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It All Started With A Weather Report
Aaron Waller sat attempting to warm his hands over a mug of fresh-brewed coffee strong enough to wake the dead. He had just brought a blazing fire back from the dying embers he’d awaken to find. Warmth was slowing coming back to his bones as well as his home, the one-room cabin he had built with his own hands. Winters were harsh in the land, bitterly cold generally accompanied by several feet of snow. Currently there was about two feet of the cold white covering the ground outside.
He rubbed his still sleepy eyes as he looked around the room. He sat in the only chair at a small, crudely-built, wooden table. The kitchen area was small, only consisting of a few cabinets, sink, and oven. The morning sun cast strong beams of light from the four small windows into the house, and in the far corner a small, quilt-laden bed sat in next to the fireplace. The fire crackled softly, and a large, brown dog known as Maxi lay on a worn rug by the hearth.
The radio sitting on the table seemed out of place as Aaron tuned into a local station for the weather report. The hardworking, independent hermit lived in the twenty-first century but chose the obsolete lifestyle of an early nineteenth century trapper alone in the forests of up-state New York.
Dressed in a thick, red and black, flannel shirt Aaron walked to the heavy, wooden door and opened it for a peek outside. A shiver ran through his thick, muscular body as a cold wind rushed in. The sun reflected off the white snow, and he squinted from the glare. The snow on the ground was left from a flurry almost a week ago, but the temperature hadn’t risen enough to melt it away. The hunter green of the trees only shown through in patches from underneath the snow. The sky was a bright blue; there wasn’t a cloud to be seen for miles. The sun shown brightly; maybe the snow would melt today, but right now it was still cold.
Clear and cold came the forecast over the radio. The sky Aaron observed seemed to agree, but sometimes the forecast can be wrong, and sometimes the sky can lie.
Olivia Corsini ran her hands through her short, black hair as she rose from the bed going to the kitchen for a glass of water. The house was silent as a mouse, save for the soft shuffling of Olivia’s feet.
“Ow!” she gasped stubbing her foot on a black suitcase in the hallway. Olivia was reminded of the reason it had taken her so long to fall asleep when she saw another suitcase and a few duffel bags were lined against the wall waiting to be loaded in the car outside. She had been so excited and anxious to leave. Olivia reached the kitchen and grabbed a clean glass left in the dish drainer filling it with water. She quickly downed the cold, clear liquid, and returned the glass to the drainer.
Why had she woken up so early, she thought to herself. The dream, it was slowly coming back to her in the fuzzy haze dreams always seem to be remembered as. She had been in a large field covered completely in snow, and she had been running. Something was chasing her but she didn’t know what. She’d been alone, completely alone, except for the creature that was chasing her. Then she saw blood, crimson red staining the snow before her. Fear filled her, she’d awaken only seconds later when she saw a familiar green scarf stained in the thick red liquid.
Olivia breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the green scarf and matching hat hanging by the door as she made her way back to her bedroom. Along the way she paused in front of another door cracked slightly. The light from the hallway shone a thin stripe of white light into the other bedroom revealing her room-mate to be sound asleep. Olivia returned to her own room and attempted to return to sleep. Surprisingly it didn’t take long before the sandman passed by.
“What time is it?” Olivia asked groggily as she opened her eyes. Michelle stood by the head of Olivia’s bed already fully dressed and ready. Michelle was the prepared one of the duo, being the one who constantly reminded Olivia to pack for their trip. It bugged Olivia every now and then to live with someone as obsessive compulsive as Michelle, but she had learned to appreciate it, knowing that without Michelle she would always be late or live in filth.
“It’s almost ten,” Michelle stated stepping back into the doorway of Olivia’s room. Olivia rose and began getting ready.
Forty-five minutes later the pair had the car loaded and were ready to leave. Michelle was driving her car, a 2001 Ford Crown Victoria which had much more storage space than Olivia’s Ford Escort. The two set off for the ski slopes where they had planned on spending the next five days on vacation away from the hectic demands of life.
The drive was quiet. Michelle kept her caramel eyes focused on the highway in front of her. Olivia gazed out the window at the clear sky. The sun was bright and warmed the car though temperatures outside were just above freezing. A Disney soundtrack played softly through the speakers, the song was “Some Day My Prince Will Come” sung by Snow White. It was one of Olivia’s favorite, who dreamed of the day she would meet the man perfect for only her. She was a hopeless romantic, at least that’s what she called it. She had nearly given up hope of ever finding a man who would love her for herself and all of her eccentric ways.
