Legend Tripping

 

1.

Most of the children of Carlin High School were engaged in the usual playground activities, girl gossiped rapidly sounding like a thousand busy typewriters; youthful first years laughed and chased each other around the yard, burning off energy; older kids from the rough end of town hid behind the toilets, smoking weed. Steven was sitting alone, perched on the fence like a hawk, watching all the normal mayhem when he spotted Simon Anderson take a nosedive onto the concrete. The boy just went white and dropped, and even though the other kids were making a godawful din, Steven definitely heard Simon’s skull crack like a heavy egg as it smashed onto the ground. The noise was a sickening, hollow sound that made his heart jump in his chest. He immediately jumped off the fence and rushed to see if the older boy was alright. In the seconds it took him to move to where Simon was, there was a large crowd around Simon, some girls were screaming, an older boy was shouting, “Get a teacher to call an ambulance, for fuck sake!”

The crowd was a thick swarming circle of bodies but Simon could see, between the moving forest of legs, blood, lots of it, a dark red puddle of it, spilling out. He turned away, horrified and worried, but not totally surprised. Shocked, yes, but not surprised, Simon had had it coming, after all, he’d been in the Muldrew House, and everyone knew that you weren’t meant to go anywhere near the Muldrew House.

Mr Harper stormed his way through the increasingly excited and hysterical children, gasped “Jesus” under his breath before shouting for the kids to move out the way. Simon watched them all, eyes agog, faces pale with fright as they staggered and gibbered at the event. Mr Harper looked like a kid himself in that moment, his hand on his forehead, his other on his hip, wondering what he was meant to do; out of his depth. Several other teachers came running over. Miss Dickson and Mr McKenzie started barking orders at the kids and herding them all, like sheepdogs, into the school.

Inside Steven and many others pressed their faces up against the main corridor’s windows, gawping at the unfolding tragedy, wiping away their misty breaths from the glass every few seconds until the ambulance arrived. It was safe to say no-one really learned anything in class all afternoon. Everyone, including Steven wanted to get out there and discuss what had happened.

As he suspected, The Muldrew House was considered the culprit. It was obvious, he was told, the place was known to be haunted by the ghost of Arnold Muldrew. Simon thought he was brave, dismissed the truth and went inside, and he’d paid for it. Other’s claimed it wasn’t Muldrew, but the witch, who’s grave Muldrew had desecrated, though there were those who thought it might be a demon or worse, though what could be worse than a demon, was left for him to infer.

He caught up with his friends Mike and Robby, who both told him that everyone was talking shite and that it was more likely to have been an aneurysm or something. While that did seem more reasonable, the fact of the matter was that merely three days before Simon had, on a dare, went into the Muldrew House and that even parents told their kids to stay away from it. Robby explained to him that it was because the building was condemned. This did not help Steven who equated the word “condemned” with the word “damned”, or more vaguely, a terrible fate and so, despite their casual dismissal of the incident, something still niggled at Steven that Simon had messed with things he should not have.

When he got home, his mother and father showed too much concern. Apparently the school was calling all the parents to tell them school was cancelled the following day and that poor Simon had died. They expected him to be more upset than he was, but he put on a show, just to make them feel a bit better about their parenting skills. As soon as they were confident that their overcompensating had worked, they left him be and he went upstairs to his bedroom.

Turning on his Playstation, Steven sat down for a session on Gran Turismo, trying to forget everything else and concentrate on beating his record on Fuji Speedway. Try as he might, he kept seeing flashes in his mind, a puddle of expanding red on hard grey concrete, fluttering between the legs of schoolkids. He sighed, threw the controller down and walked over to the window. Through it he had a great view of the farms to the south and the hills to the west, and there, on one of those hills, the Muldrew House stood; alone, shunned. It gave him the chills, as if it were staring back right at him.

The building itself was a two storey detached box in a pebble-dashed cream colour with empty black window frames and a hole in the roof that looked like a head wound. Flickers of legs, blood pooling on the ground, that dreadful empty cracking sound.

