CHALDON’S BONES
Robert S. Wilson
Robert S. Wilson was born in Bloomington, Indiana during the blizzard of '78. His first taste for horror came from watching episodes of The Twilight Zone and the stories his mother told him of a supposedly haunted house his family once lived in. He is the author of Shining in Crimson, book one of his dystopian vampire series: Empire of Blood. His novella, The Quiet, appeared in the anthology Not in the Brochure: Stories of a Disappointing Apocalypse. He is currently working on book two of the Empire of Blood series and is co-editing the anthology, Horror for Good: A Charitable Anthology. Robert lives in Middle Tennessee with his wife and two kids and spends most of his time wondering where all the time went.
***
Halloween was my favorite night of the year until the fall of '96. I hadn't seen my buddy Jeremy in over a year when he called me that afternoon. He said he had a night of horror all planned out for us. He showed up that night around 9 in an old black boxy van with two guys I'd never seen before.
One was short, heavy set with blond hair down to his chin and a blond beard, and kind of resembled Chris Farley. The other guy had long red hair pulled back into a pony tail, was dressed all in leather, and I found myself unable at first to look away from the black teeth behind his impish smile.
Both of them looked like they hadn't showered in weeks.
Jeremy slid open the side door of the van and jumped out straight for me. He gave me one of those hip backwards handshakes that look more like you're arm wrestling. "Hey, duder, come meet the guys. This is Rick..."
"Hey," the Chris Farley look-a-like said.
"...and this is Darrell."
"What's up, man?" The impish smile grew and even more black teeth showed.
"Hey guys, nice to meet you. What the hell's going on, Jer?"
"Get your shit and get in the van and you'll find out, bro."
Once I got my smokes and my wallet, I climbed into the side of the van and sat down behind the bucket seats on the floor next to Jeremy. Jeremy reached across, slid the door shut, and the van peeled out of my gravel driveway.
As the van shook us around, Jeremy opened up a blue cooler sitting on his other side, pulled out 2 Budweisers, and handed me one. We clinked the necks of the bottles together and Jeremy said his toast.
"To a horrible, frightening night with good friends."
Rick Farley howled like a wolf as Captain Black Teeth beat his fists against the dash. Jeremy and I guzzled our beers. I couldn't see much out the windshield, but I could see enough trees to realize we weren't going into town. Instead, we ventured deeper and deeper into the wooded countryside.
A few more beers and scary shows of excitement from Jeremy's other friends and we arrived at our first destination.
I stepped from the van, my feet crunching in gravel, and noticed the house at once. It was huge and obviously abandoned. It seemed to hover over us, its second floor windows narrow and watching, waiting for us to come closer. Its once-white paint was now completely faded and flaking and the porch had sunken in some years ago. I've never had a stronger feeling of dread toward an inanimate object. Rick took the lead, waving us to follow.
Darrell went next, and Jeremy and I followed.
"They call this The House of Bones," Rick said.
Darrell called ahead to Rick, "What the hell for?"
"How the hell should I know? Hey, maybe there's some bodies in here,"
he said stopping and looking back at us with an exaggerated sadistic expression. He laughed and turned back toward the house.
Fenced-in fields of neatly rowed, dark yellow corn stalks surrounded both sides of the huge yard. The darkness between those rows of corn gave me chills as I kept imagining movement within them from the corner of my eyes. Even as dark as it was, brightly colored leaves of yellow, brown, and orange covered the ground demanding our attention as we walked toward the house.
Rick stepped onto what was left of the porch. The movement of shadows on the wall of the house gripped and squeezed my heart. The tall outline of a man with long thin arms turned out only to be the shadow of a tree. I took a deep breath and let it out quietly so the guys wouldn't think I was a pussy.
"Oh, wow. That's so fuckin' cool!" Rick said as he stepped into the partially open door. I stepped experimentally onto the porch and leaned a little to try and see what Rick thought was so great.
Stepping from one board to another like stepping on stones in a creek, I made my way up to the front door.
"Oh that is pretty killer, man," Jeremy said.
Rick held a flashlight over his head and pointed downward. The beam illuminated a large rundown piano covered in several layers of dust. He ran his other hand down the keys and various out-of-key notes played. A bunch of the keys were cracked or busted.
When I stepped into the house, I noticed a large Victorian stairway behind Rick. I pointed to it. "What's upstairs?"
Rick laughed and said, "Let's go see, man."
So, we followed Rick up the stairs. About half of the steps were caved in and the other half felt like a thick cardboard. All along the walls were drawings and writing I couldn't quite make out with the little bit of bouncing light coming back from Rick's flashlight.
When we were all at the top of the stairs, we came to a huge bedroom just to the left. Inside, things were scattered everywhere. A bed lay at the end of the room, its mattress and box springs pulled from the base and sprawled out along side it. A dresser lay on its side in the middle of the room and clothes and blankets covered the entire floor.
Rick shined the flashlight on the walls. "What's that?"
Writing like I had just seen going up the stairs covered the entire wall.
Each small section had different handwriting. Some of them were marked with dates and years.
Jimmy was here and he fucked your mom in this room! February 12th 1962
If you're reading this it's already too late... Trevor May 1976
For a good time you won't forget, call Jannette 765-653-2997
Whatever you do, don't go digging up Chaldon's bones! - Leonard January 1944
We stood there reading writings on the wall for several minutes before we decided to move on. The rest of the upstairs didn't seem nearly as interesting to us. A collective uneasiness was coming over us by that time and it wasn't long before we were stepping right back through that front door. But Ricky wasn't ready to leave quite yet. When Jeremy and I stepped outside, the two other guys were nowhere to be seen.
We circled around looking for where they might have gone. The van looked lonely sitting in the long gravel driveway with the moon morphed into a halo of clouds hanging over it. Rick's voice called out from behind the house and echoed off a huge old barn across the street.
"Hey, guys you're missing it. This is fucking awesome."
Jeremy and I walked toward the side of the house, following Rick's ricocheting voice. As we came around the corner, a loud yell came from the shadows. We both jumped and I let out a near scream as Darrell jumped out at us.
"You fuckin' prick, you scared the shit out of us," Jeremy yelled.
Darrell laughed hysterically, his impish grin arching up the sides of his face.
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he continued to chuckle. As Jeremy and I followed suit to do the same, a loud gargled scream came from behind the house. Darrell laughed harder and Jeremy looked at me and smiled.
"You're gonna have to try a lot fucking harder than that, Ricky, you son of a bitch!"