It was only by the grace of God that she and Michelle had become friends; she thought. Michelle was her miracle, a friend who had brightened her life beyond measure. Michelle was the first one to befriend her when Olivia had changed schools her junior year of high school. Both were new that year. They were so different in backgrounds and personality. Michelle came from a small, country town until her dad received a job transfer. She was quiet but passionate about the things she loved. Olivia was a city girl through and through, and her tastes and interests reflected the many different cultures her life was influenced by. Olivia was more outgoing; she had tried for years to fit in with the popular crowd but eventually gave up.
The drive was long, but the two friends stayed entertained talking about men, movies, and many other things. They pointed out peculiarities in the scenery such as a buffet restaurant located beside the town graveyard. The countryside they drove through was beautiful covered in a light layer of snow. The roads were perfectly clear. Olivia couldn’t help but notice how the sky changed, especially as they grew closer to the ski lodge. At lunch the sky had been perfectly clear, a bright blue one would only expect to see in paintings; however as time passed and miles were traveled, the sky became a solid, whitish grey.
“What was the weather report for New York?” Olivia asked knowing Michelle had checked the forecast several times.
“Cold, between twenty and forty mostly, but dry.”
“Okay. The sky is starting to look a little scary though,” Olivia added before letting the conversation drop and turning her attention back to the music playing softly from the back speakers. “Poor Unfortunate Souls” sung by Ursula from The Little Mermaid was currently playing bringing back memories of a much beloved movie where the girl marries her prince.
Not even an hour passed before the sky became a dark, ominous grey. Small, white flakes began falling softly from the sky. There were so few at first that Olivia almost thought she was seeing things. Yet there were the water droplets on the windshield as proof. The snowflakes began falling at a slightly faster rate, and it seemed that their size was increasing greatly. Some of the largest snowflakes Olivia had ever seen were now falling on the car.
“It can’t last for long,” Michelle stated rationally. “If anything significant was going to fall the meteorologist would have made some mention of it.”
“You would think.”
“But everyone predicted clear skies.”
As their line of sight decreased, Michelle slowed the car to a safer speed. The black of the asphalt before them became less and less visible as a blanket of white built upon the hard surface. The warmth of the engine beneath the hood and of the air against the windshield kept the snow from sticking to the car. They weren’t far from the ski lodge, approximately thirty miles, so the friends persisted forward through the snow.
Michelle kept her hands gripped tightly to the steering wheel not wanting to lose the tiniest bit of control. Her eyes remained peeled on the space beyond the hood of the car. Everything in front of them was white. Michelle could no easier differentiate the sky from the road as she could identical newborn twins. Which was why they didn’t see the snow drift only a few yards ahead.
The car came to a sudden stop, jerking the passengers within. Michelle shifted the car into reverse, but the wheels only spun on the frozen surface. The car wasn’t going anywhere. There was now no way that they were going to make it to the lodge unless a snow plow passed along in a timely manner, but they were in the middle of nowhere. At least thirty minutes had passed since the last town.
“That’s great,” Michelle exclaimed trying to cover her fear with anger.
“I saw a driveway and a mailbox not far back. Maybe they could let us stay until the storm dies down,” Olivia said.
“Probably a better idea than staying here,” they both nodded in agreement. Their suitcases lay in the backseat, so after Michelle killed the engine, the two began putting on as many layers as they could. In the end each had on sweaters and t-shirts, long johns, jeans, and ski bibs, boots and their thick coats. Michelle had her green scarf wrapped tightly around her neck and face before stepping from the protection of the automobile.
The bitter cold nipped at their noses, the wind stealing their breath. Where had the blizzard come from? Weather reports indicated clear skies all weekend, yet the sky above showed no relief of this wintry storm. The sun would be setting soon, though neither Michelle nor Olivia could tell exactly where the sun was hidden behind thick cloud cover. The sky was a dark, tempestuous gray; the snow fell down in blankets, obscuring the view in front of them. They pulled their coats tighter around them in hopes of trapping their own body heat within. Tall evergreens covered in white loomed tall on either side the road. The road was completely white, save for the two gray lines leading from where they had just come. They began trekking backward, following the car’s tracks in hopes of being able to find the turn-off they had seen before.
