House 4- Ruskin Bond

“We’re finally here!” Dave, my brother, exclaimed with an air of joy, whooping with
excitement as our car rolled to a stop on the grassy earth after crossing the creaky
wooden gates. Eager to stretch out my cramped legs, I hopped out of the car and took
in the picturesque view overlooking my farmhouse, breathing in the pristine air deeply.
Acres and acres of land covered with all kinds of crops and trees sprawled in all
directions as far as my eyes could see. The fragrance of exotic flowers and berries filled
my grateful lungs to the brim. I spotted my grandfather standing near the front door, in
his usual plain shirt and trousers, ready to welcome us. “How have you been?” He cried,
raising his arms as Dave and I rushed forwards to tackle him with a hug.
We ran into the kitchens for dinner, ravenous after our five hour-long drive,
while the servants carried our luggage into the house. “Wash your hands before eating
anything!” Grandfather called out just as I was about to pop an orange slice into my
mouth. After finally washing my hands and settling down for dinner in the dining hall, I
was stuffing myself with chicken sandwiches and pork stew with relish ten minutes
later, while Grandmother kept trying to sneak in a few pieces of vegetables in our
plates. After having eaten as much as I could, I sat back contentedly with a sigh, though
Dave’s apetite seemed never-ending. He had third and fourth servings of everything,
and I’m sure that he would have eaten more if Grandmother had let him. The food stains
on his yellow shirt and blue denims made Grandfather sniff with mock annoyance,
which evoked a laugh from me. Grandfather was such an easy going and cool-headed
person that I had never seen him yelling at someone. Grandmother was usually less than
successful in keeping her temper down, so whenever Dave and I goofed up, we just
went to Grandfather and let him deal with Grandmother’s fury. After all of us had
finished dinner, we trooped outside the house for some fresh air and assembled around
the fireplace, like we always do when Dave and I visit the farmhouse. “So, what are you
up to these days?” Grandfather asked me. “Quite a lot, actually. Christmas preparations

at our house are a hassle every year. The supermarket was so choked with crowds that
Mom and Dad had to go to another nearby town to shop for the bells and candy canes,
and now they can’t seem to find the next flight or train back for the next week. They
decided that we should come here to visit in their absence.” I replied.
I went to bed at 10.00pm, and was having a fitful sleep when I suddenly heard a
strange noise that made me sit bolt upright. It strained my ears, and I could hear a faint
sound of someone wailing. Bewildered, I listened for a few minutes more, but couldn’t
hear anything more than that. Drowsiness finally got the better of me, and I decided
that it was nothing and tried to block out the voice with my pillow. By morning, I
couldn’t remember anything about it.
I woke up in the morning to the first cluck of the chicken, and raced down the
stairs after brushing my teeth to have breakfast, which consisted of scrambled eggs,
bacon strips and pancakes. I was spending the rest of the day enjoying the pleasant
weather, going for walks and wandering around the farm, when I reached close to the
edge of a forest, making a mental note that that was a good spot to play hide n’ seek.
Then I saw it. A lustrous golden axe gleaming under a bush. As I went near it, however, it
vanished. I blinked, thinking I was seeing things. The rest of the day went relatively
uneventful, and nothing much happened. Tired, I headed off to bed at 11.00pm, and was
having a dreamless sleep when I suddenly heard it again, and was reminded of yesterday
night’s event.
The ghastly wailing kept echoing in my head as I brushed my teeth the next day and sat
down for breakfast, somewhat subdued. I had thought of waking up Dave, but had
decided against it, thinking he might make fun of me. So it was up to me to figure out
this mystery. I planned to go to the village and dig some information about this after
breakfast. My hand was at the front wooden gate when Dave saw me leaving. “You’re
going for a stroll in the village?” he inquired. “I’m coming along!”
So, a few minutes later, Dave and I were trudging along the dirt road that snaked
through the village. It was a pleasant day, with a cool breeze whipping our hair. After a
while, we saw a sturdy brick cottage among several straw ones, which belonged to one
of Grandfather’s friends, Anthony. We entered the capacious living room, which had
three velvet sofas, a wooden stool, and four windows on walls decorated with several
paintings drawn by Anthony himself. I spotted Anthony propped on a couch, reading a
book titled ‘Moby Dick’. He looked up and his freckled face broke into a grin. “Hey, nice
to see you, Oliver, Dave!” I plopped down on the sofa adjacent to his. Dave took his seat
on a stool. “So what brings you here?” Anthony asked. “​Kaka​, do you know anything out
of ordinary about the forest beside the grass field?” I inquired. He sat forward
interestedly. “I do, in fact.” He took a deep breath, as if preparing to tell a long tale. “It
started a couple of centuries ago,” he began, “There was once a lumberjack who lived in
this village. He was simply exemplary at his job, and sold high quality wood cuttings for

