Harold would never forget the strange house in the middle of the Cul-de-sac.
There were all sorts of rumors about the house, but most were just the stories children made up to explain strange things. The local kids said that the woman who lived there was a witch. They said that she kidnapped and ate children. They said that if you went by the house at night, you could see strange lights coming from the basement, and sometimes you could hear screams after dark. They claimed that she had lived there for years and years and that the old woman had existed there for generations.
When Harold asked his mother about these things, she said that Miss Renfro was just a lonely old lady who lived alone.
However, his friend, Davey Parker, insisted she was a witch.
"If she's just a normal old lady, how come animals won't go into her house?"
On that, he was right.
Not all animals, Harold supposed, mostly just cats.
Cats would not come anywhere near Miss Renfro's house. There were many strays on the road, cats squatting in people's yards to hunt mice or snakes, but none of them would go anywhere near Mrs. Renfro's house. The cats wouldn't even use the sidewalk in front of her fence. You could watch them sometimes as they stopped at the fence line and crossed the street instead, risking being hit by traffic instead of walking near her home. It was as if there was a magnetic pulse around the place that repelled members of the feline race.
She owned cats, of course. The boys had seen her take many of them into the house, all of them hissing and yowling as they battered against the carriers. Once they went in, though, they never saw any of them again. There was talk around town that the local shelter wouldn't give her any cats anymore. They said that she had been housing about four or five a year for as long as anyone could remember but that when a well check found none of the cats on her premises, they had stopped letting her foster them.
That didn't stop her from getting them, though. She had traps that she set up around town and worked out a deal with the local dog catcher to bring her cats when he found them. Mr. Barley was not what you would call a nice guy. He was mean enough to dogs, and most people would believe he would trap cats for her. His son, Thomas, was a big brute known for throwing bags of animals into the local river for entertainment. He's been picked up by the police a time or two for hurting people's pets, and that kind of behavior was usually learned from somewhere.
Harold and his three friends, Ralph, Steven, and Davey, had been watching the house for as long as they could remember. Mrs. Renfro never decorated for holidays. She never handed out candy on Halloween. She never returned any of the balls or toys that might land in her yard and chased away anyone who tried to retrieve them. No one ever went there to sell magazines or chocolate bars for the school fundraisers, and if they tried, they were always chased away. She was a sour old woman somewhere in her late fifties or early sixties, but there was talk that she might've been older than that.
Harold's mother told him about how Mrs. Renfro had acted the same when she was a kid.
"It couldn't be the same Mrs. Renfro, though it looks just like her. She constantly ran kids off her property or yelled at those who rode their bikes too close to her fence. She was a sour old crone, but this must be her daughter or a cousin or something. The Mrs. Renfro that I knew would be older than dirt by now."
She told the boys this story as they sat eating watermelon on the back porch one summer, and it sparked a real fire in them. They wanted to know more about Mrs. Renfro, and in their minds, it could absolutely be the same one. Her reputation for being a wicked old witch had been cemented in the minds of most of the town's children. The idea that she had existed there for multiple generations wasn't as far-fetched as Harold's mom had thought it was.
So, as they started their school break, the boys began spying on their reclusive neighbor.
Like the nerd he was, Ralph wanted to start with the boring bits.
"We should go to the library." he said, "We can see if it was the same Mrs. Renfro that lived there when Harold's mom was a kid."
"And how are we gonna do that?" Davey asked, "You know they're not gonna let a bunch of kids go and look at records like that. Those kinds of things are only for lawyers and policemen."
The two had argued about it, but in the end, they all decided that some good old-fashioned surveillance might be the best option.
So, they had staked out the old ladies' house for the next week. The boys left on their bikes around daybreak and got a good spot by Davey's front porch. Davey's house was right across from hers on the cut-de-sac and had the best view of her front yard. They stayed and watched the house until the street lights came on, all of them racing for home before they got in trouble.
The street lights meant it was almost dinner time, and missing dinner would make their mothers into bigger monsters than the mean old witch, Mrs. Renfro.
After five days, the boys hadn't seen much besides Mrs. Renfro coming home with a new cat in a carrier.
