Pittman Place Pt 2

The house stood quiet and still. Some door stood open, while others were closed. The shades were pulled in the upstairs sitting room and in the attic, one large round window allowed light to flood in.
On the second floor, a chair sat on its side. It had been turned over in a great rush a number of years ago and never righted again. Indeed, the house itself had fallen ill, never to be righted.
If such a form can be humanized, one can think of the house as a head.
The house watches, as eyes are wont to do, and percieves the world as it rushes by at a distance. It sees the children as they shuffle by and the cars as they speed through the neighborhood late at night.
The house has stood for many, many years, ever watching. It has spent too long watching the children shuffle and the cars race. It has seen rain and snow and clouds of dust and smoke. It has heard the screams of the women as their drunken husbands smash the plates and their feelings. It has seen children, abominatable spunk borne of their parents sleazy indescretions, hitting and hurting and killing the love and innocence inside others. The teens who fondle in cars, inhibitions and propriety vomited out of their innocuous love making. The house watches, the house sees. It sees these men and women, to sides of a coin. But this money is blood and shit and dirt. These men and women are killers and thieves and prostitutes. They think they are safe and unseen. They think their dark and selfish deeds are solemn secrets easily forgotten.
But the house never forgets. It always watches, but never, ever, forgets.
These goblins call it the Pittman Place. It knows this name, but it's known others before. All the different words and tongues and names amount to the same thing: the Bad Place.
But heads have mouths, do they not?
One can carry a metaphor too far, can suggest silly things like noses and ears and freckles, when the perceptions of a building are far different from our own. So before getting carried away, let me equate one final detail.
Even if the house lacks physical eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears, teeth, a tongue, or a brain; it yet still sees; yet still hears; yet still thinks; and is yet still hungry.
Jakob stood in the foyer. Moses watched him looking around. Moses was grinning hideously, but Jakob was too enthralled to notice.
“Quick, Jake! We gotta run if we're gonna get out.”
Jakob nodded and they started down the first hallway, Moses leading. They moved quickly, but Jakob saw the kitchen as they passed it. It looked dusty and empty, the appliances old and untouched. They raced passed a bathroom, a sad thing to see in an empty house. Jakob could only wonder for a moment why it seemed so before they came to stairs.
Moses began to stomp up as quick as a cat. Jakob was surprised. He realized then that he had never seen Moses run before. Jakob looked up at Moses from the bottom of the stairwell. He moves so fast, he thought.
“Are we really going up?” Jakob asked.
“Shh! We have to be quick!” Moses hissed.
Jakob looked for a moment back down the hallway, but started up once he heard Moses continue. He didn't want to be left alone. Not here, he thought, not now. He stopped for a moment at a window, it looked less bright for some reason. Jakob looked at the sky, masked behind clouds of dirt on the window pane.
Still Moses' feet continued.
Jakob hurried up the stairs after him. He rushed up to the second floor. When he crested the steps, he came to a long hallway with doorways on either side. Every door was closed. Moses? Jakob wondered.
He heard footsteps above him. Thuds traced the ceiling above him. His heart pounded and he turned to the next flight. His feet dashed up each step, so fast he feared they would catch at any moment and send him tumbling back down. He thought of his nightmares, but instead of running from some entity, he was chasing Moses farther inside the house.
His feet danced up the last few steps. There was no window in this stairwell and when he arrived at the third floor, it seemed very dark indeed. He stood once more on the top floor and listened the thud as his blood pushed itself though his ears. His face was hot and he was shaking, but he was trying to stay calm. Oh where's Moses, why did he run off and leave me? Jakob thought.
He stepped forward and his eyes adjusted slightly to the dark. He could see something dim at the end of the hallway, it flickered slightly.
