THE HOUSE
|
|
CHAPTER ONE - EXCERPT
One hundred feet below the craggy cliffside, the sun's reflection glinted off the dorsal fin of a great white as it broke the surface of the water. Perched atop the jagged bluff, House watched the dark shape swim deliberately toward the outcropping of rocks a few yards from shore, where several elephant seals had gathered. A young pup, lying near the edge beside its sleeping mother, curiously eyed the creature moving beneath the current.
The bitter February wind that had been ravaging House throughout the morning abruptly changed direction, forming choppy whitecaps on the crest of the waves.
The mother seal lifted her head, and—upon catching the scent of danger in the foamy spray—rose from the rock and began maneuvering her bulky frame across the uneven stones. Spotting the giant fin, the tip of which towered nearly half a fathom above the water, she nudged her pup backward and began to bark. Within moments, a dozen blubbery necks were bobbing up and down in unison, each one emitting the same panicked alarm.
Undeterred, the shark continued to circle the rocks in the hopes that its favorite meal would enter the water out of fear…yet driven solely by hunger, its patience soon gave out, and with a flick of its massive tail, turned and began swimming north toward the pier that lay a mile up the coast, for this time of day the ocean churning beneath it would be teeming with chum-laced hooks from eager fishermen, providing far easier prey for the shark to catch.
As the fin disappeared into the depths, the sun’s rays fell across House’s siding, causing the nest of yellowjackets that had taken refuge for the winter under its weathered clapboards to begin to stir. With a constant hum, the workers’ mandibles incessantly scraped back and forth along the wood, irritating House to the point that it found itself wishing it could crush every single one of them, or—at the very least—separate their wings from their jerky little bodies.
Incapable of doing either, however, House sullenly returned its attention to the sea.
The mother seal was now sprawled out on the rock; sporting deep, jagged scars that marred her sleek brown skin, she held her pup tight against her as it nursed. This was her fifteenth visit in as many years to Echo Point, but her first as a mother, and although most of the colony had already departed, she seemed reluctant to leave…for doing so meant abandoning her baby, who had been born without a right front flipper.
House let go of a small sigh, sending a cloud of soot rolling out of its crumbling chimney. There were times that the magnificence of nature could be overshadowed by its cruelty. After protecting, caring for, and feeding their newborns, the elephant seals would rise from the narrow strip of beach which had served as their home for the past four weeks and begin making their way back to the sea, leaving their pups—who were yet unable to swim—to fend for themselves.
House watched the waves as they crashed against the rocky shoreline. It was desolate—except for the half-eaten corpse of the pup who had frantically followed its mother into the ocean yesterday. Crying after her in a high-pitched bawl, House could still see its tiny flippers flailing helplessly about as the swells washed over its head.
The sound of hammering, mixed with low voices, sent House’s gaze swerving to the Victorian next door. Nestled on a grassy knoll near the cliff's edge, construction workers were crawling all over it like ants as they rushed to finish putting up the vinyl siding on its south side. A stocky foreman with a grizzled beard stood on the ground below, restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he spoke with a young couple.
“How much longer?” the woman asked, her tone as demanding as the expression carved into her face.
“Well, it’s like I explained to you over the phone, ma’am. We fell behind because of all the rain, but now that the weather’s clear, it shouldn’t take long for us to get back on schedule.”
The woman’s hands shot to her hips, causing her husband, who was standing beside her, to cringe. “That’s not an answer,” she snapped, her long blonde hair whipping across her shoulders as she shook her head. “Our condo is in escrow, and the buyers want to take possession at the end of the month, which means we need to move out before then. So what I need from you, Tom, is a date—no ‘maybe this week or next week’—but an actual, certifiable date to go off of.”
Lifting his chin, the foreman scratched his neck, leaving a trail of red along his throat. When he had finished, he glanced down at the clipboard he was clutching and slowly parted the two rigid lines serving as his lips. “I’ve got the cabinet installers, plumber, and tile guys all coming this week. The interior should be finished by next Monday, but keep in mind that there’s still a lot to do on the outside. You’ll have to put up with the noise while we work.”
A lively melody sprang from the woman’s yoga pants, momentarily interrupting her condescending glare. “Well, that’s not an ideal situation,” she said, yanking her cell phone from her flowery waistband, “but I guess we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”
The foreman opened his mouth to reply, but she silenced him with a finger before pressing the phone to her ear. “Marcus, hi! … Thanks for calling me back,” she said, swatting at a fly as she started down the hill toward her SUV. “Did you get the pics I sent of the house?”
Mumbling a hurried goodbye to the foreman, the husband picked up his feet and trotted after her like an obedient puppy.
“Yeah, it really is a blank canvas for you to landscape,” the woman continued, plucking her sunglasses from the top of her head as she descended the embankment. “But my main concern…” Slipping the shades over a set of cheekbones that jutted from her pale skin like shards of glass, she paused to throw a sideways glance at House. “…is that you do something to hide that monstrosity of an eyesore next door.”
A surge of heat swept through House’s ducts, crowding its gaze with a reddish-brown hue as particles of dust and grit escaped from its rusted vents.
