THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE STREET

by

Lanny Maude




The house at the end of the street was the biggest one in the neighborhood. It was creepy just to look at it. It always gave me the same feeling as the trees at night. I grew up on Oak Street. The trees were big enough that they almost met in the middle of the street. When walking home late at night (kids could do that back then; heck, I had to walk a mile to kindergarten) I would usually walk down the middle of the street. That way the branches couldn't reach down and grab you. Sorry for getting off of the subject, but that's what I mean when I say that the house gave me the same feeling as the trees.

No one lived there when I was a kid. I never saw anyone living there, right up to the time when lightning struck it. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The house was off limits to all kids. If we asked our parents why we couldn't go there (it would've been perfect for Halloween) we'd get no useful information, just stay away.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. That's why."


That summer, my best friend Gary and I were into model rockets. You'd build it out of a little cardboard tube and balsa fins and a balsa nose cone. Add a rocket engine and a parachute and you were ready to go. We figured the best place to launch was around the corner at the high school. (Now why couldn't the elementary school be around the corner? It would've saved me a lot of walking.) The high school had a field where the baseball diamonds were. It was a big open area that was perfect for launching rockets. As long as there wasn't much wind.

The launch was spectacular. In my eyes I might as well have been watching an Apollo launch. Straight up it went, so fast you could hardly follow it. Then the breathless seconds wondering if the engine will give its little backfire to deploy the `chute. There it was. That little puff of smoke that meant the rocket just exploded or it popped the `chute and would float safely to the ground. Then I saw it. The rocket cleared the smoke. It was still in one piece. Success!

The rocket started its slow journey back, but something went wrong. We didn't figure on the breeze. It wasn't much, but it was enough to cause a considerable drift in the rocket. We gathered our stuff and started running. It became obvious very quickly that the rocket was headed for the one place we wouldn't be able to recover it...the house at the end of the street.

I've never been known for having good luck; that day was no exception. We kept running anyway. We got to the house just in time to see the rocket drop into the back yard. We both just stood there staring. I knew what was going through my head. I imagined Gary was hearing the same thing, only in his mom's voice instead of my mom's: "And stay away from that house."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. That's why."

I'm not sure, but I think I may have mumbled to myself: sorry, Mom.

I turned to Gary to announce my decision. I told him I was going to get the rocket. He told me I was crazy...the place was off-limits. I had made up my mind. I gave the stuff I was carrying to Gary and told him to go home. It would look too suspicious with him standing out in front of the house. Gary left after I promised him I would come by his house after I got the rocket. I took one final look around to see if anyone was watching. The coast was clear, so off I went.

I ran across the front yard, not stopping until I got to the overgrown bushes at the side of the house. I didn't stay long...just long enough to listen now that I was next to the house.

Nothing.

I worked my way through the bushes until I was at the back of the house where I held my breath, extending my hearing as far as possible. Not even a dog barking. I peered through the bushes and there it was. The rocket was sitting in the middle of the yard.

My first thought was success. But wait a minute...I didn't have the rocket yet. I gathered myself together, knowing what I had to do.

I ran out of the bushes straight for the rocket. I scooped up the rocket with one hand as I was reversing my direction in preparation for the big escape. While all of this was happening, I was also looking around. My eyes came to the back door and I stopped. Oh, I don't mean I only stopped scanning with my eyes, but stopped everything. For all I know, maybe my heart even stopped beating. I didn't know what was happening. I still didn't hear anything (at least I don't think so). Nobody yelled at me to get out of the yard. Nothing. I think it was when I blinked that the spell was broken.

I suddenly realized where I was and what I was doing. With that realization became action. I took off like a shot. I ran home without stopping. Into the house and into my room, I stood there in the middle of my room breathing hard. I noticed I was still holding the rocket, and I set it carefully on my desk and forgot about it immediately. I sat on the edge of my bed so I could catch my breath.


That night, I had a dream. In it I was wandering through a forest, through heavy brush. I broke into a clearing in which sat the house...the one at the end of the street. But I wasn't looking at the front of the house. I was looking at the back. There were two odd things about it (aside from the oddity of the dream in general). One: I didn't feel any fear or apprehension. And two: the back door was open just a crack. As I mentioned, there was no fear. Instead I felt drawn.like someone was calling me to the door, almost pulling me. I advanced slowly, heading straight for the door. I climbed up the back porch and stood there in front of the partially-open door. I watched as my hand reached out toward the door. I say it that way rather than I reached because it was like I was a spectator, not a participant. My hand crept closer and closer, my fingertips almost touching the door. Then my fingers touched the door and there was a blinding flash. I closed my eyes to protect them, and when I opened my eyes, I was looking at the ceiling in my bedroom.

I looked around, realized that I was lying in my bed. What a relief. That whole thing with the house was only a dream. I sat up and thought about what just happened. I couldn't explain it, but I still had that same drawn feeling that I had in the dream.

