{"id":1114,"date":"2018-11-29T18:18:53","date_gmt":"2018-11-30T02:18:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/?p=1114"},"modified":"2019-01-12T15:22:43","modified_gmt":"2019-01-12T23:22:43","slug":"something-about-a-house-iv-static","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2018\/11\/something-about-a-house-iv-static\/","title":{"rendered":"Something About a House – IV: Static"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
First<\/a>
\nPrevious<\/a><\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

 <\/p>\n

Katters expected the house to be different, somehow, by the time they got back. Sucked into a hell dimension, maybe. Inexplicably replaced with several acres of untended cemetery. De-glamoured and revealed as the burnt husk it truly was. There would be a groundskeeper nearby, or a gas-station attendant, or a transient hobo. \u201cThat house?\u201d he would say. \u201cThat house has been gone for forty years.\u201d<\/p>\n

But no such luck. The house was exactly as they\u2019d left it \u2014 warm, inviting, nice in a way that made her scales itch \u2014 and she had no legitimate reason to not go back inside.<\/p>\n

(Except that it was haunted.)
\n<\/p>\n

Zebra dropped his purchases on the floor by the stairs. Katters hovered near the front door, her own purchases in a plastic bag at her feet, except for the soda she\u2019d started in the car. She\u2019d left the front door open, but the cold, night air didn\u2019t seem to make it across the threshold. The foyer remained stuffy, and almost too warm.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re still an asshole,\u201d she muttered, because while she was feeling better, she was also feeling bitter. Lucidity had not chased away her demons, but it had illuminated that \u2014 thing Zebra always did, you know \u2014 that thing. He thought she was too crazy to see it, but she could still tell when she was being mocked. When someone was poking her so they could watch her snap.<\/p>\n

Zebra had bought a duffel-bag along with his other supplies, and was putting everything else into it. \u201cEven if nothing happened,\u201d he said, glancing up at her before slipping a pack of lighters into one of the pockets. \u201cI still need to check out the basement. I need to investigate the entire house, including any basements that should not and cannot possibly exist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t need<\/i> to do anything. Hell, you very frequently don\u2019t do the things you need to do, anyway! There\u2019s nothing stopping you from leaving well enough alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not well enough, though, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

Zebra sighed, letting his head hang for a moment before he stood and walked over to her, the flashlight he was about to pack away still in his hand. \u201cDo you trust me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t say that, I\u2019m being serious.\u201d He tilted his head, giving her an earnest look. \u201cYou trust me to \u2014 how do you put it? You trust me to tell you when your brain is lying to you, right? Well, your brain is lying to you. Just like it was lying to you when you had that breakdown in the bathroom a month ago, and when you thought that server at Big Sweet\u2019s was poisoning you. Just like your brain was lying to you when you killed Marc.\u201d<\/p>\n

Katters glared at him and lit a cigarette in his new foyer. He sucked his teeth, but apparently decided to let it slide.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing evil or dangerous about this house,\u201d he continued. His tone was still light, but there was a sharpness to it, now, a finality. \u201cIt\u2019s just a house. I\u2019ll go down into the basement, shine a light on things, and that\u2019ll be the end of it. We can move on with our lives.\u201d<\/p>\n

He flicked his flashlight on and off a couple times, smiling at her, before walking back over to his bags.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Zebra,\u201d she said, her voice positively alight with sarcasm. \u201cTell me again about how the basement can\u2019t actually exist.\u201d<\/p>\n

He frowned. \u201cWell, you\u2019ve got me there. But that doesn\u2019t mean it\u2019s haunted. I\u2019m sure it\u2019s just your every day, run-of-the-mill magic.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, and you\u2019re an expert on these things, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2014\u201d He threw a walkie-talkie at her. She caught it, but dropped both her half-finished soda (which spilled all over the floor) and her cigarette (which extinguished in the puddle). She sighed.<\/p>\n

He slipped the other walkie-talkie into a pocket on his bag. \u201cIf something goes wrong\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not coming after you, I already told you that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can leave.\u201d He shrugged. \u201cGet a head-start and retreat back to Snowtown.\u201d<\/p>\n