Steven snapped out of the horrible memory and stared once again at the Muldrew House. Condemned, Robby had said, and to Steven it did indeed look like a place of damnation, as if behind it’s dilapidated facade, was a gateway to the most terrifying part of Hell. He was wondering what happened to Simon in there when the door of his bedroom flew open and in burst Elaine, his best friend.

“My God, did you hear? Were you there?” she gasped, both horrified and excited. She planted herself on his bed, picked up the controller and continued his paused game. “Tell me everything,” she demanded.

He’d known Elaine for over ten years, they had grown up together, but now at fourteen, she seemed to making a sprint for adulthood, whereas he seemed to be in no hurry at all. She was changing, her hair dyed with streaks of blond, clothes more fashion conscious, even begun wearing makeup, but despite her best attempts at maturity, she was still the daft geek he’d always known. “Yeah, I was there, I saw it happen. He just lost all colour in his face and fell, looked like he’d fainted. There was a crack though, when his skull hit the ground.”

“Gross. Of course I missed it all because Old Hartley wanted to go on and on about The Jacobite Rebellion. She’s a fucking nightmare.” Elaine replied, never taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yeah, well it wasn’t the exciting horror movie splatter you’d think, Elaine. To be honest it was pretty sickening.” Steven replied, morosely.

“So, Sheila in 2G said that he’d been messing about with the ouija board, but you know her, that’s probably bollocks.” Elaine said, fishing for more information.

“Probably,” Steven said, he didn’t really feel like talking about it. The whole thing had been too ugly, too real. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Will we?” She inquired. “Seems to me, they’ll tell us how, not why. Remember that mad women Annie, that used to shout at street-lights? She killed herself, right? Overdose, but what caused her to take the overdose?”

“Severe mental illness and neglect,” Steven replied.

“Yeah, I know that,” she scoffed adding a tut, “but did you ever wonder what might be going on in her mind?”

“I get you,” Steven nodded. “Lots of guys were saying it was ‘cause he went into the Muldrew House.”

“Yeah, I’d heard that too. You think there’s any truth in it?” Elaine said, tossing the controller casually on the bed. “3.22, beat that!”

Steven’s head felt like it was being pulled, like he had no control over it turning, nor his eyes focussing once more on that grim old place. “Dunno. I mean people talk a lot of shit, right? What do we really know about that place?”

“Well we know that old Muldrew killed himself in there, right? And that he decided to do that, not by an overdose, like Annie, or hanging or anything like that.”

“Yeah, he ate a bunch of razor blades. That’s what I heard, at least.”

“Me too. My uncle Alec told me that a couple of years ago. Said that it was really weird, that Muldrew was well liked and respected around town, was always doing charity work and volunteering to help out the local community council. So, you’ve got to wonder, right? Why did he do it?”

“I dunno Elaine, I’ve heard the house was haunted, that he’d dug up a grave in his garden that was a witches grave, Tony Fergus even said the old man was into Crowley and black magic. It’s certainly a creepy place.”

“So do you think it had anything to do with Simon’s death?” She asked, staring at him. He turned to catch her doing it, but she quickly averted her gaze back to the screen.

He shrugged and looked back out. “I dunno, maybe.”

She was standing right next to him, staring at the place too. “There’s only one way to find out,” she whispered, mischievously.

2.

After telling her no, Elaine had taken the very visible huff, making sure she was in places she knew Steven would be so she could storm out, making a big deal of ignoring him. He didn’t really mind, it would pass, after all, she didn’t have a Playstation and he could already see she was twitchy without her digital fix. School was still fascinated about what had happened to Simon and his weird friend Spencer had become very popular, since he’d went into the Muldrew House with Simon.

