Dark Woods
an excerpt

“Charlie!”

“ – Faline,” Charlie gasped as he hurried into the small, shadowy room. The words emerged hoarse from his ragged throat. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he wiped it away impatiently with one haphazard hand, trying to still his breathing. Looking over to his panic-stricken wife, Charlie tried to force himself to calm down. It would only upset her further to show that her madness had gotten to him. Her crazyness, he thought to himself vindictively. It’s all in her mind, but for God’s sake, look at me. I’m shaking like a leaf. Tangled in his lank hair, his fingers trembled. Pull yourself together, he thought furiously, and the voice of his father spoke up sternly from the back of his mind, come on, son, be a man.

“It’s all right,” Charlie spoke, and his voice betrayed no emotion except for loving concern as he looked over at his wife. Faline was huddled child-like in the far corner of the room like frightened child. Her knees were drawn up to her chin and her arms were wrapped around her body in a protective embrace. Bare, her feet rested on the thick carpet, and her sundress was draped awkwardly around her form so that it looked too big to fit her properly. Her dark hair had come loose from the braid and framed her pale face in wind-blown ringlets. Her expression was the picture of shock, her frightened white skin dotted with two splotches of red high up on her cheekbones, as though she had just enjoyed a brisk walk in the cold.

“It’s okay,” Charlie informed her gently, regaining some measure of control over his breathing, which obligingly began to fall back into a comfortable rhythm. “I’m just glad I found you. You can’t continue to go wandering away from me like this anymore,” he scolded, recognising the parental tone of his voice and feeling slightly embarrassed by it. Faline seemed not to notice. She made no comment, and simply stared at him, her eyes wide. “I was worried about you, Faline. I couldn’t find you.” And with all this nonsense you’ve been babbling about, you must really be getting to me, he thought, but did not add. This is really giving me the creeps. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you, earlier?”

“I – It –,” Faline broke off, shaking her head in bemusement. She blinked, tears reflected in her eyes as she pleaded with her husband to understand what she had experienced. Charlie’s skepticism felt accusing to her, and she frowned deeply, wishing she could express herself better. “I saw something when I was up in the attic, Charlie. I know I did. I’m not making this up. Why would I? I have nothing to gain by lying to you about it.” She glanced around the room, her eyes settling on the old washing machine and ironing board. Long hours of her childhood had been spent here, breathing in the fragrant scent of blooming lilac as it drifted through the open windows in the summer time and the smell of freshly cleaned linens when she had helped her mother fold the laundry. “This is the place where I grew up, I don’t want to be scared here. Surely, you can understand that.”

Her voice took on a desperate note as she looked away, avoiding her husband’s eyes. Her gaze settled on the thin, white curtains that obscured one darkened window, and the row of laundry soap and fabric softener piled on a high shelf. “I’m not crazy,” she said sharply.

Sighing, Charlie rubbed his mouth. “Of course you’re not,” he assured her, his voice more encouraging than he felt. “You’re just going through an extremely stressful time right now, and there is so much for you to deal with – no, listen to me,” he went on quickly as Faline glared up at him. “It is very traumatic for you, being back here. It means they really are gone. No one would want to accept that. It’s natural that you would experience some problems adjusting to it all. Maybe this stuff you think is happening is your mind’s way of distracting you from the real problem, the pain and sorrow you’re feeling. It’s probably a natural part of the grieving process.”

“It is not all in my head,” said Faline strongly. “It’s real, Charlie, more real than you can imagine. It’s – oh, my God!” She stabbed a finger towards the door. “Look!”

Shaking his head slowly, Charlie frowned and turned to look behind him, skeptical and confused. Annoyed, he squared his shoulders, determined to put an end to this. “Faline, there is nothing there and you know it! Now, this needs to stop, do you understand me?” His voice grew louder. “I want this to stop right now.” The words died in his throat before he could finish his tirade, however, as he saw precisely what Faline was pointing at.

The doorknob was moving ever so slightly, turning clockwise of its own accord.

“Charlie, stop it!” shouted Faline wildly as Charlie flung his hand over the doorknob, forcing it to remain still as best he could against the irresistible force that continued to turn it. The burnished brass knob was freezing cold under his bare palm; it felt as though he had just grabbed hold of a chunk of ice. Something rattled the doorknob firmly, the movement quick and forceful, and Charlie had to grip it with both hands in order to keep it still. Helplessly, he looked over his shoulder at Faline, who was hiding her face in her hands.

“What should I do? What’s happening?”

The doorknob gave a sudden lurch as though it had been released. Instantaneously, something hit against the door with the weight of a fully grown man. It felt as though someone was roughly shouldering their way in, trying to break down the door to gain access to the two of them. A sound like closed fists raining blows down on the old wood was audible, and the door shuddered on its hinges.

“Don’t let it in, Charlie,” shrieked Faline. Her scream was all but drowned out by the sound of something pounding on the door. Cold fingers scrambled to turn the knob, nearly overpowering Charlie’s hold.

“I won’t let anyone get to you,” Charlie gasped. “Whatever it is – they won’t get in, Faline, I promise,” he bellowed. His heart thrummed a dischordant rhythm in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying for help. This can’t actually be happening, he told himself mentally. None of this is real. Maybe I’m dreaming, or perhaps I’m hallucinating, something brought on by stress. Ghosts in the house – that’s all in her mind.

The door suddenly rattled in its frame as something heavy bared down upon them, and Charlie leaned his weight into the door to hold it off, knowing it was no dream. As suddenly as it has started, the noise stopped. The doorknob fell still in Charlie’s hand, and the pressure on the opposite side of the door lessened.

For a moment, Charlie felt nothing but relief. He turned to Faline, who had left the sanctuary of her quiet corner and come to stand behind him, and he offered her a weak smile. His mind raced, searching for logical possibilities to explain what had just happened. A creaky old house like this, he thought, there are bound to be a dozen reasons for it. It could be the pipes. Maybe turning on the water caused them to expand, and that’s what made all that racket. Winter’s well on it’s way too, and the whole house is made of wood, so that could have been caused by contracting due to the temperature, or something else weird about the weather. It could have just been a draft; it has been awfully windy lately. With all the crazy things Faline has been going on about, it’s really no wonder I made more of it than it was. She’s really getting to me, and being up here, away from civilization, no other houses about, I guess it’s not surprising all her stories are bothering me.

He shuddered, feeling his tightly coiled muscles relax as he drew in a deep breath. Slightly ashamed of himself, he raked back the hair from his eyes, giving himself a mental shake. Pull yourself together. You’re supposed to be helping her, not going mad with her. He patted Faline on the shoulder lightly in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, but Faline’s face was still a picture of fear, and Charlie felt the hair on the back of his arms stand on end as he looked at her.

“Oh, Charlie,” she said quietly, her voice full of apprehension.

The doorknob slipped through Charlie’s fingers with a violent twist before he could tighten his grip and stop it. With a loud bang, the door was thrown open so roughly that it hit the wall and bounced back. Faline screamed at the top of her voice, a long, drawn out sound, and Charlie heard his own yells leaving him as if torn from his throat. The sound of their terror carried, echoing around the small room until long after Charlie had dared open his eyes and had seen that there was nothing there.