Today’s writing prompt and my response.
Day five for this week. Use the prompt however you like, one at a time, or pen a short story over as many as you like.
He remembered this house
It was June’s idea to go for a hike. Harvey embraced it enthusiastically. The sun shone, the air was mild, and he was promised a pub lunch at the end of it.
He drove the hire car, following June’s instructions read from Google maps, to a small, empty carpark off a B road. When they got out of the car, a shiver ran down Harvey’s spine. What was that about? Perhaps it was cooler than he thought.
‘Right,’ June called cheerfully from the rear of the hatchback. ‘Hiking boots, poles – do we need poles?’
‘No idea, but don’t forget water.’
‘In the backpack.’ She tossed the light pack to him, grinning. ‘You can carry that, do your strong man thing.’
Another shiver tingled its way down Harvey’s back. Something turned in his stomach. He shook off his uneasiness, grinned back, and slipped the pack over his shoulders. He grabbed a walking pole. It felt good to have something, well, weapon-like, in his hand.
June had the map open on the app. ‘Ok,’ she said, ‘I know where we’ll go. Follow me!’ And she set off briskly up the steep track.
Birds sang, there were patches of bluebells here and there, and they caught the occasional glimpse of a view over wooded hills bathed in green, sunning themselves in the warmth. It should have been glorious, relaxing, energising. Yet, Harvey’s misgivings about this venture grew. The roiling in his stomach worsened.
They crested a hill, and June dove off the main track to follow a single file path through wide-girthed beech trees. The path wound its way about the hill, the beech trees turned to towering pines. The birds grew silent, an oppressive gloom settled over them.
‘Are you sure this is right?’ Harvey said.
June consulted the map. ‘Umm, to be honest, I’m not sure now. I thought we would have turned off by now, but I haven’t seen another path. Have you?’
‘No.’ Harvey dropped the pack to the ground. ‘Let’s have a drink and then go on a bit more. This has to come out somewhere.’
The drink eased Harvey’s stomach, a little, but the weight on his shoulders grew no lighter for the brief rest. They walked on.
June, several yards ahead, turned a corner.
‘Wow!’
Her voice floated back to Harvey. It held more than surprise. Disbelief. And he knew then that he should run, run back the way they had come, back to the car. But June was out of sight, and he forced his leaden legs to follow her.
A golden light, like the haze of a too hot fire, filtered between the trees. June stood still, staring at the strangest house Harvey had ever seen, cheek by jowl with the trees as if they had grown up around it.
No, not that he had ever seen.
He remembered this house.
The memory of its candy-framed windows, frosted icing roof and lollipop trees burst from its burial place deep in his sub-conscious. Now the house was worn, tired-looking. Its gelatine windows were pitted and broken, the gingerbread boards of the walls sagged, nibbled at the edges by hungry rodents. The roof was streaked with bird droppings. A ragged nest blocked the candy brick chimney.
His mind whirled with ghastly images. The giant oven, the old hag hauling him towards the gaping door, ready to throw him into the flames. Gretel screaming, lunging at the old biddy, the two of them bundling her into the fire … Her anguished screams following them as they fled the house.
Harvey fell to his knees and was violently sick all over the ground, while June, unaware, walked slowly towards the ruined house.
‘It’s like a fairy tale,’ she exclaimed.
Follow the daily writing prompt on Facebook or Instagram.
Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories here!