She Never Sleeps

The rain started coming down in sheets as Jake’s car veered onto the muddy road leading up to the secluded old house. The windshield wipers worked furiously to provide a modicum of visibility. This weather certainly wasn’t making the best first impression.

Turning onto the gravel driveway, Jake glanced again at the directions scrawled on the passenger seat. The real estate agent had sent him off the main highway and through a maze of country back roads before pointing him up the steep, forested hill known as Widow’s Peak. Isolated didn’t even begin to describe it.

As the car jostled over the rough terrain, the house gradually emerged from the stormy gloom. Jake’s jaw tightened unconsciously. It was larger than the photos had depicted, though just as dilapidated. The sagging wraparound porch, peeling paint, and cracked window panes all spoke to the home’s advanced age.

Jake shivered, suddenly foolish for deciding to move halfway across the state to live alone in this antiquated fixer-upper. But the price had been unbeatable. And at only 28 years old but newly divorced, he was eager to make a fresh start somewhere peaceful. Somewhere, he wouldn’t be constantly reminded of Sophie and the marriage that had fallen apart.

Pulling up beside the weather-beaten barn, Jake cut the engine and steeled himself before stepping into the merciless storm. The frigid autumn wind knifed through his thin jacket immediately. Hurrying up the walkway with his head bowed against the driving rain, he fumbled to unlock the creaky front door.

Once inside, Jake sighed with relief, pausing to shake water from his sandy brown hair and assess his surroundings. Despite the layer of dust coating every surface, hints of the home’s former glory were evident—ornate crown molding lining the ceilings, expansive rooms with large windows ushering in pale daylight. Charming, with a bit of work. And affordably, he is now.

After doing a quick sweep through the first floor, Jake headed upstairs. The old wooden steps groaned underfoot. He trailed a hand along the smooth bannister as he climbed, flakes of paint sticking to his palm.

There were four bedrooms on the second floor. Jake selected the main one at the far end of the hall with the biggest closet and its own fireplace. Once a fire was lit to ward off the autumnal chill that permeated the house,. Unpacking could wait, though; his rumbling stomach demanded immediate attention.

Jake pulled a soda and protein bar from his bag in the car to curb his hunger pangs. As he ate, peering through sheets of rain at his new home, Jake allowed himself a small smile despite the weather. It would take work to restore the decades-neglected house and barn, but then it would be perfect. A sanctuary away from the complications of his old life.

By early evening, the storm had finally passed. In the fading light, Jake decided to explore the grounds that surrounded the property. Pulling on a slicker and hat, he ambled down the muddy lane leading away from the house toward an extensive plot of overgrown fields and encroaching forest.

The land had obviously lain fallow for awhile, but Jake pictured chickens pecking in the pasture, goats grazing, and a lush vegetable garden bursting with produce come springtime. He'd seen photos online of the original homestead back in the house's heyday. It had been a bountiful farm then, before decades of changing hands among distant landlords who let the place slip into disrepair.

As Jake walked, movement at the edge of the woods caught his eye. Probably just a deer or fox. But when he shifted for a better look, Jake froze. His breath caught sharply.

There was a woman standing between the trees. She appeared to be searching for something on the ground. Even from a distance, Jake could see her long, dark hair whipping about in the wind.

Jake stared, stunned, for a heartbeat. Where had she come from so suddenly, and why was she trespassing out here? He glanced behind him at the empty fields, then back to the woods. She was gone.

Frowning, Jake slowly approached the treeline, his gaze raking the shadowy forest. "Hello?" he called out. "I saw someone here just a minute ago."

Only the sighing wind answered. Jake shivered, hastily deciding to head back as another chill rain shower swept over the darkened hills. Overactive imagination, he told himself firmly. No one else could be crazy enough to be wandering around out here with night falling.

By the time Jake returned to the shelter of the porch, he was thoroughly soaked. The house creaked and groaned as fierce gusts battered the aging walls. Letting himself back inside, Jake secured the door against the rising storm.

