The Glow Ch. 01

Morganstown was your average all-American town, in your average part of the Midwest. It was a place where neighbours waved to each other in the street, even if they hated each other; a place where white picket fences ran around yards, and front doors remained unlocked. Sure, there was probably a disgruntled old hick with a sawn off ready as rain to blast you in the face if you came up onto the porch uninvited, but the door was unlocked all the same.

The problem with Morganstown was that there really wasn't much to do. Not that it stopped Misty Silveria and her brother Karl from spending nearly every hour of waking daylight between June and September outside. This was the way it had been, for as long as they could remember.

By some standards the pair were probably a bit old to be out kicking up dust in the great American wilderness. Misty was 18 and Karl 19, their best friends Tammy, Lisa and Franco all being 18 years old too. They all held menial jobs in gas stations, diners, grocery stores or the local library. For a short while, Tammy had worked in a lingerie store, but the conservative town council had run the business out of town. None of the gang worked more than several hours a week - they didn't need to. A few dollars here or there kept their world spinning. The only real exception to the rule was Karl, who had a full time apprenticeship at Dean's car garage.

But all of this small town goodness was about to change. Misty and Karl's parents had filed for divorce. Their mom, Jill, had been having a clandestine affair with Councilman Hargreaves for the past two years. The teenagers still weren't quite sure how their father had found out, but he had drove to the town hall immediately, and beat the Councilman into a bloody stew right there in the car park.

Mark Silveria had been lucky that the Councilman hadn't pressed charges. A confused and contradictory man of God, Councilman Hargreaves accepted that he had trespassed against Mark and his union of marriage with Jill. This hadn't stopped Jill moving in with Hargreaves, nor had it stopped Mark from filing for divorce.

It had been the talk of the town some months back, but the gossip mill had died down, and most people had forgotten or moved on to the next small town scandal. As the divorce finalised, it came as a shock to everyone - even their father, Mark - when Jill announced that her and Councilman Hargreaves were moving away, out east, to the city. They were going to start afresh.

The parents had been straight up with the kids. They were tols that it was entirely their choice who they decided to live with going forward, and nobody would be accused of picking sides. Karl, stubborn and loyal, immediately declared that he would stay in Morganstown with their father. He'd called his mother a whore that night, and even though Mark had given him a clip around the ear and a boot up the ass, he had been secretly glowing with pride that his son had sided with him.

Misty had let the decision eat her up inside for about a week before she finally professed that she would leave Morganstown for big city life. She expected this to cause a rift with Karl, if not with her father, but much to her surprise they were both supportive of her decision.

Jill and Councilman Hargreaves were set to leave town on the 30th of August. That gave Misty exactly two more weeks to enjoy in the Midwest countryside, messing about with her lifelong friends. She loved all of them equally, but part of her felt that she had began to outgrow Morganstown.

"So, what are you gonna do with your last two weeks in Morganstown, city girl?" Lisa had asked her as they drank crappy regional beer at The Lookout.

Slug, the monster of a man that was the landlord, wasn't particularly hot on asking for ID, much to the delight of many teenagers in the town whose interested had turned to alcoholic consumption. Besides, the gang certainly looked older than their age. Misty rocked the rebellious college girl look, wearing denim, her dad's Nirvana shirt, a nose ring, and washed out purple dye in her hair. Karl was a straight faced young man. Tall and sinewy, with jet black hair. Everyone in town assumed Tammy was much older than she was because she'd worked in that smutty lingerie store, even though she always wore dungarees and her mousy brown hair in pigtails. Lisa was in her grocery store uniform. Only Franco betrayed their true age group, with his football jacket and his sorry excuse for a wispy moustache.

"Yeah, you should totally do some mad shit that you've never done before," Karl suggested, "we should go and egg Councilman Hargreaves' house."

His sister responded with a raised eyebrow.

"How old are you?" She asked him.

"Hey, I think it's a pretty solid idea," Franco agreed, "we can err, borrow, my dad's car, and drive-by massacre that fucker's house! It'll be dank as hell!"

Karl leaned over the booth's table and high-fived Franco.

"I can get us the eggs," Lisa said. When Tammy gave her a disapproving look, she just shrugged.

