.The structure is very nearly finished. The new materials of the exterior are pristine, though I know that nature will render them dull and
Bailey“Holy shit!” I whisper.I’m sitting at one of the computers in the Hahnville Public Library, which doubles as the town’s historical records center. After arguing with Tanner this morning, I’m now determined to find something, anything, to explain the things we’ve been experiencing. With the article that’s currently on the screen in front of me, I think I may have just hit the jackpot.Twenty-seven murders have been connected to the property in the better part of the last century.I’m no expert in homicide statistics, but I’d bet good money that that number is way higher than the average.As I skim the cramped text of the article, which is published on a sleek-looking true crime website, a pattern starts to emerge. Most of the victims were men from out of town. The vast majority of suspects were women, and all but six of the alleged murderers ended up in psychiatric facilities. The others had committed suicide before the police could catch up with them. All of the people involve
TannerThree stories is a hell of a long way down.I’m standing at the window Henri fell from, my feet planted where his must have been less than twenty-four hours before. I imagine the pressure of two hands on my shoulder blades, of the sudden weightlessness as gravity takes hold. Had Henri been afraid while he was falling? Or had been too surprised to even realize what was happening? What would it feel like to fly for just a moment?Why don’t you try it and see?The thought scratches at the edge of my brain, and before I can even process it, one of my hands reaches out toward the closed frame of the window.“Tyler?” a voice calls from the room behind me.I jolt, the sudden sound tugging me back from the window. My mind races as I realize what I had been doing, and I try to keep the fear off my face as I turn to the speaker.Jack, the new owner of the Gregory place, is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Anger radiates off him in sour waves, and I can’t help but judge him
BaileyThis can’t be real.My heart thuds against my ribs as my eyes dart around the familiar space. Everything is the same as it was before the fire. The wallpaper, lovingly restored by Dalton, is fresh and vibrant. The surface of the dining room table gleams as though it’s just been polished. Warm yellow light spills down from the chandelier, the crystal beads clinking delicately amidst a backdrop of suffocating silence.It’s Miss Penny’s dining room at the old Gregory place.Logically, I know I can’t really be here. Here doesn’t even exist anymore. I watched the flames consume the house, tearing at the old wooden frame with a thousand grasping fingers. The heat was unbearable, and I coughed for weeks afterward from breathing in so much smoke.So how am I here?The last thing I remember is going to sleep after coming home from my night shift. So this must be a dream. There’s nothing else it can be. And yet…I stare at the table, which should be burned to a crisp along with the rest
Tanner“You want a hand with that, boss?”I glance up from the section of wall I’m measuring in the kitchen and smile thinly at Jose. “Nah, I’ve got it,” I tell him. “Thanks though.”“If you’re sure.” The foreman shrugs. His eyes flicker to the window and the setting sun beyond. “Do you at least want some company? Being alone in this place in the dark would give me the creeps.”“I’ll be fine,” I assure Jose with confidence that I don’t quite feel. In truth, I would rather not be here at all, let alone after nightfall, but the contract is on the line. I can’t afford for Jack to come up for a surprise visit and find the kitchen wall still scratched up. He’d probably fire me on the spot.The foreman doesn’t seem quite convinced, but still he turns to leave. “Just call me if shit gets weird,” he throws over his shoulder. “See ya on Monday!”“Later,” I toss back.I lean against the wall and listen as Jose bustles out of the house, crunches across the gravel driveway, and gets in his truck.