I know it's crazy, but I got out of bed and changed into the clothes I had been wearing that day. They were conveniently still on the floor. I sneaked out of the house and made my way back to the house at the end of the street. It was easy because of the nearly-full moon that night. I didn't run this time...I just walked across the front yard and around the house like I belonged there.

I think I was almost disappointed when I saw that the back door wasn't ajar like in my dream.

I continued onto the back porch. I braced myself for the blinding flash when I touched the door, but nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. It wasn't my dream. I was really there. And I was really turning the knob to open the door. It didn't surprise me that it wasn't locked. A lot of people didn't bother locking their doors back then.

I opened the door and entered the house for the first (and only) time. I started out in an empty kitchen. Since the windows were uncovered and the moon was bright, I could see details well enough. Everything was gone. Except for dust, of course. Everything was covered with a thick layer of it. And the dust was unmarked by footprints or even animal prints. I had to keep going, deeper into the house.

I wandered from empty room to empty room, eventually coming to what must have been an office or library. Every wall was lined with shelving. Curiously, there was a rug covering the hardwood of the floor in this room. Even under the dust I could see that this was a fine rug. Why was it left behind?

I was just about to turn and leave the room when I thought I saw something move on one of the top shelves. I looked more closely and saw that the moonlight was reflecting off of the shiny leather spine of a book on the shelf. I didn't notice it at first because it was laying down instead of standing.

I had to jump to reach the book but it only took a couple of tries. The cover was entirely black (or at least dark enough to look black), and there were no markings on the cover or spine. I moved next to the window so I could get as much light as possible. I opened the book to a random page and the first thought that struck me was this is beautiful. It was lettered in Old English Text (yes, I looked it up in my Speedball Textbook for Pen and Brush Lettering). The text was written in two columns, and at first glance it appeared to be in English. I didn't stop to read it. I just flipped through it to get a feel for the book. There were no picture illustrations, but a few of the pages had strange symbols drawn on them.

My quick perusal of the book proved to be too much for the old binding. One of the pages broke free and as it floated down, it came to a rest on the edge of the rug. I set the book on the nearest shelf and bent down to get the page. As I picked up the page, I noticed there appeared to be something painted on the floor under the rug. I could see one small part that wasn't quite covered. My curiosity was still healthy, so I rolled the rug out of the way.

What was on the floor reminded me of some of the symbols I saw in the book. It was a five-pointed star. I call it that instead of a pentagram like you always see in movies about witchcraft because a pentagram is straight, geometrically perfect, with a circle around the whole thing. The sides of what I saw were not the same length as each other, and they were even a little bit curved. There wasn't a circle around it, but there was something in the middle that looked like an eye. There was only a light layer of dust over it (isn't it amazing how dust will even collect under a rug).

I blew at the dust where I was kneeling but it didn't all come off, so I brushed some of it with my hand. The paint of the symbol was so dry and aged that some of it rubbed away along with the dust.

That's when I thought I heard something.

I jumped to my feet, startled, and listened. Then I heard it again...a growling noise. And it sounded like it was coming from under the floor.

That's all I needed. I was out of there in a flash. I got through the house and out the back door, then I did a replay of running from the house like I did with the rocket.

By the time I got home, I had regained enough presence of mind to be quiet. I sneaked back into my room and closed the door. It wasn't until then that I realized I still had that page in my hand, the one that fell from the book. I put the page on my desk (next to the rocket) and changed for bed.

Later that night (actually it was very early the next morning), I had a dream in which I heard something. It was like singing, but it wasn't like singing. It was indescribable.

The next thing I remembered, I was waking up in the morning. I wouldn't have believed what happened during the night if it wasn't for the page sitting on my desk. I looked at the page, sitting there innocently on my desk. Now was my chance to really inspect it in good light.

The paper was yellowed, but it wasn't too brittle. It took a little bit of punishment on its trip home with me and it held up well. The lettering was large and closely spaced in two columns. The ink wasn't quite black. It was a dark brown. And it was in English. I could read it. I didn't know what it was saying, but I could read it. And it still struck me as it did when I first saw the book: it was beautiful.

I wondered if I could make something that beautiful. I had played with calligraphy before, so I pulled out my Speedball set and picked the C-4 nib. That was my favorite. I didn't have brown ink so I used black instead, and same with the paper.no parchment so I used white. Over the next couple of days I copied the entire page. Mine looked a bit amateurish, but what do you expect? I was just a kid.


What I have to say now has nothing to do with this story, but it does have something to do with one of my pet peeves. Have you ever noticed in a narrative story how the narrator/protagonist will relate pages of dialogue? How is that possible? Nobody could remember that much dialogue with that much detail. The only reason I can tell you what was on that page is because I still have that copy I made when I was a kid. There...I feel better now that I got that off of my chest. Without further editorializing, here's what was on that page:

... because greater things were to be. But Idh-Yaa would not be a part of it.

Mighty Cthulhu left Idh-Yaa and that place which is called Xoth. But He journeyed not alone, for with Him were His Sons: Ghatanothoa, Ythogtha, and Zoth-Ommog. And also with Him was His Daughter, Cthylla, Who is favored above all Others.

