By: Erin Moine
ARNICA startled with a sharp intake of breath as the angry
starling swooped past her head. The skin of her right cheek tingled as
the bird’s feathers brushed it. She grunted in irritation as the starling,
perched in a nearby tree, screeched at her. “Go build your nest somewhere else,” she hollered back.
Her ears still rang from the library’s quiet study room. Her eyes
strained in the overcast, yet bright weather. Focusing on the same chapters of the state’s abandoned sites had her head swimming with more
questions than when she began studying.
Straightening her backpack full of library books, Arnica continued along the narrow trail that locals had made through the tall field grass. The short way home from the library meant cutting through the
field that was never mowed, owned by a strict conservationist.
A soft breeze ruffled her straw-colored hair, making the tall grass around her sing. A quick glance at the sky with its steel-gray clouds had Arnica walking faster. Despite the May afternoon, Arnica shivered. The
temperature dropped increasingly with the oncoming storm. Evidently jeans, boots, and a t-shirt layered with a sweatshirt weren’t enough for spring’s temperamental weather.
After about ten minutes of walking, a flash and a low rumble
of thunder made Arnica’s skin prickle. The storm was too close. She glanced around for possible choices of shelter, her only options proving to be an outhouse looking to fall in on itself, or a lone brick house across a manicured lawn. Crucifixes lined the entire property of the house— no, thanks.
Arnica followed the trail a bit further, a large structure suddenly catching her eye. The Dog Rose Research Center stood solitary in the only mowed clearing of the field, its only companions a few trees and
the crucifix house in the distance. Arnica had never really paid attention to it before the college semester’s final research project, yet today her eyes landed on it. A strange feeling washed over her. Years of simple, passive interest morphed into undeniable curiosity.
Abandoned twenty years earlier, due to undisclosed circumstances, the scientific research center had once been a thriving place for scientists and local researchers on a variety of topics. Her recent research at the library produced only hints as to why it shut down. Curiosity and the need to find the truth made her heart quicken.
Another clap of thunder had Arnica hurrying toward the research center. It was either that or the crucifix house, and Arnica would rather be struck by lightning than be forced to knock on the door of that house and ask for shelter.
The worn brick and dirty broken windows of the asylum gave Arnica only momentary pause. She jogged along the front, passing by the barricaded front doors as she searched for a broken window on the
lower levels where she could crawl in. The shadows within the building seemed to hum and pulse as the wind fanned the grass surrounding the structure.
Finally, Arnica found a window with only a bit of glass remaining. She pulled a small flashlight out of her backpack, clicking it on. The drop to the floor was manageable. She tossed her backpack in first, then placed the flashlight between her teeth as she carefully maneuvered inside. A quick glance at the broken remains of the glass had tetanus written all over it.
Arnica lowered herself to the ground, gathering up her backpack. The stillness within the room was palpable, years of untold stories laid out in front of her. She’d crawled into some sort of administrative office or meeting room, with red cloth-and-metal chairs scattered about. The walls were decorated with peeling paint and traces of black mold. The scent that hit Arnica’s nostrils reminded her of dirt, metal, and something else she couldn’t place.
The intense curiosity pulled her deeper into the room. During her research, she’d wondered why the place had been abandoned; the center had only appeared in the local newspaper once with the vaguest,
shortest article she’d ever seen. The reason for closure was attributed to financial reasons, yet somehow it didn’t make sense, as the organization was funded by local nonprofits and nearby community colleges.
Arnica found a set of metal stairs leading up, carefully taking them in case they were unstable. The stairs led her to a large hallway with several rooms lining each side. She slowly made her way along, shining her flashlight into each room. Most of them appeared to be offices with old computers, filing cabinets, and file folders with papers strewn about. One office still contained remnants of what looked like an
unfinished muffin, now shriveled and teeming with rot.
A furrow formed between Arnica’s brows. Why was all of this stuff just left here? They couldn’t even take the time to dispose of unfinished food? Arnica’s mind swirled as she tried to put the pieces together. If the business was shut down properly, all of this should have been cleared out. Yet, remnants of the past sat untouched and neglected.
A small shuffling sound made Arnica’s muscles tense, her flashlight landing on a small mouse perched on one of the desks. It twitched its nose and blinked its inky black eyes at her. Arnwica relaxed a bit,
though her heart still pounded in her chest. She continued on down the hall, following the ever-present tug of an invisible string and the determination to discover the truth about this place.
Her feet carried her down another hall, peeling paint revealing rotting boards and rusted materials underneath. Rooms lining the hallway held rotting beds, strange symbols carved into some of the walls.
One room held the words They are here written in old brown paint—or, perhaps, it was blood.
Arnica hurried on, passing rooms containing old medication bottles and even blood bags, until she reached a staircase leading down. Before she could second guess herself, Arnica followed the steps, her
feet moving faster the further she went.
