"Right," Mabel said with an important air, smoothing the edges on the faded map. "Right," she echoed, "if the cabin is here," she jutted a finger in the middle of the page,"then, Grandpa is here." She motioned to a square shape in the north-eastern corner marked, "Castle - HAUNTED."
The three children huddled close, surveying dots and scribbles on the map. It had been one day since their grandfather’s disappearance. Rations of crackers and canned fish stored in the tiny hunting shed were dwindling.
"Iths too far! Too scary!" the youngest child, Will lisped, due to his missing front tooth. "Can't we just wait for Grandpa to come back? He’s not lost!"
The other two children exchanged apprehensive glances. Mabel, the eldest, felt a sort of determination to care for her brother and sister. She was, after all, almost a grown-up compared to Livvy, seven, and Will, five. Twelve was certainly old enough for a rescue mission.
The siblings divvied the last tins of tuna, crumbled crackers, a few marshmallows, and an apple. Mabel felt it was her responsibility to carry the lantern, delegating the map to Livvy and the emergency whistle to Will. The trio headed directly east, feeling the warmth of the rising sun over the distant mountains.
Because they were children, it did not take long to tire their legs and their stomachs to begin growling. “Let’s just have a bite to eat! We’ll feel much better, I’m sure,” piped Livvy. Mabel agreed with this sentiment and the three sat down with their backs to a few old trees to eat.
“Is the castle really haunted?” Will asked, spraying a bit of apple through the gap in this teeth.
“Of course it is,” Mabel replied. “Grandpa never lies and it’s on the map, so it must be true.”
With growing shadows, the children decided it was time to move on. But suddenly, Livvy let out a screech. The tree where she had been leaning was now wrapped around her! She wriggled and fought, scraping the bark of the tree.
“Let me go! Let me go!” she cried, but the tree stood firm. It’s gnarled bark served only to ensnare the child further. It wrapped its old, viney branches around her waist, tearing at her dress. Mabel leapt to action, pulling the lantern up off the ground, lighting it all in one swift movement.
“You big old grouch! Let my sister go!” The tree creaked and moaned, but did not listen. She held the lantern closer. “This is magic fire, you oaf! Do you know what magic fire does to trees like you?!” She waved the tiny propane flame as close as she could to a low branch and the tree felt the heat, immediately releasing Livvy from his grasp, throwing her on to the soft ground.
The siblings ran as far as their feet could carry them, panting from the effort. Finally, they spotted a shed and they pushed themselves into it, only pausing to breathe once they had slammed the door behind them.
“You saved me, Mabel!” sighed Livvy, embracing her sister.
“You would have saved me too,” Mabel replied sheepishly, “Sorry about your dress, though.”
Livvy’s favorite buttercup yellow dress was ruined. The delicate lace trim had been snagged and torn almost off and the delicate flowers sewn on the bodice were shredded.
"That's OK. I'm just glad you knew about the magic fire. I would have been tree food!"
Mabel swiftly nodded in agreement. Of course, there was nothing magic at all about the cracked old lantern, but it was safer to let her brother and sister think otherwise.
The siblings took a moment to inspect their surroundings. Will’s voice was a low whisper.
“I don’t think this is a good place…”
The tiny shed was lined with rows and rows of large metal hooks and from each hook a large slab of marbled red and white flesh. The stench of the drying meat, which should have alarmed the children at first entrance, suddenly slammed their nostrils with overwhelming ferocity. To add to their terror, each hanging rack was labeled with a name.
“These are people!” Mabel hissed. “GO! Now!” Grabbing her brother and sister by the hand, tucking the lantern under her arm, Mabel dashed back through the door of the shed and bolted into the depths of the forest from which they had fled.
Mabel, Livvy, and Will trudged northward toward the looming castle in the distance, barely visible in the dimming light. Before they knew it, they were surrounded in complete darkness, resorting to reading their map by lantern light. The map now bore several additions to its legend as the Spooky Tree and Slaughterhouse were marked clearly for future reference.
“Grandpa said we would always know the castle because the tower lights up at night with ghostly spectres.” Livvy proposed, quoting her grandfather almost word for word. “That means,” she continued, “that we should be able to find it soon.”
Sure enough, a few strange distorted lights appeared over the horizon. If their grandpa was in the haunted castle, there was only one sure way of calling him out.
“It’s time, Will,” Mabel instructed to her brother. “Blow the whistle.”
Will swelled his lungs and let out a long burst on the tin whistle. The winds picked up the shrill noise, wrapping it into the howling gusts, creating an eerie wail. Then silence. Will blowed the whistle. Silence. Then, faintly off in the distance a repeating whistle could be heard. Will continued; each time he was answered with shorter bursts increasing in volume.
The children huddled behind the lantern. A shadowy figure emerged, sending shivers down into their boots.
“Grandpa!” the siblings yelled. They had saved him!
“How did you escape the ghosts?” asked Mabel.
“Oh, it was quite difficult,” their grandfather reassured, “I thought I was a goner, until I heard the whistle. You were all very brave.”
The children clamored around their grandfather as he lit a small fire and withdrew sticks and extra marshmallows from his inside coat pocket. As they settled down with sticky fingers, their grandfather pulled a small radio and spoke into it.
“Yes, that’s right. Set the tower to auto. The radio signals should maintain themselves through the night. And tell Jim that I’m ready to pick up that smoked beef he set aside for me. My grandkids look like they could use a good BBQ.”
Author’s Note:
This story is based on the illustration by Tom Gould titled “Map of the Area Surrounding our Holiday Home.” I specifically included the main cabin, the Spooky Tree, the Slaughterhouse, and the Haunted Castle. My inspiration for this story comes from the idea that children have wild imaginations and often see things as something more than what they are in reality, which is revealed when the grandfather is finally found. While the children are sure that the Spooky Tree is alive, it is really just a tree. The Slaughterhouse full of people is just the storage space for a local butcher, and the Haunted Castle is just a mountain radio tower, which the grandfather mans.