Excerpt:
A Quiet and Silent Place
A gray SUV pulled up beside a white house deep in the countryside. The building stood alone, half-swallowed by a sea of green trees. The garden had gone wild; grass and branches were slowly reclaiming what little land had once been tamed.
Five people climbed out and looked around.
“Wow. This place is gorgeous,” said a tall blonde with green eyes, breathing in deeply.
“Yeah, it’s nice. My grandfather loved it here. The forest stretches ten kilometers in every direction, the air’s clean, and there’s a river at the foot of the hill. We used to swim there when we were kids.” The tall, dark-haired man in his thirties gazed toward the trees with something that could only be called a nostalgic smile.
“Sorry to kill the vibe, Kendric, but I really need the bathroom,” said a short Asian girl, legs crossed in desperation.
“Oh! Right, Mizu.”
Kendric dug the house keys from his pocket. The lock had a trick—you had to lift the door slightly before the key would turn. When it finally gave, the hinges screamed like rusted metal always does.
“Down the hall, last door on the left.”
Mizu bolted. Kendric stepped back outside.
“Where’s Sam?”
“He took off into the woods with Nela,” the blonde answered.
“Those two are just dodging luggage duty,” Kendric muttered.
“Nah. They’re just horny.”
An awkward silence settled.
“Right. Let’s get our stuff inside. They can deal with theirs later.”
Kendric and the blonde—Yennifer—started unloading the trunk.
“So you’re really selling it?”
“I think so. Mizuki says her uncle might want it. That’s actually one of the reasons she came.”
“Makes sense.”
Just then Mizuki reappeared, scanning the yard.
“Don’t tell me Sam and Nela are already…?”
“Yep,” Kendric said.
“Jesus. Those two need therapy. It’s not healthy.”
“Well, at least somebody’s getting laid. I haven’t had action in almost a year.”
“Maybe lower your standards a little, Yen,” Mizuki teased.
“I’d rather die than settle.”
While the girls debated dating expectations, Kendric carried bags inside.
“Thanks for the help,” he deadpanned.
“Anytime,” Yennifer replied with theatrical arrogance.
“We’ll help you clean, promise,” Mizuki added, shooting Yen a look.
“Sure. I’ll just wait here. Go drag the lovebirds back; I’ll open the windows.”
As the girls headed off, Kendric stepped inside and flung open every window and door he could find. Stale, damp air rushed out, replaced by cool mountain breeze. He paused in the living room, eyes drifting over old photographs on the shelves: two elderly people embracing, standing side by side; then larger family portraits. He picked one up. His grandparents sat in the center, surrounded by four grown children and, in front, twelve smiling kids.
“That your family?”
Kendric turned. Sam and Nela had returned. Sam was a white giant—black hair, ice-blue eyes, shoulders like bridge cables. Nela was short, mixed-race, with long curly black hair and honey-brown eyes.
“Yeah. Grandparents in the middle. My parents on the left, two uncles on the right. Those are my eleven cousins—they all moved to Australia twenty-five years ago.”
Mizuki leaned in.
“Which one’s you?”
“Dead center.”
“Aww, you were adorable.”
“Was?”
Mizuki gave him a slow once-over. “Definitely was.”
“Thanks for the ego boost.”
“Happy to help.”
“So where do we sleep?” Sam asked.
Kendric set the photo down.
“Follow me.”
Upstairs, first room on the right:
“Mizu, this one’s yours. Yen, you’re across the hall.”
He turned.
“You two horny disasters get the one at the very end on the left.”
“Why so far away?” Sam complained.
“Because some of us want to sleep without a live porno soundtrack,” Yennifer said.
“I’m starving,” Mizuki announced, smoothly changing the subject.
“Fridge should be stocked. I had a buddy come by yesterday—food, butane, the works. We can use the fireplace too if we want.”
They cooked, ate, washed dishes, then sprawled on the couch with wine and Netflix. The house was old but comfortable, wired for the 21st century. Late that night they finally went to bed.
Morning. Breakfast. Then a walk in the woods.
“This place is unreal,” Yennifer said, almost reverent.
“Told you. Come on, river’s this way.”
At the water’s edge Kendric stripped and dove in without hesitation. His lean, muscled body drew appreciative glances from Mizuki and Yen before they followed. Sam and Nela were already splashing like kids.
“It’s freezing!” Yen squealed.
“You’ll warm up.”
They played until pruned, then hiked back in underwear, laughing.
“Now I’m starving again,” Mizuki said.
“Same,” Nela echoed.
“I don’t get it,” Sam said. “You two eat like lumberjacks and stay tiny. Where does it even go?”
“One of life’s great mysteries,” Kendric grinned.
Afternoon: a truck dropped off an empty shipping container.
“Fill it with whatever you’re tossing. We’ll pick it up in ten days,” the driver said.
“Plenty of time,” Kendric replied.
They started clearing rooms—old furniture, moth-eaten clothes, yellowed papers. Photos went into a separate box Kendric would keep. His voice was quiet the whole time.
“What’s in the basement?” Sam asked.
“We’ll check tomorrow. Getting dark.”
Dinner, bed.
Next morning Sam and Kendric descended the creaky stairs. A section of wall had been knocked out; loose bricks and bags of cement lay scattered.
“Looks like Grandpa was remodeling.”