BaileyTanner didn’t come home last night.It’s evident as soon as I step through the front door after my night shift at the Wilson’s. At barely past 6:00 in the morning, I should hear him snoring away or bustling in the kitchen getting breakfast ready, but my ears are met only with silence.“Tanner?” I call, even though I know in my bones that there’s nobody here to answer.Unease creeps beneath my skin as I hang up my purse on the hook beside the door and kick off my shoes. There’s still no movement in the depths of our home, and as I wander from room to room, I realize that nothing’s changed since I left the night before. The bed’s in disarray, the sheets tangled and the comforter crumpled halfway onto the floor. The dishes in the sink are untouched, food in the fridge uneaten. Emptiness hangs in the air, vacant and suffocating.Where could he be?I stop in the doorway to the bedroom. Even my phone is still on the bedside table, plugged into the outlet. After it kept playing that h
TannerWhat the fuck happened last night?I’m lying in bed–alone. There’s a terrible taste in my mouth, like I’ve been sucking up swamp water through a straw. My head is pounding, and when I try to open my eyes, my left lid won’t budge. Every muscle in my body aches as though I went toe-to-toe with a semi-truck and lost.Groaning, I roll out of bed in spite of my body’s protests. I’m so thirsty. All I can think of is downing a nice, cool glass of water.I stumble into the bathroom, half-blind, and after one glance in the mirror, it’s immediately apparent why I can’t see properly. One of my eyes is bruised and blackened, the lid entirely swollen shut. When I press my fingertips to my cheekbone, I wince in pain.“What the fuck?” I mutter, squinting at my reflection. The shiner isn’t the only injury I have. There’s blood caked around my mouth and down my chin, and my lip is split. Below that, mottled purple bruises creep over the skin of my neck and collarbone.I feel like I’ve been in
BaileyHow did everything spiral so far out of control?I ask myself that question for the thousandth time, but I still don’t have a good answer.At least I can lose myself in my work. After rotting in bed over the weekend, I’m relieved to escape my childhood home and my mom’s knowing, silent stare. I don’t have any of my scrubs with me, but I’m able to track down a clean change of clothes packed away in a box in my old closet. My shoes are presumably still sitting in the hallway of the house I’d fled. I wasn’t about to go back to retrieve them, so I’ve settled on wearing a pair of borrowed flip flops.One glance in the mirror reveals that I look more like I’m going to some backyard barbecue than a nursing night shift. Shame washes over me at the sight of my reflection. Professionalism has always been very important to me. I guess that’s just one more way in which I’ve failed.My mom gives me a tight hug before I head out, promising to have some food ready for me when I come back earl
JuliaAs a great woman once said, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.I stand in front of the mirror in the trendy boutique in New Orleans, examining the new strand of precious stones adorning my throat. I’d paid for the mind-blowingly expensive necklace using Jake’s platinum card, which had given me a small sliver of satisfaction.He’d called in the early hours of the morning, begging for me to forgive him. At first, I’d told him that there was no way in hell I’d let him come crawling back to me, but all the while, my heart ached until the burn was almost unbearable.One chance. That’s all I’ll give him.In the meantime, I’ll shamelessly spend down his accounts in preparation for the worst.Because it would be terrible if we divorced, wouldn’t it? I think wistfully of the lifestyle I’ve enjoyed over the last several years, excluding the months spent in solitude on the edge of a fetid swamp. I’d be losing much more than him if I left.Doubt continues to gnaw at me as I gather my bags a
JuliaI can’t stay here.Jake’s been gone all day. In fact, I hadn’t even heard him leave in the first place, and God only knows where he went. But I’m absolutely sure that I don’t want to be here when he gets back.If he comes back.Would that really be so bad, I wonder? It’s true that I hate it out here at the edge of the festering swamp, locked away in this big empty house with only ghosts for company. But without Jake tying me down, I could go anywhere, do anything.I could even find another man, one who would treat me better than the bastard I’d married.A fine blush rises in my cheeks as the memory of Zeke’s passion whispers across my lips. Guilt trickles through me in its wake. I can’t believe we’d kissed. As terrible as Jake’s actions have been, I’ve never once felt the need to seek out another man.But there is something about Zeke that beckons me, drawing me closer like a lighthouse in the dark. It isn’t just that he’shandsome, or even that he’snice to me. I have the uncanny
ZekeSomething dreadful happened last night.I’d been out in the swamp, enjoying the sound of the rain pattering off the soft fronds of the ferns in the underbrush when I’d noticed Jake stumbling drunkenly to the garage.Even worse, I watched from the shadows as he spoke to that thing as though he was just making another shady business deal. Though I wasn’t able to hear what Amos demanded, I think I have a pretty good idea what it is.Who it is.I watched Jake stagger around the property for a while before he got into his car and drove off. Good riddance, in my opinion.But I’m concerned for Julia. I don’t trust Jake for a second, and she doesn’t deserve to be used as a pawn in this sick game.And now I’m lingering at her front door, my hand raised and poised to press the doorbell. For a moment, I don’t think I can go through with it, but then the memory of Jake speaking with Amos flashes through my mind, and I know I have no other option. I have to make sure she’s all right.Thinking
