For as long as I can remember, my parents have taken me to my aunt’s house every fall. They call her that. I really don’t know if she is really my aunt. It seems to me that they didn’t really know how to name her for a young child, and since all the adults are the child’s uncles and aunts, that name stuck. I don’t know her real name. I don’t know any other relatives who have seen her. Even my younger sister never visited my aunt. Nevertheless, every year in October, my parents take me to a strange cabin in the forest where I spend a few weeks.
It doesn’t seem like my parents themselves would really like to take me to my aunt’s. Every October, I could see the worry on their faces and more and more often they whispered something quietly when they thought no one could hear them. Sometimes such quiet conversations turned into huge quarrels. Finally, my mom would cry and say “We have to do something, this can’t go on…” and my dad would try to calm her down, but he wouldn’t succeed and his own voice would have a hint of uncertainty. Yes, every October.
I grew up in the city. Meanwhile, my aunt lived not far from us in some crazy place. To be honest, I never saw any house next to where she lived. Although on the other hand, we always drove the same road so I can’t say for sure that there really wasn’t any house around. After I arrived, I never left her yard. My parents would make me swear every time we went to my aunt’s house to stay in her yard no matter what, then they would give me a big hug as they let me out. I often saw tears in their eyes and I felt so sad and sorry for them that I never thought of objecting.
I remember when I was very small, I thought that I was being punished because I did something bad, but I couldn’t understand why. My parents didn’t accompany me to the door and my aunt never came out to meet me. I was crossing her abandoned yard alone. The lawn had obviously never been mowed. When I was little, tall grass blocked my view and walking down a narrow asphalt path felt like I was in the jungle. Even the asphalt was cracked in places and grass was pushing through the gaps. But one summer I grew a dozen inches and could finally see beyond the tall grass. That’s how I found out that there was an old abandoned children’s swing in her yard. Flowers must have been growing under the windows, because large stones surrounded a small strip. Only when I grew up now I did notice a bent shadow barely visible through the darkened window.
I was shaking from head to toe as I walked towards the door. I was terrified when I knocked on the door and heard slow muffled footsteps coming. They were opened by an old woman. I don’t know her exact age and have never asked. When I first saw her she looked like she could be ninety, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone said she was close to a hundred. I was a bit puzzled by the fact that when I grew up she was still the same as I remember her as a child. Her face was covered with many wrinkles, but it seems that she has not aged a day in the 15 years that I have been visiting her. Her hair was completely gray, but I would expect a woman of that age to be unable to get out of bed. Despite her age, she never complained about her health, and although she struggled, she still walked, lifting her crooked legs and dusting the dirty pavement with her slippers.
When the door was opened, she kept saying the same question in a rough, raspy voice, “Why didn’t you come earlier, come in.” I always answered the same “I came when my parents brought me” it was completely true. She muttered under her breath how ungrateful they were and motioned for me to come inside, continuing to babble. Her dark eyes never left me. The small mouth and hard, thin lips were always tightly pursed and formed fine lines around the mouth. My ears were always unpleasantly irritated by some strange sound. As if through clenched teeth, she was drooling without taking her eyes off me. Every time I got chills. This is one of the strangest moments in my life, which repeats itself every October and already in September I start to feel anxious, knowing that soon I will have to travel to aunt.
I don’t think she ever cleaned the rooms. Every year I was surprised to see a bigger layer of dust on her shelves and floor, as if she didn’t even walk in the house. Apart from the dust, everything looked exactly the same. There were at least a dozen flies perched on the windows and not a single ray of fresh sunlight penetrated through the small stained windows. The inside smelled of an old man, mold, and heavy sulfur. The wooden walls were blackened in places from rot and the rooms were always damp.I don’t know why my parents used to take me to “Aunt”. Their only explanation was that they had no choice and it was pointless to think for anything more. I was afraid to ask my aunt, in fact I was afraid to even look into her eyes. It seemed to me that she didn’t have them and that her eye sockets were just a boundless black void.
There was, of course, nothing to do here. The hut didn’t even have electricity, no phone connection, and no internet. Aunt had an outdoor toilet and a well from which she drew water. More precisely, I fetched the water at her command. She accompanied me to the well with barely visible fear. And as I lowered the bucket, she muttered, “Deep well. The dark well.” I was shaking as she repeated it in a low voice right into my ear, standing inches behind me. I was scared out of my mind that she would push me into the well. But she never had that thought.