She muttered, \u201cI could do that now.\u201d<\/p>\n

He either didn\u2019t hear her or didn\u2019t think it was worth responding to. He slung the bag over his shoulder and took one last loop around the staircase. The look on his face implied a rotten smell coming from it, but it was only his personal animosity. \u201cMagic,\u201d he scoffed, and went down into the cellar.<\/p>\n

Katters opened another soda and almost dropped that one, too, when the walkie-talkie crackle-hissed at her.<\/p>\n

\u201cKatters, respond, over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the fuck do you want?\u201d she asked it, heading to the kitchen. A few seconds later, she rolled her eyes and added: \u201cOver.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust making sure it works, over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCool,\u201d she muttered to herself and not the walkie-talkie. She shoved it into her pocket. \u201cCool, cool, cool, cool, cool.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a dish-towel hanging from the oven handle. A pastel, floral pattern, good for nothing except matching the curtains. She grabbed it and went back to the foyer.<\/p>\n

Katters was a \u2014 well, she wasn\u2019t a rational person. Zebra had very good points, actually. She wanted to say this was different, that her fears this time were obviously real and justified. But she\u2019d have said that about the Big Sweet\u2019s server, too, and if she\u2019d have been of a mind to talk she\u2019d have said it about Marc.<\/p>\n

She dropped the towel on her spill and mopped it up with her foot.<\/p>\n

She wasn\u2019t rational. Not always. A real-life, honest-to-goodness judge had made that a matter of law, even. But she was scientifically-minded. Her curiosity got her into more trouble than her cowardice. So this did seem different. It made sense to her, that it was different.<\/p>\n

God, it was warm in there. She went back to the door, stood at the middle-point between the haunted house and the backwoods, mountain road. A choose-your-own-horror-adventure. But it felt nice, the heat at her back and a breeze cooling her face. Maybe that was the real problem, maybe\u2014<\/p>\n

The walkie-talkie squawked again, letting out a burst of static and a high-pitched whine that trailed off into a faint tinnitus. It figured that Zebra would buy cheap junk for his expedition, considering it wasn\u2019t much more than a practical joke on her, anyway. But she dug the transceiver out of her pocket and spoke into it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYo, something up? Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

She waited, and was about to try again when it let out another squawk. The static this time was longer, and she thought she could hear something inside it. Or \u2014 fuck.<\/p>\n

The static faded, but the other sound \u2014 footsteps, maybe, great, heavy footsteps, wood creaking and groaning underneath an unfathomable weight \u2014 the other sound stayed. Got louder. Closer. Unless, it wasn\u2019t, unless she was hearing things.<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t want to be there. She shuffled her feet by the door, something in her head telling her to bolt as something else tracked her down through the walkie-talkie \u2014 and for a second there was another sound, and then it cut out.<\/p>\n

Everything stopped. She was alone. Standing on the darkened porch. Hearing nothing.<\/p>\n

Panic sat low in her chest \u2014 antsy, no-where to go and nothing to do. But that, too, faded after a minute. She shook herself, shook the jitters out of her arms, and held the walkie-talkie back up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou hearing there, Zeebs? Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t really remember leaving the house, hadn\u2019t really been herself when she\u2019d done it. She was having trouble staying herself, now, kept slipping out of her own mind and into the fog weaving through the trees and over the gravel.<\/p>\n

\u201cZebra? Respond, over.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was too cold out there. Too warm inside and too cold out there, and everywhere was a faint pressure like she was surrounded by eyes. Faces. Ghosts.<\/p>\n

She stepped onto the threshold and the \u2014 whatever it was, the sounds, faded back in. Step. Creak. Breathe. Creak. Step. Something very big living in the static between transceivers. It spoke, and Katters almost dropped the walkie-talkie.<\/p>\n