It was sheer madness, being out here in this weather. The driveway stood out, being a ten foot wide length of solid white, nestled between the trees. A hundred yards of ominous forest turned into a large open field. The field, now covered in a frightful, thick layer of snow gave first glimpse of the house.
An enormous mansion of Victorian style stood on the top of the hill. Old, bare boards covered the windows, and paint fell off in large chips from the wooded siding. Shutters were missing, and those still there hung loosely on one hinge, creaking in the wind. Hedges grew unsightly around the house, as though years had passed since the last gardener had paid a visit. The porch roof looked as though only another inch of snow could cause a cave in, yet it still stood.
The most peculiar thing about the house was the smoke rising out of the chimney. A light gray stream barely visible against the gray of the sky, but a comforting sign nonetheless. Someone was home.
The two friends walked steadfastly across the field through the snow that was rapidly growing deeper. Olivia was the first to reach the porch steps by only a few seconds and waited timidly for Michelle to take the first step. The two locked hands which were encased in thick waterproof gloves, and climbed the five steps. Three short careful steps later they stood in front of the large wooden door. It was dull brown and plain; the only ornamentation was the large, tarnished, brass knocker fastened at nose-level in the center of the door.
Michelle reached up to take hold of the dark brown knob, but before she could, the door creaked open granting them entrance. The two shared a look confusion before apprehensively stepping over the threshold. Warm air filled their lungs. The house was dim, lit only by light coming through the cracks in the boarded windows, but there was an orange glow coming from a large open doorway.
“Hello?” they called out simultaneously venturing closer to the orange glow. “Is anyone here?”
“We were on our way to the ski lodge, but we got our car stuck in a snow drift!” Michelle explained to no one. No one replied to their calls, as they entered what they assumed to be the great room. It was a large room filled with old furniture upholstered in moth-eaten fabric. A thick layer of dust covered all of the furniture as well as the mantel above the fireplace. The room gave no signs of recent activity except for the blazing fire. The gigantic flames flickered brightly waving as it consumed the oxygen in its immediate vicinity.
“They must not like cleaning,” Olivia commented running her gloved finger along the end table. The action revealed a beautifully finished, cherry wood. The heat of the fire warmed their bodies, and they were able to take off their coats as well as a few layers.
As they were draping their clothing in a straight-backed, cushioned chair, a loud bang resonated throughout the entire house followed by a strong gust of wind which threatened to kill the fire. The fire was stronger than that, but the cold air sent a chill through Michelle and Olivia. They ran back to the front door and saw it had been blown open by the wind and snow was now falling on the scuffed, hardwood flooring.
“Where are the people who live here?” Olivia asked.
“Let’s check upstairs,” Michelle said beginning to mount the wooden staircase. She couldn’t help but notice the old, painted portraits hanging ominously on the wall as they ascended the stairs. At the second floor, the duo ventured forth calling for the homeowner, who refused to show him- or herself. Each room showed to be as vacant of life as the next, and with each room they searched, their own heartbeats grew louder and louder within their chest.
As they approached the last door another burst of wind flew by leaving them with an eerie chill. Michelle reached for the handle of the slightly cracked door, but it slammed shut. Wiggling of the handle only showed it to be locked. Michelle was filled with curiosity, but Olivia’s skin crawled with a feeling she couldn’t explain.
“If there’s someone in there, we don’t mean any harm,” Michelle spoke with a voice to carry through the thick door. “We’re just seeking shelter from the storm. No one predicted it. It just came out of nowhere almost. We were driving to the ski lodge just up the road when our car got stuck.”
There was no answer. It must have been the wind, Olivia thought; the window might not be boarded.
“There’s still the third floor.” The two turned on their heels and went back to the staircase. The wind howled outside caused the boards of the house to creak. “Did you say something?”
“No,” Olivia stated, confused. She’d been about to ask her the same thing.
“I thought you said something about being unwelcome.”
“No, but that’s what it feels like…If no one’s home, where did the fire come from?”
These and many other questions about the house swam through Olivia’s mind as the climbed the stairs one more level. It was much colder here; the heat from the fire not reaching this high. They could see their breath, thin white mists coming from their mouths. The third floor consisted only of an unfinished attic. There were two small circle windows on opposite sides of the room letting in a small amount of light.