low prices. One day, the other woodcutters noticed that fewer and fewer customers
were coming to them because everyone wanted to buy wood from him. They killed the
Sarpanch​, or the village Head, and framed the lumberjack. He was exiled into the forest
forever. He was so consumed with vengeance, he drowned himself in a lake to haunt the
woodcutters who had framed him. Even after killing them, his blood lust couldn’t be
sated. He then indiscriminately killed every single person in the village, except one who
was smart enough to trick the lumberjack’s ghost and trap him in the forest forever. No
one is sure exactly how he did it. The one thing the ghost regretted even more than
losing his previous life was his ​precious axe​. He never found it after he drowned
himself," He continued, “I don’t even know if it’s true or not because it is a legend that
has been passed on from generations. My grandfather told me about this and his
grandfather had told him about it.”
A tense silence followed this, which was broken by Dave blowing a raspberry
sound. “Come off it. You know this can’t be true,” He said to my troubled face. “Maybe
not,” I said, though my mind was far away, clouded with fear and doubt. Could the story
be real? I didn’t know how it explained the wailing, but one thing the story confirmed
was that there was definitely something wrong with that forest.
We didn’t have anything to do the next day, and we weren’t in a mood for
another walk, so Dave suggested that we play a game or two. We invited some of our
friends who lived in the village - Akshay, Amit, Ashish and Krishna - to the farmhouse. I
was delighted to meet them, since it had been a long time since the last time we had
met. We gathered at the spot which I had found good for playing. Dave suggested hide
n’ seek, but everyone found the place too spooky for that. I shuddered at the thought,

since my misgivings about the forest hadn’t abated completely. We finally agreed upon
playing cricket. My brother and Amit raced to the farmhouse to fetch the equipment.
We started setting up the stumps and dividing the teams. Ashish, Krishna and I were in
one team, and Dave, Akshay, and Amit in the other. My team won the toss and we chose
to bat first. I was glad that Krishna was in my team because he played for the States and
was a prodigy in Cricket. However, Amit, who was also a formidable player and in the
opposing team, had beaten Krishna several times before. Our start went well enough,
but in the third over’s last ball, Akshay hit the ball so hard that it went into the forest.
Night was falling and no one was willing to bring it back, when Dave, being the most
courageous of us, or the most foolhardy, volunteered. Five minutes gone, and he still
hadn’t returned. I was about to call Grandfather to launch a search party when he
suddenly came out of the forest carrying the ball, unscathed. “Took quite a while to dig
around the undergrowth to find it,” he explained.
Relieved, we walked back to the farmhouse in silence. We were famished, and
had a huge dinner comprising of turkey and pork stew. Exhausted, I went back to sleep
in a delicious slumber. My eyes suddenly snapped awake as I heard a slight creak of the
door opening as Dave went out. I waited for a few minutes, waiting for him to return,
when the front gate of the farmhouse opened with a groan. I looked outside the window
and saw Dave sneaking out of the house, running as silently as he could, towards the
forest. Bewildered, I got up, put on my jacket and followed him in hot pursuit. I
hesitated for a split second after reaching the forest’s edge, but Dave was already
slipping out of sight. As he reached near the entrance of a cave, just for a split second I
saw him suddenly stiffen. Then he shrugged his shoulders, and continued towards the
cave at a much faster pace. After a few seconds, I lost him. Only then did I realise how
spooky the forest was at midnight. Instead of the usual buzzing of insects, there was
dead silence. The trees seemed almost alive, with the creases on their trunks showing a
dismaying resemblance to human faces. I was about to turn back when I saw something
that almost made me lose my dinner. One of the trees had a thick, dark red liquid oozing
out of a gap in the trunk. My head spun with terror and I felt dizzy and alarmed at the
same time, when my head dealt a sudden blow from behind. My vision blacked out and I
collapsed on the spot.
When I regained consciousness, Dave was sitting next to me. “You’re awake!” he
exclaimed with obvious relief, “From the look of that wound on your head”, I was
worried if you’d ever wake up.” I suddenly became aware of a dull throb in the back of
my skull. The previous night’s occurrences flooded back to my mind and I sat up
straight. “What were you doing, wandering about in the forest at midnight?” I
demanded. “That wasn’t me!” he said. “It was that wretched lumberjack impersonating
me. He had knocked me out when I was looking for the ball, and I’ve been trapped here
since yesterday night.” Comprehension dawned on me as I realised what had happened.
“So ​kaka’s ​story was true,” I said, fear gripping me as I realised we were both confined in
an evil lumberjack’s ghost’s lair with no visible means of escape. He nodded his head in

