A Haunting: Horseman’s House
Where is Grandma?
At the end of a long, grassy field sits a house. White, with brown trim. Towering elms surround the property, looming darkly over passersby. Ava hesitates. Grandma waits inside.
Mr. Horseman, a man whose history few know, built the house in the 1950s. He sold it shortly after it was finished, and no one has seen him since. He was last seen entering the house by the back door.
The house is the last bastion of a bygone era. Once the town of Eureka was a booming railroad town, full of life and promise. Now, like the town, the house has decayed. Paint peels from the rotted wood and cracking bricks. The windows are plastered with a grimy film, leaving their contents mysterious.
Ava eyes them as she mounts the concrete steps to the covered porch. Inside, rusted things are piled in the corner. A family of dead flies lay drying in the filtered light. She twists her nose, takes a deep breath, and turns the copper-colored doorknob.
The living room is airy and bright, but a narrow, dark hallway is to its back, where Ava passes by three bedrooms. The doors are permanently closed. She shudders as she passes the last. Here, an eternal chill hangs in the air.
Circling around the house, toward the kitchen, Ava finds herself in front of thin, wooden stairs, splintered and askew. In this gloomy place, a man is watching from the shadows. She doesn’t see him.
“Grandma? Are you up there?” No answer. Ava grimaces and climbs the staircase, clinging to the wall to put space between her and a nasty fall.
She can see the room below between each makeshift stair. Her toes hang over the edge. Tears threaten to fall, but she fights them back. She’s too old to be this scared. She shivers. The air is stale. Stuffy. But it feels alive.
Shaking her head, Ava presses on. When she reaches the attic, she rushes to the balcony, expecting to see her grandmother. Her face is flush, and a cool breeze calms her nerves as she opens the door. It’s empty. She leans over the railing to get a better view of the garden.
In the shadow of the trees, a figure meanders aimlessly from place to place. Its gait is tilted and hurried. Its limbs quiver and shake erratically. Ava gasps and backs away; she balls her fists to still their movement. Where’s grandma?
A sense of urgency overwhelms her, and she shrieks, “Grandma!? Where are you?”
She sprints down the stairs, her momentum so out of control, she collides with the lower wall. Confused, she sways, catching her breath. From darkness, pale fingers grip the rotting step, a pair of eyes peers brightly from behind them.
Screaming noiselessly, she rushes through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the blazing afternoon light. In the yard, Grandma is sitting under an umbrella sipping tea.
Sobbing, Ava asks, “Where have you been? What is going on?”
“You look flushed, dear. I’ve been here since morning, have a chat with old Mr. Horseman. I see you’ve met.”
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