The Other

She woke early before the alarm clock went off. Today was the day. There was no point affixing blame. Her soul jostled and then shaken to sweep the cobwebs away, she was terrified of what the coming day would bring.

The old wooden framed farmhouse was a wreck. The overgrown grass had already rejoined the woods that it had been carved out of. Rainwater seeped over the edge of the gunk filled gutters leaving little piles of sludge on the porch that stunk like raw sewage. The windows were broken out and looked like empty eye sockets and all the paint was peeling. All and all it looked like an advertisement for the Adam's Family B&B.

She stood on the porch and something rubbed against her arm. She pulled it away and felt a shiver go down her spine. She was alone now and she missed her family horribly. She tried to convince herself that it was just that it had been a cold Summer. A lot of cloudy days without the sun.

The scent of Old Spice for an instant hung in the air and it seemed to pass through her. Her Husband Sam had worn Old Spice. It was one of the things that had drawn her to him. It sounded funny now but back then she could have had a lot of guys. Oh, how she missed talking to him. He always seemed to know just what to do. There were times when she could feel him. It was pleasant while the summer last to think of him as watching over her. The nights though, it was the nights that scared her. They were so long and spirits grew restless and stalked the halls. The nights were when The Other came.

Suddenly she felt pressure on her chest like something was trying to squeeze the life out of her. She felt her feet lift off the porch and the horrid stench of death was all around her. “Sam!” She cried.

Immediately the pressure on her chest let up and she could feel the old wood porch beneath her feet again. She felt phantom lips upon the rim of her ear like a last dying breath, it spoke her name. “Helen,” it whispered.

A hoot owl called from the tree line and she cocked her head to listen as the barn door slammed shut with a bang! “It was Robby and with a shattered heart she rushed to the barn only to see him one last time. The pain of losing him and the guilt that she felt drained life away from her drop by drop.

She opened the door and a rope with a hangman's noose on it hung down from the rafters where she and Robby had frolicked in the hayloft. It was a message from beyond. Robby, her sweet, sweet boy wanted her to come to him and she wanted to, so badly. She was alone now and her loneliness

ate at her sapping her will to live.

She walked over to where the noose hung down and fitted it around her neck. She wanted to die, she so much wanted to be with Sam and Robby. She knew with all her heart they were waiting for her. Every single day got harder and harder to find a reason to keep on living. Then suddenly the smell of rotted flesh and a shadow fell upon her. “No!” She screamed as she undid the noose from around her

neck. She retreated from the barn back to the front porch. That was not Robby or Sam. That was The Other.

Suddenly the sweet smell of the rain soured in her nostrils as something large and terrifying moved past her knocking her aside. It went inside, opening the screen door and slamming it closed. Through the window she spied a shadow that fell across the glass and then was gone. There was an evil that had come to abide here and it wasn't those that had departed it was something dark, cold, and bone chilling. In robes of pure evil, it stalked her once happy home.

The interior of the house after all these years matched the exterior. They were both playgrounds for the dead. Things such as love, hope, and dreams had all died. It was now a circus of the fucking damned and she was left to lock up the tilt-a-whirl. A collection of plastic crap and heartache was all that was left.

She turned to go back inside and jumped when a face appeared out of the darkness. Its mouth was twisted in an agonizing scream but nothing came out. For the longest time it just stared at her, its body-less head just bobbing there in silent agony blocking her way.

She closed her eyes tight and it was gone when she opened them. She sighed in relief. But as she turned a headless figure appeared in an army uniform right in front of her. She stared in horror, her eyes as big around as saucers, as it slowly raised its arm and beckoned her to come. On the name tag in big black letters, it said “ROBBY.”

She dropped to her knees and pleaded, “please make it stop. Dear God in heaven, make it stop. Dear Lord we have reaped the joy that you have sown now grant them peace.” She whispered and then as after thought she added, “me too.”

Silently she prayed for herself not to stir once the ground had covered her. And please Lord do not let their spirits wander the earth and haunt those that they had loved in life. Put them at rest.”

The light in the kitchen flickered once, twice, three times. That was the amount of times Sam, her late husband would have flashed the lights when he wanted her to come in from the barn. He was always jealous of the time she spent with her horses, or for that matter, any time that wasn't spent with him. Secretly she had always felt that Sam was happy when Robby joined the army. That had meant one less rival for her attention.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she knew he was there she could smell a mixture of Butter Rum Mints and Old Spice. Suddenly the pots on the walls began to shake and a frying pan flew off the stove and landed on the floor. “What do you want?” She cried. “You're dead Sam, leave me be, give me some peace.”

The time that she had with Sam and Robby had been precious. Their perfect hours had gone so fast. Softly as she stood there a voice whispered in her ear. “Helen!” This time it was Sam and her heart was filled with joy. His scent was all over her inside and out and she knew such happiness. Then all of a sudden there was something else. Something hideous and evil that had never been alive. She felt its

claws rip Sam away from her. Its breath was foul like the breath of a beast and she felt hot like someone had opened the gates of hell.

Just then a chair slid back from the kitchen table and stopped right against her legs. “I don't want to sit down.” She cried as she started for the door. The door slammed shut in her face and the knob wouldn't turn it was like something with tremendous strength was holding it closed. Before she knew what was happening, she was slammed down in the chair. It hurt her down deep as the chair rocked back and forth threatening to fall over with her in it. Whatever it was it was right in her face its foul breath stunk of death, decay, rotted maggot infested meat. She felt just like she was facing death itself and her heart pounded in her chest. To her the joy of living had died with her son Robby in Vietnam. It had died the day he had been killed by a sniper while listening to a radio she had given him before he left. What haunted her every waking minute was that maybe if he hadn't been listening to that damned radio, he would have heard death pounding at his door. She bore the guilt of it and she shivered down to her bones but it had been a Cold Summer, right? That's what the weather man on the radio had said.

There was a funeral in her house and she could hear the beating of a single heart like a dirge as it echoed down the halls. Suddenly the dreaded thing was on her and in her. It was not life or death but a horrid distortion of both. An abomination in the eyes of God that was trying to suck her soul out of her body so it could hold her prisoner for eternity. Her mind felt numb as she slowly got to her feet. She fell backwards over the back of the chair as the demon flung the chair against the wall with such force that it exploded out in all directions. It overpowered her and then suddenly the stench was gone and all that was left was the scent of Old Spice as loving arms picked her up from the floor. When she looked up Robby smiled down at her like the day he had left for the army and told her, “I love you mom I'll be back before you know it.” He was only there an instant and then he and Sam disappeared.

Slowly she walked up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom. One thing she was sure of now was that The Other was attached to the sorrow in this old house. It was attached to the tragic events that had taken place here. Sam dying of lung cancer and Robby being killed in Vietnam it all was here. It was stalled here rotting and festering for eternity and she was the only thing keeping Robby and Sam in this Hell they were waiting for her.

She opened up the medicine cabinet and removed Sam's old straight razor. She filled the old iron tub with water and got inside. Once she was seated, she knew Sam and her sweet, sweet Robby were there waiting for her so she ran the razor's edge up the center of both arms. Suddenly she felt a chill like winter to her soul and her life's blood mixed with the water in the tub. Above her she heard the sweet sounds of the angels calling and the scent of Old Spice and she asked them just one question. “It has been a Cold Summer, right?”

THE END

Bio: Timothy Wilkie is a local hero in the Hudson Valley. From his music to his art and storytelling. He's an old hippy and a storyteller in the truest sense of the word. He has two grown sons and loves to spend time with them. His writing credits include Aphelion, Horror-zine, Dark Dossier and many more.

E-mail: Timothy Wilkie

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