The Station

By H.A. Larson

Eric Duschesne lives a bleak existence in Minneapolis, working a job that he hates. Feeling lonely, he takes a week's vacation to White Path, Minnesota, where he grew up. His plans are to visit his parents; his childhood friend, Sean; and spend some time relaxing at his parent's cabin on Climbing Hill Lake in the heart of Nawayee Forest.

His dad, Butch, has him go through some of his grandparent's belongings where he comes across the old radio that sat on his grandparent's three-season porch. He decides to keep the radio and takes it with him to his parent's cabin. The first night at the cabin, a weak voice emanates from the static within the radio, and thus begins a week that Eric will never forget.

Who does the voice belong to? What does it want? Does it belong to the ghostly woman in white who begins to haunt his dreams and then his reality? What happened amongst the trees of Nawayee Forest? Find out the answers to these questions as well as indulging in the stunning conclusion that will leave you hanging for more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: H.A. Larson
• Release date: Nov 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370896431

H.A. Larson

I publish my own paranormal/horror thriller ebooks. In addition to writing, I love to cook, bake, and figure out how to make things from scratch. I dream of living in a foreign locale, I have a passion for beauty and makeup, I am a world traveler-in-training, I spend a lot of time in nature, I'm a closet rock star, and I consider myself an amateur photographer. I much prefer a book over television, and I am a music fanatic.

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The Station

H.A. Larson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017, H.A. Larson

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

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1

He was so lost in thought that the car horn barely registered at first. A vague awareness prompted him to look up, and before him was a car. The driver, a man, had an angry look on his face, and he was laying on the horn. Eric looked down, saw the crosswalk, and remembered exactly where he was.

The horn now seemed loud, but as suddenly as it reached him, it ended. The driver let off the horn, opened his window, and shouted at Eric, Hey jerk-off! Either walk to the other side of the street, or get out of the damn way!  

Sorry! he shouted back to the frustrated driver before scurrying quickly to the other corner of the intersection. Once there, he turned back to look at Washington Street before moving forward again. Fall was upon Minneapolis, and while the sun’s rays were warm, a brisk wind blew around Eric and his fellow pedestrians as they walked, prompting them to keep their heads down.

Hey watch out! a voice came from directly in front of him. Stopping dead in his tracks for the second time in a few short minutes, he looked up at the person behind the voice. An older woman, he guessed somewhere in her late sixties, was standing there giving him a scolding gaze.  Excuse me, he nodded in apology before moving away.

Making a concerted effort to pay more attention to his surroundings, Eric Duschesne willed his mind to break the grip it had on his reality. He wasn’t just distracted today; he was distracted every day, and had been since he had started his new job six months ago.  

At thirty-four this was just another in a string of failed career attempts. He had graduated with his bachelor’s degree in Religious Studies at age twenty-three, and had spent the last eleven years working in various office jobs. He had accepted this position, an account manager, because it paid decently. It was a far cry from the world he had imagined of lecturing high school kids on the origins of religion and the sacraments.

The wind picked up as he reached the front entrance of the apartment building he lived in. Tony, the security guard, was sitting at the front desk. His shift was only a few hours old, and it reminded Eric that he was glad to be off work.  

The elevator glided along its path from the lobby to the 14th floor, which was where his apartment was. From the elevator he moved down the hallway and unlocked the door of 1421: home sweet home. Eleanor was quick to greet him with her usual ‘meow’ and body rubs against his leg. He got down on his haunches to scratch her behind her ears and pet her back. Satisfied after a few strokes, she ran to her food bowl.

Eric laughed. Did you miss me, or are you just hungry? he asked his tabby pet. She moved back and forth in front of her food bowl, Meow. Okay your highness, I will serve you, he joked. Truth was he loved his cat, probably more than she loved him, and was his closet companion most of the time.  

He had found her in the alley behind the apartment building, barely weaned and pitifully mewling next to her mother’s emaciated, dead body. She was so little and cute that he had taken pity on her. He had scooped her up, brought her up to his apartment, given her a bath, and then taken her to the vet, who gave her a clean bill of health. That was five years ago.

