Cradle Lake by Ronald Malfi

Author:Ronald Malfi
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Medallion Media Group
Published: 2013-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

Packer’s Pass was a narrow, undisciplined twist of corrugated dirt roadway shrouded by overhanging trees that eased upward along a slight incline through the woods. The trees were healthy and lush, the boles of the slanting oaks silvered by the sun. There were no houses along this route, though Alan spotted rusted, discarded bed frames and the shells of burned-out automobiles through the trees that reminded him of stories about sacred grounds where elephants go to die. Something small and quick darted through the underbrush, a blur of mottled fur.

The old Indian from the bar had informed him that Packer’s Pass had gotten its name several years ago after a few campers had gone missing in the nearby woods. A search was conducted, and the only thing the searchers had found was one of the camper’s backpacks halfway up the hillside along the dirt road. The pack had been shredded into ribbons, presumably by a mountain lion or bear, the items within strewn indiscriminately around the forest floor. The locals believed the campers were attacked by something much more sinister—something they referred to as Adahy, which, the old Indian explained, translated roughly to “He Who Lives in the Woods.”

None of the campers were ever seen again.

The roadway grew bumpier before it flattened out, opening up onto a small clearing toward the back of which sat a whitewashed shack with a sloping, weather-ruined roof. The windowpanes were blind with muck, and sod grew on the porch planking. Birds nested in the eaves, and ivy climbed the crumbling white bricks of a sagging chimney. A 1958 Chevrolet, colorless and defeated by rust, its chrome bumper and gapped grille pitted to a spotty red brown, sat beside the house. Its busted headlamps were like the empty eye sockets of a skull.

Alan slowed the Toyota to a crawl and rolled down his window. He could smell smoke in the air but could see none. Peering at the house, he was confident it was deserted. He braked and let the car idle, his hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. He was about to turn around and drive back down the dirt road when he noticed what looked like a grave marker—an ovoid slab of granite—protruding from what appeared to be a weedy, overgrown flower bed at the front of the house. Carved into the stone and quite visible even from the car was an upside-down triangle.

His throat felt itchy.

Movement behind one of the grime-covered windows caught his attention. He jerked his head in its direction but could see nothing more. Surely no one still lived here. Surely no one—

The front door opened. A woman in a pastel housedress and drooping nylons appeared. Her face was a withered mask of deep bloodhound wrinkles. She shuffled toward the edge of the porch with a pained, rheumatic slowness and folded meaty arms over her heavy breasts. Her hair was a silver nest atop her head; cobweb tendrils of loose hair fluttered like pennants in the breeze.

Alan

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.