\u201cBa\u2026stien\u2026<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n

The basement door opened somewhere behind her and she did drop the walkie-talkie.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome\u2026on\u2026down\u2026<\/i>\u201d It was deep, rough, almost mechanical, like each word was accompanied by a crunch of gears and a hiss of steam.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was that?\u201d Zebra\u2019s voice, and the rest of him, appearing around the stairs.<\/p>\n

The \u2014 thing, dissolved back into static and then silence. Katters stepped over it, didn\u2019t want to touch it, something creeping over her back and up her neck, didn\u2019t want to be in the house but wanted to be alone even less.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d Zebra asked her. \u201cYou look like you\u2019ve seen a, well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHeard.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHeard.\u201d Katters nodded at the walkie-talkie and fished her cigarettes out of her pocket. \u201cHeard.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

First Previous   Katters expected the house to be different, somehow, by the time they got back. Sucked into a hell dimension, maybe. Inexplicably replaced with several acres of untended cemetery. De-glamoured and revealed as the burnt husk it truly was. There would be a groundskeeper nearby, or a gas-station \u2026 Continue reading → <\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true},"categories":[20],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p3N0as-hY","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":737,"url":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2017\/11\/something-about-a-house-i-the-house\/","url_meta":{"origin":1114,"position":0},"title":"Something About a House – I: The House","date":"20171104","format":false,"excerpt":"Gravel crunched under-tire as Katters and Zebra neared the end of their road-trip. It had taken ten hours of almost constant driving, but they\u2019d made it to Bayhedge. They were not in the quaint, seaside town they\u2019d envisioned. Instead, Zebra drove them through a dense, uninhabited wood, over a side-road\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/11\/saahillus-I.png?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":750,"url":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2017\/11\/something-about-a-house-ii-mercy\/","url_meta":{"origin":1114,"position":1},"title":"Something About a House – II: Mercy","date":"20171111","format":false,"excerpt":"First \u00a0 Leaving the house was cheating. Not technically \u2014 there were no actual rules to mercy, except that you stopped trying to kill your opponent when they cried \u201cmercy\u201d \u2014 but if Zebra had found Katters out here, sitting on the hood of the car, he would have cried\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":902,"url":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2018\/05\/something-about-a-house-iii-dinner\/","url_meta":{"origin":1114,"position":2},"title":"Something About a House – III: Dinner","date":"20180519","format":false,"excerpt":"First Previous \u00a0 They found a restaurant just inside of town. A family diner with an unfamiliar name and a full parking lot. Zebra went inside to wait for a table, leaving Katters standing by the car and smoking her fourth cigarette since they\u2019d left the house. She\u2019d finally calmed\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":969,"url":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2018\/07\/where-shell-never-be-found-i\/","url_meta":{"origin":1114,"position":3},"title":"Where She’ll Never Be Found – I","date":"20180714","format":false,"excerpt":"It took Zebra a week to notice Katters was missing. Well, no. He noticed immediately, or near enough. It was odd, that she didn\u2019t come home that first night, that her bed remained empty clear through to the following morning. Odd that she skipped work the next day, and the\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":556,"url":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2016\/07\/swap-pt-1\/","url_meta":{"origin":1114,"position":4},"title":"Swap, pt 1","date":"20160709","format":false,"excerpt":"\u00a0 Sor broke into the pie-shop in the middle of the night. She had to use up a vial to do it \u2014 one of the cork-stoppered containers, filled with someone else\u2019s magic, that she kept on her person at all times \u2014 but there was no avoiding it. The\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":567,"url":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/2016\/12\/how-the-zebra-stole-christmas\/","url_meta":{"origin":1114,"position":5},"title":"How the Zebra Stole Christmas","date":"20161224","format":false,"excerpt":"Director's CommentaryThe rain came down hard that Christmas Eve, rattling against the roof of The Katters\u2019 and Zebra\u2019s Inconspicuous Meat Pie Shop and Tonsorial Parlour. Inside, Katters and Zebra were curled up at opposite ends of the couch in the living room, sharing an obscenely large, blue comforter. Both had\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Prose"","img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1114"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1114"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1114\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1138,"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1114\/revisions\/1138"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1114"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1114"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/roastrabbit.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1114"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}