The Hiker's House

[miralayh]

I don't normally write short stories. I write.....I guess it's called prose? I'm not even sure. But I wrote this based on a dream. It's also not finished, actually. I don't think I ever intend to. The ending is in my head, and a mystery to you. Mwahaha. I don't expect it to be good. But enjoy, lovelies~♥

I shouldn't have gone into those woods.


I had heard the legends. The myths. And to me, there was nothing more to it. Or was there? I was curious, as always, and there was nothing to satisfy that curiosity but to go to the very place that caused it. That house. That place that I fear may now be the death of me.


It started on a Saturday. I told my mother I was going out. 'Out' usually meant on a walk to the store, or over to my friends house down by the river, but today was different. I took the dog with me, even. Today I was hiking through the woods down on Old Georges Peak to find The Hikers House. The house that started the legend of all the disappearing hikers in the area of the gigantic woods surrounding it. Today, I was going on an adventure.


12:30 PM found myself and my dog, Gabriel, trotting down the river that runs through the road and into the woods. I would follow this for about half a mile, then a slightly visible trail would appear. Or so I was told. All in all, it would take me about an hour to get there on foot. And in these woods, foot was about all you could travel on. The sound of nature around me was both comforting and unnerving. It's always kind of frightening to be alone with nature. But little did I know, I was not alone. I was not.


It took me a little while longer than it should have to find the trail. The trail itself wasn't very easy to follow, it was hard to see and twisted violently every now and again, but I was glad to have the sound of the rushing river out of my ears. Something about it seemed almost taunting. Maybe I was already going mad, even then. After almost getting lost more than once, and having to stop and rest with Gabriel a time or two(He kept getting angry at the squirrels it seemed), I found myself in the clearing that led to the house.


I drank the rest of my water, the trepidation rising in my gut, and looked at the chimney rising over the trees. Here I was, finally, at the place that I had been dreaming about for years. I had always wanted to visit, knowing that it was only a walk over from my house. But I had been too...nervous? There had always been a feeling deep in me, telling me not to go. I guess it was fear, all of those legends, newspaper articles about disappearances and murders that had happened in these woods years ago. Now I was courageous, or so I told myself firmly, forcing myself to step forward, toward the house, pulling Gabriel along as he watched the house coming into view with alert.

There was only a screen door left for the front door. The house was run down, as expected, from years of wind and rain and whatever other abuse it had suffered. Oddly, no graffiti could be seen on the walls as I peered in from the outside. It was as if I was not the only one who had been too afraid to venture here before. 'C'mon, where's your sense of adventure' I told myself, gripping the handle of the door, forcing it open as it let out a long creak. I looked down at Gabriel and noticed how tense his eyes looked. "Do you feel it too?" It was if this was a place of haunted souls.


I stepped inside, but I could have sworn I heard another set of footsteps other than my own. Gabriel? Or ghosts. Hah. I was being silly. I was alone, with the forest. Alone, in this house. It still appeared as if someone had been living in the rundown little cabin, a bed with dirty sheets on it was seen in the middle of the room, tousled but still dry, looking as if they had been recently slept in. There were cups littered on a table, along with newspapers, and I stepped closer to them, not noticing the kitchen to my right. Gabriel sniffed around, not apparently liking what he smelled. Had someone been in here recently? I picked up a coffee cup among the others, this one modeled with a funny phrase on it. 'Wouldn't this be the most ironic souvenir to take home from a haunted house?' I almost laughed to myself, when I heard a noise, this one definitely not coming from Gabriel. I had no idea what it was, but knowing I was alone, and that was definitely not the house itself, all my courage flew from me and I decided to flee for the door.


I jumped back as I dropped the cup without thought, hitting something firm. When did Gabriel start barking? Terror rose in me, and I felt behind me with a hand..feeling another hand. With something in it. I suppressed what felt like a giggle and a scream, dropping my dog leash. "Shhh." A decidedly male voice whispered. Being too shocked to run, I instead stared at Gabriel in horror as I felt a quick pain go through my side. That's when I decided to run. But before I could, I felt two hands around my waist, holding me in place. I looked down as my vision started to go blurry, noticing a long, sharp knife held against my stomach in his left hand. Rather than worrying about myself, I prayed that Gabriel could get out before this man would kill him. I tried to tell him to run, but all that came out was a sloppy gurgle.

And here I am.

I awake to the smell of blood and the pain of ropes, or is it cord..wrapped tightly around me. I don't want to open my eyes, I'm afraid of what I might see. But I must, I know I must. So I do, and there is my dog, laying on the floor with blood around him. I try to hold back the tears, but I can't, Gabriel has been with me since I was a young teen. Who is this evil person, and what do they want with me? They couldn't
be the person responsible for the disappearances of the hikers, that was so many years ago. This person sounded so young. They couldn't be.


