There's a Monster Pony Outside My Window

by Halira

Chapter 3: Noises Up Above

Charles carefully drove the station wagon under the awning next to the house and parked it. For what must have been the hundredth time, he made a note to himself that he needed to look into getting some concrete to lay a proper driveway and to reinforce the poles for the awning before they got too unsteady. However, like all the house projects, that was always balanced against the fact they were just barely making it, and things were getting more expensive all the time. This place wasn't much, but they had hopes that it would be their forever home when they moved in. There were things hoped for, and then there was cold hard reality, and the truth was they might need to soon relocate to somewhere cheaper.

Today, a buddy at work had given him a lead about a good job in Fort Myers, Florida. His friend had explained housing prices were cheaper there too. They could afford decent meals for their kids there and not have to worry about local gangs. It seemed like a perfect opportunity, but he needed to convince Wendy of it, and he knew that would be a challenge. Colorado was where all three of the girls were born, and Wendy too, and he knew she had her heart set on staying here. He didn't like to be the one who had to be serious about things, he was a jokester at heart, but he had to think about what was best for his family.

As he was getting ready to open the front door, he paused. There were a pair of fallen branches underneath the big tree in the front yard. There hadn't been any significant wind today or last night, at least not that he could recall. He walked over to them and looked up at the tree. The lower branches where the kids made their treehouse—just a piece of plywood board that created a platform on one branch—were fine, so these must have fallen from higher up. It took him a few seconds to spot it, but he was able to identify it as one of the mid-branches a little higher up than the kids' sitting area. That branch shouldn't have broken off, even in the wind.

Charles looked down again and put hunting skills his great uncle had taught him to work. He reached down and picked up a leaf. There was dried blood on it. Had one of the kids gotten too bold in their tree climbing and taken a tumble?

He hurried inside and found his three daughters all gathered around the television, their attention glued to the screen as they watched their VHS tape of Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer, one of the few movies all three girls could watch together in peace. None of them were wearing any bandages or showing any signs of injury. Their cat, Cinnamon, had been lying on the couch when he walked in but bolted from his throne and out the door while it was still half-opened. Cinnamon didn't seem to be limping at all, so it wasn't him that fell from the tree.

Charles walked past the girls who were so enraptured by the TV they probably hadn't noticed him. Their pet cockatiel did take notice of him and began singing happily at the sight of him. He paused and said pretty bird to the pet a few times, which the bird whistled back happily. If only everyone in the world was as easy to please as the cockatiel, who only wanted people to talk to. The world would be a much more pleasant place. He always tried to talk to Pretty whenever he passed the cage so the bird wouldn't get depressed. Charles loved his wife, but aside from feeding the pets, she largely ignored them, and he doubted if she'd even notice if one were behaving oddly. Animals had feelings too and needed to have people reaffirm they loved them.

A short stroll brought him to the kitchen where his wife was working in dinner—mac and cheese with hotdog slices, again. At least it wasn't mac and cheese and freezer-burned fish sticks. He silently swore he would never eat another fish stick again after they ran out of the current supply. It was how they made it by; buying in bulk and living off the same things for months.

He walked behind her and kissed her on the cheek. "Hi, hun. I noticed something or someone broke a branch on the front tree and fell out of it. Are the girls all okay? They looked fine when I came in, but I still wanted to check."

She blinked and looked at him. "Nothing happened that I know of. Maybe it was Cinnamon?"

"Cat seemed fine when I came in, but whatever fell hit the ground hard enough to bleed," Charles answered. "Maybe it was a hawk or falcon last night, and they knocked a squirrel out of the tree before making off with it."

She shrugged. "More likely than a vampire horse."

"Vampire pony," Charles corrected with a chuckle. "Don't let Charlotte hear you calling her monster a horse." He looked at the stove. "Mac and cheese with hot dogs with a side of mac and cheese without hot dogs, we're really branching out on dinner ideas, aren't we?"

Wendy batted him with the wooden spoon she was stirring with. "Our new neighbor is joining us for dinner, and she doesn't care for meat, so I'm making a batch without. She and I had a nice conversation at the bus stop this morning. Her name is Miss Newman. She has lots of children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, but no one living with her."

