“So, how exactly did you
manage to smuggle a van onto the island?”
Max glanced away from the road to look back at Rita, who was glued to
her laptop.
“Huh?” She glanced up, a
confused look on her face.
“I was told that those
little ‘Smart Car’ looking deals were the only vehicles available on the
island.” Max looked back towards the road, ignoring the pouting Liz that was
sitting next to him.
“Yeah, that’s what they
tell tourists.” Rita resumed clicking away on her laptop. “They allow hybrid vans for businesses. I just had to show them our shooting permit,
and they gave me one.”
“So, what’s the deal with
this house?” Ashtyn leaned forward,
poking her head through the space between the two front seats.
“Well, the legend is that
about… thirty years ago a woman lived in this house. Some say she was alone, others say that she
had a son.” Max did his best to remember his research. It would be good practice before he got in
front of a camera. “Anyways, her name
was Hazel… Hazel… I can’t remember her last name. That’s not important. The important thing is, the locals believed
she was a witch.”
“Are we talking green
skin and cackling, or an herbalist who just had a good understanding of
nature?” Ashtyn sat back, but gave Max an odd look in the mirror.
“Well, the way the locals
tell it, green skinned and cackling. The
reality was probably more along the lines of an herbalist.” Max paused to turn onto the shaded side road
that seemed to be almost hidden under the overgrowth. “There was also this young woman who lived in
the village, a beautiful singer. She was
the pride and joy of the locals. Now, depending on if the witch had a son or
not changes the rest of this story.”
“If she had a son,” Max
continued, “then the witch was worried that the young woman was going to steal
her son away from her, so she cursed her, striking her mute, and then spiriting
her away. If she doesn’t have a son,
well, the outcome is still the same, but the motive is just a good,
old-fashioned case of jealousy. She
envied how the villagers loved the girl, and so she stole her away.”
“I’m guessing things
didn’t end well for the witch.” Ashtyn shook her head.
“Drawn and quartered in
the old village square.” Max had been shocked when he had heard that part of
the legend. It was just so… brutal.
The van bumped and
jostled them around for a few moments, and then the sound of tires on dirt was
replaced with the sound of tires on gravel.
A few feet ahead of them, Max could make out the front of a two story,
wooden house through the thick brambles and branches.
“Looks like we’re here.”
Liz finally spoke, her voice flat. She
didn’t look at Max, and when the van stopped she got out almost
immediately.
Max knew he had been
harsh, but he had also been honest. Liz
was turning into a liability, and more importantly, she was turning into a
really nasty person. He didn’t need
that, not anymore.
Ashtyn and Rita started
to unload some of the gear, and Max walked up the remaining gravel drive
towards the house. It was much bigger
than expected, looking closer to a small mansion than the ramshackle hut the
legends had described. The paint
covering the house was almost completely stripped away, leaving exposed, rough
looking wood in its place. Structurally
the house looked pretty solid, though.
Almost too solid, like someone had been keeping it up.
The windows were boarded
up, and the screen over the front door seemed freshly patched. That struck him as odd.
“Looks creepy enough.”
Max stretched, taking in a lungful of clean, fresh air.
“You picked a good one.”
Liz’s voice remained emotionless.
“I get lucky every once
in a while.” He smiled, doing his best to break the tension. Deep down he knew it was pointless, though.
“Did you really mean what
you said back there?” Liz glanced at him.
“Have I really gotten that out of control?”
“Just focus on making
this a positive experience.” Max placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I didn’t say it was the end. I said that it was a chance for a new
beginning.”
“You also said that I had
turned into a mega-bitch.” Liz shook his hand off.
“I don’t think I…” She
raised a hand, cutting him off.
“Give me the keys, I want
to take a look around.” She held out her
hand.
Max fished in his pocket,
and pulled out the skeleton key that the landlord had sent him. They were old fashioned, iron with long
necks, and short, squat square at the tip.
“Careful with it. It’s the only one we have for now. The spare is going to be dropped off at the
hotel tomorrow.” Max handed her the key, and felt a pang of guilt as she
quickly pulled her hand away. Had he
been too harsh?
Liz didn’t speak. She just walked up the steps to the front
door, and headed into the house, leaving the front door open for him.
Max couldn’t explain why,
but he suddenly felt like he had made a really big mistake by letting her go
into that house alone.
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