I wait, the ropes bruising me in places I forgot could be bruised. Will he ever show his face, or will he leave me to die here, staring at my dead, innocent friend. I hope my cheeks are dry now, I don't want to look weak in front of this killer. Of course, I consider, I probably looked weak when I passed out from whatever the hell he pricked me with. It still stung, even now. I wonder how long it has been when I finally hear a door, somewhere that sounds very far off, creak open. I hear footsteps for a long time before the door to the room I am in ever opens. And then I see my kidnapper.


He is very tall, and not particularly handsome(Which I note only because it is something I naturally do), but familiar in some way, like I have seen him before. And young, probably only a few years senior to my humble age of 22. His face is very dark, like a shadow is looming over it, and I am once again not only terrified, but curious. Who is this man? Why is he doing this? Is he living here? There are so many questions I have, and though I am scared out of my wits, there is a part of me that has retained every sense of alertness to it that I usually carry. “Hello, Abigail.”


“You know my name?” I ask, trying not to show the tension in my voice.


He sits on his knees and stares at me with amusement. “Of course I do. It isn’t hard to place a name to a face in a small area like this. Community colleges and the few places around here that offer jobs. You’d be surprised how little time it took me to track down who you are and where you live.” He smiles, almost politely, but there is something sinister under it.


He wouldn’t. He has me, he doesn’t need them. “Please..I’m sorry if I intruded into your..house. It was me, it wasn’t anybody else. Leave them be. You’ve done enough.” I gulp at the look on his face and try to look away, unsuccessfully. The dead eyes of Gabriel flash in my mind, and I hold back a scream, knowing what he could do to them. But what could he do to me?


“I think you know the answer to that.” He says calmly. I shiver, wondering if he has read my mind, but of course, he is simply responding to what I just said. Is he trying to intimidate me? Is my family in danger..I need to warn them, somehow. But I can’t even get out of these ropes, much less get away from this man. If he does do something to them, I will never be able to forgive myself. I finally get the strength to look away from him, back to my dead dog.


“You won’t.” I say firmly. “I won’t let you.”


The nameless man chuckles at my reckless bravery and I hear him stand up. I watch him walk over to him dog and pull a knife out, the knife he held to me earlier. He thoughtlessly taps it on my head and walks to the door, opening it.


“You’ll change your tune. It’s them, or you.”


I don’t see the man for 3 days. At least, I think that’s how long it’s been. Time doesn’t seem to move the same trapped inside a room with no windows, your only thoughts of how long you and/or possibly your friends and family have left. The ropes burn and itch against my skin and the only nourishment I have is the rain that falls through a crack in the ceiling on the second day. Gabriel begins to rot before long, and I can’t sleep with the stench and the footsteps I hear that keep me alert at every second.

When I finally hear him coming this way, I can tell he is not alone. He is dragging something, someone, along with him. And then, he walks away again, and drags something else towards the door. Then he opens it, and I let out a scream.


There, in the doorway, are my two best friends, Maggie and Keith, from the restaurant in town that we work at. They seem to have their hands behind their backs, and appear slightly groggy. Maggie looks like she wants to scream as well, and as her eyes meet mine I can see the terror. “Abigail, you know no one can hear you out this far, why are you even trying?” The man’s hair is disheveled, and he looks slightly manic as he drags them inside. I should do something, reply back to him sarcastically so he turns his attention towards me, start screaming again, anything to make him mad at me. But I can’t, not when I’m finally seeing him for who he is. He is no longer the man. I remember why he looked so familiar now.


He was one of the hikers who disappeared 20 years ago.


Jacob Hanley, 7 years old when he was out hiking with his older brother, Daniel Hanley, 15, and his Grandfather, Thomas Benson, 58. They were last seen by Benson’s wife at approximately 11 AM that morning, before they went out hiking. When a search party was sent out, all they could find was a backpack the Grandmother said was taken by the older boy. Two weeks later, the body of Thomas Benson was found in the river. But the bodies of Daniel and Jacob Hanley were never found. I had researched it, of course, like every other disappearance over the last two decades. It had been a passion of mine for as long as I could remember. And I had seen that face. Much younger, but still the same. And now, here he was. But who had he become?


I come back to reality as he drags my friends over to a tarp in the corner of the room.


“J-Jacob..” I let out shakily. “You don’t have to do this.” He seems to stop, turning the head at the sound of his name. There is a long pause as he looks at me queerly.


“So you know my name.” He says shortly, turning back to Maggie now and dragging the knife along her collarbone. She lets out a loud gasp. I giggle inappropriately, feeling myself going mad at the situation I’m in.


“I..I think. I’ve researched all of the disappearances over the years. I recognize you.” I say quietly.


“I’m not surprised. When I talked to your family, they expressed how interested you were in the local history. Smart girl, they said.” He laughs. “Every proud parent always seems to say that about their kids. Little do they know that that the curiosity that comes along with intelligence really does get you killed.”


Jacob takes the knife he has and drives it into the wooden floor. “So here’s how it’s going to be. Them or you, Abigail. Choose quickly, I’m impatient.”