She was so focused on what she’d seen in the offices and medical rooms that she only now registered the silence. Arnica couldn’t even hear the storm outside. Goosebumps traveled up her spine. In her distraction, Arnica’s foot caught a slippery step.
Arnica flailed her arms, narrowly catching the railing and almost dropping her flashlight. She adjusted her beam to shine in front of her, and her heart nearly leapt from her chest. A massive expanse of still
water blocked her path. The sole of her right boot sat submerged in the murky brown and red liquid. A closer glance revealed tiny, wiggling creatures near the surface. Lectures about brain-eating amoeba in various science classes had her scrambling backwards, shaking her foot to try and rid her shoe of water.
Arnica turned and hurried back up the stairs, vaguely wonderinghow the water got there. She retraced her path through the building, passing the rooms, which now appeared different—cleaner, yet still full of decay. Where a burning sense of curiosity had gripped her before, now a sense of dread and the need to get out had her breaking into a run.
She passed the offices, her flashlight beam hitting the room with the mouse, which now lay on the desk in a contorted and unnatural position, even for a dead thing. Arnica hurried toward her escape window, ignoring the fact that the red chairs in the meeting room were now stacked neatly against the wall and sported dark stains.
She hoisted herself up through the broken window, clicking her flashlight off with trembling hands as she straightened on the gravel outside. At once, her nose registered a myriad of smells: lilac, metal, grass, and decay. Arnica glanced around, the stillness and silence around her doing nothing to calm her still-racing heart. The still, gray skies showed no sign of the previous storm.
Running a hand over her face, Arnica took a breath and began walking back around the building. The feeling that something had gone terribly wrong at the research center, and, for some reason, no one
would talk about it, sat in her mind like a persistent fungus.
Rounding the corner of the building, Arnica halted. Confusion and fear gripped her so suddenly that her heart palpitated.
The crucifix house was gone.
The grass surrounding her had taken on a gray hue, strange movements coming from the thicker parts. Arnica’s eyes went to a willowy figure standing where the crucifix house should have been. It was tall,
with alabaster skin and long, spindly fingers. Its bald head sported warts covered in mucormycosis. Arnica thought she spotted a ball-point pen sticking out of one of the warts. The creature slowly turned to look at her, its eyes an inky black that reminded her of the mouse’s eyes.
The creature’s mouth stretched into a sharp, red-stained grin, exposing two rows of metallic teeth that resembled the blades of X-Acto knives. It made a sound like a wet, gurgling groan and took one step
forward. Its long fingers dragged on the ground.
You don’t belong here, the words sounded loud in Arnica’s head, sending her body immediately into fight-or-flight mode. Instead of turning and running, though, she slowly backed away from the creature. Running from it would only induce its prey drive. Movement in the grass caught her attention, and a quick glimpse revealed thin black worms dancing over the steel grass like shiny shoelaces.
Arnica continued backwards, forcing herself not to panic. An-other step, and her back bumped into something solid. A startled scream lurched from her throat, and she spun around, wielding her
flashlight like a hatchet.
A firm hand blocked her assault, and she glanced up into a pair of winter-green eyes, framed by a dark cowl. Sharp cheekbones and a firm jaw, complimented by neatly styled hair the color of crows, greeted her. “You don’t belong here,” he said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His appearance was such a contrast to that of the spindly creature that her mind reeled. A dark cloak that moved like shadows completed his ensemble.
“What happened? What is this place?” Arnica asked, finally finding her voice. It trembled slightly, and shame at her fear rolled through her. She pulled her arm roughly from his grasp. “And who are you?”
Arnica took a step back, positioning her body so that she could keep an eye on the creature behind her, now only a few yards away. Its height reached nearly seven feet.
The man gave the creature a single look, and it halted its slow trek toward them. “That information is not important. What matters is that you do not belong here, and you must leave.”
“Leave, how? Go back through there?” Arnica gestured toward the research center. This had to be some sort of fever dream—perhaps she’d fallen asleep when she first crawled inside the building.
“I can send you back to your world, but you must never attempt
to return here,” the man explained. “This world is not made for your
kind.”
“My kind?” Arnica found the decency to be a bit offended.
“Humans, I mean,” he quickly corrected himself. “Humans were never meant to find this place, never meant to come here to try to… study us.”
His use of the word try made her shudder. “That’s what happened to the research center, then? We discovered this place, and you made us shut it down?”
The feeling of relief hit Arnica at this truth. “Like I said, our realm is not for humans,” the man replied. “It never has been, and it never will be.”
Before Arnica could ask any further questions, the man placed a cold palm upon her forehead. “Now, go home.” The world lurched, turning a blinding white. Arnica blinked and awoke——in the study hall of the library.
Midnight skies shone through the dusty windows.