JakeOh God, what have I done?Panic and desperation crash over me in unrelenting tidal waves, dragging me under until I’m drowning in them. I’m sitting on the bed in the guest room, holding my head in my hands and rocking back and forth.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours, probably. At some point, I’d stumbled down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. It sits on the floor by my feet, the amber liquid significantly drained.The alcohol hadn’t helped. I’m unable to numb the tumult that roils inside of me.I hit my wife.She deserved it.The cold, foreign voice slithers through my mind, and I groan, trying to drown it out.I’ve done a lot of questionable things over the years, some more legal than others. And maybe, just maybe, I’d said things to intentionally hurt Julia in the past, but I’d never physically harmed her.Until tonight.She was asking for it.“Shut up!” I whimper, clawing at my temples. “Shut up!”I stand and start pacing in the small space between the bed
JuliaTears well in my eyes, threatening to spill over. But I know that if I start crying, I won’t be able to stop.“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter to myself.I’m lying on the couch in the living room, attempting to watch my favorite reality TV show. After I confronted Jake earlier, I haven’t been able to focus. Racing thoughts flutter through my brain like paper in the wind. I’d optimistically heated up a frozen dinner, but I’d only been able to pick at it before my nausea had overpowered my desire to eat. Now the meal sits, cold and congealed, on the coffee table, all but forgotten.I know I could call Nina for support, but I don’t want to go there until I have all of the facts. And the truth is, I don’t really have many of those at all right now.Yes, Jake’s reaction to my questions all but confirmed my suspicions that he’s nothing more than a cheating bastard. I have no doubt that he’s up to his old tricks, but this time, I’m not going to let him off so easily. I need cold, hard pr
JakeI’m not a coward.It’s not like I was scared and ran away because a fucking light bulb broke, or because the ensuing darkness seemed bigger somehow, alive. No, it was because I simply had business to attend to. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I pull up in front of the house at the edge of the swamp.Julia probably hadn’t even cared that I’d gone. After all, I’d texted her that I had to go out, and she hadn’t ever responded. Did she even notice I left? God, she sure knows how to make a guy feel wanted in his marriage.A streak of lightning skitters across the leaden sky, followed quickly by a peal of thunder so loud that the car practically rattles around me. It’s not raining yet, though the clouds that loom overhead are the color of a fresh bruise and promise an imminent downpour. Not wanting to ruin my vehicle, I decide to park in the garage instead of the driveway.The rain starts just as I pull inside. Water roars against the roof, and once closed, the automatic door do
ZekeGod, I feel so alive.I close my eyes and let the relentless eye of the sun beat down on me. What does it see when it looks at me? A man? Something more? Something less?And what does Julia see, I wonder?I know it’s dangerous to let my thoughts wander down this path, but it’s as though my mind has become untethered with possibilities. My hand curls around a phantom mug, remembering the feeling of the smooth porcelain against my palm and the heat radiating through my hand as Julia had questioned me with increasing interest.I’d just had coffee with Julia Carter.She wore no makeup, and her hair was mussed from sleep, but that had somehow only made her more beautiful. Her eyes, as green as moss, shone in the fresh morning light. I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her, to brush my fingertips over the soft curve of her lips, but propriety stopped me in my tracks.I wouldn’t disrespect Julia like that. She is too good for me to be thinking about her in such a way.To
JuliaI’m not sure what wakes me.It’s not the sun, that’s for sure. For some reason, the blinds are firmly shut, blocking the early morning light from filtering in through the glass.I blink the sleep from my eyes as I peer into the surrounding dimness. I’m lying in bed, the covers tangled around my legs as though I’d thrashed in my slumber. A dull soreness at the juncture of my thighs reminds me of exactly what Jake and I had been doing last night.But where is Jake now?His side of the bed is empty, the sheets cold and untouched.“Jake?” I call. My voice sounds muted in the still morning air.There’s no response.Sighing, I extract myself from the blankets. Goosebumps rise on my arms as the cool, conditioned air kisses my skin. I grab my robe and shrug it on against the chill before padding over to the bathroom.Like the bedroom, there’s no sign of Jake. I frown. This isn’t like him. Sure, he’s usually an early riser, but he’s not exactly quiet in the mornings. He runs the shower a
JakeThe closer I get to the house, the worse I feel.I notice it the moment I turn onto the winding drive that marks the entrance of the property. The car’s tires slide on the muddy, rutted road, and the frame of the vehicle is so low that I swear I can feel my fillings rattle as I maneuver down the potholed path. For once in my life, I actually regret owning such a fancy ride. This wouldn’t be happening in a truck or an SUV.Cypress branches close in overhead, blotting out the sun with feathery leaves and twisted, mottled wood. The trunks churn on either side of me, grotesque in their stature. Thick underbrush creeps into the road. For a moment, it feels like I’m all alone in this wild place.Dread mounts in my gut as I navigate the familiar turns of the drive. I have a terrible thought that the path will go on forever, that each twist in the road will simply guide me farther away from civilization.But then the trees part, and the mud shifts to patchy gravel that crunches satisfyi