AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My pulse spiked. I didn’t remember reading about chickens, but I conceded I was so taken with the idea of The Whisper House, I might’ve skimmed over a few details.
But how hard could it be to take care of chickens? People in the New Jersey suburbs had them in their backyards.
I went back inside and promptly stepped in rooster poo. I grimaced, covered my nose, and limped to the kitchen to look for cleaning supplies. I was pleased to find a few food items, including a bowl of eggs, to get me through a couple of days. Then, equipped with rubber gloves and an N95 face mask, I used a bottle of spray cleanser and a roll of paper towels to clean up the smelly mess and stuffed it all in a trash bag.
My phone pinged and I checked it to see a missed call from Frida. My phone battery was too low to make a call and besides, I wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. I was afraid she’d talk me into bailing and going back to New York. I plugged in my charger and cabled it to my phone, glad that I didn’t have enough service to check social media and see the latest awful things Curtis’s groupies had posted about me.
I opened my suitcase and sorted through my clothes, realizing less than half the items I’d brought were appropriate for this weather. I rummaged through compartments until I found the information I’d printed about the house and the details of what I’d committed to. On the bottom of the eighth page, I found the paragraph I was looking for.
In return for occupying the premises, The Caretaker agrees to clean and maintain the house so it is fit to live in and to maintain the grounds, with the assistance of a groundskeeper, including the care and cleaning of the chicken coop, the barn and the equipment within, the graveyard, and the garden.
I blinked and brought the paper closer to my face. Graveyard?
How had I overlooked that little detail?
July 3, Wednesday
I’D DISCOVERED the best cell phone reception (two bars) was in the corner bedroom on the front of the house, so I’d claimed that room to sleep in. When I’d uncovered all the furniture, I was pleasantly surprised to find a bed with an ornate white metal headboard and footboard covered with a colorful block quilt. A whitewashed wood dresser supplemented a tiny closet. The simple oak desk and chair was a bonus.
But I was still scared of the Whisper House. I’d jammed the wood chair under the doorknob, but on the second floor, the noises were unceasing—creaks and groans that I prayed was the house settling… although you’d think a house this old would’ve already settled long ago. Needless to say, I’d had nightmares again.
When I woke up, I had a headache from a loud, alien sound I couldn’t identify at first.
Birdsong.
These weren’t the sweet little chirpy birds in beloved cartoons. These were cawing, screeching, shrieking bird gangs and it sounded as if they were rumbling on the roof. I wanted to put the pillow over my head, but I needed caffeine and food. So I dragged myself up, then removed the chair from the doorknob and gingerly opened the door. When I was sure the rooster wasn’t lying in wait, I went downstairs to make coffee. The coffeemaker was old-school so while it was brewing, I cracked some eggs to scramble.
“What the—?”
The yolks were deep orange. I sniffed them to see if they were spoiled, but they smelled okay. I decided to chance it and they were the best eggs I’d ever tasted. Fortified, I retraced my steps back to the bedroom where I consulted the information about the house and punched in a phone number.
A deep, hoarse voice answered. “Hello?”
“Um, hi, my name is Josephine Vanguard and I’m staying at the Whisper House. I was given your number as the groundskeeper.”
“Right,” the person said, then sneezed twice and continued in a congested tone. “Sorry I haven’t been out to say hello. I’m flat on my back with the crud. I’ll come around to tend to the chickens and the mowing as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
“Have you gathered the eggs?”
I blinked. “No.”
“Hm. You probably should do that. They’re gonna be backed up.”
“O… kay.”
“And you’ll need to unlock the gate to the graveyard every morning and lock it again at dark.”
I squinted. “And why is that?”
“It’s a private graveyard, but the Whisper family let other people have plots there, so it has to be open to the public. The key is hanging in the kitchen closet.”
I swallowed hard. “And where is this graveyard?”
The person had a coughing fit. “A few hundred yards past the house on the road you came in on.”
“Okay.”