Davey has been getting frustrated as the sunset on Friday afternoon.
"This is stupid," he said, as he threw his binoculars against the grass, "we've given up two perfectly good baseball games, a bike race with Mark Hollister, and a chance to go to the movies on Thursday just to watch this old lady's house."
"Well," Harold asked, "how else do you think we're gonna find anything out?"
Davey thought about it for a minute and then got an idea. He went inside, and the other three boys could hear him talking with his mother. He was using his pleading voice, the voice he put on when he was trying to convince her to give him money or to let him do something. They all knew he would manage whatever he was after. Davey's mother was a soft touch and always had been. After a little back-and-forth, they heard him exclaim how much he loved her and come back outside. He had his chest puffed out as he came to join them, and his smile made him look like the cat that caught the canary.
"Ask your parents when you get home tonight if you can stay the night on Saturday. I think most of the good stuff happens after dark, so we can watch from the front window and catch it."
They all agreed, saying that sounded like a great idea. Davey's dad, a trucker who was on the road more than not, was still off on a delivery. Davey's mom was the doting sort who loved giving her son whatever he wanted. That meant that, even if they didn't catch Mrs. Renfro in anything, they could still play Super Nintendo or watch scary movies in his room. Even if they didn't solve the mystery of the neighborhood witch, it would still be a fun night.
To no one's surprise, their parents agreed to let them stay the night, and as the sun began to set Saturday night, all four were in the living room with their binoculars out.
Davey's mother had told them not to make too much racket and gone up to read in her bed. They were trying to be sneaky, but anyone could've seen the binoculars hiding underneath Mrs. Parker's gauzy curtains in the living room. It had been a slow day of watch, and the boys hadn't seen Mrs. Renfro leave her house all day. They supposed she might've snuck out while they were having lunch or munching on the pizza David's mom had bought them, but they doubted it. Her old van was still in the same position, and the package the postman had left that morning was still sitting on her doorstep. It had been an all-day event, and the boys almost vibrated with excitement as they watched the sun set behind her creepy old house.
As darkness began to fall, Steven said he thought he saw something from one of the basement windows. They all looked in that direction, and sure enough, there was something going on down there. A weird funhouse glow was coming from the windows, a soupy green color like you saw in scary movies. Davey said he thought he saw smoke too, and the longer they looked, the more the boys imagined they could see smoke curling up from underneath the window sill. Not the kind of smoke you got from a fire, of course. This was soft and translucent, like the sort of smoke he saw when his mother made soup.
"I knew if we stayed past dark we'd see something," Davey said excitedly.
Harold thought the glow was cool, but it wasn't really proof of anything. For all they knew, that's where she kept her TV, and she was just watching something weird. Maybe she was down there smoking the stuff that he had caught his sister puffing on out behind the house, and they were watching no more than her relaxing after a long day of being terrible. Either way, the glow wasn't proof of much.
"We need to get closer," someone said.
It wasn't until Harold found the other three looking at him that he realized he had been the one to say it.
"That's a great idea," Davey said, putting down his binoculars. He looked pretty excited about the prospect of sneaking up to the old woman's house, but Harold suddenly wished he hadn't said anything at all. Mrs. Renfro's house was creepy enough in the daytime, and the idea of going over her fence at night was a little too spooky for him.
"It was just a thought, guys," Harold said, trying to backtrack, "If she caught us sneaking over there after dark, she'd have a,"
"We can go out the back door and creep around the side of the house," Davey said, clearly not listening, "My mom will never hear the door and think we've just gone up to my room if she comes downstairs."
Steven and Ralph were all for it, though Harold thought Ralph looked a little queasy too. Just to be safe, they all went running up the stairs like a herd of gazelles to get their flashlights from their backpacks. They had brought them with the idea to tell scary stories later that night, but they might be put to better use now. Once they had them, they snuck back downstairs as quietly as a group of nine-year-olds could manage and made their way out the back door. There was still a little stab of daylight left as they came through Davey's backyard and around the front of the house. As they crossed the street in a mad hustle, it dipped below the horizon and left them in darkness. At least until the street lights came on in a small flurry of snapping bulbs. They stood beneath one of the lamp posts, crouching low as they observed the front of Mrs. Renfro's house. The front lawn was covered in tall grass and weeds, children's toys dotting it like pirate treasure. From between the tall grass, they could see the green glow as it came from the small windows. The boys hopped the low fence as they snuck through the hip-high hay and up to the windows.