Steven had insinuated himself into one of the first groups to approach Spencer as he told the tale of what had happened. An odd looking boy with thick curly hair, bulging hyperthyroid eyes behind thick glasses and a wardrobe seemingly full of yellow shirts, Spencer hadn’t much to tell them. Yes, they’d went inside. No, they hadn’t seen anything. Sure, the place was creepy but mostly because it was dark. No, Simon hadn’t freaked out. It was just a dirty old abandoned house. There was something though, some strange sound, like someone coughing, they ran out. That was it.

His tale had evolved and become more involved since the previous morning. According to Mike, Spencer was now telling everyone that there was something in there with them. A “presence” he’d said, something that had spoken to Simon which sounded like unearthly coughing. At this Robby had rolled his eyes. “That guy is a total fanny.”

“He’d beat the fuck out of you for saying that,” Mike warned.

“Maybe, but that wouldn’t make him any less of a fanny, would it?” Robby replied.

Steven had laughed at that.

By the end of the week, the various rumours and Spencer’s escalating embellishments had solidified somewhat into an urban legend.

Carlin Hill, where Muldrew’s house stood, was home to a witches coven all of whom had been caught and executed during the reign James the Sixth. According to the legend, the chief of this coven, one Black Lennox, had cursed those who would tread on his lands. Apparently those who killed them left them in shallow graves, which were exhumed by curious academic ghouls during the late 19^th century. All except the one that Muldrew had found in the mid-seventies when he’d been digging up the garden. So Muldrew had been cursed, and, so had Simon. When this tale did the rounds, Spencer, now concerned he’d started something that was going out of control tried his best to backtrack, but it was too late. The story had rapidly spread out past the school gates throughout the town like an infectious disease, like it had a life of its own. Jennifer, the girl two doors down from Steven, approached him when he got home from school that Friday afternoon, wanting clarification on the tale that she’d heard. She went to the Catholic School, St Mary’s, so had no idea who Simon was. The story was much the same but with some added lurid details about Simon drinking blood and doing black magic. He put her right. Telling her that no one knew how Simon had died, but he wasn’t into the occult. However even as he was explaining the facts to her, he became less and less convinced that what he was saying was the truth. He thought of what Elaine said about, knowing how wasn’t the same as knowing why.

“I don’t know what to think,” Jennifer confided, “I mean, when I look out at it, it scares me but at the same time, I’m kinda desperate to see what’s inside. I dunno, maybe I just like being scared,” she added with a titter. Steven gave her a polite smile and said there was being scared and there was being dead, which really wiped the pleasant, keen smile off her face.

Robby couldn’t believe what he was hearing, later that evening, when Steven explained what Jennifer had said, and about Elaine asking him to go in to the place with her. “Jesus, you are such a virgin!” He cackled as the three of them kicked a ball about at the base of Carlin Hill. “Both of them want you to go in so they can get up close and then start snogging, you dick.”

“Really?” Steven said, not sure that was the case.

“Really.” Mike confirmed. “Elaine’s had the hots for you all year, and Stevie boy, if you don’t do something about it, she’s going to find someone else that will.”

“Yeah, if you’re not interested let me know,” Robby said. “I mean I know you’re BFF’s and all that but if you don’t fancy her, I’ll ask her out.”

Steven had never really considered it, but upon rapid reflection, all the nights just the two of them sitting in his room watching horror movies, her huddled close, occasionally grabbing him at the scary scenes. Those looks she always gave him that he’d ask “what” and she’d say “nothing”, he did know, and was avoiding it. Of course he fancied her. “Yeah, man, I guess I do, but you know, I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Fuck sake, Steven, do something about it.” Mike ordered.

“So, you don’t mind if I hit on Jennifer then?” Robby asked.

Frankly Steven did mind. A moment before he’d not thought of either as girlfriend material, not really, now he was greedy, but he wasn’t going to say so. “Sure, it’s a free country.”

“Scotland? Since fucking when?” Robby asked, laughing.

3.

There was a redolence of something familiar that he could not quite place, a foul odour, acrid and thick. He stepped in through the broken front door into a gloomy hallway illuminated by the dust ridden beams of a languid twilight. A carpet, colourless and mouldy, festered under his feet, damp and spongy. Steven could hear his heart in his ears, thumping in terror and trepidation. He was inside the Muldrew House. It was just a ruin, that was all, nothing but a dirty abandoned place, nothing to worry about.

