Silent Nightmares and Morbid Fairytales

The Gate to the Otherside

The house itself starts to feel too much like a mausoleum of memories, and those memories feel too private for my prying eyes. The atmosphere feels heavier, likeI cannot stay in that house alone for another minute. I lace up my boots and zip up my jacket, and venture out the backdoor branching off the kitchen.

I stop walking as soon as I get outside, though. I stand there on the stoop of the backdoor, my eyes trailing along the edge where the crappy, half-dead lawn fades into untamed trees. Beyond that is a world I have never experienced, or at least, do not remember experiencing. Maybe there was a time during my visit out here with my mother that we had gone for a walk and admired the trees, foliage and wildlife, but perhaps now that's just a memory that has long-since been blocked in my mind.

I walk slowly towards the treeline and peek over the edge of the lawn, noticing how peculiar it is that where the grass ends, it immediately slopes downwards, as though the entire property is merely teetering on the edge of a mountain.

There doesn't seem to be any obvious trails leading into the woods, at least none that don't involve a ten-foot drop to the pine needle littered forest floor below. After a bit of pacing, I decide to just go around the house and use the trail we had yesterday to get down to the river. From there, I could get my bearing and make my own trail into the woods.

To be honest, being alone in the trees is equalvelent to being alone in James' house. It's dark and murky and feels like it's full of private memories. I imagine Mary walking in these woods, loving the way they enveloped their home, hiding it from the world outside of theirs.

James is a very private man, so it would make sense that he would purchase a property in the middle of the forest. The house - if you really want to call it that - is more of an abandoned fishing shack since renovated into a house. That's all it is, really. It lacks the comfort of a home, but consists of the four walls and a roof that makes it a house... A simple living space and nothing more.

There's birds chirping way up in the trees above me as I push through the low branches of pine needles, searching for the river below. It probably would have been much smarter to have asked for more precise instructions from Uncle James before marching off aimlessly into the woods.

This was supposed to feel peaceful, wasn't it?... I just feel uneasy, just as I have ever since I arrived in this depressing town. In appearance, the whole town, forest surrounding it, and James' home itself carry the saddened weight of it's past... But it does not seem to be the appearance itself that's setting me off... It feels more like unfinished business... Words left unsaid and deeds left undone. It all feels.... Incomplete.

I can't quite pinpoint if that's all of it, though, or if there's more to be found. Is there a mystery here that I am meant to solve? Spirits searching for peace?

I am being ridiculous. I'm uneasy over a damn house. It's not going to bite me.

I reach the river, and it looks the same as yesterday, only now, the lighting is a little brighter and I can see more of the water and where it flows to without the oppressive fog lingering over it all. I decide to follow the current downstream and see where it goes.

It takes a lot of careful, calculated steps to move along the river. Sometimes the trees had grown too close to the riverbank, and you had to hug the trunk and squeeze by, meanwhile trying to not step in one of the icy mud puddles that border close to the water's edge.

The mud is soft and gives away easily under my light, careful steps. I try and stay close to the thick reed grass several feet back from the river, because the mud is stiffer, entangled in the roots of various plants and vegetation. As I walk, I snap off a dried up cattail reed and use it as a trusty wand to lead my fantastic adventures through the woods.

Could be more childhood trauma that inspired this... The lack of having an actual childhood with real adventures where you're the princess trying to save someone. It was only a matter of time before my deprived childhood would start popping up in my early teens, seeking the attention I neglected it while I spent afternoons learning about self-defense instead of having tea parties with stuffed animals.

I idly wonder if my Mother will call again... Or if I'll ever hear from her now. Maybe it'll just be agitated midnight calls demanding to know if I'd stolen something from her... And even so, that's better than nothing. I can't seem to figure myself out... On one hand I want this freshstart, and I want to abandon every detail of my old life. But on the other hand, it's all I've ever known and I'm not sure if I am ready to rip myself away from it completely just yet. I was never very good with the old 'bandaid trick'.

The river grows quieter, and I look to my right, noticing that the reason why is because it has grown wider in this section, so the water runs deeper and quieter. I stop walking to look at the murky brown and green water. What does this place look like in summer? Are there flowers and tall, thick emerald grass reeds bordering the water's edge? Maybe there's flowering trees and fish, and the reptiles come up out of the water to sun themselves on the big, flat, sunbleached rocks along the shallow areas.

Will I even still be here by summer?

