Dan Poblocki - The Stone Child

“Ready?” said Maggie as they slipped out the front door.

“Ready,” said Eddie and Harris.

They crept down Maggie’s driveway to the street, then down the hill to Nathaniel Olmstead’s estate.

The clouds parted. The full moon emerged. And suddenly the house rose before them, glowing on the barren hillside like a second moon in a second sky.

They parted the vines and crept through the gap in the broken fence. The driveway stretched up the hill. They began the long walk, shining their flashlights into the shadows. Harris kept his eyes forward, Maggie scanned the woods on either side, and Eddie looked over his shoulder at the driveway behind them. That way, they had all directions covered. The moon was so bright that they almost didn’t need the flashlights, but they kept them turned on anyway, in case the Watchers were lurking.

Eddie was careful not to look at the house. He almost expected to see the old woman’s face in an upstairs window. They crept around back and hesitated only briefly before heading down the hill to the orchard. As they made their way up the next ridge, Eddie couldn’t clear the thought of those tall figures in shadowy robes.

At the top of the ridge, a bird fluttered from a nearby branch, and Eddie nearly flew away as well. He thought of those dogs, the gremlin, and the thing his father had struck with the car a month ago. He wondered if coming here was really worth the danger? Then he thought about the Woman in Black being released into the world, and he stopped questioning himself.

He continued to follow Harris and Maggie quietly through the brush. They came down from the ridge, and the entire forest seemed to shudder. Tonight the trees looked different-they were larger, more gnarled, more threatening. The leafy ground seemed to ripple in waves like whitecaps in the ocean, but whenever Eddie looked directly down, it stopped moving. The light shining through the treetops was almost green. Eddie thought it might be an illusion, possibly sent by the Woman in Black to frighten them, but still, it looked so real.

Above them, something rustled through the treetops, scattering leaves and twigs to the forest floor like hail. The three of them froze where they stood. Looking up, Eddie couldn’t see anything but the silhouette of the black branches against the starry sky. Wide-eyed, Harris pointed at Eddie’s backpack. “Wind chimes,” he whispered.

Cautiously, Eddie unzipped his bag. The small cluster of chimes was buried halfway down, underneath a plastic baggie filled with pieces of leftover roasted chicken from Maggie’s refrigerator. As he pulled out the chimes, they rang. The noise was especially loud in the surrounding darkness. He tied the string to his belt loop, allowing the chimes to dangle next to his front pocket, where they jingled and jangled with every step.

“Won’t that sound draw attention to us?” said Maggie.

“Maybe,” said Harris. “But that’s better than being snatched up into the sky by a Wendigo, don’t you think? Remember the schoolteacher found in the-”

“If he’s up there watching us,” Eddie interrupted, “the chimes will keep him away. That’s why we brought them.”

Maggie closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to block out a terrifying vision. They kept walking.

A few minutes later, Harris held out his hands, stopping Maggie and Eddie in their tracks. To their left about twenty feet away through the trees, Eddie could see vague movement. Harris swung his flashlight toward the shifting shadows, and several pale faces appeared. “They’re here,” he whispered. “Keep your lights on them.”

The Watchers watched from between the trees, trapped between the shadows and the moonlight-their white heads seeming to hover far above the ground, like balloons. Eddie kept his eyes on the creatures as Maggie and Harris led him forward. Slowly, the three kids continued to make their way through the woods. Eddie trudged over the brush, trying desperately not to trip. Finally, he could no longer see the skulllike faces. He made sure to keep his flashlight shining behind them as they continued their walk, so the creatures could not follow.

Then Harris stopped them again. “We made it,” he said.

Ahead, the statue stood, glowing in the moonlight. Her stone arms reached out to them, holding her stone book. Her stone hair reflected the light in the greenish way the rest of the forest had. She looked so innocent, as if she knew no more about the world than Eddie had before moving to Gatesweed. He almost felt guilty for what he was about to do but then reminded himself that she was merely a piece of rock.

They came into the clearing. A bird chattered in a nearby tree. Another bird cawed, and Eddie heard the flapping of wings. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t see those pale faces and the stretched red lips. There was nothing there but shadows and light.

Harris crossed the clearing. He stopped abruptly, and Eddie nearly ran into his shoulder. Maggie came up beside Eddie. The statue stood only a few feet away. Trembling, Eddie placed his bag on the ground, reached inside, and pulled out the hammer. The moonlight glinted off its tarnished metal claw. The weight of the tool was a relief in Eddie’s hand-it felt powerful. Everything was happening so quickly. In a few moments, all of this would be over.

But before Eddie could move, the night groaned and the shadows grew. He glanced toward the edge of the clearing, beyond which the slope led downhill to the Nameless Lake. Several pairs of glowing red lights hovered in the darkness like fireflies. Eddie knew they weren’t insects-these strange lights were the eyes of the dogs that had crawled from the lake. The animals’ harsh growls began to surround them as more and more of their glowing red eyes appeared on all sides of the clearing. Other sounds came from the forest as well-soft slithering sounds, harsh hissing sounds, the sounds of claws dragging through dirt. Though he couldn’t see much in the shadows, Eddie imagined all of Nathaniel Olmstead’s monsters approaching through the darkness.

“Quick,” he whispered. “The chicken bones. In my bag…”

Maggie knelt down and pulled the baggie out of Eddie’s backpack. “What do I do?”

“Throw them,” said Harris.

Maggie opened the baggie, swung her arm up over her head, then tossed the bones as hard as she could into the woods. All pairs of glowing red lights suddenly disappeared as the sound of scrabbling claws rustled farther into the brush. Barking and growling followed as, Eddie imagined, the monster lake-dogs fought over their favorite treat. He knew that the animals would be distracted for only a short time.

From the backpack, Eddie tossed Harris the stapler and Maggie the sack of marbles. Harris immediately bent over and began stapling the shadows of trees that spilled into the moonlit clearing, as if it were possible to pin them to the ground. “Just to be safe,” he said. “I hope this works.”

“What do I do with these?” Maggie asked, pouring the marbles into the palm of her hand.

“Just drop them,” said Harris. “If the weeping spirits are out there in the woods, those will help.”

Maggie opened her hand, and the marbles spilled onto the rocky soil at her feet. They immediately began to roll toward the edge of the clearing, glistening as they reflected the moon’s greenish light. Maggie gasped and leapt out of their way. The marbles disappeared into the brush. Moments later a strange cry came from the darkness-a harsh, painful wail that Eddie had once tried to imagine as he’d read The Ghost in the Poet’s Mansion.

Maggie and Harris glanced at each other, then looked back at Eddie. The three of them seemed to come to a silent understanding, so at the same time, they all nodded. They were safe, but who knew for how long? Any number of other nightmares might be out there, watching them. Eddie turned back toward the statue and raised the hammer. He closed his eyes and brought it down on the corner of the stone child’s book.