As he ascended the stairs once more, creak, creak, creak... Jake couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over him outside. He kept glancing over his shoulder, half expecting to catch a figure trailing him up the steps. But that was ridiculous, he thought, giving himself a mental shake. Just first-night jitters in a big, empty house.

Jake quickly changed into warm sweatpants and thick socks, then headed to the kitchen to scrounge up some semblance of dinner. The former owners had left behind some pots and pans, at least. Jake opened various cupboards, lucking out with an unopened box of pasta and a jar of sauce.

As he waited for the water to boil, Jake gazed out the window above the sink into the deepening night. The wind continued whipping through the mature maples surrounding the house, the bare branches thrashing as if possessed.

Jake jumped, his heart lurching as a sudden thumps echoed from somewhere overhead. He glanced anxiously at the ceiling. It's probably just the structure settling or a tree branch blowing against the roof. But the noise had sounded large and heavy. Like clumsy footsteps.

Don’t psych yourself out, Jake told himself firmly. Old houses made odd noises. He turned on the ancient radio on the counter, spinning the dial until raspy big band music cracked out. Let the vintage sounds soothe your nerves.

But Jake still rushed through dinner, his eyes darting apprehensively around the shadowy kitchen. He felt oddly exposed with so many darkened windows at his back. Like unseen eyes were peering in from outside. Observing him.

Exhaustion finally propelled Jake to head upstairs as rain continued its relentless assault on the roof. After stumbling through a quick shower by flashlight in the attic bathroom, Jake collapsed gratefully onto the freshly made bed. Maybe things wouldn’t feel quite so eerie in the light of day.

As Jake lay listening to unfamiliar night sounds, he gradually drifted off. Creaking timbers morphed into nearby footsteps inside the room, then faded back to benign house noises. Finally, Jake slipped into deeper sleep. Oblivious as the subtle footsteps drew closer once more from the darker corners of the bedroom...

The next morning dawned grey and dreary, but the rain had ceased. Jake awoke slowly, foggy memories of the previous night swirling through his sluggish mind. Had he dreamt of those slow, circling footsteps in his room? They had felt so close and substantial. He shivered despite the warm quilts tucked around him.

Jake rose and dressed quickly, decidedly not glancing over his shoulder toward the room's darker nooks and corners. But he couldn’t resist inspecting the thin layer of dust coating the floorboards. No foreign footprints marred the gritty wooden planks. Of course. Just another bad dream.

Over coffee and toast, as Jake reviewed his home restoration plans, sunlight finally broke through the clouds. Jake headed out to unload boxes from his car and settle into his new home. The fresh air and activity shook away the remaining wisps of uneasy dreams that had clung to him this morning.

As the afternoon wore on, Jake found himself humming as he scrubbed down the kitchen. Tonight he would video chat with his sister Klara, who would squeal over the quaint farmhouse her city-slicker brother now owned. He could practically hear her playful teasing already, knowing that he would never last out here alone all winter. Jake grinned to himself. He would just have to prove her wrong.

By late evening, Jake had cleaned half the ground floor. Muscles pleasantly sore, he fixed another pasta dinner, then curled up in the parlor with a biography he’d been trying to finish for months. Outside, the wind quickened, making the windows rattle. The creeping unease from his first night here tried to gnaw at Jake again.

Stop it! He scolded himself and focused harder on the pages in front of him. But when a floorboard creaked loudly upstairs, Jake instantly tensed. He turned the page loudly, as if pointedly ignoring the noises. But his eyes kept flitting to the ceiling.

You’re being ridiculous! He stood abruptly, snapping the book closed. Time for bed after a long day’s work. The house is supposed to creak—it's ancient!

Jake climbed the steps without glancing back over his shoulder. After changing and climbing under the cool sheets, Jake commanded his body to relax. But he still flinched at random thuds and groans from the darkened house.

Gradually, Jake’s exhausted mind began drifting into sleep as the noises quieted. But faint footsteps seemed to pace and circle somewhere beyond the closed bedroom door, and the lurking presence felt closer than ever before.