To grandmother's house we go.
I ride in the passenger's seat of my sister's silver jeep, luggage and boxes piled behind me. A small wooden cottage appears in the distance, surrounded by abundant wildflowers. Dreamy.
"Well, this is it." My sister, Ray, squints out the window, sunset casting her profile in gold. "Can't believe she left you her summer cabin. I'm jealous."
"Well, she
did
leave you twenty grand and a big-ass boat," I offer. "It's almost a ship, really."
"True." Ray gives me a bright wink. "Guess she loved me after all."
The jeep passes a bus stop, winds up the bumpy gravel driveway and parks. I exit the vehicle, stick my inherited key in the front door lock, and step inside to scan over my new home.
"It's beautiful!" I can't help but clasp my hands together in excitement, hearts bursting out my eyes. I twirl in the half-light.
"Uh..." Ray winces at the layers of dust, the creaking floorboards, the overall crumbling atmosphere of my humble abode. She crosses over peeling kitchen tile to the sink. The tap twists with a rusty squeak. Water trickles out sludge brown. "A bit of a fixer upper."
I shrug the obvious off. Already envisioning myself lounging on a cream-coloured sofa where there is now only a dumpy, stained loveseat, also encased in dust. "Just give me a few weeks and I'll turn this place around."
Ray snorts, tucking her short brown hair behind her ear. "Yes, you who has never lifted a hammer in your life."
"I've used one at least twice." Not well, but I'll try not to hit my thumb this time.
"Right." Ray shoots me a sly grin. "Well, I'm looking forward to witnessing that."
The sun has set. I flick on the nearest light switch and the single dangling bulb blinks ten times before it fully turns on, buzzing loudly. A mosquito hovers and I slap it dead between my hands. "Ew." It drops to the blue and white checkered floor, faded with age. "Good thing I brought citronella."
"I was going to leave you here, but I didn't realize how run down this place is," Ray frowns as she exits the kitchen, attempts to turn on other lights. None spark. "I can drive you to the nearest motel."
I spot a broom in the corner near the antique of a fridge. "Nah, I'll just give everything a good sweep." I squat to open the cupboard doors under the drippy sink and find a small bucket full of folded rags. "Perfect, I can dust. I've brought sheets and blankets. A big jug of water. Protein bars. I'll last the night." I turn to smile at Ray, now leaning against the kitchen island.
Ray sighs. "I dunno, Em. What if mice and rats come out of the woodwork?"
"You're way too overprotective." I rise, head hitting the counter with a dull thud. Forcing a tight smile, I clutch my scalp, eyes watering."I'll be fine."
Ray helps me empty her jeep of my things. Boxes pile in the foyer as I hum happily to myself, my sister offering me skeptical glances all the while.
"Welp." Ray's dark eyes give my ancient ruin another once-over. "Best of luck to you, sis. Call me if you change your mind."
"I will." I hug Ray close. "I love you."
"Love you too, Em."
Ray returns to her vehicle, retreating into the warm summer night. Leaving me standing alone on the rickety front porch, crickets singing in the honeysuckle air. The full moon emerging beacon-bright behind a wispy cloud. I breathe in deeply, the funniest electricity starting in my belly. Knees a bit wobbly, heart thrumming.
Intuition. Trying to tell me something, but what?
The first thing that pops into my head:
life is about to get a lot more wild, darling. Buckle the hell up.
*
Dusting doesn't seem promising under the flickering light of a single bulb. Luckily, I had packed candles before arriving. Wicks flare with the stroke of a match. A few glugs of bottled water in a bucket, my Grandmother's rags in hand, and I start my dusting party.
To say the dust is thick is an understatement. I'm soon having to wrap an extra shirt around my nose and mouth to prevent a coughing fit as I sweep. Thankfully, elbow grease pays off: hours later, after one final drag of a wet rag across the fireplace mantle, the ground floor is...well, not sparkling, exactly. But in a far better state than before.
"This will do nicely," I say to no one in particular. A part of me wishes I had a cat or dog with me now, someone to keep me company.
Then loneliness hits me with harsh force. I try to ignore it. Drape my clean sheets over the couch I have just beaten the dust out of, an unexpected cold draft hitting the side of my right arm. "Bit chilly for July." My voice echoes through the empty house.
The lightbulb flickers in tandem with candlelight. A breeze blows with a hissing shudder as moonshine streams through sheer lace curtains. The bedrooms on the upper floor still need to be cleaned so I've settled in the living room. I curl up on the couch cushions, cheesy romance novel in hand, the light of a nearby candle barely enough to read by.
I can't seem to focus on the words in front of me, an edginess building in my body. What was once a feeling of coziness has been replaced by fear.
The fear solidifies when a wolf howl fills the night: a mournful keening.
"No big deal." My fingers tighten around my book, nearly crumpling the pages. "We're close to the woods here. All sorts of wild animals about."
This thought is not comforting whatsoever.
Another howl. This time much nearer. In fact, it sounds like it's right on the property.
Curiosity gets the better of me, stronger than my fear. I grab the nearest candle and walk slowly to the open window, the screen a thin barrier between me and whatever creature is afoot.
I can't see much. The luminous full moon on display doesn't light up the shadows. Nor does it soothe. It's an eerie sight, turning my cottage in the countryside into a place of sinister fantasy. If I squint my eyes a little I can almost see figures in the trees, can imagine a multitude of fanged beasts hovering around the periphery.
Then, about ten feet from my window, a pair of gold eyes blink at me.
A scream catches in my throat, and I heave a step backwards. "What the fuck!"
I slam the candle on the wooden coffee table and hurl myself back to the couch, covers thrown over my head, breath shallow. The bay of the wolf echoes in my ears again, close enough to make my hair bristle.
"What are you even afraid of?" I whisper into the blanket. "It's not like a wolf can get inside."
Can he?
Or maybe it's a she. Either way, it still makes my stomach tight with anxiety.
Do wolf eyes always glow a gold so otherwordly?
The howling ends, the mystery subsides. Some time during the night I eventually blow out the candles and pass out. I wake up to the sun shining, birds singing, as if the horror that occurred last night was just a bad dream. Bones crack as I stretch out with a groan. My legs don't quite fit this couch, my ankles draping over the arm rest.
I lay there in a woozy haze, half-asleep. I decide to turn over and return to dreamland...
