Mansion in the Woods: a Short Story: Monsters in the Green Mountains

By J.P. Choquette

Susannah and Vivian are in trouble. Stranded in the Vermont National Forest, the women aren't sure what to do: leave their broken-down Studebaker in and try to find help? Or stay and wait for someone to come along?

When the friends discover a huge, mysterious mansion, they think Lady Luck is smiling on them. 

Their hope turns to fear however, as they meet the strange owner of the home and its macabre contents.

Suddenly the forest isn't looking quite as sinister as the mansion they've found...

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.P. Choquette
• Release date: Feb 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386845867

J.P. Choquette

J.P. Choquette is the author of suspense novels set in Vermont. Atmospheric pageturners, her novels are gothic inspired and frequently tie in the themes of art, nature, and psychology. Her 10 novels have been downloaded nearly 25,000 times across multiple platforms.  When not writing, J.P. enjoys sipping hot drinks with a great book and adventuring with her family. She's a Believer, a vintage lover, and has never met a fruit she doesn't like. Learn more about J.P. by visiting https://jpchoquette.me/

Book preview

Mansion in the Woods

a Short Story

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Green Mountain Forest

Old Logging Road

August 27, 1927

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Golly, it does looks spooky, doesn’t it? Vivian said, her voice—usually throaty and low—sounded unnaturally high. The looming shape of the mansion sat like a predator waiting for its prey to saunter by.

Susannah squeezed her friend’s arm. Don’t change your mind now, she said and propelled Vivian forward. Susannah hadn’t liked the idea of leaving the car in the first place, but now, after the long walk through the tangle of underbrush and mud, she wanted only to get out of the driving rain. Her legs itched where branches had scratched them. Her fingers she was sure would be blue at the tips.

Vivian had insisted that they couldn’t sit there doing nothing, waiting for a passerby to drive by. They had been waiting, she’d reminded Susannah, for hours without luck. What about that place we drove past? Vivian had asked. The big mansion on the hill?

Susannah had groaned inwardly. But as usual, Vivian had gotten her way.

Maybe you’re right and they’ll have a telephone, Susannah said now.

Vivian nodded. Susannah couldn’t see her through the downpour but felt her petite friend’s hat moving against the shoulder of her own too-thin jacket. The rain was blinding. It had drenched them a mile back. Now it was coming down even harder—if that was possible—and Susannah could barely see a step or two in front of her. The ground was like an overfilled sponge. Water gurgled and oozed out of the earth with each step. Her shoes—a strappy beige pair with tango heels—were ruined. Waterlogged and mud-caked. And she’d just bought the blasted things!

...can you?

What? Susannah yelled back over the not-so-distant boom of thunder.

I said, I think I see a light!

Susannah nodded, then realizing that Vivian couldn’t see her hollered, Oh!

Vivian lifted Susannah’s left arm with her cold hands until it was pointed toward the looming mansion ahead of them. Susannah squinted, but more water splashed off her hat and over her face. She shook her head, frustrated, and cleared the rain away with her free hand.

There. In one of the lower windows there was a muted glow of yellow lamplight. Susannah felt dread press against the inside of her belly. She’d been hoping they’d have to retrace their steps to the car.... It felt like hours since they’d left the Studebaker.

How long had it been? She couldn’t see her watch and even if she could, it was likely ruined now by the drenching downpour too.

Yes, I see it, she said, nodding her head in case Vivian could make out her shadowy form in the dark. Perhaps the house did have a telephone. Perhaps there was no one home. Susannah wasn’t sure which outcome she wished for more. Or maybe—

Vivian, seemingly renewed by the hope of light, started to half stumble, half run toward it.

Wait! Susannah called.

Vivian was already slowing. Can’t...this mud. I guess— her friend said loudly. The rest of her words were snatched away by the wind.

They continued forward, lurching drunkenly over the uneven ground, the mud sucking at their shoes, brambles tangling around their legs. Finally, they reached the driveway. Susannah was so grateful to see something man-made she would have knelt and kissed the gravel if she wasn’t worried she’d float off downstream.

We’re nearly there! Vivian yelled. They hurried up the driveway, easily covering the distance now on the harder surface. Here the water had drained through the ground, though in the potholes dirty-looking pools had formed. They skirted these more from habit than any desire to remain dry.

Ahead of them loomed a hulking black iron gate. It stood high above their heads and was open wide as though inviting visitors or lost travelers inside. The scrollwork was intricate with either side attached to a short stone wall. They passed through and hurried up the rest of the driveway.

I hope there’s fire going, Susannah said, her teeth chattering, but Vivian didn’t answer. The closer they got to the house, the faster her friend moved.