As they lay on their bellies and looked through the glass, Harold could see that Mrs. Renfro was not, in fact, watching TV and relaxing after a long day.
What they saw seemed to be better proof that she was a witch.
The basement looked identical to the one in Harold's house. A single steep staircase ran down into a concrete room with shelves and hooks on the wall, the floor a flat sheet of concrete. Instead of a washer, a dryer, and mounds of holiday decorations, however, a large metal pot sat in the middle of the floor. The pot, more like a bathtub than a soup pot, was the source of the green glow, and the liquid inside swirled with eldritch light. Mrs. Renfro was stirring it with a long spoon or maybe a broom handle, and though her mouth was moving, none of them could tell what she was saying.
On a shelf near the pot was the cat they had seen her bring in a few days before.
"Holy crap," Whispered Ralph, pushing away from the window, "she really is a witch."
Harold nodded, all of them moving back from the window so that she couldn't see them, but Davey stayed put. He was focused on that cat, the one on the shelf that she was clearly planning to do something with. Harold didn't really like how intent he was. Davey was prone to doing things that weren't strictly smart sometimes, things that might be considered noble if they weren't so suicidal. Last summer, Davey had saved a kid from drowning at Gopher Pond, an act that had almost sent him under as well. The year before that, he had shoved a kid out of the way of a truck, earning himself a broken leg and a commendation from the mayor.
Davey didn't lack courage, but sometimes he lacked sense.
When he picked up the rock, Harold was afraid that he might throw it through the little window and give them away.
Instead, he rolled like a log and tossed it at Mrs. Renfro's front door.
The old woman stiffened, climbing down off her stool as she hobbled towards the stairs on her gouty legs.
"What are you doing?" Harold whispered, looking at Davey incredulously.
"Getting that cat," Davey said, and as she got to the top of the stairs, he pushed the window and grinned as it popped inward. He slid inside as Ralph began to hyperventilate, and Steven asked what the heck he'd been thinking? Harold whispered he didn't know but quieted as the front door came open and a quavery voice cascaded across the lawn.
"Who is it?" she croaked, sounding more like a bullfrog than a woman, "What nasty beasties are taking me from my work?"
The three boys got as low as they could in the tall grass, hoping it would cover them as the specter descended the steps.
"Are you hiding?" she rasped, the stairs squeaking under her feet as he bunched old legs brought her closer to the yard.
Harold put a hand over Ralph's mouth as his wheezing became louder. He undoubtedly needed his inhaler, but the sound of its trigger would alert the old bitty. Steven had begun to shimmy a little, trying to get around the edge of the house, but as her patent leather shoe came down with a clump on the cobblestone path in front of her house, he froze like a statue. If she had a flashlight, they would be seen, but Harold didn't think she had one. She hadn't turned on the porch light either, and, with any luck, her old eyes wouldn't see them if they stayed absolutely still.
She took a step into the grass, and Harold almost pulled his hand away as he felt Ralph's tears touch his skin.
She took another, and Harold thought she might be casting a spell before he realized it was just Steven quietly praying.
She took a third step, and Harold shut his eyes tight as he hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't see them.
The seconds slipped on for an indeterminable time, but finally, she turned and hobbled back up her stairs.
When the door closed, they all breathed a sigh of relief before rolling back to the window to see if Davey had been caught.
Not only had Davey not been caught, but as they caught sight of him, he was lifting the cat career off the shelf. He had taken the step ladder that the witch had been standing on and was reaching on tiptoes to grasp the side of the career. None of them could hear if the cat was cooperating, but it didn't look as if Davey was going to manage to get the cage off the shelf without dropping it.
Harold had just shimmied to go help him when the croak of the witch brought him up short and sealed Davey's fate.