It's a haunting thought... A number of things could happen to me between now and then. Family Services could collect me by then, my mother could come and collect me... Dragging me kicking and screaming back home to live with her again.

I look at my surroundings again, and it's all so bleak and lonely. I guess I'd rather be in my room than out here... I take a few more steps into the trees, pushing back the branches to find myself on a cliff, overlooking a small, poorly kempt asphalt road beneath. It comes to an abrupt end a few feet away because there's a large cage-like gate guarding the enterance.

Curiosity strikes me, and I get down on my behind and scoot down the narrow, slanted trail until I can drop down onto some large boulders, and climb the rest of the way down to the road.

I step out on the grey, crumbling asphalt and stare at my unusual discovery, greatly confused by what it means. The gate is doulbe padlocked, and covered in signs reading 'Warning: High Voltage' and 'No Trespassing,' but as I get closer and listen, there's no ambient buzz to confirm that the gateway is electrocuted at all... Seems like a major overkill to guard a damn road...

I step closer to get a better look through the thick iron bars. The road contines beyond it, then a long, wooden bridge big enough to allow one car at a time, crossing over the river that tilts downwards into a waterfall several yards to my left. After deciding that I don't have much else to lose, I reach out, hesitate, then firmly grab onto the 'electrified' iron bars, expecting my body to go into a seizure as electricity surges through it, frying everything from the inside out... But there's nothing... Not even a numb buzz. The thing's dead!

A small smile crosses my face as I explore all the ways that I could cross this gate and venture into the great beyond. The bars of the gate are spaced far enough apart that I could probably climb right over the cage, and drop down.

I consider my options for a few minutes, taking time to tug on the gate and the steel fence panels beside it, looking for an easier, less obvious route that doesn't require Olympic-style parkour skills to get through.

Uncle James probably won't be back for another three hours, but I don't want to be late back to raise unnecessary suspicion. For now, this is my secret... And once I figure out a little more about where that road disappears to, I'll ask him.

I have some time now, though... Might as well explore my options and find the quickest, most efficient way across. I stick the toe of my boot into the first set of rungs, shifitng my weight, making sure that it'll hold me before I yank myself up and stick my other foot into the rung beside it. Sturdy enough.

I reach up above my head, and grab onto the bar there, and use it to squirm further up the gate, my palms growing sweaty with the tention... What if there's just a short in the power and the damn thing flickers on while I'm stuck groping the panels for a way over?... I get a gnarly vision of someone finding me three days from now, fried to the front of the gate, physically melted to the metal through the power of electricity.

I shudder and move faster, using careful, calculated movements to keep myself from slipping. I reach the top and haul myself over, sitting on the shifting sheet of chainlink fence that has been doubling as a ceiling piece for the cell.I take two deep breaths and crawl on my hands and knees to the opposing end and peek over. There's another padlocked door guarding this end... Man, someone went to a lot of effort to keep people out of here... Must be something good.

If their electrified tactic had worked, crossing it would have been physically impossible. Lucky for me, huh?

The drop is about six feet down. I turn around so that I'm facing the way I came in, and slowly lower myself over the edge, being cautious of my muscle-less arms. I never did much in gym and didn't work out or exercise ever, yet I lived my entire life with this almost anorexic appearance.

I let go and fall the last two feet to the ground, landing awkwardly on side of my ankle. I yelp in protest and crouch to inspect it, making sure that I hadn't managed to do something really stupid while trying to do something really stupid in itself. A few steps around the decrepit bridge proves that I didn'd do much more than maybe pull a muscle a little.

I turn towards the bridge and road that stretches out beyond me, curling around the mountains covered in pine and aspen trees, taking the road just out of sight. I don't know how long I intend to be out here, but I can't go back just yet...

Forward I go, my confidence dwindling with every step forward. The whole thing is very stupid, yes... But what else am I going to do with myself? Besides, no one saw me climb in, and no one's gonna catch me climbing out. I'll just scout up the road a little ways, and then probably bail back.

It could easily end up being little more than a road to a discontinued fire lookout or something similar... But it has to be of importance for them to go to this much work trying to keep people out. Two double padlocked doors set into an electrified iron fence?... Yeah, that'll do it.

I feel the oddest sense of excitement as I walk down the remainder of the bridge... But then I also feel something else, something that rubs me the wrong way.