confirmation. A thought suddenly seized me. “How do I know if he isn’t impersonating
you now?” I asked. “Umm… My favorite color is green?” I nodded sarcastically and said,
“Yes, the ghost would never think of finding out your favorite color before playing
imposter.” I thought for a while, then asked him, “What present did you ask for your
eighth birthday?”
“A toy train,” he said immediately. “I got a remote-controlled car instead, but got the
train next year.”
“What’s your favorite ice-cream flavor?”
“Chocolate.”
“Favorite topping on pizza?”
“Chilli pepper and olives.”
“You like pancakes with cream or with maple syrup?”
“Neither. I eat pancakes with chocolate sauce.”
“What did you ask Dad for the last time we were at Aunt Muriel’s for Christmas?”
He grinned at this one. “An oversized wig like hers.”
I nodded in approval. “You’re Dave, all right. Now let’s start making a plan to escape this
cave.” As soon as I said it, the dreaded wailing that I heard every night vibrated in my
brain, magnified ten times by our proximity to the trees. This time I could make out
words along with the wailing -
​‘​Innocent blood shalt be spilt on the
sacred tree at the dawn of a new beginning to the cause of the
Lumberjack’s vengeance, lest he be trapped in the forest
forever’​.

A long silence followed this. It didn’t take a detective to figure out whose blood
the lumberjack was planning to spill. ​‘​At the dawn of a new beginning’​. ​I wondered if it
meant Christmas. A sick feeling rose within me as I realised Christmas was tomorrow.
The look on Dave’s face told me that he had arrived at the same conclusion. “What do
we do know?” he asked, on the verge of panic. I strained to keep my voice neutral as I
replied, “We foil his plan.” Unlike me, he was less than successful in maintaining an even
tone. “And how do we do that?” I remained silent in the pretext of being in deep
thought. Actually, it was all I could do to keep calm, much less formulate a plan. I
reminded myself that we still had 24 hours. My eyes fell on Dave’s watch. No. 23 hours.
Then, without warning, a deep voice resonated in my skull - ​‘​Sleep now, Oliver, you need
to be well-rested for the main event’ ​Without a doubt, it was the ghost talking inside my
head. My eyes instantly became heavy and I could feel my consciousness slipping away.
I looked over and saw that Dave was already out cold. I didn’t have the energy to fight as
my head rolled over and I passed out as well.
When I woke up, the first thing that came to my mind was how long I had been
out. I glanced at Dave’s watch, who was just beginning to wake. Shocked, I checked the
time again three more times before the bitter realisation sank in. Whatever spell the
lumberjack had used on us, we had slept 21 hours straight. Three hours left before
doomsday.
One hour passed away. Then two. With one hour left before our imminent death,
I knew there was nothing more we could do and sat down in resignation. The ground
was rock hard, so digging our way out was out of question. We couldn’t very well punch
our way through the wall of the cave either, so what was left? Half an hour had passed
when a sudden thought struck me. The lumberjack had been tricked once before. He
was bloodthirsty and wanted revenge. We could offer him something that he wanted
even more. ​A bargain! ​That was my idea. I filled Dave in about my plan, and he agreed
readily. We waited for a few more minutes, and Dave’s clock beeped as the minute hand
hit 12. The temperature seemed to suddenly drop by ten degrees and the entire forest
went silent. The presence of the Lumberjack was palpable. ​‘​The time is here,’ ​His deep
voice resonated in my mind. The next second, I was teleported outside the cave, and felt
myself being dragged to a particularly large and blackened tree. ​The ghost was partially
visible in the mist enveloping the forest. The diabolical entity’s face was not properly
discernible​. He glided a foot above the ground and carried a staff which had an orb
fitted on its top. He had terrifyingly big hands, and his long, wicked sharp nails would
have no trouble tearing through human flesh. There was something about him that sent
chills down my spine, probably his peculiarly fearsome cloak. He had a decrepit body,
which made him resemble a withered old person.
I suddenly realised the tree I was being led to was the same one that had stood
out when I had followed Dave into the forest, the one that had had blood oozing out of
its trunk. “Wait!” I screamed. ​‘And why would I do that?’ ​He asked. “Because I have a

