Chapter Ten Hawthorne In The Woods With The Candlestick
Briar
“Ho w did you find this place?” I whisper naively, shaking my head at my ignorance.
I mean it’s not like the dead can hear me, not that I’m aware of anyway.
When Lyra asked if I wanted to see something cool, I thought she meant a secret passageway in the university halls. Which wouldn’t surprise me, I’m actually determined to find one. This place is too ancient not to have one.
I was not foreseeing hiking at least two miles into the woods behind the Rothchild buildings. We’d walked behind the buildings, sinking into the imminent trees that swayed and keened.
The fog was right above our heads, settling lower and lower as the sun had begun to set.
Melting into an obscure sunset of dusky purples and bitter oranges.
We were walking near the coast, I could hear the crashing of waves against rocks nearby and smell the saltiness that coated the air.
It was so powerful, I could almost smell it above the rich scent of wet earth and sharp pine.
It wasn’t until I saw the tombstones sprouting from the mossy ground did I really start to worry. There were ten, maybe twelve graves marked with chipped and damaged markers, that were so covered in foliage and dirt you could barely make them out.
But that wasn’t even the most unsettling part.
“My favorite part about Oregon is the bug population. When I was young, my mom would let me play in her garden and it never failed that I would return with a ladybug or some type of insect. So, when I was out looking for Scolopocryptops sexspinosus in the summer before school started.”
Even though it was somewhat unusual, I found it so fascinating how much she knew about bugs.
Lyra was so intelligent that it sometimes made me jealous.
The way her brain absorbed facts and spit them out from memory.
It was remarkably impressive, yet she was so unaware of it that she didn’t come off as a know it all.
Just a girl who enjoyed talking about creepy crawly things.
I furrow my eyebrows, following her through the spongy marsh, “English, please.”
She giggles, “Bark Centipedes. I needed one to finish my centipede specimen box and they are usually found in or around rotting wood. There had been a huge thunderstorm, so I went looking for fallen trees and I discovered this place.” She holds the straps of her book bag staring up at the towering building in front of us.
It was gray, gloomy, and looked like it might try to swallow me up if I wasn’t careful. The thin alloy gate that acted as a door hung sideways off the hinges, and I saw a path of spiders slither along the top and it made my spine do a very odd shivering motion.
“Is it a church or…?” I asked, gazing up at it with her, a look of uncertainty on my face the complete opposite for her. She was beaming, exhilarated as she tugged on the metal gate, prying it open with impatient fingers.
“It’s a mausoleum.”
Oh, fuck that. Absolutely fucking not.
I could see nothing but pitch-black darkness inside, it didn’t even look large enough to hold bodies, let alone a bunch of them. The structure couldn’t have been any bigger than a small shed or work building.
Lyra shifts to me, waving her flashlight teasingly, “Come on, don’t be a wuss. It’s cool inside.”
Then she’s off disappearing inside the dark, with a tiny glow to guide her way. My feet stay grounded outside. My brain trying to assure me that this was a disastrous idea, but my curiosity was greedy.
I looked up at the ominous clouds, the sky melting to black and I started to feel a few chilly raindrops on my skin.
“I’m going to regret this,” I mutter to myself, tossing my hood up onto my head and following after my strange friend in search of whatever it was we were coming here for.
I pull my own flashlight out, brightening a set of concrete steps that went narrowly down. I took a breath, my first step was taken cautiously trying to make sure I didn’t fall.
Midway through, my Converse caught something, making me jerk forward. I hastily grabbed at the wall beside me, wincing as my hand encountered the damp surface. Steadying myself for a moment and wiping my hand on my jeans, I continued down the steps until I reached the bottom.
Lyra had already begun turning on oil lamps, I’m assuming she’d left them here from her earlier visits, illuminating the room in a dim, warm glow. The smell was awful. It was moldy, dank, and rotting wood clung to the air like death.
The ceiling was much taller than I expected, the walls on either side of me layered with crypts, some of which were smashed open and I was not about to check if the body was still in there.
An unnecessarily large cross laid against the wall in front of me and in the center was a rectangular fashioned, granite table where Lyra laid all of her things down on.