Not that he didn’t have friends, he had plenty of friends, but he only had a couple of people he considered a ‘best’ friend. Dan Wilson was a former co-worker, but they had a lot in common and had become close friends over the last ten years. Sean Nielson was his best friend since childhood, and still lived in White Path, the Northern Minnesota town they had grown up in together. Although he and Sean didn’t see each other as often, they spoke once every week or two on the phone. They hadn’t spoken much lately though, and Eric reminded himself to call his best friend soon.

After changing out of his work clothes, Eric grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat down on the recliner, putting his feet up. Eleanor joined him on his lap, and he enjoyed a beer while she enjoyed his warmth. He rubbed behind her ears and glanced outside the large window of his living room, thoughts swirling in his head.

He hated his job, and his career path in general, but it provided a lifestyle that he enjoyed.  His apartment was in the center of Minneapolis, a city that he loved, in an old renovated building that had once been an iron works factory.  The brick walls and steel beams had been left in place, but the bricks had been power-washed while the beams had been painted a grey color that was intended to mimic the original color while not being quite as dark. With the exception of the bathroom and a large hallway closet, the apartment was open-concept with tall ceilings and a wall of windows.  

A low, long, built-in table served as the dining table and a divider between the kitchen and the living room. His bedroom was in a balcony that completely covered the kitchen and jutted out a few feet into the living room. The kitchen was large for an apartment kitchen. Galley-style, it had a long counter along the back wall of the apartment, opposite the large wall of windows in the living room, and ample cupboard space.

The living room was very large, an asset that was accentuated with twenty-foot high ceilings and the aforementioned wall of windows. From the balcony bedroom, the upper portion of the windows served as bedroom windows as well. Long curtains hung from industrial wire that began one-third of the length of the windows from the top. Eric could pull the curtains closed for privacy in the living room while still leaving a view over the top from his vantage point on his bed in the loft.

His apartment was only one floor down from the top floor and afforded a spectacular view. The view was his favorite thing about the apartment, and he never got tired of sitting in the dark at night, gazing out across the city landscape. The windows added to the overall feeling of largeness the apartment had, and gave it light or ambience, depending on the time of day.

Right now, it was ambience the apartment had as Eric sat in his recliner, Eleanor purring contentedly in his lap while he stroked her fur, silently watching the sun fade behind the tall buildings. One soft lamp behind him provided enough interior light to see, but enough privacy to feel sheltered. He saw hundreds of people every day, and it was times like this that he could indulge in being alone and anonymous. He enjoyed his evening ritual of pretending that he was the only person in the world, just a man and his faithful cat.

Sometimes he thought about nothing at all, and other times, like tonight, he was lost in deep thought. He had a lot on his mind, as was evidenced from his absentminded behavior on his way home earlier. He needed his job, but he didn’t want to work there anymore. This wasn’t where he pictured his life going when he was in college thirteen years ago. He had imagined a fulfilling life of teaching eager minds, commiserating with other intellectuals over glasses of whiskey in dark pubs in the evenings, and having summers free to take trips of adventure around the world.

Instead, he spent his days in a cubicle, surrounded by fluorescent lights and other cubicles, answering emails, filling out spreadsheets, and making presentations. He wore a nondescript suit, like everyone else in the office, and made small talk next to the copier or in the break room with co-workers. Some of his co-workers were just as unhappy as he was, also stuck in a job that didn’t suit them, and dreaming of their chance to escape. Many of his co-workers, however, were content in their positions, happy to have a Monday through Friday 9-5 job. They spent their evenings hanging out with other office workers at campy bars, chain restaurants, or hip clubs, and were overall pleased with their lives.

Eleanor-satisfied with the amount of petting she had received-jumped off Eric’s lap and made for other parts of their home. He also got up and walked over to the wall of windows, pulling the curtains closed about halfway, giving him more privacy and isolating the glow of city lights to the center of his apartment. He stood in front of the large windows, surveying the city, and peering down to the street below.  

