The House By The River: A Paranormal Horror Novel

Matt came to. He did not remember how exactly he got there but he was back at the porch. He also did not remember how he just so happened to be standing and leaning by a wooden post when he awoke but he was there, nevertheless.

It was daytime. Although the sun shone high in the sky with barely a cloud in sight, he did not feel the heat. It wasn’t humid either. Something he was told to expect around these parts, especially that they lived by the river. On the contrary, he felt the cool breeze just moments after the trees or their branches swayed. It felt peaceful to him, his sense of accomplishment only adding, confirming, that despite all the sacrifices he did right by his family. Most of all, he kept his promise to himself.

He spied a figure clad in a black shirt, black jeans, with a black trench coat approach from the opposite end. He seemed to be struggling to keep his breath as he looked around. He had a bag. It was heavy, judging from the way he carried himself. The figure took three more steps and stopped once more. Judging by the way the figure ran after his breath, shoulders heaving, Matt was inclined to think that he had been running. He was sure it was a man, he just wasn’t sure how old.

Who in the hell would wear all black at this time of year? And a trench coat? He thought to himself as he continued to watch the figure approach.

As the figure neared, he noticed that it had spiked hair. A few more steps and he realized it was a younger man. He estimated him to be no older than twenty-two. Matt chuckled as the surprise visitor got close enough for him to make out details of his face. He wore a mascara and had piercings in his lips, nose, and ears. All glinted in the sun.

He’s got more metal in his face than my engine.

“Hey there,” Matt called out. “Can I help you?”

The younger man stopped to catch his breath, placing his hands on his knees, bent and panting. Sweat glistened in his forehead as he slowly nodded. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his trench coat. He approached later after apparently catching his breath. He was still panting when he finally came close to where Matt was.

“You look like you’re just about to drop,” Matt remarked. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Well, sir,” the young man started, “I came here to do an interview but right about now I’d be happy to just have a glass of water and be on my way.”

“Well, you made it all the way here so why don’t you sit on down and I’ll get you a glass?” said Matt.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” replied the young man.

Matt waited until the guest sat in one of the chairs on the conversation set on the porch and headed inside. He wondered just what the man wanted to interview him about as he fixed him a glass. Matt thought first got him a glassful from one of the bottles on the fridge then realized it might not be good for him, having been under the sun and out of breath. So, Matt dumped the cold water and took from the top. Then, he realized the glass would be cold but not the water. He dumped half then filled the rest with cold water from the fridge. As he did so, he could not help but shake his head at the visitor’s appearance, chuckling to himself.

Must be one of them emo dudes, he thought to himself as he made his way back, better not offend him. Might slash his wrist or something.

“Thank you, again. Sir.” Said the young man as he took the glass and downed it without pausing to breathe.

“Pardon me for asking but I can’t help but wonder just what brought you here. I’m Matt by the way.”

“Ian,” the guest answered. “I’m doing interviews with people who live way off from others. I was done with some households on the other side of this river yesterday. The Oklahoma side? Figured I’d hit some more if I could find some on my way back to the university.”

“Which one?”

“University of Texas at Austin.”

“You’re a long way out. What’s that? A three, four hour drive?”

“Close to five if I pace myself. And if my car decides to work. Damn thing broke down just before the turn here.”

“You walked here? From Cafee Drive?” Matt asked, disbelief written on his face.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure there was anyone here, but I saw several tire tracks and just figured I’d give it a try. Then the old hunk of junk died on me. I figured, well, I’m already here so why not? This is good water, thanks.”

Matt could not help but pity the guest. It was a long hike from the main road and the sun was high up. It was only when he examined his guest that he noticed that his garb wasn’t all black. The black shirt he wore had an outline in dark grey of a cross with a circle.

“Any time. So, mind telling me about this interview?”

“It’s for a sociology class. It is, like I mentioned, aimed at interviewing people who live far from others and how it affects or affected their lives.”

“You making a study and comparing it to others aren’t you? Like city dwellers versus country folk or something like that.”

“Yep, that’s about it. The rest in my class has the city folk covered. There’s a few of us assigned for those living far from most. I got the Texas and Oklahoma pies.”

Matt drew on his long experience ferrying goods across the roads of most states. He let out a whistle.

“Sounds like you got your work cut out for you, Ian. It was Ian, was it?”

“Yes sir. On both counts.”

“I’ve travelled this here parts for close to a decade. You have lot of ground to cover.”

“You have?” Ian asked. “What do you do for a living, if I may start?”

“I’m a trucker, and yes you may.”

“You might actually be able to help me plan a better route!” Ian exclaimed. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Sure don’t. I’m on downtime so I got time. So, what did you wanna know?”

Ian began by explaining the goals and scope of their study while taking out a laptop from his bag. He remarked at the apparent newness of the house. When Matt asked if that was a factor, Ian answered that it was. They preferred those that had lived in their homes for a while, at least for those that were under Ian’s scope.

Ian then explained that Matt’s situation might fit into another category which they had not yet considered, with the study being in its infancy.

“What situation might that be?” Matt asked.

“Nothing concrete yet, but perhaps a trend where previous city people are beginning to crave for the slower life? I did come across one yesterday, on the other side of this river like I said. Not the same as yours though, parents still in the house but needed taking care of. Whole family’s moved from Chicago, if I remember correctly.”

“That so? Well, it wasn’t for hating the city that we got this property. We just needed a bigger space and this place was going for cheap.”

Matt went on about the story of how they bought the lot first, then went through a series of loans and refinancing options to secure the funds for the house. Ian listened patiently. The topic then moved to general backgrounds – where he was born, grew up, education, and the jobs he’s held over the years. All were taken down as just facts, without naming him on the form.

As he got to talking and relating his stories, Matt found that he rather liked Ian. He listened well, asked the correct questions, and had a knack of making him talk more than he was willing to.

Or maybe I’m getting old. Is this what getting old means? Oversharing with people you don’t know? Matt wondered as he allowed for Ian to catch up with his typing.

Before he knew it, all the questions were asked and the interview came to a close. They briefly chatted about the routes, Matt taking in Ian’s plan of visits. Since reception was bad, internet was not an option. Luckily, Matt still had several maps on his truck’s dashboard. Ian took pictures of the sketches and notes Matt made on his notebook and thanked him again before leaving.

How are you going to get your car running? He wondered.

He watched Ian’s figure grow smaller and smaller until it was no more. By the time his guest had disappeared from view, Matt fell back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Beside him, on their bed, Emmy, his wife, was having the same dream.