“This is where I do my taxidermy. It’s a lot more spacious and I don’t have to worry about anyone barging in on me.” She swirls in a small circle, arms outstretched as she looks up at the roof, like this place is some grand dining hall and I suppose to Lyra, it is.
“So, why bugs?” I ask, grabbing a wooden crate and turning it on its top so I can sit down on it.
“Why not bugs?”
“Touché.”
“My mom was a biologist, she worked with snakes in her medical research, so weird animals were common around my house. Probably why I take so well to your pet rat,” She winks, using her flashlight to look around corners and underneath old boxes.
“Is your mom still…?” I ask, dragging it out hoping I haven't brought up a sensitive topic. Every time she talks about her, it’s always in the past tense and I assumed that she had passed.
“Nope. Dead as a doornail,” My eyes widen slightly at her crude words, but I know probably better than anyone that people cope with loss very differently, “She died when I was seven. I was put into foster care and when I turned eighteen I had full access to my inheritance and the insurance money. So I enrolled, figured I’d already spent my entire youth here, might as well get my education here. ”
I nod, taking in all this new information, liking the fact that I was getting to know her. I’d never had a real friend before and this was starting to feel a lot like a friendship that would last all through college.
She leaps towards a scattering bug on the floor, her small hands skillfully pick it up, holding it in her palm as it crawls around on its six legs. Her flashlight shines on the exoskeleton, the insect's colors almost iridescent with its rich greens and shiny blues.
“Jewel Beetle, people used to use their carapace for jewelry in religious ceremonies. Now they're just a collector's item due to their color.” She stares at the pretty bug, her eyes light up with wonder and curiosity. She picks up a clear jar and slips it inside before shutting the lid tight.
“What about you? Is your mom dead? Your father? Siblings? You don’t talk about yourself much, I’ve noticed. You’re not a secret resident advisor, are you?” She jokes, her airy voice making me smile.
I’d never had anyone ask me that. My entire life no one had taken the liberty to ask me about who I was, about my life.
I was struggling, trying to decide if I wanted to be honest about my parents, about what my father did, and who he made me into.
Or if I wanted to lie because it’s not like Lyra would ever know.
She would only know what I tell her.
I could make myself into anyone I wanted.
“My mom still lives in Texas and my dad is in state lockup, has been since I was thirteen.” I breathe, “Grew up in the same broken-down trailer since I was born and I’m an only child. Not much to say about me, honestly.”
“Is your dad in for something bad? Like killing someone?”
I shake my head, “Nope. He was a career thief. Pickpocketing, looting, that kinda stuff. One day he thought he could take on a bank. He was wrong.”
“You miss him?”
“Yeah, every day. I know being a criminal is bad, stealing is wrong, but everything he ever did he did for me and my mom. He was just working with what he had. I did learn a few tricks from him though.” I say with a smirk.
Choosing to be honest with Lyra wasn’t that troublesome. I didn’t want the foundation of our friendship to be built on lies. That’s never healthy or good for anyone in the long run. Plus, I knew I could trust her not to judge me for anything I told her.
“Am I going to have to lock up my Cherry Coke and dark chocolate to prevent you from jacking it at night?” She says with a matching grin.
I laugh, “Your stash is safe, scouts honor.” Raising three fingers and placing my hand on my heart.
The minutes pass, me watching her snoop around for interesting creatures that most would smash underneath a flip flop.
I even held a beetle that she swore would not bite me and it was kinda cool.
The longer I’m down here the less creepy it becomes, once you get over the fact dead bodies are surrounding you it’s not that bad.
It’s kinda like a secluded hideaway and because of that, we’ve decided to make it our gathering place for the Loner Society. A secret order of two people and two people only. Well, I guess until we make more friends if that ever happens.
Everything was going fine until the sharp sound of someone screaming penetrated the air.
It ricocheted off the walls, vibrating my feet and the chambers of my heart constricted with panic.
I jumped involuntarily, peering up at the steps from where the sound came.
It was a cry for help and the scariest part was it wasn’t far away.
It was close.
Right outside the doors of the mausoleum.
They say you never know how your fight or flight instinct will work until it’s triggered. It’s easy enough to sit behind a movie screen and shout at the girl, “Don’t go in the closet!”