“He was down here when he died. Friend found him. Probably too much for his heart.”
They poked around. Most things were draped in plastic.
“Jesus, my old bike.” Rust flaked under Kendric’s fingers; tears welled before he could stop them.
“You okay, man?”
“Yeah.”
They hauled out lawnmowers, bikes, tools. Sam’s size made the heavy lifting easy.
“Hey, check this out.”
Sam had found an olive-green metal box, lock still solid.
“Any idea?”
“Never seen it.”
Crowbar, hammer, a few solid hits—the lid popped.
“Holy shit. Your grandfather was in the army?”
“Apparently.”
Inside: faded fatigues, a helmet, compass, stacks of letters, photographs, and a worn wooden marionette dressed like a soldier. One photo showed young men in a blasted forest, rifles slung, the puppet held high by the soldier in the center. On the back, in faded ink:
1st Cavalry Division – Ia Drang Valley, 1965
“Vietnam,” Sam said quietly.
“Didn’t know he served.”
Kendric turned the puppet over. The painted clown face was half rubbed away, colors bled into the wood. A tiny patch on the chest read Lt. Happy.
He closed the box.
“Trash it.”
“You sure? Not even the letters?”
“Grandpa never talked about any of this. I don’t think he wanted us to know.”
Sam carried the box out.
Hours later the house was nearly empty of personal traces. They were washing dinner dishes when the kitchen faucet suddenly exploded. Scalding water hit Yennifer full in the face.
“Shit!” Kendric slammed the shut-off valve. “You okay?”
“Just hot.”
He checked her skin—no burns, just angry red.
“What happened?” Sam thundered down the stairs.
“Pipe burst. She’s fine.”
They all went to bed uneasy.
Next morning everyone looked like hell—bags under their eyes, Yen’s face still flushed.
“Where the fuck are all the forks?” Kendric stared into an empty drawer.
No one had touched them.
Sugar turned out to be salt. Shower water swung from ice to boiling. The TV flipped channels by itself. Phones died and rebooted. The fridge froze solid, then quit entirely.
By evening they were all on edge.
“What a shitty day,” Sam growled.
“Old house,” Kendric said weakly.
“I’m done. Bed.” Nela disappeared upstairs.
Early morning—TV blasted on at full volume. Cooking channel. Cable unplugged, yet glowing.
A scream from upstairs.
Sam kicked in the bedroom door. Lights strobed. Clothes writhed across the floor like worms. Bedsheets had wrapped Yennifer into a tight cocoon, squeezing. Sam tore at the fabric until it went slack.
Downstairs, every plate and pot had been hurled across the kitchen. Nela cowered in the corner, soaked, shaking.
“The house attacked me.”
As soon as Sam said, “We’re leaving,” every door, drawer, and window began slamming in frenzy.
Then silence.
A kitchen drawer slid open. Every knife, fork, and sharp object rose, hovering.
A hoarse voice outside:
“Where’s the puppet?”
Kendric ran to the window. An old man stood on the lawn.
“In the container. Green metal box.”
Knives shot toward the window; the old man was already sprinting. Furniture slid across the floorboards, barricading the front door. Windows slammed shut.
Minutes later the old man returned, marionette in hand.
“Open up.”
The house shook harder.
“I warned you.”
He smashed a window pane with a rock and tossed Lt. Happy inside. The puppet hit the floor with a hollow clack.
Everything stopped. TV off, drawers still, silence absolute.
The old man poked his head through the broken window.
“You can open the door now.”
They moved the furniture, stumbled outside into the dawn light.
“It’s over,” the old man said gently.
“Who are you?” Kendric demanded.
“Let’s talk inside.”
“No fucking way.”
“We have to,” the old man insisted. “I was your grandfather’s friend. We’ve got to finish what he started. It’s safe now—trust me.”
He walked in like he owned the place, puppet dangling from one hand. After a hushed conference, the girls were told to wait in the car with instructions to leave if the men weren’t back in fifteen minutes.
Sam and Kendric followed the old man to the basement.
Name’s Donald. Martin and I enlisted together in ’65. Heard he passed just two days ago—sorry I’m late.
He looked at the hole in the wall and the bricks, the bags of mortar.
“Damn it, Martin. So close.”
“What the hell is going on?” Kendric asked again.
Donald sighed.
“Ia Drang was a slaughter. Most of our unit didn’t come back. There was this quiet guy, Melvin. Never spoke unless he was working his puppet—Lieutenant Happy. Said talking disturbed the peace, and peace was all he wanted in the world. Funny little clown soldier, but the man himself? Scary competent. We followed him through hell—Drang, Khe Sanh, Hamburger Hill—and we always walked out. Then one day back at base a pistol falls off a table, blows his brains out. Accident.
“We looked everywhere—no dog tags, no records, no family. All that was left was the puppet. Five minutes after Melvin died, the damn thing showed up again in a jeep that had left base. Been with us ever since.
“Your grandfather bought this house dirt cheap because it was ‘haunted.’ Turns out it was. But whenever he brought the Lieutenant here, everything quieted down. Makes sense if you think about it—a house full of restless spirits versus a stone-cold jungle vet who hates noise? No contest.”
Donald saluted the marionette, then slid it gently into the wall cavity.
Kendric stared.
“You’re bricking it in?”
“Has to be. Martin knew his....
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