“Moses...” Jakob meant to speak louder, but his voice came out hushed, barely moving passed his lips. The light flickered slightly. Jakob began to walk towards the flickering, and as he came closer, he saw it came from an open doorway. This comforted him, as all of the other doors were closed. Moses must be in there trying to scare me, Jakob thought. He told me stories about it and now he's gonna try and sneak up and scare me. Jakob tightened up at that, but he also smiled. Any minute now, he thought; waiting, hoping, for Moses to jump out so he could shout at him and stomp downstairs and go home.
He got closer to the door. That jerk, he thought. His shoes seemed to whisper in the carpet and he put his hand out. He grinned for a moment and shoved the door open. In his mind's eye, he saw Moses falling over and shouting at Jakob for outwitting him.
But he heard no shout. The door moved quietly open.
The candlelight leapt back from the open doorway and crowded around a desk and a figure. The figure was big, much to large to be Moses. Jakob was afraid, but not of ghosts or nightmare tiger. This looked like an adult, which meant he was probably in trouble. He felt a flourishing of hope and tried to step back quietly.
“Come in.”
The voice was deep and commanding, it riveted Jakob to his spot.
“Come in.” The voice repeated, louder this time.
Jakob stepped closer. He had a healthy enough interest in television to know that not every adult was nice to a child and that some of them were dangerous. These were ambiguously labeled: 'strangers'; but Jakob didn't think the man could harm him. He might be slower than Moses, but he could still out run any grown up. The light moved and the figure turned around.
The man was old, much much older than Jakob had expected. The face was lined and sunken. Jakob relaxed a little unconsciously, his body recognizing that this shell of a man was no threat. The skeletal face came more into view as the old man held the candle up to see who had come into the room. The eyes didn't glitter or shine, but sat glassy and dead in their sockets.
“Who are you?” The man said. His voice was so deep it seemed to shake the walls around them. It hit Jakob in the face like a cannon. He withered where he stood, sure of his guilt. The skeleton man waited.
“My name is Jakob.”
“It's not.”
Jakob wrinkled his brow. He looked at the old man. The man licked his lips. Jakob recoiled as the tongue darted out. The man's face had so many lines, so many harsh cracks. How old do you have to be, Jakob thought; to look like jerky?
“Where are you from, boy?”
“Just next door, I really should be getting home...”
Jakob waited, hoping the man would not acknowledge his guilt for entering a house without being first invited in. But I was invited! He thought. He suddenly thought of Moses. He looked around the room, but it was empty except for himself and the old man. The old man continued to look at him, he licked his lips once more.
“The boy next door, liar who won't tell me his name. Tell me boy, do you like tigers?”
“W-what?”
Jakob looked back at the old man. He felt a tremor of shock at the name the man had called him. He watched as the man carefully lifted himself from the chair, propping himself up with one hand. He turned his back to Jakob and set something on the desk. He looked over his shoulder at Jakob.
“Tigers, boy, look here!”
The man pushed himself away from the desk, leaving the candle. He stepped back, looking at Jakob. Jakob was bewildered. He looked at the man, then at the table. The candlelight shone brightly on the cover of a book the man had set down. The cover seemed a dazzling green. Jakob stepped forward towards the table to look at it. He watched the old man carefully as he moved closer. The man backed away to a distance that assured Jakob. Plenty of room, he thought. His hand touched the desk and he looked down. Oh wow, he thought.
The book was a bright jade that seemed to sparkle. Written in gold across the top was a title Jakob immediately recognized. The Rose Garden. He looked over at the man, who simply nodded. Jakob looked back at the book. He was amazed at the cover, the little designs worked into the title. He turned the cover over and almost gasped.
The Rose Garden
Jakob Merrill
His hand touched the paper. It caressed the page slowly before picking it up and flipping to the next. It was his words, everyone of them. He moved through the first parts, then stopped.
Chapter 2
He had never written a second chapter, he had only ever done a short story. He stared at the words and began to read.
