Silent Sent
“Listen, my children, and you shall hearThe midnight cry in the woods near here”
At the edge of the woods, a house stands cold, dark, small, surrounded by trees on three sides. The front yard ends at the road, a narrow two lane strip of asphalt winding under tangled branches through the dark forest. Waist high thick overgrown straggly bushes line the gravel driveway hauntingly devoid of any vehicle.
The forest stretches for miles past the road, tree branches reaching from both sides, tangling over the deserted road like a gloomy tunnel, blocking out the sky.
A full moon shines, hard and bright, on the dark house, glinting off dark windows that stare at the road, waiting. It barely touches the road huddling under the leafy canopy but the brittle light cannot penetrate the darkness between thickly crowded trees.
The air is still. Not a single sound breaks the silence—no bird, insects- rustling leaves nor the scurrying of small creatures—or larger ones. Even the wolves howl at the moon on another mountain peak. The scene is as still as the eye of the storm in a dark painting.
I pause, look around the circle of faces, all eyes wide and riveted on me, breaths held in anticipation, and dread, of my next words. They lean toward me eager for more, yet dreading it at the same time—a kind of morbid fascination, unable to look away.
Ranging in age from twelve to sixteen, the ten children from Summer Lake Camp silently urge me to continue. Satisfied with their full attention, I continue.
Most people don’t notice the small house tucked up against the trees, away from the road. Those few that do notice wish they had ignored it…or folks assume such since none are ever seen again. No one who enters that house ever leaves.
“Probably shot for trespassing,” a young male voice calls out from the farthest point of the circle.
I look at him, a steady unblinking stare in the enveloping silence broken only by the crackling blaze of the campfire.
“Shut up, Tony!” another male hisses.
I hold Tony’s stare until the boy slouches, his face sullen, but he is drawn in, enthralled, as I continue.
Young eyes reflect the dancing flames of the campfire in the dark of night, the full moon above no match for the wide-eyed fear in those eyes as ten teenagers are swept once more to the very edge of the dark forest, and the lonely old house with its dark, glinting windows like huge soulless black eyes in the silence of the night.
Two small pinpricks of light materialize on the road, in the distance, growing brighter in the gloom as the muted roar of a powerful V8 engine reverberates, growing louder in the vast silence. The classic muscle car flies smoothly along the narrow road, tires humming on asphalt as they hug the yellow line.
At the driveway, the powerful engine sputters and dies. The driver turns the key. The starting system whines but the motor does not run. The gleaming black hot rod sits at the end of the driveway, facing the house as though car and house are in communion. After the third attempt, the driver pops the hood and shoves the door open. The girl lifts the hood and leans into the engine compartment, both hands moving restlessly over the motor.
The passenger exits the car, glaring at the vehicle. “So, what happened?”
“I don’t know. It has never done this before.” The driver keeps checking the engine. “I don’t see anything obviously wrong here, Rick.”
“You built the damn motor, Julie! You should know better than anyone what’s wrong with it!”
Exasperated, Rick slams the car door and moves away, checking his phone. “I got no signal.”
Julie checks her phone. No signal. She glares at him— spots the house. “There’s a house—why don’t you go knock on the door and see if they have a phone—do something useful for a change!” she snaps and turns back to the engine.
Silence lingers, thickens, oppressive in the cold dark of night. Julie checks all hoses, fuses, electrical connections, the starter— everything she can think of. “It has gas, spark—only losing power suddenly can stop an engine that fast.” She steps back from the car and realizes Rick has not returned.
Fog hangs low over the ground, hovering in patches over the road, between the trees, in the yard.
“Rick!” she calls out, shattering the silence. “Where are you? It doesn’t take that long!”
She stalks up the driveway but her steps slow as she gets closer to the dark house. She stares at the black windows, the glints of moonlight like unblinking eyes in the dark. Julie swallows hard, facing the house like she is about to square off with it. The house stands silent, the sentinel of the forest. The long wait is over.
Julie narrows her eyes. “You had better be in there, Rick—all warm and cozy—.”
She hurries up the driveway, gravel rolling under her feet, threatening to roll her on her ass, the sound swallowed by the utter silence permeating this little spot in a forest that should have been teeming with life.
“Rick!” It echoes, mocking her as clouds slide in ghostly silence over the moon, leaving a pale circle to peer at the world below a foggy halo of dim light that still glints off the darkened windows.
As Julie reaches the porch, her reckless pace slows once more to a muted scuffle of shoes on dirt, her full attention riveted on the front door and the tarnished brass knob. She raises one hand to knock as she reaches for the knob with the other—
The door swings wide open in silent invitation. “That door should have squeaked like…” Julie whispers, a low sound reverberating through the echo chamber of the empty house. She cringes from her own voice. “Rick.” More thought than sound, the word barely reaches her ears.
She turns in slow inches, looking around the inky black room. Blind, heart pounding in her chest, mouth dry, she takes a hesitant step forward. The door swings shut, a hard vibration through the floor under her feet, the sound swallowed by darkness.
“Rick.” Again her voice echoes, resounding upstairs and down, reaching a mocking crescendo in her ears. The noise stops. Silence smothers her. She takes another step forward.
Rick! She screams in her own mind.
A large patch of inky black gathers itself together in front of her. Like smoke blacker than the dark room, it looms over her. Her heart beats faster, harder, in her chest, every beat like thunder in her ears.
She turns to run but her body does not move. The mass drifts even closer. Cold slams into her. Goosebumps erupt on her exposed skin. A prickling sensation raises the hairs on her arms like static electricity. She screams but no sound comes in the deafening silence.
Like sleep paralysis, she struggles to move, to run. It touches her body full length, freezing every inch of bare skin. Agony blazes in her head as her eyes freeze, focused wide-eyed in the blacker than black mass oozing over her. It blankets her, oozes over her body, over her chin, eyes, nose and ears. It squeezes, slow and relentless. She sucks in a breath, and it pours into her throat.
At the edge of the forest, the small empty house stands, a silent sentinel under the full moon.
I stop, silent as the children shuffle closer to the fire, wide eyes fixed on me… a circle of pale, terrified faces in flickering firelight.
The moon rises high in the sky, blanketing the area in cold white light. Insects stop chirping. Small creatures stop scurrying. The leaves stop moving. A howling wolf falls silent. The air stills.
I look up, over the heads of my captive audience. A single cry, long, loud, wavering, rips through the night and stops.
I stare into the blackness between the trees and whisper, low