He smirked. "Are you sure hot dogs count as meat? I'm not sure what is in them, but I'm not sure it's meat."

The girls all ran by towards the back door, giggling.

"Hey, no running in the house!" Wendy called after them. "And don't get dirty! It is almost dinner time, and we have a guest coming over."

The door practically slammed as they went through into the two unfinished rooms and the backyard beyond.

Wendy groaned in despair that they were inevitably going to get dirty before dinner and turned towards Charles. "So, how was work?"

He walked to his seat at the dining room table, took his work jacket off, and draped it over the back of his chair. "Pretty run-of-the-mill calls today, nothing crazy. One thing did come up that I wanted to talk to you about, but we can talk about that after our guest leaves. How was work for you?"

"Typical last few days before a holiday," Wendy replied. "Everyone is buying candy, and a few people were buying Halloween makeup to put together a last-minute costume. Not the longest six-hour shift ever. Oh! I managed to pick up some candy for the trick-or-treaters. I put it up in the top left cabinet in the pantry-hallway so the girls couldn't find it. Are we doing the normal, me chaperoning the girls and you staying home to hand out the candy?"

"Of course!" he said with a laugh. "Do you think I would turn down a chance to use my new comedy material on hundreds of people who will most appreciate it?"

"Giving them the trick and treat then," Wendy giggled. "Just no telling that joke about the mummy's bandages; that is too dirty for children."

"Well, monsters are supposed to be dirty."

"Charles!"

He laughed. "Fine, I won't tell it, but you're crippling my comedy here, Wendy."

The doorbell rang, and they both turned and looked in the direction of the living room.

"That should be Miss Newman," Wendy announced. "Can you let her in? I'm going to start setting out bowls."

He nodded and headed in the appropriate direction. "Sure thing."

A half-minute later, Charles opened the door. Standing there was a middle-aged woman in faded blue jeans and a purple sweater. She stood there, blinking in what seemed surprise to see him. Cinnamon was rubbing against her leg and audibly purring.

"Miss Newman, I presume?" Charles asked when she didn't say a greeting.

She seemed to shake off her… whatever that was and smiled. "Yes, and you must be Mister Portsmith."

"Just call me Charles," Charles replied. "Is everything okay? You seemed a little out of sorts for a second there."

She rapidly nodded. "Yes, you are just… younger than I expected. May I come in?"

He stepped aside to let her in. "People tell me I have a young face. You look younger than I expected, too, considering my wife said you have great-grandchildren."

The woman stepped in and looked around the living room. "I do age rather gracefully. My whole family is rather healthy. My parents are still alive and kicking, and my mother still goes out gardening daily without assistance at her age. I have some older siblings and an aunt that still haven't retired."

Charles nodded along. "Can't fault people for wanting to keep busy." He glanced down at the cat, who had followed Miss Newman in, and was still rubbing against her leg. "Cinnamon there seems to have taken a liking to you. You should feel special; he normally hates strangers and only barely tolerates the rest of us. The only person I have ever seen him eager to see is my youngest daughter."

Miss Newman reached down and ran her hand along the cat's back. "Cats and I normally get along, although I don't have one of my own at the moment." She stood back up straight. "I know that this might seem rude, considering I just got here, but can I use your bathroom? I have a condition where I find myself immediately needing to go out of nowhere, and it can take quite a few minutes."

Ick, older people and their extended bowel movements. I'm not looking forward to that when I get older. Charles thought to himself. "Sure thing, it is right around the corner there. You can't miss it. I'll wait out here in the living room for you."

"Thank you, kindly," Miss Newman replied, then turned and walked around the corner to the house's sole bathroom. A moment later, he heard the door to the bathroom shut and lock. A second after that, he listened to the sink turn on.

Feeling a little awkward waiting for someone in the bathroom that could possibly be in there for an extended period, he decided to sit on the couch. He tried to pet Cinnamon, but the cat's amicable behavior towards Miss Newman hadn't made him any more friendly towards Charles, and the cat shied away from his hand before going and perching atop his large overstuffed recliner.