Despite his fears he moved through the hallway, first looking up the stairs on the right. The fungal carpet covered the stairs themselves and the wallpaper rotted, parts of it peeling revealing cracked plaster, upstairs he could see only darkness. To the left an open panelled door revealed the partial remains of a ransacked kitchen and from where he stood he could see out, through the glassless window, down the hill to his own home. He popped his head round the door and looked in, but there was nothing to be scared of, a rusty cooker, some wall cupboards with doors hanging from hinges, that was all.

He continued down the narrow hallway to the room at the end. The door was shut and it creaked ominously as he opened it. Behind a living room was revealed. Carpetless, no furniture, no fire in the fireplace, it was empty except for chunks of ceiling which had collapsed leaving lines of thin wooden struts revealed that reminded him of rib cages. The place was quite unremarkable, except the smell, that cloying, noxious stench that surrounded everything. Relieved and disappointed he made his way back out, when he heard something, a sound, something that wasn’t a creak or a thump, something strange and out of place. Was it the growl of an animal, the buzzing of insects, a detuned radio? He couldn’t tell, all he did know was that it was coming from upstairs. It was too much, too scary, he ran but as he passed the stairs he couldn’t stop himself from turning and going up them. It was as if his own will had been robbed from him and he was being pulled by some supernatural force. As he climbed the stairs while his brain screamed at him to stop he heard it again, it was a voice, a crackling whispering voice, venal and vicious. “Come here, boy!” it ordered.

Despite every cell in his body demanding he not move forward, he walked towards the voice. He pushed open one of the doors of the bedroom, his heart was racing, as if so scared it was attempting to escape this oncoming horror even if he couldn’t. Steven pushed open the door and saw it. A scrawny twisted shadow, with spindly limbs and a dark yellow leer. It may have been human once, but that time had long passed, through webs of straggling hair it laughed, beckoning him with dull bony fingers. Steven tasted the blood in his mouth and screamed as it enveloped everything.

One last gasp brought Steven to consciousness. In bed, in the dark. It took him a few moments to realise it had been a nightmare, and he felt sweet relief, an almost spiritual joy that it had been nothing more. He gave a giddy giggle as he got out of bed. He paced around the room, his head buzzing with hormones, just a dream, he was safe, he was fine. Even still, he glanced out at through his bedroom to the dark hill beyond and the Muldrew House. It sat there, empty, motionless, like the corpse of some old predator. His focus changed and he saw dark stains around the mouth of his reflection. He wiped his hand off his lips and examined the blood on the tips with a perplexed curiosity.

He didn’t feel any panic, which surprised him, given he hated the sight of blood. Calmly he went into the bathroom to see that indeed he had been bleeding from his mouth and yawned to find a small chunk missing from the side of his tongue. He felt no pain until he gargled with some mouthwash, then it stung so intensely it made his eyes water and nose tingle. As it subsided he went to back to bed and after thinking about it decided he would tell Elaine that he was willing to investigate the Muldrew House with her, despite his nightmare.

4.

Morning shifted into late afternoon while he barely noticed, dragged by his parents into town in order to help with the weekly shopping. His father, like himself found the task infuriating, since mother liked to browse and had no particular agenda or methodology which meant traipsing around the shopping centre for hours. This frustrating tedium was only punctuated by a quick and quiet lunch on the food-court. Eventually though, they arrived home with bags of shopping, which had to be put away. By the time he was done, it was approaching five o’clock. He tried phoning Elaine but her parents said she’d already gone out. Instead he went upstairs and decided to play some games, but not before having one more look out at the Muldrew place.

