**Hands up if you think Davis has got it right? Well, if you raised your hand you're only partly right...The house is screwed up. But there is a bit more of an explanation, and it's revealed below. But before you read, you might want to re-think the entire story and see if you can figure it our on your own. Go ahead, give it a try. I'll wait...***


Drive, Davis...Just Drive!
~ The Epilogue ~
*********************


Having the bejuzzus scared out of you tends to make one hungry. Add a sniffling man with out tissue to the mix, and you have one hell of a reason to pull over and get out.

Back on the main road, Davis spotted a small diner with an old gas station out front. And since his tank was nearly empty, pulling over seemed like an even better idea. He slowed the truck to a stop in one of the vacant parking spots and turned off the ignition.

It wasn't much, but it was standing, well lit, and gave the impression that corporeal beings frequented the place. The front windows, one on each side of the door, were large and dirty. And the exterior walls seemed to be made of large logs, linked together like some child's Tinker Toy collection. The roof was corrugated steel, slanted and peaked in the center with a short chimney jutting from the right side.

"Looks kinda cozy," offered Bosco, closing his door behind him.

The four others followed suit, stepping out of the truck into the cool night air. They found it refreshing, and each took the time to stretch and look about. The gas pump, dimly lit behind them, was vacant. And the road behind that deserted. There were only two street lamps on the property, but they gave enough light to make them feel safe.

Together they entered the establishment, causing the little bell above the front door to chime. An elderly gentlemen in a white T-shirt and greasy apron looked up from the counter and motioned with his head to a booth near one of the front windows. The five men took their cue and slid into the vinyl benches.

Bobby and Carlos each grabbed a menu, while Bosco and Davis took a moment to collect themselves and enjoy the non-auspicious environment. Jimmy quickly busied himself in an all out war with the napkin dispenser that refused to co-operate.

"So," Bosco said, nodding his head rhythmically as he looked from face to face around the table.

"So," replied Davis.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Carlos said, his face buried in the menu.

"Talk about what?" asked Bobby, feigning ignorance and equally buried in his own plastic menu.

"You've been there," said a voice at the end of the table.

Each patron at the table turned to see the man from behind the counter standing above them. He was wiping his hands on the apron ineffectively hiding the gut beneath it, and watching them with cerebral eyes. His head was covered in greying brown hair with a streak of white running from his forehead behind his right ear.

Bosco smiled uneasily and crossed his hands on the table. "Been there?" he asked, quickly sharing a look with Davis.

"You've been to the house," replied the man. "I can smell it on you." He pulled a chair from a nearby table and tucked it under himself as he sat down. "I've smelled it before," he continued. "And once, I even smelled like it myself."

Five sets of eyes rested on the man, each calling out in an unverbal request to continue. But the man was no longer forthcoming with information. Instead, he looked over his shoulder to a waitress and ordered five cups of coffee. "You look like you need 'em," he finally said.

Jimmy raised his head from the table where it had been resting for the past few minutes- a paper placemat stuck to his cheek. "Can I have mine with a side of NeoCitron?" he asked, then let his head drop back to the hard Formica.

Davis grabbed Carlos' menu and hit Jimmy over the head. "Shut up, will ya," he said, turning back to the man. "Go on," he continued, urging the man further with his beckoning hands.

The man pulled his chair in further, leaned across the table. "Did you go alone, or all together?" he asked, his voice low as his eyes darted from one customer to the other-eager to hear and learn from their story.

"Uh, in groups," replied Bosco. "Then we all went together."

The man smiled cryptically and nodded. "So, did you figure out it's mystery?" he asked.

Four sets of eyes stared back at him, each without answers. One set, the one belonging to Jimmy, were closed, but he did manage to mumble an obstinate yes before he sneezed yet again.

"And?" urged the man, leaning to the side as the waitress delivered the five mugs of steaming coffee. "Did you master it?"

Bosco sat upright, gripping the edges of the table. "Master it?" he asked. "That sounds like something that would require time. We wanted to get out of there."

The man furrowed his brow. "Then why did you return?"

Everyone glared at Davis, who replied with an innocent shrug. "I just wanted to see it for myself," he said.

"But he said you figured out the mystery?" the man asked, pointing to Jimmy.

"We did," spoke Bobby, finally pulling himself from his menu and ready to partake in the inevitable conversation. "The house is fucked up. Pure and simple."

The man dropped his head and closed his eyes in disappointment. "Let me ask you this," he finally said, after a few moments. "Did each of you see the same things?"