“Listen, Marcus,” she continued, opening the door to her SUV, “I’ve got to run. Just email me your plans, and I’ll call you later.”
House watched the woman and her man-pet pull out onto the road before looking back at the Victorian. The workers had finished the side and were in the process of moving the scaffolding to the front, giving House an unobstructed view of its new neighbor.
Pushing itself up on its sinking foundation, House sucked in a breath of salty air through the gap underneath its backdoor. “Good morning,” it uttered, then waited. Although they were only separated by thirty yards and a wrought-iron fence, House repeated the greeting just in case…yet the bright yellow dwelling with its ornate wooden carvings and white wraparound porch remained silent.
House’s floorboards creaked as it sank back against the cornerstone. There were two other homes within shouting distance on the other side of the small inlet, yet it saw no point in trying to engage them, for the result was always the same. Although House had no recollection of the exact moment it had come into being, it had existed on this ever-changing landscape of rock for more years than it cared to remember, and during that time, had stubbornly come to the slow and painful realization that they were never going to answer.
Approaching footsteps interrupted House’s thoughts. Pushing its misery aside, it looked toward the front yard. A man House had never seen before came bounding up its porch steps. He crossed over the water-logged planks, each one groaning beneath his weight, and wrapped a set of thick knuckles around the handle of its door.
House began to tremble with excitement, making the windowpane beneath its gable vibrate.
The man twisted the knob back and forth. When that failed to produce any results, he shoved the tip of his loafer against the tarnished kickplate, causing House to grimace as the door’s steel latch slammed against the brittle casing surrounding it.
Appearing satisfied, the man reached into his pocket and retrieved a key; it was the color of dull copper and bent at the tip…and for just the briefest of moments, House ceased to breathe as it anticipated feeling the familiar metal grooves slip inside its lock. As the seconds ticked by, House took the opportunity to study its new owner. Average in height, the man had a full head of thick dark hair combed neatly into place, a close-shaven beard covering a rounded chin, and a pair of eyes that looked like a couple of chestnuts floating in a black pond, yet it was the small titanium band circling his finger that garnered House’s interest, for it brought with it the promise of another, not to mention the thrilling possibility of children.
It had been years since tiny voices had echoed throughout House’s walls, and it found itself yearning to hear the pitter-patter of bare feet running across its floo—a click followed by a jerk made House look down. A long black box with a keypad was now firmly locked around the handle of its door.
Whistling under his breath, the man stepped off the porch and made his way over to his car, where he popped open the trunk. House watched in bitter silence as he drove a large For Sale/Rent sign into the ground. After pausing to wipe the tops of his shoes, the man slipped behind the leather steering wheel of his shiny BMW and gunned the engine, sending up a spray of muddy gravel as he peeled away.
The bitter February wind that had been ravaging House throughout the morning abruptly changed direction, forming choppy whitecaps on the crest of the waves.
The mother seal lifted her head, and—upon catching the scent of danger in the foamy spray—rose from the rock and began maneuvering her bulky frame across the uneven stones. Spotting the giant fin, the tip of which towered nearly half a fathom above the water, she nudged her pup backward and began to bark. Within moments, a dozen blubbery necks were bobbing up and down in unison, each one emitting the same panicked alarm.
Undeterred, the shark continued to circle the rocks in the hopes that its favorite meal would enter the water out of fear…yet driven solely by hunger, its patience soon gave out, and with a flick of its massive tail, turned and began swimming north toward the pier that lay a mile up the coast, for this time of day the ocean churning beneath it would be teeming with chum-laced hooks from eager fishermen, providing far easier prey for the shark to catch.
As the fin disappeared into the depths, the sun’s rays fell across House’s siding, causing the nest of yellowjackets that had taken refuge for the winter under its weathered clapboards to begin to stir. With a constant hum, the workers’ mandibles incessantly scraped back and forth along the wood, irritating House to the point that it found itself wishing it could crush every single one of them, or—at the very least—separate their wings from their jerky little bodies.
Incapable of doing either, however, House sullenly returned its attention to the sea.
The mother seal was now sprawled out on the rock; sporting deep, jagged scars that marred her sleek brown skin, she held her pup tight against her as it nursed. This was her fifteenth visit in as many years to Echo Point, but her first as a mother, and although most of the colony had already departed, she seemed reluctant to leave…for doing so meant abandoning her baby, who had been born without a right front flipper.
House let go of a small sigh, sending a cloud of soot rolling out of its crumbling chimney. There were times that the magnificence of nature could be overshadowed by its cruelty. After protecting, caring for, and feeding their newborns, the elephant seals would rise from the narrow strip of beach which had served as their home for the past four weeks and begin making their way back to the sea, leaving their pups—who were yet unable to swim—to fend for themselves.
House watched the waves as they crashed against the rocky shoreline. It was desolate—except for the half-eaten corpse of the pup who had frantically followed its mother into the ocean yesterday. Crying after her in a high-pitched bawl, House could still see its tiny flippers flailing helplessly about as the swells washed over its head.