Boxes lined the walls except for one area where an old bookshelf stood. They were lured by the many books lining the shelves. Several appeared to be photo albums, and curiosity was getting the best of the two companions. Olivia pulled a large black one from the shelf and began thumbing through the dust filled pages. Each page revealed four or five old black and white snapshots of people, families, children, puppies. Many of the pictures were happy. The album seemed to focus specifically around a beautiful woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties. Her light hair, probably golden, was piled in curls on top of her head. Some pictures showed her with other men and women of similar age. Those men and women were photographed with younger adults and small children, family portraits; however the focus of the album was never shot with children, as though she were alone, a spinster or maybe a widower before children came along. The album was not complete, stopping only
“Leave me alone,” moaned a deep feminine voice. Olivia and Michelle nearly jumped out of their skin. Their heads jerked looking around the room for the source of the voice, but they saw no one.
“We just needed to get out of the storm,” Michelle explained once more. “Our car got stuck.”
“You’re not welcome here!” the voice yelled. Something flew past them, something void of any shape, an off-white color like wind blowing dust and sand about. Books flew from the shelves, papers flying around the room; box tops were tossed about. The door slammed shut with a ferocious bang.
The door was locked. No matter how hard Olivia pulled on the door or wiggled the door knob, it wouldn’t budge. For someone who wanted them out, why were they just locked in the attic? Running against it was no use, gaining each of them only a bruised shoulder. Soon they gave up and collapsed on the floor in defeat.
“Come on, girl,” he said pulling on his coveralls and boots and wrapping his plaid scarf around his neck and face. Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, Aaron picked up his Mag-lite flashlight, one of the few pieces of modern equipment he owned. The flashlight had its definite advantages over the lantern especially in the wind, a wind which threatened to blow him over as soon as he opened the cabin door.
Maxi whined louder once let out, wanting to return to the warmth of the cabin, but Aaron latched the door behind him. He wasn’t going to let another fall victim. He was going to settle this once and for all, if that was even possible. With the light as his guide, Aaron plunged into the night and into the storm. The Newfoundland dog stayed on his heels or close by his side. It seemed to take forever, but they eventually made it to the Victorian house that had stood on that property for well over a hundred years.
The house looked its age and older. It was time to come down, Aaron thought. He could see a faint light from the attic, but the stronger glow came from the great room. He and Maxi stood at the front porch steps contemplating the next move when he heard a blood-curdling scream so loud and sharp that it pierced through the wind to land on his ears and send Maxi into a howl of her own.
A thin, white, translucent figure hovered three feet in the air. There was no mistaking it, the figure’s feet were not touching the floor. It was the figure of an old woman. Her face was emaciated, and large eyes stood out though deeply set. They were solid white, no pupil or iris could be seen. Long, curly, gray hair hung in thin patches from the pale scalp. Her clothing was that of an old-fashioned style, dating back at least half a century, and it was tattered barely holding together. What’s going on? Olivia thought; ghosts aren’t real.
Apparently she had thought wrong. Thin, cracked lips parted as a moan escaped the mouth of the apparition. She hovered in the doorway blocking their exit.
“I don’t like visitors. Why do come to me? I do not allow visitors in my home. You shouldn’t have come in,” she cried out. She flew towards the young women, already pale with fear. Olivia and Michelle chose that moment to run for the door and rush for the stairs. Just after the landing for the second floor, they bumped into something going the opposite direction, and the bunch tumbled down to the first floor landing.
“Ow,” Aaron winced gripping his head. Maxi whined being pinned between the wall, Aaron, and Olivia.
“Who are you?” Michelle asked jumping up quickly. Aaron stood and offered a hand to pull Olivia up before answering.
“Aaron Waller, I live not far from here. Who are you, and why are you here?” Olivia explained quickly, terrified of the moans coming from above them.
“Come with me,” Aaron said pulling on the arms of the girls, heading into the great room. The fire still burned intensely; yellow and orange flames danced in the hearth.
“What’s going on here?” Michelle asked. “Whose house is this?”
“Hildegarde Ransfield. Presumably, the woman you met upstairs.”
“What happened to her?” Olivia asked, knowing that in all the books and movies there was a story behind every ghost.
“She was murdered,” Aaron said taking a seat on the long sofa. “A man came to her seeking refuge from a blizzard that he’d gotten stranded in. The story goes that he was out in the forest when the snow started. Anyway, only after she’d fed him and allowed him to sit and rest in here by the fire, did he pull a knife from his boot and kill her.”