Walking hurriedly were the people he saw every day. Mothers, fathers, teenagers, families, singles, groups of friends: all making their way to their destinations. He would sometimes try to imagine their lives, figuring that statistically at least, a few of them were living the life that he was supposed to be enjoying. He envied them: these imaginary professors, hurrying off to book-lined pubs, talking about Greek mythology, and planning their next getaway to Paris during summer break.

He sighed and walked back towards the kitchen, his stomach growling. The clock on the wall indicated that it was 7:30, and he realized that it was Friday night. It might as well have been a Monday, for he rarely had plans to do anything unless Dan was involved. As if on cue, his smart phone burst into life on the dining table, the caller id listing Dan as the caller.

Dan, my man! Eric chirped into the phone, happy his friend called.

It’s Friday, Dan reminded him. You wanna go get some food and drinks? Maybe shoot some pool? Eating food, drinking beer, and shooting pool were their favorite pastimes.  

Eric, ready to do something fun, quickly agreed, Of course! Meet you at the usual?  The usual was Mick’s, a bar & grill owned by an Irish ex-pat that they had been frequenting together since they first became friends.  

One hour, Dan replied.

See you soon, Eric said before ending the conversation. As he put his phone down, Eleanor jumped up on the table and rubbed up against his arm. Don’t worry girl, I’ll be back, he assured her before walking down the hallway to his bedroom. Half an hour later he inspected his blonde-haired reflection: his crystal-blue eyes glinted from the wide beam of light emanating from the large lamp in the living room. Satisfied, he exited out the door while Eleanor meowed her disapproval from the other side of it.

As he got off the elevator at the lobby, he spotted Tony at the front desk. It looked like the security guard hadn’t moved in the few hours that Eric had been upstairs. Tony looked up to see who was getting off the elevator, and he put his hand up in a wave. Eric stopped in front of the desk.

Hey Eric, Tony greeted him. Tony had been the night guard at the apartments since before Eric moved in, and had made a point of knowing the names of all the residents.  Good evening, Eric said.

It’s raining outside, Tony warned. Instinctively, Eric looked out the front doors and could see the rain lightly coming down, the sidewalk glistening in the moonlight. Need an umbrella? Tony asked him. Eric nodded, and Tony handed him a black, compact umbrella.  You’re prepared for every event aren’t you? Eric chuckled. Tony chuckled back, Nah, someone left it here months ago. You can keep it if you want.

How about I just use it tonight and give it back later? Then if anyone else needs it, they can borrow it from you too, he suggested. Tony nodded in agreement and Eric walked out the front door of the building, opened the umbrella under the front canopy, and headed west.

2

As was typical of a Friday night, Mick’s was crowded when Eric got there. Perusing the busy bar, he didn’t spot Dan so he sat at the bar to wait. After a minute, Mick came over to take his order. What’ll it be?  A pint? he asked Eric. Eric nodded and off Mick went. Mick may have lived in the United States for the past decade, but he hadn’t lost his Irishness. He admired the fact that Mick didn’t change who he was just because he lived somewhere different.

Mick was pleasant enough, but he wasn’t overly friendly. It was just the kind of person he was. Because of this, Eric knew little about the owner of his favorite hangout. What he knew was pretty basic: Mick moved to the states ten years ago because of a woman, he opened the Irish-style pub five years ago, and that he acted, for the most part, like he still lived in Ireland. The latter was evidenced by simple things that Mick said or did, like calling a glass of beer a pint.

Mick brought back a glass of Eric’s favorite dark beer without fanfare, and went back to taking care of his busy establishment. Eric had just taken his first drink of the heady brew when Dan announced his arrival by sitting next to him. The two friends greeted one another, happy to see each other after a long absence. It had been three weeks since they had last gone out together which was unusual, but Eric never questioned it. He had been so preoccupied that it hadn’t occurred to him until now