“Me.” I say quickly, without thinking. Of course it has to be me. I can’t let my friends die some horrible death. Not when I got myself into this mess. But...Do I really mean it? Am I such a martyr? Am I really willing to die for them...Or am I just saying this to save myself some twisted feeling of regret. Redemption. I look down, but I know he’s smiling at me.


I hear him take the knife out of the floor. “Jacob….”
“I know. There was never any really choice. But I’ll give you one chance. Don’t look up, and I won’t cut out her tongue.”


“W-What?” I clench my hands, feeling sweat trickle down my spine. ‘Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up, Don’t look up.’ But I hear Maggie scream so loud, it shakes my eardrums, and I can’t even think.


I look up. And he grins. It is the most horrifying thing I have ever seen.


And then there is only blood. More blood. And I see her tongue lying on the floor. And I scream too. And all thought is gone, only panic, and worry, and regret that I am such a coward.


“I change my mind!” I scream. “Stop! No more! Please...Please…”


And then he slits her throat, and I can only stare at her as the life drains out of her, and that blood...And at him. Jacob, oh Jacob. What happened to you. I am so happy that Keith is still too out of it to notice what is going on around him, and I pray he will have mercy on him. But I know I am praying in vain by what I see in those eyes. He is whispering with them, letting me know that I have made a mistake, that I have thrown it all away...Just like he did.


Just like...He did.


“Look at me.” Jacob says. “Keep looking, and don’t look away.” I have been looking, and that’s the problem. I haven’t noticed a thing but those eyes since he killed one of my best friends. I haven’t noticed Keith, finally coming out of his stupor, looking at Maggie with horror and trying to get out of the ropes behind his back. I haven’t noticed the hammer now in Jacob’s hands.


“You look at me, and you don’t look away. Don’t even blink. Look, and I swear, I won’t kill him.” I gulp. But this time, I will do what he says. I will not look away. I will not blink. I will not fail my other friend. I promise myself. So I stare into those dark, soulless eyes, and I do not falter.


“Good” He says, after a minute or so. My eyes are tired, I am so close to blinking, but I will not. I will not. “One more second. One more...You’re done. He’s safe. He’s.” Then his face turns sinister again, and he turns to Keith, and before Keith or I can even register what he’s even doing or holding in his hand, he takes a hammer to my last, closest friends head.


I cry out, looking away and trying to put myself in a fetal position as I hear the loud, cracking, squishing sounds of his head being bashed in. The bile rises in my throat, and though there is barely a thing to throw up, I find myself dry heaving and vomiting what little is there. Tears form in my eyes.


“Why...Why...Won’t you just kill me..” I say when it’s finally quiet.
“I’m not finished with you. And neither are you.” He states calmly, wiping the blood from his face.


“Do you think they wanted to die, huh? Did you ever think of that?” I let out shrilly.


He sighs. “It’s not about them, it’s about you. You need to learn your lesson. Now get over here, I want you to use their blood to draw something for me. I want you to draw the world as you see it.”


I look at him and then I look down at my condition, shaking my head. “Uh. I’m wearing ropes, dumbass, how am I supposed to get over there.” Jacob grabs his knife, and for a moment I’m both afraid and relieved. Is this the end of this charade? But no, he simply comes over to untie me.


“There. Get to work.”


He leaves the room, leaving me alone with now three dead corpses. Is he just going to leave me here forever, starving, alone with the rotting bodies of everyone I love? I feel so much hatred towards this man right now, I can’t even cry. I’m too weak at this point to walk over to the my dead friends, bruises and lack of food and water, so I crawl on my knees, wearing a makeshift cloth dress he must have put me in when I was passed out, probably to make sure there was no way I could use anything I had on me against him. There is so much blood, I don’t know how he expects me to make anything out of this. Yet there is something I want to express to him,so I write and wait. But that isn’t the only surprise I have for him.


He comes back in about a half hour later, with a plate of food, not much, but something to sustain me. Then he looks over at what I’ve written on the tarp and sets it down harshly on the counter. “So that’s what you think of me, huh?” I have written in big, bold letters in the blood of my two best friends “MURDERER.”


“Yes, and for that you have to pay.” Then I throw the hammer he left behind earlier at his face as hard as I can and run out the door he left open.


I hear him groan, but I know even if I wounded him he will catch up to me quickly. And he does. “So you really do want to die, don’t you?” He says, his calm facade gone at last in front of me. He drags me back to the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a gun. I gulp as he shoves me down onto the tarp and sits on me, putting the gun to my forehead.


“Do it then. End your life, if you’re so brave.” The only thoughts in my mind is how tired I am, and how easy it would be...And how, oddly, I feel slightly grateful towards him for not making me hold the gun. Then I take my hand and pull the trigger.


Nothing happens.


“No bullets…?”


He laughs at me, putting the gun down to his side. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”