On a walk

A man takes a walk in his neighborhood but seems to stumble into something strange.

The leaves had mostly fallen from the trees, leaving large clumps of reddish orange detritus spread across the houses of the street. Bare skeletons of trunks and branches stabbed upwards as if reaching for the last warmth of the sun before the inevitable cold sets in. A few people were out already taking down their Halloween decorations, something that saddened me as they seem so anxious to move on, while I stubbornly hold on to the nostalgia of the holiday. Breathing in the cold air awakens the body like an electric charge, an uncomfortable feeling at first but invigorating against the weakness of warmth. That breath comes with it, a slightly smoky aroma, perhaps from some home’s heater kicking on for the first times of the season. Though, autumn air has that natural smell to it. Not acrid or biting, but pleasant.

I’d taken a break from work, being a bit frustrated with a few things, and decided to take a walk around the block, something I do often as a way to clear the mind and recharge. I’d decided to walk a slightly different street that day. All streets tend to circle around and come back toward my house at that end of the neighborhood so I didn’t think twice about getting lost, more just looking to scout some decorations before they got taken down. I walked and walked as the street slowly curved to the right, expecting to see the main road that cuts through that I can take back to my street. I took my time that day inspecting the houses, some with phantasmic intricate displays in the yards, some with cheap Minion blowups that were depressingly deflated laying across the hard brown grass. I’d lost track of time, before it occurred to me that I should have surely reached the main road by then. The houses, modern designs either brown or gray colored, continued, of course all very similar according to HOA standards, monotonously passing me by. I stopped and turned around, looking at the street behind me curving back to the left. It seemed silly to go back with as far as I’d gone, so I turned back and continued on my route.

The next street I came upon wasn’t the main road cutting through, but a sudden left turn in the road, it was very odd that it didn’t continue straight or go right. Not wanting to spend more time doubling back, I continued, expecting to surely find my way home eventually. I had no more meetings or time bound projects to rush back for, so I was comfortable taking an extra-long break. As I continued down the left turn, the houses changed slowly but abruptly at the same time it seemed. Without realizing, they were older, the trees larger, and the lots larger as well. Often the houses would sit further back from the street leading to long driveways, sometimes with trees or old statues lining them, as they curved back to the road.

I came upon a curious house after a few of these “new” houses. This one had a New England/Colonial feel to it, with a flat facade and a backward sloping roof. Four windows on the front floor with a door exactly in the middle and five windows on the second floor. It had a quaint retaining wall around the front holding in some old scrubby bushes, made up of roughhewn rocks that seemed to be meticulously stacked. Next to it, stood a small starkly white barn structure with a gambrel roof, which I took as the garage. I assume it once was a barn due to the hay loft door above. On the hay loft door, there was a crudely painted red symbol, circular on the outside and a cross in the middle. The lines making up the cross came from the outside circle so that the whole symbol seemed to be done in one continuous line. It struck me as it appeared to be crude in its creation, almost as if thrown up their very quickly, with tendrils of red paint splayed to the side and dribbling down in places. I’d later look up this symbol and the closest thing I could find called it a Celtic knot or a “Icovellavna”, supposedly used to ward off negative energy, originating back with the original peoples of Europe. The effect of the grimly splattered red paint on the smooth white facade was jarring.

I stood there a few minutes studying the house when that feeling of being watched settled in. I turned around and noticed a wooded area across the street. There were no undeveloped areas close to my house, though this didn’t register at the time. In the woods I couldn’t see anything specifically, but I could feel a conscious presence focusing on me. The feeling grew darker as I looked into the trees. As I stood transfixed, the trees themselves seemed to slowly stand taller and lean toward me as if trying to intimidate me. There were audible snaps of branches and the wind went from a whistle to a low ululation filled with cold malice. The sky had been overcast, but it seemed to also grow slightly darker. I thought I could catch movement at the edge of my vision, as I looked one way something would seem to move just where I was last looking. At once, several birds took flight from the tops of the trees, no doubt spooked by what I could not see.

I unconsciously backed up the gravel driveway of the house I was watching. I only then took notice of the small statues lining that driveway. Small creatures with beastly faces and wings, weathered with spots of dull green moss, all with different sneering expressions and poses looking in all directions but the house. Before I knew it, I backed into the front step, tripped and fell down on. There was a radiance of heat coming from the house, not a welcoming warmth on this now cold day, more a raw emotion spoken not of words. I turned back to the house and noticed it too seemed to stand taller, almost bent over me. I all of the sudden felt as if I’d stumbled into the middle of a strange standoff. I saw one light on in the house to the left of the door, almost a candle flicker, though it quickly went dark as I leaned to peer in.

The door felt heavy as I banged my hand against it, so securely fastened it seemed it would take a medieval battering ram to break through. I continued knocking, yelling for anyone to hear me. Just then a wind kicked up, creating a small vortex of dead leaves and dirt. I watched dumbfounded for a few seconds before the small twister moved toward me in a straight line, not the drunken stupor you would expect from a natural phenomenon. I yelped and ran between the house and the garage, thinking my house must be that direction, though all I saw were more woods behind. These felt somehow more benign than those across the street, so I ran and stumbled my way through them. No trail was available, so I could only bushwhack through biting, leafless tree branches, hard bushes and low mud spots. I eventually found my way out to a highway that I recognized, muddy and scratched up from the woods. I stood there for a while and recounted what I felt were the last 20 minutes, not sure if what I saw was real. Slowly I walked home, taking the highway shoulder back to my neighborhood.

I didn’t tell my wife about it. I hadn’t actually seen anything strange; nothing actually attacked me or even threatened me. Though my heart still races a bit when I think about it. A few weeks later I decided to find the house again, while in my car. I took the same street, but I didn’t come across that odd left turn, it just dumped me out on the main road as I had initially expected it would. I looked on Google Maps for a forested area but couldn’t find it. Even the woods that I came through to the highway appeared to be a just a small line of trees on the map separating my larger neighborhood from the highway.

It feels like one of those movies where the protagonist wonders if it was all a dream. I can say that I had a few cuts from my rush through the woods, so I know I wasn't sleeping. I can vividly describe the house and that symbol I saw on the garage, a symbol I had never seen before and was able to find on the internet exactly as I had seen. The experience is now just a strange memory that I try to forget, though I occasionally still drive around looking for that house. Maybe next time I’ll try it on foot again.

Author's Note

Any constructive comments are welcome!