Minutes passed by, and Charles busied himself looking through the mail for the first few before setting it all aside as the bills were too depressing to look at. He and Wendy would probably need to take on some extra hours again soon, especially with Christmas shopping starting at the end of next month. That meant imposing on the Westoffs to watch the girls again after the girls got off school each day. It wouldn't be the first time, but he hated having to ask the Westoffs to do it. None of the girls were old enough to be left home alone for hours at a time, especially around this neighborhood. Andrea and Kristin could be, for an hour or so, but definitely not Charlotte. He made a mental note to talk to the Westoffs tomorrow when they brought their kids by to trick-or-treat.

Charles looked up as he heard a sound coming from the ceiling. It didn't sound like it was coming from on top of the roof. It sounded like it was in the crawl space. Had a squirrel gotten into it somehow? No, it sounded too heavy to be a squirrel. The crawl space entrance was outside in the backyard. Andrea had been caught climbing on the roof before. Had she done it again, only this time, going into the crawl space? That worried him because it wasn't safe for a variety of reasons. If the ceiling didn't give out under her feet, there were still nests of black widows that inhabited the crawl space above the house and the cellar below. He'd never even gone into the basement because they were so bad.

He frowned and stood up, getting ready to go check the door to the crawl space, when he remembered why he was even sitting on the couch. After a brief bit of indecision, he called out to his guest.

"Miss Newman? I'm going to check something real fast. Just wait out in the living room if I'm not here when you come out," Charles instructed. He waited a second for a reply, but only heard the sound of the sink. She might not have heard him, or he might not have heard her.

Charles hesitated for a few seconds then headed into the kitchen. Wendy already had all the food, drink, and silverware set out on the table and ready to go.

"Hey, Wendy. Mind sitting out in the living room?" he asked. "It isn't that I think our new neighbor is going to go rooting through our bedrooms in my absence, but I'd still feel better if someone was out there."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Where are you going?"

He pointed at the ceiling. "Something big is up in the crawlspace, too big to have just come in through a little hole in the siding. I want to check to see if Andrea has been climbing up on the roof again and check the door to it."

"The thing is padlocked. There is no way she could get in the crawlspace," Wendy replied. She still started walking towards the living room. "I'll keep an eye on Miss Newman. Be careful checking, and send the girls in."

Charles exited out to the two unfinished rooms. There was an additional door going from them out into the backyard, but it didn't even have a lock on it, and he only had to pull it open and walk through. He immediately was able to clear Andrea of wrongdoing because she was all the way near the back fence shoving the old coal crate the girls had converted into a playhouse. They did this regularly, seemingly never satisfied with where it was located. He quickly spotted Kristin arguing with her sister about where she thought it should be. The three of them had divided up the backyard into zones—or more accurately, Andrea and Kristin had divided it up and given Charlotte a small section and two larger sections for themselves. Andrea was apparently in the process of claiming the box house for her zone.

"Where's your baby sister?" he called out to the older girls.

They pointed together to a group of bushes in the other back corner of the yard. He didn't need to check on her because she came crawling out from them at her mention. So much for not getting dirty. They'd need to come in even if it wasn't time for dinner; it was starting to get dark, and he didn't want them outside after dark, even in the backyard.

"You three get inside and wash your hands. It's time for dinner," Charles instructed. He was greeted with a pair of yes, Dads from the two older girls and a yes, Daddy from Charlotte as all three went running by him.

He stepped out to the middle of the yard, where he could easily look up and view the door that led into the crawlspace. The lock appeared to be in place, and the door didn't seem broken. Maybe he had imagined things earlier or misestimated how big a thing was running around. Perhaps it was just a squirrel.

Oh well, Time for dinner.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

Why isn't there a horror tag?

[Halira]

11021516
I've been on the fence about that tag. It might be added later, but for now, I don't see it falling in the genre. Right now, it is more an adventure with some dark elements and mystery early on.

[Charlie_K]

If the ceiling didn't give out under her feet, there were still nests of black widows that inhabited the crawl space above the house and the seller below. He'd never even gone into the basement because they were so bad.

Cellar.

"Hey, Wendy. Mind sitting out in the living room?" he asked. "It isn't that I think our new neighbor is going to go voting through our bedrooms in my absence, but I'd still feel better if someone was out there."

Rooting.

This story continues to grow interesting with each chapter.

[Numinos]

Finally got to this story, pretty intriguing so far.