"Councildick Hargreaves fucked my parents' marriage, but so did my mom," Misty said, peeling the label off the brown bottle, "but I gotta live with those two, so I don't think plastering Hargreaves' house with eggs is gonna do me any favours, guys."

Franco, who always seemed to be overcompensating in some way, loudly ordered the gang another round of beers.

"Maybe we should hit Hutch's gym," he said, lowering his voice to hushed tones, "and hide in the locker rooms until he shuts up shop. We'll take in, what, two crates of beer, and I'll get some joints off Rex, and we can have an all night pool party!"

Tammy giggled.

"Hey maybe we can figure out how to turn the jacuzzi and steam room back on too," Lisa interjected, "that shit is so relaxing, but you can't go in there without old guys staring at your butt."

"What a butt it is, Lis," Franco whooped, "can you blame those crusty ol' fucks? Every day they sit in there like prunes looking at each other's pendulum-ass ballsacks, and then little ol' Lisa from the grocery store walks in with them pins and that ass, yo! I'm surprised you didn't give any of those coots a heart attack."

Misty shot beer out of her nose. Karl smacked her on the back as she coughed.

"Franco, you're ridiculous," she managed to say.

Slug arrived with the tray of beers. His stained apron barely contained his enormous belly.

"Don't forget to tip your waitress," he said with a voice of gravel.

He smiled, revealing a hideous maw in which only three or four rotten teeth remained.

"That guy gives me the creeps," Tammy said, as Slug waddled back to the bar.

"Hey, give the guy a break," Franco replied, snatching up another beer, "he lets us drink here, he's good in my books."

"I guess so," Tammy shrugged, "but it feels like it's only gonna be a matter of time before he puts a hand on my ass or something."

Karl took a swig of his fresh beer.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he said, "he probably doesn't even think that way about y'all. Heck, I bet he hasn't seen his own dick in 20 years."

Franco slapped at the table, causing some of the nearest punters to turn and look disapprovingly at them.

The beers went down easily, as did the next round, and the round after that.

"Shit, I know what we could do before sending you off to the city," Franco clicked his fingers, "fuckin' lightbulb moment over here, I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner."

"Well tell us, dumbass," Lisa prompted impatiently.

"Well, we take my dad's car and drive out to the La Morte estate, I double dare your chicken ass to spend the night there!"

Lisa shaked her head.

"Mmhmm, motherfuck that," she spat, "that place is dead-ass haunted."

Franco smacked his forehead with his palm, causing his curls to shake.

"Well no shit," he said, "that's why I suggested it!"

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Tammy said.

"Even so, that place is creepy as hell," Karl admitted, "there's something about it."

"The fuck is wrong with y'all?" Franco was losing his cool, "This is why we should go there! Every teenager between here and three towns over knows how fuckin' haunted La Morte estate is. You'd be the baddest bitch in the big city, Misty."

She spun her empty bottle around in her hands.

"I ain't afraid of any ghosts," she said, "in fact, I'd very much like to meet one, wouldn't you? I think that would be pretty cool. But let's be real Franco, you think slick and cool city kids are gonna give a shit that I stayed in some random haunted house out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere?"

"I'm not going to any damn haunted house," Lisa insisted.

"Why are you so afraid of it?" Tammy asked. "That shit isn't real. It's just an empty house."

"Just an empty house?" Franco mimicked, "Do I need to relay to your sorry ass the morbid tale of the La Morte estate?"

Tammy crossed her arms.

"That's just old superstitious horseshit," she said.

"Damn girl, you hurtin' me," Franco put his hand on his chest, "we're talking here about the site of Satanic motherfucking ritual, multiple murders, hundreds of lesbian orgies. Shit, you can look all this up on the internet!"

"Is he joking?" Tammy asked everyone but Franco. "I've heard folk say it's haunted up there but never any shit about Satanic rituals."

Karl went to speak but Franco cut him off.

"Bitch, Kendra fucking La Morte, type that shit into your phone," he shouted, "she was the wife of some rail tycoon guy, he was the guy who built the estate. She was some book-smart kinda lass, fascinated with the occult, they say. Often, when her husband was away conducting business, she commanded the entire estate, the whole manor was often taken over by Kendra and her horde of nymphs, who frolicked in the abundant pleasures of flesh and death, all in the name of our almighty lord of Satan! Some say her husband put her to death, having seen the horrors that she unleashed from the pits of hell!"