But the worst were the nights. It gets dark outside early in October. Since aunt had no electricity, at some point the hut became completely dark. I suspect that she went to bed very early because when it got dark she was nowhere to be seen. And I never dared to enter her room. I was just happy that she was finally not around. When it was time to sleep, I would fall asleep restlessly.
I swear every time I slept I had the worst nightmares and every single one of them had to do something with my aunt. Sometimes I would go to the well and she would follow me as always, only in the dream she would stand behind me and put her wet hands on my shoulders and suddenly I would fall into the wet abyss of the well. But even when I fell, I didn’t wake up. At the bottom, through the top of the well, I could see a small streak of light and her crooked, prone figure that I swear even from a distance looked like she was smiling a crooked smile with crooked single yellow teeth. Then I heard her voice from somewhere nearby, “Deep well. A dark well.” Eventually, her figure would cover the lid of the well and any light would disappear, leaving only the sound of gurgling water around me. Then through the slimy water I felt slimy hands grab both of my legs by the ankles and drag me under the dark water.
Every time I dreamed, I knew everything that was going to happen, every step and how everything would end, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not control my body and I had no will to do otherwise.
Another time I dreamed that I was swinging back and forth on the swings and something was surrounding me, but I couldn’t turn around and see who it was. As the swing started to go back and reached its peak I could hear her soft squealing and her slimy wet hands pushing me forward. I could feel the stench of her rotting mouth on my neck.
Another time I dreamed that I woke up at night because someone was rustling in the wardrobe next to the bed, I ran across the room and opened the door. Another door leads me outside and I finally sprint across the dark courtyard and climb over a low gate. On the other side of the gate I turn towards the forest. I lose control of my body again and run into the dense forest. After a few steps between the dark trees, I hear her eerie scream and I see her rise above the house and run to me, spreading her dirty rags. My steps become extremely heavy and slow. No matter how hard I try, it seems like I’m running into water and I can’t escape any further. Then she comes right next to me and her wet hands grab me. And I wake up again.
Similar dreams tormented me every night and ended only when I returned home. However, it took at least a few weeks before I fully recovered and could return to my normal life. The days at my aunt’s house were also very similar. I could walk around the house unfettered except her room was always locked regardless of whether she was inside or not. I was left with my thoughts constantly revolving around last night’s nightmare or speculating about what nightmare I would have this night. I was able to go out into her weedy yard, but as far as I know, my parents said I wasn’t allowed to go outside the gate. The aunt never mentioned the ban or why it was in place.
All my life I listened to one rule that my parents told me to follow, but this October I decided that I will not suffer anymore. Being at my aunt’s all night, I barely managed to fall asleep because of fear, and as soon as my consciousness sank into a sweet sleep, a new nightmare would begin, then it would end, but a new one would immediately begin. It seemed like every year the nightmares got longer and I dreamed more and more of them during the night. It became unbearable.
After last night’s dream I decided I couldn’t stand being at her house anymore. So I waited for the night to escape, quietly slipped out of my room and opened the unlocked front door. Just like in a dream, I jumped over a low fence and ran out onto the road unhindered. So that my aunt could not see me, I ran under the cover of the forest trees and decided to travel along the road that I knew my parents were bringing me. No one chased me out of the house. No hand reached me from behind and my legs went easily, without any difficulty. After walking for several hours, I reached a small village, where an old man opened the door after knocking on it. He looked annoyed at first, but when he saw me, the anger on his face suddenly changed to surprise and sadness. He asked where I was coming from and I told him that I got lost on my way from my aunt’s and I wanted to go home. The man did not ask me anything more.
I asked to be allowed to use the phone. While we were talking, his elderly wife came and her face also showed sadness. The man allowed me to make a phone call and I dialed my parents’ number first, but no matter how many times I called, no one answered. After the first call, they suggested I better call the police, but I gave up only after a good ten minutes.
During that time, they called the police. This one arrived almost immediately. The middle-aged, gray-haired policeman had the same look of pity on his face. He talked to the elderly owners for a while and finally agreed to take me home.
When we arrived, I expected my parents to run right back to me and I could go back into their arms. However, no matter how much I knocked on the door, no one opened it. The lights were already off. Luckily for me we keep a spare key hidden and I got inside.
It’s been a week since I came back. Since then I haven’t seen my parents, sister or heard anything from my aunt.
Every night I have the same nightmares that drive me crazy. Sometimes even during the day I can hear her voice and feel her bad breath. It seems to me that she is about to come out of my parents’ locked room. My closet doesn’t stop rattling at night and I swear, we never had an abandoned well in the yard before. But now it stands near a low gate in a grassy yard.