3.2.09 - The Cottage [Short Story]

I use to own this lake house in Michigan. It was beautiful, really, it was. We saw deer once. We were sitting on the steps and they came prancing by.

Did they have trouble getting up the road? It use to take so much effort to get our car up there. Every time we got to the top, we’d all cheer. Except for...Megan...

(At this point, the victim’s mother needed to take a break. We gave her a cup of water, and let her calm down. After five minutes, she began again.)

She was so terrified of that road, because once, when she was three, she was riding her tricycle out in front. I had gone inside to grab suntan lotion and when I got back, she was nearing the edge of the road. I remember the blare of a horn, one that shook the trees and with that, she began descending down the road into the street. Oh, how I screamed. I could feel each and every one of those eighteen wheels shaking the ground. Thomas (he 17 at the time) and Michael was 11, they heard my cries and ran after her. She had landed in a thorn bush. It took me hours to...to pull them...to get them all out.

Megan never liked the cottage like we did. She was sure it was unlucky. It wasn’t though, you know? It was where Jim proposed to me. It was where we spent our first night together as one, lying in our bed overlooking the Lake. I gave birth to my children there. Except for Megan. Coincidence I guess, right?

We got rid of the cottage ten years ago. 1998. Megan was thirteen years old, and we were up at the lake house celebrating her birthday. We placed balloons at the end of the road, and a sign that read “Happy 13^th Megan!” It was supposed to be a surprise party, right, but one of Megan’s friends gave it away.

Thomas wanted to take Michael to some new bar down the road and Jim didn’t want them driving home drunk, so he went along too. It was just me and Megan, talking about boys she liked at school, and what she wanted to do when she grew up. And she kept this notebook that I wish I had to show you, but she kept everything in there; doodles, stories, receipts, coupons... It was my idea for her to use it. I told her that one day she’d look back and cherish it. I wish I still had it.

(We asked the victim’s mother how she ended up leaving the victim alone.)

I didn’t have enough eggs for the cake, and I asked her if I could leave her home alone. The neighbor was so safe back then, we didn’t even lock the doors at night. She said it was fine, as long as Clapper got to stay in the house. I almost told her no, but I’m so glad I didn’t.

At the bottom of the road there was a car that passed, a black Dodge. I’ll never forget it...it had a long, jagged cut along the edge, like someone had ran a giant key across it. The man in there took a look at the sign. That didn’t really bother me; it was a pretty big sign. But then he took a look at me, and I swear I nearly vomited, like there was some aura he was giving off that just sickened me. I had to unroll the window to clear my head. As soon as he passed, I made my left turn.

He was still there...parked on the side of the road. He had no reason to park there, so I slowed down to make sure he was okay, to see if he stopped because we knew each other or something, but he stared at me, and smiled. His teeth were too yellow, too crooked to be friendly and hair was gray and stringy, he was so skinny; I could see the bones in his face.

(We asked the victim’s mother if she suspected the man would go after the victim)

Not right away. I kept driving, but little more than halfway to the store, I began to shiver. He had looked at that sign just before he parked. Then I turned my car right around.

I parked ran for the door and it was locked! It was never locked, so I knocked hard and called Megan’s name out, and I was sure she had been taken or dead or I don’t even know. But then she poked her head out of her upstairs bedroom window and I was gasping for air.

She said she was playing a board game when Clapper started barking at the window, just snarling. Megan looked out the window and saw a tall man, standing under the shadow of one of the trees, just staring at her, smiling the entire time. The dog barked again, and the man waved at her, just waved. She ran up to her bedroom and crawled under the bed with notebook and dolly, and she and she didn’t move until I came home. I told her that she should’ve called the police. I should’ve been loving her but I was so scared so I just yelled at her and the entire party ruined.

We never found him, and we had to sell the cottage because every sound was him, every smell was him. We took the couches and the tables, and just left everything for the sellers. It all felt so tainted.

She was so happy we were moving. She wouldn’t let me take anything. She wouldn’t even go back in the house. She just sat on the porch, Clapper’s leash around her arm, and waited for us to come out.

It’s him...I know it. Megan swore he had been following her ever since the incident. Once, she had her friends drive her home from the park because she swore she saw him sitting by the trees watching her. And just last years, she called me on her cell crying because she thought she saw him in the cereal aisle. And I told her she needed to move on. I told her she was delusional and I hate myself for that. I mean, how the hell could he have found her?

(Officer Bryant removed a tattered notebook from a sealed bag and placed it in front of the victim’s mother. She paged through it, visibly distressed.)

It’s...oh God...

(She closeed the notebook and began to cry. The officers attempt to comfort her, but to no avail.)

No one ever bought the lake house...because everyone who went up there complained of some stench, like some bum was shitting where ever he felt like. And they told me that the smell came from her bedroom.

She left it in there...I told her not to write any personal information, but...her address....

(The victim’s mother was unable to continue after this point. We confirmed that the victim was last seen leaving her house for a morning jog. We assured the victim’s mother that we’d find the perpetrator, then dismissed her.)