Short Story // Calm in the Storm (2013)

By M. Wobrak Originally published at Expressions of Grace (2013)

❋ ꧁✺꧂ ❋

It had been ten years to the day since the Eliots left and the worst storm their small town had seen in the latter half of the twentieth century had the door of their home swinging on its hinges.

The front door slammed shut when a pair of teenagers in dripping wet clothing stumbled in from the rain, sending vibrations through the thin walls. A shadow box fell from its perch in the dusty parlor with a heavy sound. Below, the ground was littered with flowers and headless, limbless statuettes half-buried beneath a small mound of dirt, giving it the appearance of a bloodless battlefield. The house itself was on the way to looking like one, as well. Outside, tendrils of ivy had already begun their skyward dance along the brick-and-mortar walls and curled into the shattered window panes.

But despite the emptiness of the home, a long shadow was cast on the peeling wallpaper of the parlor. A flash of lightning illuminated the figure of the girl as she knelt beside the fallen soldiers, setting her palms into the dirt. She had organized the floral shadow box with glass statues and stones to add a calming beauty to the derelict room.

The boy leaned on a door frame. “I know that it’s terrible out there, but why did we come here rather than your house? We passed it coming in.”

Without turning, she said, “I spend a lot of time here. I put this shadow box in. No one’s lived here in awhile, so I didn’t think they would mind. It’s kind of far back in the woods, it’s existence is mostly ignored.”

“But why do you come here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I got curious when I was younger, always seeing this empty home here from my bedroom window. It’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful from the outside. But it’s a morbid kind of beauty.

It’s got a story and I can’t help but guess how it goes.”

He was silent as he crouched down to pick up one of the flowers. With it in hand he settled on the floor beside the fireplace. She stood up, shaking the sleepy feeling from her legs after having knelt for so long. From behind a black walnut rocking chair she pulled a knapsack.

“What’s that for?”

“I keep it here in case I need something when I visit.”

“What could you possibly need that you couldn’t go home for?”

“I mean, I suppose I could go home. I just don’t always want to when I’m here.” Digging her hand into the knapsack, she set out in front of him a compass, a flashlight, a wool blanket, and several books. “I told you I spend a lot of time here. Here, you can put the blanket around your shoulders since we don’t have a towel to dry you off.” She grinned, handing it to him.

“Okay, but what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He saw her body shiver in what little light there was.

“No, you should come over here. We can share.”

“Okay.”

She joined him in sitting beside the unlit fireplace.

“It’s beautiful here. Strange, because no one has lived here for so long. But you can still see that they had a nice life.”

“Can you?”

“Well, it’s surprisingly neat, as far as abandoned buildings go. It is dirty, I suppose, but I expected it to look like hell in here.”

“I just wonder if they had such a nice life why they would just pack up and move though. I mean, it looks beautiful because they left their entire lives behind.”

She reached over toward a battery-operated record player that sat on the carpet near the fireplace. From behind it she pulled a vinyl record and placed it gingerly on the machine. The achingly melancholy second movement of Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony began to play as she switched the record player on. They both sat, deeply entwined in the music for a long moment as the orchestra danced with the sounds of nature above, wrapped up in the warmth of the music and their own closeness.

The music ended, and still they sat in silence, save for the occasional crack of thunder that served as their reminder of the storm raging outside.

“The batteries were dead in it when I got here the first time, so I made sure to bring more with me. The records aren’t mine though. They were left here.”

“That was lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Why would they leave their records here?”

“Why would they leave any of this here? Something had to have happened to cause this.”

She felt his arm brush against hers.

After a moment, he said, out of the blue, “I bet they were abducted by aliens!”

She laughed. “Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Well, you know, sci-fi nerd over here. That’d be the interesting thing. But no. They didn’t die, did they?”

“I don’t think so. I would think that if they did someone would’ve done something with the house by now, like a family member or someone. Maybe it had something to do with a bad relationship. They could have fought a lot.”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t quite make sense. Why would they both move out if that was the case?”

She mulled it over for a moment. “This is true.”

“Maybe they were involved in some sort of organized crime and they had to leave to get the cops off their trail.”

She laughed again. “You’ve been watching too much television. It seems unlikely, but honestly, who knows? I mean, I guess we’ll never really know exactly why they left. We could search every miniscule space in this house for a clue and unless we find something that explicitly states why, we’ll never really know for sure. It’s really strange, how no one seems to know anything about them. I’ve asked around, and all anyone seems to know is that they left in the early sixties without a word and that they kept to themselves.”

They sat in silence again, listening to the rain beating hard against the shingles. The shattered windows did not shield them very well from the rushing winds and rain, so it wasn’t long before the girl was shivering even underneath the blanket. The boy noticed, and tried rubbing his palm on her arm to warm her. She smiled.

“So we can’t know why they left years ago. But can I know why you come here now?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear that story.”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s nowhere near as interesting as any reason we could come up with for the Eliots’ disappearance. We should talk about that more. I like hearing your ideas.”

“Thank you, but I’d really prefer to hear your story! Like you said, that’s all fiction. I’d like to hear something more realistic for a change.”

“Okay… if you’re sure.” She paused, unsure of how to proceed. She gathered her thoughts. “Even though we don’t know the Eliots’ story for sure, we know that there is something that happened at some point that would make them leave. Something that made this house hell. But to me, this house has always been something beautiful, or I suppose I tried to make it into something beautiful. I used to just come to explore at first, to have the adventures I longed for. Recently though it’s been my sanctuary from home, from long days of my mom’s breakdowns. They don’t come so often anymore, but when they do she goes into the empty room with the blue wallpaper and wooden crib and touches the stuffed animals and cries. I can’t bear to see her like that. It makes my heart hurt knowing I can’t do anything. I can’t help her and I can’t watch her cry. But I suppose that’s that.”

The boy was quiet. Carefully, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. But why would you say that your story wasn’t interesting? I think it’s beautiful that you can find your sanctuary in a place like this.”

“Well, thank you. I’m not really looking for sympathy or anything by the way. I just thought it’s only fair if you knew.”

“I understand. Thank you for inviting me into your sanctuary.”

“Yeah,” she said, parting her lips as if to say something further, then closed them again.

Silence hung for a long moment.

“I wish we could light a fire,” the boy said.

“Why, are you still too cold? I can go look around; there might be a blanket in another room or closet somewhere that you could use.”

He laughed. “No, it’s not that. I would just very much like to see your face in a warmer light than the occasional flash of lightning allows.”

She felt his palms turn hot on her skin. After a moment, he continued. “Speaking of which, it seems to be slowing down out there. Perhaps we can make a run for it now? It seems like this is probably just like the eye of the storm or something. There’s supposed to be another on its way a little later.” “Okay,” she said, grinning. “I’d like that. We can go to my house and maybe finish our walk later after the storm is over. I can make us some hot apple cider back home, come on.” She lifted herself from the ground, grabbing his hand and pulling him up with her.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

They shared a smile for a moment before she broke eye contact and bent down to put everything back in her knapsack, returning it to its home behind the rocking chair. Straightening herself, she took his hand, smiled widely, and led him through the door to the covered porch.

“On three?” she asked.

“Let’s do it.”

“Okay, but let’s say it together. One…”

“Two…”

“Three!” they shouted together, and together they dashed through the rain across the wooded distance that separated them from her home. When they got there, she didn’t feel afraid of what she would find behind the door. Everything felt warm in spite of the cold rain dripping down her neck and face.