Tammy shook her head in disbelief. Misty had to admit that she was intrigued by the tale. She too, like Kendra La Morte, had a passing fascination in the occult. She'd tried multiple times over the years to get Karl to play with an ouija board, but he would never give in and do it with her.

"You spin a good yarn, Franco," Karl said, "but, you're talking out of your ass. Kendra La Morte was very, very rich, and rumour has it that she was indeed a closet lesbian, who took many wives from Morganstown to her bed behind her husband's back. And yes, her husband Terrence La Morte, the millionaire, did murder her, but that was in a drunken rage after he found out she'd been cheating on him for years. Aside from the bit with the lesbians, it's not that exciting a tale really. Just more gossip, it don't mean a thing to me if it's over a hundred years old."

They all bickered and shouted at each other, arguing over the particulars of Franco's recounting and Karl's correction.

"Will yous keep it down over there!?"

It was Slug, waving a dishcloth.

"It's like a goddamn farmer's market in here, some folks are tryna have a decent drink! Jeez!"

"Sorry Slug!" They chanted in unison. It was not the first time the grotesque landlord had told them off.

"I reckon we do it," Misty said, full of courage.

"Do what?" Asked Karl.

"Are you dense?" She retorted, "Lets go see this La Morte house. Fuck it, in two weeks I'll be in the city surrounded by coffee shops and yuppies."

"Yeah boy!" Franco whooped.

Slug shot him a dark look.

"I think that's our cue to leave," said Karl.

Outside they all hung around, deliberating whether to actually go to the estate or not. Tammy and Franco leaned against his dad's car, a beaten up old Chevrolet. They both smoked cigarettes. Karl and Lisa were standing, and completing the circle was Misty, sitting on Karl's motorbike.

"I ain't gonna anywhere near that fuckin' house," Lisa protested.

"Don't be a spoilsport," Franco protested.

"I mean it," she continued, "seriously you guys, fuck that shit."

"Alright, shit, calm your tits, Jesus!" Franco had reached the end of his tether, "I'll drop you home on the way out there then, you little pussy bitch."

Lisa dropped her handbag and hit out at Franco. She rained slaps down on him, and he raised his arm to deflect her blows.

"Oh, shit!" He screamed, muffled, "she's been possessed by the demon spirit of Kendra La Morte!"

Misty got up so Karl could sit on his bike, before climbing onto the back. She had a strange thought as she did so. She'd been lucky really, that no girls had taken his heart. It'd be them in her place right now instead. Not that she wouldn't miss her brother when she moved away, but she felt bittersweet about everything. She'd had a good run with him. He couldn't be the guy hanging around with his dorky little sister forever.

The bike shot into life with a rumble, shattering the docile silence of the small-town air. Karl revved a few times.

"Do you know the way?" Franco shouted, producing his car keys.

"Sure!" Karl responded, "Its out by Old Gregor's farm, just off the highway turnpike, follow it about five minutes further down the road, then a small dirt track veers off to the left."

They tore along the open road. The air was cool, but not to the point that Misty felt she would chill. She held onto her brother, watching as the road flew past beneath them. Around them, the landscape blurred, and they were free. Misty felt a pang that all of this would be gone forever when she moved to the city.

They reached the turnpike in just under ten minutes. It seemed that they were on the smaller road which branches off for much longer, but this probably had something to do with their speed. Karl eventually breaked, and the bike eased to the left, coming down off the tarmac and into a dirt road.

The bike was now rumbling forward at a low enough speed that Misty could lift her head off her brother's back and glance up ahead. She could see nothing, no house, no grounds - no estate, yet for the first time since the La Morte estate was brought up, she felt afraid. She was engulfed by an overwhelming sense of foreboding that was so strong she was tempted to throw herself from the back of the bike and start running in the other direction.

And then it was gone.

Karl betrayed no signs of experiencing the same thing as she just had. She thought that if her hands had been on the handle bars, she would have sling the bike around in a dusty u-turn and sped back to Morganstown.

Soon enough, something began to catch in the headlight of the bike as it came into view up ahead of them. It was a rusty old gate. Karl rolled the bike to a stop and stuck out his feet to stop them from falling over. After a few seconds, he killed the engine.

