Jan 6, 20183 min read

25 The Woods – (Cody) Strange Events (2015) by LV Gaudet

Setting the old baseball down on the kitchen table, Cody starts putting away his purchases. Going to the cupboard, he empties the shelves, pulling out the old tins for coffee, tea, and baking products, and putting them aside to throw out later.

Using one of the water bottles, he fills a bowl and searches through doors for a dishcloth to scrub the cupboard with. He finds a drawer with dishcloths and tea towels, pulling a few out to inspect them. They are yellowed with age and the fabric is brittle.

“I don’t think I can use these.” Tossing them in the trash, he digs out sponges he bought. Adding dish soap to the water, he scrubs the cupboard shelves.

Finished, he studies the freshly scrubbed shelves.

“Better let that dry.”

Tasting his own foul breath, he sniffs at his armpit and makes a disgusted face.

“My first order of business is cleaning myself up.”

Grabbing another water bottle and a washcloth and bath towel, he goes to the living room in search of his toiletry bag. In the bathroom he does a perfunctory job of cleaning himself up.

Returning to the kitchen, he puts away his coffee and food and leaves the boxes with the rest of his supplies in a corner.

Cody looks around with a sigh.

“I’m not really sure what to do here. Where do I start?”

A jangling ringing sound interrupts. It’s a weak warbling of a jangling ring, like a very old alarm or phone that’s almost surprising itself with its own ability to still make a sound.

He turns.

It rings again. Brrrrddddiing.

“Was that from the other room?”

Brrrrddddiing.

“It sure sounds like it’s in the house.”

He follows the sickly ringing to the kitchen.

He stares in surprise at the old tan rotary dial phone hanging on the wall near the kitchen table. The phone is coated in an undisturbed layer of dust. The old curled cord stringing the hand piece to the phone dangles motionlessly; its cord having lost much of its bounce long ago. It still holds maybe half its original curl.

“I forgot that’s even there.”

Brrrrddddiing.

He almost jumps at the sound of the jangling ring, half disbelieving it’s even ringing and half at the sudden volume of the ringing right next to him.

“Weird. How is it working? There can’t still be phone service. Who’d be paying the bills?”

He walks over to it, watching the phone as it rings again and again.

Curious, drawn by that inane trained need to answer the phone, he picks it up and holds the receiver to his ear. He listens for a few heartbeats and hears nothing. Maybe he hears the almost indiscernible static hiss of a live line that you can only hear in the absolute silence of a house with no electricity humming through a multitude of appliances. Or maybe it’s that trick your ears play on you when you think you hear the distant hissing of the sea in the seashell you hold to your ear.

“Hello,” he says into the phone. He is met with silence. “Hello?” Still nothing.

He tries joggling the hang up button.

“Hello?” Nothing but silence. He hangs up. The house is filled with only dead silence.

He starts second guessing himself.

“Did I imagine it?” He frowns at the phone and picks up the receiver again. Nothing but silence. He doesn’t even hear that too faint almost nonexistent silent hissing he thought he might have heard. It is lifeless plastic, devoid of power or service to give the line life.