Under torpid ashen clouds the building seemed tiny but still a noticeable blight on the hill. Three figures approached the house, he recognised them instantly, Elaine and two boys from his year at school, Graham Potter and Chris McKenzie. What was she doing with them, he wondered for perhaps a second, but it was obvious. McKenzie was a psycho though and he genuinely feared for her, so he was downstairs and out the house within seconds, racing to catch up with the three of them before something awful happened.

The slope upwards was more steep than long, but it took him some effort to maintain his sprint to the top of it, reaching the house just in time to hear a scream from inside, a girl’s scream, Elaine’s scream. Panting for breath Steven refused to rest and dashed forward just in time to see Chris and Graham bolting down the other end of the hill. Fury and worry overrode the sense of fear he would have had and he dashed in through the broken front door, into a filthy dark hall with a smell he couldn’t place but found familiar. “Elaine?!” he shouted.

“Steven? Help! I fell and those fuckers left me, I think I’ve broken my leg.” came a muffled voice from a room down at the other end of the square hall. Steven was so focussed on finding Elaine that he didn’t take in a lot of the room, it was falling apart, dirty, broken wood, everywhere. As he made towards the door which he assumed her behind. The front of it was busy with junk, a shattered mirror, some tiles, and a large rusted iron bar. He plucked the bar from where it was resting and used it to sweep away the rest of the debris and then pulled open the door.

The first thing he noticed was the hole in the ceiling, then lying on the floor under it, was Elaine, covered in dirt and dust, quietly sobbing. “I don’t want to look at it, but it’s really really sore.” she said.

He knew what she was talking about, her left leg was at an angle a left leg should not be, bone jutted out through a dirt covered wound. “Jesus.” He whispered under his breath. He wended his way through all the crap that was in the room, piles of bin bags and sheets and ancient rotting furniture. As he was about to ask her if she was alright, a question that was stupid and useless he realised before uttering it, he heard a sound, a groan from over to the right. Elaine gave a frightened squeak, her eyes wide with fear. Steven turned and saw it, some great dark shadow, some twisted unearthly creature, ragged and shaking. The thing rose up from it’s hiding place and before he could get a better look at the demon, or whatever he dashed forth, swiping the iron bar as he roared.

The monster rattled something akin to speech a moment before the bar smacked against it’s skull. There was a crack, a hollow, egg shell crack and it dropped with a ghastly squealing roar. Steven swung the bar again, again it make contact. Another dull thud, repeated again and again with Steven shouting “fuck you!” every time it did. Rage, terror, panic, all surged through him as he beat at the beast over and over, until he finally heard Elaine scream “Steven, for Christ sake, stop!”

Whatever state of emergency had taken over his senses vanished instantly and he found himself looking over the still and brutally battered body of an old female vagrant, her face and head a bloody pulp ravaged by the bar he still gripped onto, the bar was stinging his hands. She wasn’t moving, she was making no sound. Steven’s gasp was deep enough to suck in the whole world. “What?” He cried. “What?”

5.

The Muldrew House, that’s what they called it, back in the nineties, before it was torn down. The adults told kids not to play there, Carlin Hill had a bad reputation. Once it had been the territory of the evil Warlock, Black Lennox, before the King condemned him and his coven. They’d been buried in mass graves up there, under the old house, apparently. It was said that Muldrew had dug up one of the graves of the witches and they had cursed him to do their evil bidding, until he was no more use to them, then they made him eat razor blades. That was the story, but it wasn’t where it finished. The place had killed a boy, they said and later his friend had been driven mad with grief, killed a tramp and his girlfriend up there, it was a big tragedy. The adults told the kids not to play there.

And, in the main, the kids avoided the hill. But sometimes, in late autumn nights, when the Sun would set before school got out, they’d dare each other to go up there. Some of them did from time to time, and would tell the others of the strange and creepy atmosphere, exaggerating their accomplishments, embellishing their stories.

In the mid 2000’s, some property developer bought the rights to the land and started knocking up cheap semi-detached houses. Carlin Hill was renamed Lennoxhill Estate, and families moved in. Still, even now, the kids of the area share the stories and wait, in dreadful anticipation for the next horror to emerge.