The old man watched the boy. Silly stupid thing, already so engrossed. The man walked quietly to the door at the other end of the room. He closed it quietly. Little liar boy. So small and stupid. Just like his father and his mother before him and then inbred bastards that rubbed themselves together to make them. The boy would do, it thought. It was sick at the thought of taking in something like him, but its craving was too malicious for its deep prejudices.
It walked behind Jakob as he read. It shook its head and let the mouth fall slack. The mouth drooped, hanging open. The old man pulled at the drooping mouth, making it longer. It worked it faster and farther until the teeth touched the floor. It pressed them down into the carpet, driving the teeth in like nails. The old man nodded and the mouth shook like a curtain.
Jakob continued to read. Every sentence and phrase seemed to have come from his own head. It was a joy to see it on the page, printed. The joy of his thoughts and ideas put down so beautifully was a rush of ecstasy.
The old man looked at the boy and his legs began to extend. The teeth in the floor began to sprout up through the carpet. The now taller old man walked to one side of the room, its jaw trailing behind him. When it reached the wall, it pressed the side of the mouth into it, watching it morph into the wall as the floor had done. It looked at the boy for a moment. The boy stared into the pages, lost in the wonders contained there within. It looked at the book. The page was blank. It looked back at the boy and shook its head. Teeth followed the old man to the wall, hedging the boy off from the closed door. The teeth glistened and the carpet became damp with ectoplasmic saliva. The old began to stroll towards the other side of the room. It tried not to look at the boy, focusing on finishing its business so it could eat. The old man stopped.
Jakob blinked for a moment. He looked at the page. The words shook before him.
The old man looked around, its huge mouth shaking. Its arms stretched out longer, the fingers a foot long and sharpened like spears. The candle light dimmed. The old man, barely manlike any longer, looked back at Jakob, its hands extending out to grab him if he should turn.
The candle dimmed further and Jakob looked over at it.
“Sorry, buddy. Some other time.” Moses said.
The candle flared, illuminating Moses' face, a hideous smile draw across it. Jakob started to scream. Moses' face hung in the air, his body was elsewhere. The face seemed huge lacking the rest of the form, and a smile was drawn like a slash across it. A hand appeared, small like Jake's own, coming to rest on the table. The fingers curled around the candlestick.
Jakob heard a roar come from behind him. It seemed to come from the walls. It rang out from every where at once. Jakob's mind went numb with the noise. He looked at Moses', still floating before him. The grin was still there, but it seemed hot to him. Not that the face itself was hot, but that there was a hotness around the face giving it a mirage effect. Pain blossomed in his hand. He looked down at the book, his book, and saw the candle resting against the pages. The flame spread across the book. Jakob recoiled from it, cradling his hand. His pinkie was singed, but not badly.
The roaring continued. Jakob turned to look for the old man. Jakob actually screamed this time. The mouth ran along half the floor and then old man stood more than nine feet tall, towering over him. It had long spindly fingers as thick as broom handles, aiming at his face.
Jakob heard his own screaming as it echoed in his ears and it seemed to break his trance. He stepped quickly to his left as the fingers ran into the wall. They didn't press smoothly into them, but instead tore through the drywall and wood, leaving ragged holes.
I need his blood, it thought, I need it for the flames! I need it! I need it!
It roared again and Jakob dove for the far side of the room. Something moved by him which he couldn't see. He rolled over and looked up. The monster was trying to twist itself around to him. Some of it's fingers had broken off when it pulled them from the wall. Jakob saw that they were splintered like tree branches. Jakob saw what had rushed by.
In trying to turn itself, to pursue Jakob around the room, the monster had put its hand against the door. It pushed with this hand, the mouth it had sewn down so carefully tearing jaggedly from one side to the other.
But it did not tear entirely, and it was this that saved Jakob. The old man monster turned back to pry at the cheek stuck fast in the wall, taking its hand from the door. While it turned about to free itself, it saw the bonfire. The book had lit the desk which now sent fire shooting up the wall. It saw this and cried out shrilly. It threw itself toward the desk, the wall-implanted cheek tearing free, pulling part of the wall with it. It fell upon the desk, to smother it perhaps; instead, it send fire out in a wave to the corners of the room.