The sound of hammering, mixed with low voices, sent House’s gaze swerving to the Victorian next door. Nestled on a grassy knoll near the cliff's edge, construction workers were crawling all over it like ants as they rushed to finish putting up the vinyl siding on its south side. A stocky foreman with a grizzled beard stood on the ground below, restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he spoke with a young couple.
“How much longer?” the woman asked, her tone as demanding as the expression carved into her face.
“Well, it’s like I explained to you over the phone, ma’am. We fell behind because of all the rain, but now that the weather’s clear, it shouldn’t take long for us to get back on schedule.”
The woman’s hands shot to her hips, causing her husband, who was standing beside her, to cringe. “That’s not an answer,” she snapped, her long blonde hair whipping across her shoulders as she shook her head. “Our condo is in escrow, and the buyers want to take possession at the end of the month, which means we need to move out before then. So what I need from you, Tom, is a date—no ‘maybe this week or next week’—but an actual, certifiable date to go off of.”
Lifting his chin, the foreman scratched his neck, leaving a trail of red along his throat. When he had finished, he glanced down at the clipboard he was clutching and slowly parted the two rigid lines serving as his lips. “I’ve got the cabinet installers, plumber, and tile guys all coming this week. The interior should be finished by next Monday, but keep in mind that there’s still a lot to do on the outside. You’ll have to put up with the noise while we work.”
A lively melody sprang from the woman’s yoga pants, momentarily interrupting her condescending glare. “Well, that’s not an ideal situation,” she said, yanking her cell phone from her flowery waistband, “but I guess we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”
The foreman opened his mouth to reply, but she silenced him with a finger before pressing the phone to her ear. “Marcus, hi! … Thanks for calling me back,” she said, swatting at a fly as she started down the hill toward her SUV. “Did you get the pics I sent of the house?”
Mumbling a hurried goodbye to the foreman, the husband picked up his feet and trotted after her like an obedient puppy.
“Yeah, it really is a blank canvas for you to landscape,” the woman continued, plucking her sunglasses from the top of her head as she descended the embankment. “But my main concern…” Slipping the shades over a set of cheekbones that jutted from her pale skin like shards of glass, she paused to throw a sideways glance at House. “…is that you do something to hide that monstrosity of an eyesore next door.”
A surge of heat swept through House’s ducts, crowding its gaze with a reddish-brown hue as particles of dust and grit escaped from its rusted vents.
“Listen, Marcus,” she continued, opening the door to her SUV, “I’ve got to run. Just email me your plans, and I’ll call you later.”
House watched the woman and her man-pet pull out onto the road before looking back at the Victorian. The workers had finished the side and were in the process of moving the scaffolding to the front, giving House an unobstructed view of its new neighbor.
Pushing itself up on its sinking foundation, House sucked in a breath of salty air through the gap underneath its backdoor. “Good morning,” it uttered, then waited. Although they were only separated by thirty yards and a wrought-iron fence, House repeated the greeting just in case…yet the bright yellow dwelling with its ornate wooden carvings and white wraparound porch remained silent.
House’s floorboards creaked as it sank back against the cornerstone. There were two other homes within shouting distance on the other side of the small inlet, yet it saw no point in trying to engage them, for the result was always the same. Although House had no recollection of the exact moment it had come into being, it had existed on this ever-changing landscape of rock for more years than it cared to remember, and during that time, had stubbornly come to the slow and painful realization that they were never going to answer.
Approaching footsteps interrupted House’s thoughts. Pushing its misery aside, it looked toward the front yard. A man House had never seen before came bounding up its porch steps. He crossed over the water-logged planks, each one groaning beneath his weight, and wrapped a set of thick knuckles around the handle of its door.
House began to tremble with excitement, making the windowpane beneath its gable vibrate.
The man twisted the knob back and forth. When that failed to produce any results, he shoved the tip of his loafer against the tarnished kickplate, causing House to grimace as the door’s steel latch slammed against the brittle casing surrounding it.
Appearing satisfied, the man reached into his pocket and retrieved a key; it was the color of dull copper and bent at the tip…and for just the briefest of moments, House ceased to breathe as it anticipated feeling the familiar metal grooves slip inside its lock. As the seconds ticked by, House took the opportunity to study its new owner. Average in height, the man had a full head of thick dark hair combed neatly into place, a close-shaven beard covering a rounded chin, and a pair of eyes that looked like a couple of chestnuts floating in a black pond, yet it was the small titanium band circling his finger that garnered House’s interest, for it brought with it the promise of another, not to mention the thrilling possibility of children.
It had been years since tiny voices had echoed throughout House’s walls, and it found itself yearning to hear the pitter-patter of bare feet running across its floo—a click followed by a jerk made House look down. A long black box with a keypad was now firmly locked around the handle of its door.
Whistling under his breath, the man stepped off the porch and made his way over to his car, where he popped open the trunk. House watched in bitter silence as he drove a large For Sale/Rent sign into the ground. After pausing to wipe the tops of his shoes, the man slipped behind the leather steering wheel of his shiny BMW and gunned the engine, sending up a spray of muddy gravel as he peeled away.