For time and time They flew in darkness. The only sound in the silence was the strange song of Cthylla, Who occupied Her Mind in this way. She conversed not with the Others as She cared not of Their plans.

Then Mighty Cthulhu and the Sons of Mighty Cthulhu and the Daughter of Mighty Cthulhu came to a new world. And this world was strange in that it was surrounded by colors. Mighty Cthulhu liked this world, the sun of which was yellow instead of green; and the sun was only one sun instead of two suns.

And Mighty Cthulhu put away His Daughter, Cthylla, where none could find Her, but He could ever hear Her song in His Mind.

After a time, the Sons of Mighty Cthulhu spoke with Their Father, saying: "Father, We grow tired of this world, for it is cold, and there is none to worship Us."

Mighty Cthulhu looked upon His Sons. He was angry, for He was making His plans against Hastur, Who is His Brother and His Enemy. And Mighty Cthulhu considered the words of His Sons. And as He thought, Their words became His words.

Mighty Cthulhu told His Sons and His Daughter that They were to fly again. And They did fly again for time and time, but only a mere part of the time from that place called Xoth. They flew toward the yellow sun, attracted to its warmth and light after the darkness.

And They came upon a world that had been visited before, though not by Mighty Cthulhu. There were cities of the Elders in great fields of frozen water. But these were not the only cities of the Elders. The Elders were growing in number and moving away from the frozen water.

Mighty Cthulhu was pleased. He would set aside His battles with His Brother to wage war with the Elders, for Mighty Cthulhu was ever prepared for war.

So Mighty Cthulhu and the Sons of Mighty Cthulhu built a city far from the fields of frozen water. They labored as Cthylla sang in their Minds. And this city was called R'lyeh. And R'lyeh was truly a fortress.

And again, Mighty Cthulhu put away His Daughter, Cthylla, into a place of safety, for He foresaw the possibility of His defeat, even as He readied His plans. Cthylla was not for the Present but for the Future, and Her safety rested in Her secrecy.

The Sons of Mighty Cthulhu spoke with Their Father, saying: "Father, how can the place of Cthylla be a place of safety and a place of secrecy if She is ever singing? For even now we can hear Her."

And Mighty Cthulhu answered Them, saying: "the song of Cthylla is only for Us. It is of the Mind, and only of Our Minds."

So the Sons of Mighty Cthulhu were satisfied, knowing that Cthylla would be safe and the place of Cthylla would be secret, for She would be the Future.

And Mighty Cthulhu took His Sons to prepare for war. And They marched from R'lyeh to face the Elders, and the Elders were prepared but Mighty Cthulhu was ... As I mentioned, it took me a couple of days to make that copy. Other things were also happening during those days.

I had to apologize to Gary for not going over to his house after retrieving the rocket. I lied and told him my mom called me on my way over and I had to go home. He bought it. I didn't tell him about my nocturnal return trip to the house though. I didn't tell anyone (until now).

And that next night...actually every night for a week or so I would have a dream in which I could hear that singing sound that wasn't like singing.

But the part that really scared me (and the rest of the people in the neighborhood) was the house. You know.the one at the end of the street. Something started making noises. Not real obvious, but there were definitely noises coming from the house. The really weird part is no one would talk about it. It went on for a few days, but nobody would say anything. When I asked my folks about it, they changed the subject without answering me.


One day a stranger came to town. This was the fourth or fifth day after I had been in the house. I found out later that he was from Miskatonic University, although I never did find out his name. He didn't stop and talk to anyone (that I know of), but just parked in front of the house and went right in. He was in there for maybe an hour, certainly not more than that, then he returned to his car and drove off. I never saw him again.

Late that afternoon the clouds started gathering and the wind started blowing. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about it at the time.

Later that night, after dinner but before bedtime, was when it happened. There was a loud crack followed immediately by an explosion. I had heard a similar sound before when camping during a thunder storm. I ran outside with my folks and just about everyone else in the neighborhood. We were greeted with the sight of the house at the end of the street on fire. It had been struck by lightning. Some people got close, standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. It didn't look like anyone was going to bother calling the fire department.

I don't know what came over me, but I went back to my room and got the page from the book. I crumpled it up and headed back out to the street. My folks had moved to join the group in front of the house. I went over to stand with them, and when I got there, I threw the crumpled page toward the house.

I know it's not possible, but it looked as if some of the flames reached out to grab the page.

Mom and Dad asked me what it was. I told them it was just a piece of paper I found.

The house at the end of the street burned to the ground that night. The fire department never showed, and the fire never spread beyond the house. Also that night, the singing sound that wasn't like singing started to fade. A few nights later it was gone completely.


Even though this story is inconclusive (still lots of unanswered questions), I feel better for telling it. I felt the need to tell it because of what happened today. I got settled into my new house (new to me, at least) and decided to drive around to find out what's where. One block over and one block down from my house is a big, creepy, empty house sitting at the end of the street.

I noticed tonight that I feel drawn to the house.





The House at the End of the Street is © 2002 Lanny Maude