Bosco looked at everyone's faces and finally replied for the group. "Yeah," he said with a shrug. "Old house. Scary people. Stupid thick fog."

The man raised a knobby finger in the air and tilted his head. "Are you sure? Or did you noticed little changes...Like certain things out of place, or details not quite right?"

Davis was the first to respond to this. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. He gave the man a side long glance before speaking. "Well, I never saw the woman," he admitted. "Did you see the woman? The one from upstairs in the nightgown?"

The man shook his head. "No," he replied. "But no one ever sees the same thing in that house." He paused, spreading his hands across the table top as he closed the gap between him and his audience. "It reads your minds. It takes your thoughts, and molds them into your fears."

Bosco didn't quite believe the explanation, certain things just didn't connect. "But we did see the same things. Jimmy and Bobby," he pointed to the two men, then continued. "They went first, and then they told us about it. Later, when Carlos and I found it, purely by accident by the way, we saw the same house and the same weird people in the parlor. And when we all went back, the same people were there."

Smiling, the man shook his head. "Do you know how rumours work?" he asked, receiving five eagerly nodding heads as a reply. "Well, after the first telling they get a bit hazy. And they build and build, and new parts are added while other parts are forgotten and reconstructed in a new telling." He paused as he watched the comprehension dawn of the five young men.

"When each of you returned after hearing the first story, you already had a picture in your head," he continued. "And when your mind couldn't form the exact details, it just filled them in. The house tapped into it and created what you thought. And I'm pretty sure that each time you returned, the house seemed that much more scarier."

Davis' eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "That's why I saw you," he pointed at Bobby, then paused and pointed at Bosco. Confusing himself, he shook his head. "That's why I saw both of you upstairs!" he continued. "I'd just been thinking of you before I passed out!"

Jimmy moaned, slowly raising his head and peeling the still stuck placemat from his face. "And I was thinking of strange little butlers and mysterious noises when we first approached the place," he admitted, as he slumped his shoulders. "I probably started this whole thing."

"But why did I see a woman in the nightgown then," asked Bobby. He turned to Jimmy with a questioning expression.

Jimmy shook his head. "I wasn't thinking about women," he replied. Then he pointed at Bosco. "But you saw her too, didn't you?"

Bosco sat back, drawing his chin to his chest. "Yeah, she was beautiful," he said. "But why did she only appear to me and Bobby?"

Carlos frowned. "Cause the two of you are always thinking about beautiful women," he replied flatly.

"And Jimmy!" blurted Davis, pointing an accusing finger at his sniffling friend. "You're sick!"

"What's...Aaachhhoooo!...that got to do with anything?"

But Bosco answered instead, now seeing the connection clearly in his head. "You weren't sick the first time you went," he replied, but received nothing but a blank, not-getting-the-picture-yet look from Jimmy.

"You never said anything about a woman fawning over you when you went with Bobby," Bosco continued, his voice rising in excitement. "But when we went back with Davis, you must have been thinking about your mother or Kim, or something! That's why she coddled you! You were sick and wanted to be babied!...You big freaking baby."

Jimmy slumped low in his seat as everyone at the table stared at him with laughing eyes. He turned red, and suddenly found the table top fascinating. "I can't help it," he admitted, his voice child-like and embarrassed. "When I'm sick I wanna be smothered."

"Oh, I feel so much better now," Davis said, taking in a deep breath. "This at least, makes some sense."

But Carlos snatched that idea away from him. "Sense?!" he cried, starring dumbfounded at his officer friend. "A house that reads minds makes sense?! If you ask me, I say it's still fucked. And if you ask me twice, I'll still say fucked, only louder!"

The man watched as the five young men continued to discuss their evening's events. He rose from the table with a smile and pulled his chair away. Never a night went by when some poor tourist to the area didn't come in and mourn over their encounter with the house over a cup of hot coffee. And the man enjoyed each story, memorizing each one as it was told and filing it away for future reference.

One day, when he had heard enough stories, his plan was to return. But this time, prepared to master the supernatural abilities of the house. With the right mind, the house could be a gold mine- a person's playground. But with an untrained, vulnerable one, it could be your worst nightmare.

He stepped away from the table, but was caught in his silent escape as the one called Bobby spoke to him. "So, what did you see at the house?" the young man asked.

The man smiled, not about to fill them in. "Drink your coffee," he said. "Just drink your coffee."

*** *** ***

~ The End ~




~Seriously, it's the end~







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