"We should wait here for the others," he said.

Less than two minutes of eery silence later, headlights were visible behind them. The pair could see the beams of the Chevrolet coming for miles off. Karl commented at how quick Franco had been dropping Lisa home.

The car trundled straight on by. The horn beeped several times and Misty waved at the vehicle but it didn't stop. It plowed straight into the gates, which exploded open with little to no resistance. Only then did Franco's breaklights cast the siblings in a red glow.

"Holy shit!" Karl exclaimed.

"His dad is gonna kill him," Misty mused, climbing off the bike.

The car door burst open and Franco sprang from the seat.

"Woohoo!" He yelled, "Did you fuckin' see that? Them shits crumpled like wet paper."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Karl asked, raising his arms in disbelief.

Franco twirled around on the spot.

"Brother, how else were we supposed to open the gates?" He asked.

The passenger door opened and Lisa climbed out of the car. She launched her handbag at Franco, which caught him in the back of the head.

"This motherfucker!" She screeched, "Drove on by my house real slow, then sped the fuck up as soon as I took off my seatbelt to get out of the car."

"I guess you just have to come into the house with us now," Franco said, rubbing his head.

"Motherfucker this is basically kidnapping at this point!" Lisa was fuming, "I have to get up for work in the morning, I don't want to deal with this bullshit, I'm not going inside any haunted house! I'm staying right here in the goddamn car."

Franco raised his hands as if someone had pointed a gun at him.

"Alright, Christ," he sighed.

Tammy pushed the driver's seat forward and climbed out of the vehicle.

"Another minute in there alone with those two and I think I would have offed myself," she said.

Karl gazed ahead, in the direction of the house. He wasn't sure if he could make out its shape against the night. It was too dark.

"You got a flashlight in there, dickhead?" He asked Franco, pointing to the trunk of his car.

"Brother, do I look like the kinda goon that carries a fuckin' flashlight?" Came his response, "The fuck would I need a flashlight for?"

He sniggered.

"Exploring haunted houses, maybe?" Misty suggested.

The four of them began their trek towards the house, leaving Lisa in the car with her cigarettes and the radio. It was nearly impossible to see in the darkness, but the vastness of the estate was quite something, and Misty was sure that it has once been a very beautiful place.

Slowly, the manor house loomed into view. It was as if some giant creature in the sky had emptied a tin of black paint down over it; the house was barely visible in the darkness, and its shape could only be made out due to the absence of stars and horizon.

"I wonder, when was the last time anyone was here?" Tammy mused aloud.

"Who cares?" Franco said, "All I know is that I'm a hundred years or so too late for the Satanic orgy."

The manor itself had another fence around it, but this was much smaller, and mostly dilapidated. If there was ever a gate, it had long since been removed. Several large spruce trees were dotted around the grounds near the house, drawing it in. The estate had gone from wide and rolling, to a touch more claustrophobic as they entered the inner grounds. An owl hooted.

"Look at this place," Misty said dreamily, "it's like something out of a horror film."

"And we're walking right into it," Karl reminded.

Any foreboding that Misty was feeling had now completely eroded. She felt instead a sense of purpose; a sense of adventure. It was almost as if she was being drawn to the house.

As they approached the steps leading up to the veranda, which appeared to snake all the way around the building, the four of them stopped and assessed the situation.

"How do we get inside?" Tammy said, breaking the silence.

"Leave that to me, baby!" Franco replied, shooting off up the steps.

His footfalls on the wooden deck seemed to send cracks out into the still night air as sharp as shots from a rifle.

The front door loomed before him; heavy, dark wood and metal brackets. Franco reached out for the knocker, and struck the base three times in quick succession. If his footsteps had sounded like rifle shots, in comparison the knocking sounded like shotgun blasts all around them.

"Jesus Christ!" Karl shouted, lowering his voice comically to a whisper as he did.

"Hellooo!?" Franco howled. "Is anybody home?"

He tried the handle. Much to his surprise, the door swung inward with a creak.

"Well, fuck me," he said, wandering inside without waiting another second.

The others shared a glance before following up the steps and entering the house.

The first thing Misty noticed was how cold it was inside the hallway. It was as if they had stepped inside a walk-in refrigerator unit like the one down on Old Gregor's farm. She half expected to see her breath forming in front of her.