“How long ago was it?” Michelle asked.
“Before I was born, maybe even when my father was little.”
“How do we get out?” Olivia asked.
“Well, you can try to walk out now, but I don’t think she’d allow it. For now we wait till she comes down here.”
“And then what?” asked the skeptical and somewhat cocky Michelle.
“I’m working on it.”
“Some great plan,” she said walking back towards the front door. Out of nowhere came the white wind of the ghost of Hildegarde.
“Michelle, wait!” Olivia called out as Michelle reached for the door knob, but it was too late. Hildegarde had lifted Michelle in the air and began spinning her about. A shriek of fright escaped Olivia’s lips, and Maxi leapt from the sofa into the hallway barking furiously at the ball of commotion in the air. “Michelle!”
She was whirling faster and faster. Olivia could only see the purple and blue blur of her friend’s sweater and jeans. Olivia was dismayed; she didn’t know what to do. Maxi continued barking at the blur. Aaron stood in the doorway, flashlight burning and in hand. Suddenly everything froze, and the white wind disappeared. Michelle fell from the air, landing hard on the floor.
“Michelle,” Olivia ran to her friend’s motionless body. “Michelle!”
Aaron came up slowly behind her, kneeling by Michelle. He took her limp wrist in his hand, checking for a pulse. Nothing. He checked again. Still nothing. He couldn’t bare to look at Olivia who was coming to the solemn realization without him verbalizing it. He didn’t need to say anything; there wasn’t anything he could say. His voice had left him. Her sobs pierced the silence, and Aaron looked up to see tears streaming down her round, freckled cheeks.
Aaron stood with a new determination. The light. The ghost had fled from the light. He pulled Olivia and Maxi back into the great room. The fire offered not only warmth but light as well. It seemed to have some supernatural source. There were no logs in the hearth. Aaron found a few candelabras lying about the room and lit them from the fire.
“Here,” he said handing a smaller one to Olivia, who sat on the sofa, numb of all feeling. He went to one of the large windows. Glass shards lay in various sizes underneath his feet. The boards covering the window were held up in odd angles by rusted nails. The wood was old, damaged by years of weather; it wouldn’t hold up against much. He began clearing the window, using an old chair to disassemble the boards.
“Set the door on fire,” Aaron said in a firm clear voice.
“What?”
“It’s the only way. The fire will keep her away. She fled from the flashlight.” Olivia slowly rose and followed Aaron’s instructions. With the blaze started on the door, Olivia began putting her layers back on.
There was a loud shriek heard through the ceiling, causing Olivia to shudder. Aaron made a lap around the room setting the furniture and walls afire. If he was correct, the ghost of Hildegarde couldn’t stand to be with the light and they could escape through the window. If not, they were trapped in a burning room with a ghost who had a fixation on killing trespassers.
“Come on,” Aaron called waving for Olivia by the window he’d cleared. Maxi as dancing franticly at his heels. Olivia made one last look at the burning door now engulfed in orange-yellow flames before stepping onto the windowsill.
“NOOOOOOOOO!!” bellowed a voice so loud the walls shook violently.
Olivia lost her balance and fell forward into the cold snow. Maxi was next and already running in the direction of the cabin. Aaron landed softly beside Olivia and lifted her to her feet just as another loud shout echoed through the night air.
The two ran following Maxi. Only when they were both out of breath, did they stop. Several hundred yards had been put between them and the flaming Victorian house. Several hundred yards had been put between Olivia and her best friend. The snow had stopped falling, though three feet of fresh, cold crystals covered the ground. The clouds had passed revealing a beautiful dark blue sky spotted with thousands upon thousands of small, white dots.
The air was cold but still. Olivia fell face first into the snow, sobbing uncontrollably. Michelle was gone. Her dream from the night before came back to her mind, she cried harder. Aaron sat down beside her rubbing her back, trying to console her. She continued crying until no more tears would come, eventually sitting up and leaning against Aaron’s shoulder.
“Look,” Aaron said pointing to the horizon. East, just above the tops of the evergreens, Olivia spotted a small stripe of orange. They sat in silence, watching as that thin stripe grew thicker shinning light onto the trees and snow and brightening the sky to a beautiful blue.
A new day had begun. A new start at a new life. The sky was clear and so was the future. No more running; the two walked towards the sun, towards their new beginning.