Mac had his mind made up today. He would go inside the house no matter what. The house beyond the park. The house everyone talks about. The house everyone says is cursed. The house every kid avoids. Even the big grumpy ones. The homeless people wandering in the park maintain their distance from the house. "Wretched house," said this one guy to Mac last week when he was getting himself a good look at the house. "I'd never go inside there no matter what. Nobody should." 'Noubady shewed' it came out.
"Who are you?" Mac said evenly.
"Name's Terry," said the guy standing just a foot to the left of Mac. "I am a homeless guy as you can prolly tell."
Yes. Mac could tell that much. The smell of cheap booze mixed with garbage stench was definitely coming from him.
"Why? Anybody live inside?"
Mac did not look away from the house. He felt a pull towards it. It was creepy, scary and completely dark. There seemed to be an energy field surrounding the house. It was ominous. Mac shuddered.
"The house is cursed," said Terry. "No one lives inside, but if you go in there, you'll be greeted alright. Even if you gotta take a leak, go somewhere else. Relieve yourself in the street if needed but not in there. Don't even lay a foot in that scrubby porch."
Mac now looked at the guy. He was probably pushing 60. Had a bad eye. A few of his teeth were missing. Others black. He was wearing an old chambray shirt a size too large for him with more than a few holes in it and a pair of discolored sweatpants. He looked disoriented but did not talk like one.
"Thanks for the advice," nodded Mac.
"You got a scary look about you, kid," the guy sighed. "I recon you're going in and won't heed any advice. I know the type. I was one myself."
Mac did not respond to this. He was now looking at the front door of the house. It was bolted tight. One window on each side of the door. One of the windows was bolted too. The other looked like it could be scaled over if someone didn't care too much about their skin. Well, Mac did not.
"If you do go in there, I'd suggest you bring a flashlight and rope."
"Rope?" said Mac. He was puzzled and for the first time he was paying complete attention to the guy with rotten teeth.
"Yep," nodded Terry. "That's right. One of those long and sturdy ones would do."
"Why?" Mac was curious.
"Once you get inside, you'll understand."
This guy knew more than he let on. He is definitely hiding something. Mac thought.
"Sounds to me you know quite a lot about the house," said Terry. The directness in Mac's reply caught Terry off guard. He looked out of words.
"How come you know so much about this 'wretched house' of yours?" Mac said calmly. "You ever been inside?"
"No. God no!" he almost shrieked.
"I've never been in there. Not even the front lawn, kid. It gives me the creeps. Once you step inside, you'll feel like you've been cut off from the rest of the world. It's weird. I'm tellin ya."
"Has anybody you know ever been in there?"
Mac was curious now. He wanted to gather as much information as he could from this guy.
"Yep. It was a long time ago. Franklin, his name was."
Terry seemed to start fading into his past. His eyes were getting clouded.
"What happened?" said Mac.
"One day, he just said to the rest of us living in the park that he would stay in that house for one night. We all laughed at first. Franklin didn't. He just sat there beside the fire and lit a cigarette.
"'You'll get your sorry ass killed, man. Don't go in there,' said this one guy called Devon. But Franklin was a tough old son of a bitch. He just kept smokin that damn cigarette like he always did. That guy could SMOKE. Lemme tell ya.
"So on the next day Franklin went in. We all gathered right here. Curious to see how things would unfold. He was gone for about 5 minutes. Or was it 3?"
He was rubbing his chin pretty hard. "It was around 5 minutes. Uh-huh. That sounds about right. Old age makes you forget stuff, kid. Just the way it is."
Old age or too much cheap booze down the tunnel was what Mac thought of saying. But he just nodded and said, "I guess."
"Anyway we were all standin right here when Franklin burst out of that door and just ran straight for his shack down by the lake. We just looked on. He hauled ass and in no time was gone. Bam."