"What in the hell do you think you are doing?" she screeched, and Davey must have jumped because he was suddenly falling towards the tub of glowing liquid. The cat career fell to the concrete with a smack, and the small white animal shot out like a cannonball as it tore off towards the upstairs. It ran right between the startled legs of the crone, but she was more interested in the boy that was now bobbing in her cauldron.
They both began to scream simultaneously.
Mrs. Renfro doubled over, falling down the stairs as she clutched at her stomach. She was still when she came to rest on the concrete, but Harold could see her twitching as whatever was happening took effect. The tub could not have been deeper than a foot or two, but Davey was suddenly splashing like a drowning man. He was shrinking, his skin growing taunt and spotted, his hair growing gray and brittle. His teeth fell out, floating in the soup before dissolving into nothing. His eyes joined them, his skeletal hands still grasping at hope. As they watched their friend shudder out his last few moments of life, his body dissolved as he sank into the tub.
They ran screaming from the yard, thundering in Davey's house as they went to find the closest adult they could.
The police were there before they had finished telling it all, and the four squad cars lit up the cul-de-sac like a Christmas light show.
Harold's father was among them, being one of the deputies for their little town, which was how Harold found out more than he strictly wanted to the next day.
Harold had gone home with his mother, Mrs. Parker, speaking with the police as she begged them to find her son. He had gone to sleep on the couch under the scratchy afghan his mother had croqueted and dreamed about the pool of liquid in Mrs. Renfro's basement. In the dream, Davey's skeleton had burst out of it as he stood beside the cauldron, grabbing him and trying to drag him in. It screamed and screamed, his ears ringing with it, and when he tossed and turned his way off the couch, he awoke to find his mother and father talking in the kitchen.
"Old bitty was some kind of nut. She had all these books and diagrams, satanic stuff, and she had this big tub of liquid down there. The coroner thinks it's acid or something, but they aren't sure. They," he paused, and Harold could almost hear the shudder in his father's voice, "they found bone fragments at the bottom of the tub. They aren't sure, but they think they might be human."
"Did they find any sign of Davey?" his mother asked.
"Not really. They can't be sure that the bone fragments are his, but if the boy's stories are right, I guess they would have to be."
"I hope that terrible woman rots in prison." his mother half whispered, expressing more venom in her words than Harold had ever heard from her before.
"Not unless we find her," he said unhappily, "She was gone when we arrived."
"How far could she have gotten? She would have to be pushing a hundred."
"I don't know, but the journals I found will stick with me for a long time. She was," he shuddered a little, Harold peaking around the corner of the couch to snoop on his parents, "she was killing cats. She talked about how she would drown them in those tubs and steal their lives."
"Stealing their lives?"
"Cats are supposed to have nine lives, and she was stealing their lives to stay alive. She was so delusional that she thought the cats were keeping her from dying. The journal entries went way, way back, long before you or I were born. She was a sick woman, who believed she'd lived for centuries."
The Renfro House sat empty most of the time. The families that moved in never stayed for long. They always said the same thing. They told the realtor that the house was lovely but that they felt watched while they were in the house. The toys disappeared from the yard, reclaimed by their owners, but Harold and his friends never returned to the house again. Davey's family moved away a few months after his disappearance. His mother was unable to deal with the loss of her son, and his house was soon occupied by a new family.
Time went on, Harold and his friends returned to school, and people forgot about Davey and Mrs. Renfro.
A new story began to circulate as the stories do.
Kids claimed to see a young woman walking the streets at night. She would lure children away, singing to them and telling them how she wanted to play. She was said to have lured a few teens away as well, though Harold doubted she had offered to play with them. There were reports of people missing, but never enough to spark much panic. They could be chalked up to runaways or kids lost in the woods, and the town continued.
Harold knew that they were more than stories, though.
He saw the woman outside his window most nights, he and Steven and Ralph. She called to them, telling them to come and play. She told them that Davey missed them and they could see him again if they wanted. When they refused her or ignored her, she would go into the woods behind their houses, disappearing into the shadows.
Sometimes, they could see a strange green glow from the woods late at night.
Harold wondered how many years Mrs. Renfro had gotten from Davey and how many more would she get before the town put an end to her?
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