House of Ash

The night had settled over the village like a damp, suffocating shroud. The fog rolled low from the woods, creeping between buildings and curling against the saloon’s shuttered windows.

Outside the dimly lit saloon, the two men sat close, talking.

“Terrified by the creature inside the house,” Joe said, his voice barely above a whisper, “the men grabbed their torches and set fire to it. They stood around and watched it burn to ashes. And that was that. Nothing. And no one ever came out.”

I leaned forward, a half-smile tugging at my lips. “Damn. What a story. Actually has me a little freaked out.”

Joe chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “Yes. It’s been passed around here for, oh, I don’t know, since I was a boy. Not many people like to talk about it, though.”

“Really? How come?”

“Because they’re afraid, of course.” Joe glanced toward the blackened street, where shadows wavered in the lamplight. “Have you noticed that people around here don’t like to stay out after dark, or that we keep our distance from the woods? That story is more than just a legend to people in these parts.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Does that include you?”

“Well, yes.” Joe’s hand trembled as he lifted his Old Fashioned. “I probably shouldn’t even be talking about it. To even mention the beast is supposed to bring bad luck. But it’s probably just an old…”

Joe stopped, noticing the look on my face.

He frowned. “What is it?”

My eyes rested on an area between the buildings. “Hey, look. Do you see that down there?”

He turned. Beyond the railing of our upper deck, the fog had deepened, smothering the lamplight that lined the road.

For a heartbeat, there was only white mist and shadow. Then something moved.

A figure stepped from the treeline at the edge of the road, slow, deliberate, and wrong. Not the wrongness of a limping man or a trick of light, but something primal.

It was tall, or seemed tall because of the way it bent, its shape shifting with every movement, like smoke trapped in the shape of a body.

“Thomas,” Joe rasped, his chair scraping the wooden deck. “Get inside right now.”

I blinked. “What is it?”

“I mean it. Now!” Joe’s voice cracked, breaking into panic.