These sparks caught the carpet and the room began to fill with smoke.
Jakob rushed to the door, ignoring whatever carnage might be in the void behind him. He turned the handle, but the door wouldn't open. It had been driven into the jam by what ever it was and now it was stuck fast. He pulled and pulled, but it wouldn't budge.
“You owe me.”
Jakob looked around for a moment, his eyes starting to tear up from the smoke. He coughed and put his hand to the knob. He almost fell backwards onto the rows of teeth as the door swung inwards. Instead, he clung to the doorknob and pushed himself out into the hall.
He heard a another scream and a crash. Fresh heat buffeted the back of his neck and sparks flew around him. In his mind's eye, he saw the beast crashing into the door frame, blazing like a torch. He could not turn to face, but instead, Jakob fled down the hallway and the stairs.
There was a great crash as he reached the second floor as the beast sank through the floor bringing fresh flame to the ceiling. It looked at Jakob, whatever face it might have been lost in the fire storm. Jakob saw no eyes or ears, but new that it saw him. He saw something open, something like the ruin of a mouth.
“COME BACK BOY!” It bellowed.
Jakob turned his heels and put his foot to the last flight of stairs down. Smoke chased him and clouded everything. The window he had passed before was black, no light coming through. More and more heat swirled around him, even as he ran down the steps.
When he reached the bottom, he saw the bump as the beast pushed it's way through the second floor into the first. A hand groped, raking the walls with fire. Everything seemed very bright now. Jakob turned and flames tracing down from the ceiling. He looked away quickly and the window exploded outward. This frightened Jakob so much, he jumped forward. The flaming fingers swung quickly towards him and he fell to the ground to avoid them. All be one missed him, but this one struck him in the temple and sent him reeling. He felt more and more heat as the blood ran down his cheek.
He looked up just as the monster's head erupted forth, pushing a light fixture out of the way. It fell and shattered on the floor. Jakob looked at, then past it to the door. He looked back up as what once was the old man's eyes, just blank burning sockets now, stared down at him. He felt the house shake under him and the doors burst off their hinges. He started forward keeping to the wall. The hand came at him, quicker this time, but he threw himself out of the way. He land just in front of the door. The house rumbled all around him. Somewhere above him, he heard a bathroom mirror shatter. He put his hand on the door handle. It was warm, but not too hot for him to use. He turned the handle.
Nothing happened. He turned it again, pulling this time, and it came off in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending.
The house continued to shake. He heard rumbling and something thumped behind him. He looked over his shoulder. The monster had come all the way through this time. It stood, itself and the house, ablaze around it. He stared at Jakob and Jakob felt the utter contempt and hatred of the thing. Jakob's knees buckled and he leaned back against the door for support.
The thing opened what had been its mouth. It held it open and the mouth grew. Its hands stretched forth around the mouth. They reached out, growing sharper and longer, reaching for Jakob. Jakob slid down the door, away from the hands, but still the hands came. The mouth grew larger and larger, until...
“If you're in there get down!”
Suddenly the door shook in its frame. There was a crash and splinters flew everywhere. The door was pushed open, sending Jakob sprawling. Fresh air drafted in, cooling Jakob's hot face. The long hands stretched for Jakob as he lay there prone.
“What the hell!?” Someone cried.
Jakob felt someone grab his ankles and pull him out onto the porch. His shirt pulled up. Later, he would find small splinters stuck in his stomach. But as the cool outside air wafted gently over him, he didn't care about splinters or about the rose bushes that seemed to reach for him weakly as he passed. Instead, he looked up and saw what might be considered the face of the house. He saw it contorted, fire shooting from its eyes, its brow furrowed with rage.
Jakob couldn't help but watch as the house burned to the ground.