I feel kinda comfortable... Almost like going home, in a way, surrounded by the feeling of being loved and warm hugs from both of my parents. What is that feeling doing out here? Cropping up out of trespassing onto a private road?

Perhaps I'm more messed up than I originally thought.

~~~


Nothing but trees is to be seen once I start following the dead road. I do take notice of the handful of signs nailed to overgrown trees, living under thick layers of rust, grime, and overgrowing vegitation. I step towards one of them, and grab fistfuls of leaves and thin, veiny vines, ripping them off and tossing the spent foliage aside, rubbing the tin signs with the sleeve of my jacket, struggling to read through the chipping paint and rust flakes.

T...R...AC....

I frown in frustration, having gained no results from that sign, I continue up the road a ways, coming across another one... This one's nailed to a power pole.

UR...AC

Still no answers.

I get back on the road and walk five minutes more, seeing up ahead road blocks and traffic cones set up to ward off any overly curious folks such as myself from proceeding.

"Warnng." I breathe the message when I spot it written on a piece of particle board in red spray paint. It's crudely nailed to the center roadblock, and the ones around it bear similar messages, although there's nothing of obvious danger ahead.

Still... I start to get chills down my spine and a small voice in the back of my head is warning me not to go any further today. With all my past dangerous experiences on my mind, it does not take much for me to back down and turn from the roadblock, making my way back down the sloped asphalt road with a swift, consistent pace.

"Anaya?..."

I almost jump out of my skin, spinning around, an apology to whomever I've disappointed already on the tip of my tongue... But there is no one there. My heart is still trying to claw it's way out of my chest as I stand there, mortified, so certain that I had heard my name being spoken by a clear voice.

"Hello?" I finally muster up the courage to call out, my eyes scanning the trees on either side of the road. "Is anyone out there?"

I stand there in lonely silence for a solid two minutes before I can convince myself that it was nothing, and keep walking. Except now it is no longer a walk, but a jog, and then a run. I've broken into a full-fledge sprint by the time I round the cliff and reach the double gates again.

This time I don't wait time on trivial things as I vault over, swiftly climbing over the top and dropping onto the road on the otherside. run home after I scramble back up the low cliff, keeping an eye on the river the whole time I am running just to make sure that I do not get lost.

I get back to our fishing spot and stumble up the handcarved stone steps to the cabin waiting at the top. I am painfully out of breath by the time I shove open the front door and lock myself in.

I stumble back from the enterance, staring hard at the doorhandle, waiting for it to turn and for something to attempt to let itself in.

Am I already going insane?... Dammit, it's only been a little over twenty-four hours.

After my heartbeat mellows out and I half-heartedly convince myself that no one is following me, I go to the kitchen and get a glass of water, then sit at the table and stare it down until I bring myself to drink it. Is there something out there in those woods? Is it related to that cursed down?... That would make more sense than any other solution. Yes.... It's just the cursed town in the mountains causing my mental stability to spin out of control.

"Alright..." I mutter, getting up from the table, the legs of my chair scratching against the buckled wood floor as it scoots backward. "I need more answers..."

Into the living room I go, scanning the bookshelf again, this time with purpose as I search for anything about that damned town.

I pull open the drawers of the little writing desk opposite the antique couches and one window. There's a couple discolored papers stacked inside, varying from shopping lists to bills paid long ago but never thrown out.

I pull open the drawer below it, and am immediately greeted by something colorful. It appears to be a children's drawing, and I almost mistake it for one I might've done when I lived here during Mary's death... I almost believed that until I noticed the name proudly scrawled in the lower right corner of the drawing.

Laura.

I take in the details carefully and it makes a little more sense. The drawing is of a little girl, holding hands with... An Angel. That angel is undoubtedly Mary... Isn't it?

The paper has a strange texture to it as I pick it up, cradling it in my palms. It feels the way paper does after it's gotten wet and dry repeatedly, the surface left slightly buckled and rough to the touch.

Those rainbow colored squiggles send a strange chill up my spine... The photo isn't too terribly concerning in itself, it's just a bit offputting. James has failed to mention anything of the strange girl Mary had mentioned in her departure letter... And judging from this drawing, Laura was around them quite a bit in her final days. But why don't I seem to remember her at all? From the minute visiting hours launched at seven forty-five ever morning to when they closed at six-thirty in the evenings, we were there crowded in Mary's little room on the cancer ward floor.

There was never a little girl. No one but us there.