possession of yours that you hold precious, the one you lost.” The ghost grinded to a
halt. ​‘What did you say?’
“You heard me. I know where your golden axe is. You kill us, you lose the chance of ever
finding it.”
‘You lie! It was destroyed centuries ago by that wretched ancestor of yours who tricked me.’
Somehow not fazed by that piece of information, I replied, “No, I saw it myself. Come, I’ll
show you.”
‘Why should I trust you?’
“Because you have no other choice,” I answered, “It’s either me or the axe.”
He hissed. ​‘Fine, show me. But if I realize that this is a trick, I will personally ensure that
you die the most painful death conceivable.
I led him through the forest, Dave and the lumberjack right at my heels. The only source
of noise was the crunching of dried leaves under our wet and weary feet. The ghost
glided noiselessly and effortlessly beside me.
‘How much further do we have to go?” ​He hissed.
“We’re there,” I said, stopping at the place where I had seen the axe. There it was,
shining and devoid of rust or stains even after centuries of lying on the muddy earth.
‘My axe!’ ​He said in triumph, seizing it and hugging it.
‘Now I finally have the proper instrument to sacrifice you with!’
Dave gasped in disbelief. “We had a deal! We take you to the axe, and you leave us
alone!”
‘I don’t remember having such an agreement. You foolishly lead me to my axe, just as I had
thought you would, unaware of the fact that I couldn’t sacrifice you without the axe in the
first place, which was the purpose of me letting you out of the cave!’
Much to Dave’s and the Lumberjack’s surprise, I actually laughed. “You lost, lumberjack.”
‘Let me relieve you of that delusion,’ ​he said, raising the axe.

“You’re the one in delusion. Your time’s up. Christmas midnight is over, and we’re still
alive.” A look of confusion crossed the ghost’s face. Then, slowly, comprehension
dawned on his face, and his form dissipated into thin air. I could feel the forest exhale a
sigh of relief as the menace that had haunted it for years was gone. There was long
silence, which was broken by the chirping of birds as brilliant rays of the sun hit the
ground for the first time in centuries, which marked the beginning of a new day. ​A new
beginning. ​Though it was clear that this was what the wailing meant, the words latched
on to the back of my mind, as if sending a warning. I dismissed the feeling, determined
to enjoy the sunrise for once. Dave was beside me, taking in the sunlight as if it was the
best thing ever to happen to him. An enormous weight seemed to lift from my shoulders
at the feeling of being in a completely different forest than the one I had been in a few
minutes ago. I realised how worried our grandparents must be by now. They had no
idea of where we’d gone. Dave seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and said,
“Come on, let’s give Grandpa a nice surprise.” Since we were near the edge of the forest,
we marched to the farm house and were sitting at the dinner table a few minutes later,
narrating everything that happened since the last 26 hours. Grandfather and
Grandmother were very good listeners, gasping with shock and sighing with relief at the
right moments. They somehow believed our story without question, and I got the
feeling that they had already been aware of a haunted spirit in the forest. Only after I
had finished my late breakfast to the last morsel on my plate that I realised how utterly
exhausted I was. Dave had already started snoring, his head resting on the dining table.
Somehow, I managed to make it to the bedroom, and then collapsed on my bed.
We had a barbecue party on New Year's. Anthony, Krishna, Amit, and all other
friends of ours were invited. We assembled around the fireplace, enjoying roasting
marshmallows and exchanging anecdotes. It was almost midnight after about an hour,
and that was when the chef came out of the house holding a large, creamy chocolate
cake. My mouth watered with anticipation. Then my gaze fell on the dying embers in the
fireplace. “I’m fetching some firewood, be in a minute,” I announced. Dave stood up to
go with me, but I said, “You went into the forest to bring the ball. It’s my turn, ok?” He
assented and sat down.
I
jogged to the spot near the edge of the forest,
picked up some firewood, then decided to go a
little deeper for dried leaves. After picking as much
fuel as I could carry, a growing sense of unease
gripped me. The forest had gone unnaturally silent,
and as my sight fell on a particular tree, my heart
skipped a beat. There was blood oozing out of the
trunk. ​A new beginning. ​The words kept echoing in
my mind, and then it hit me. I had thought ‘A new
beginning’ meant Christmas midnight. What if…
What if it actually meant the midnight of New
Year? Fear chilled my bones and I tried to bolt, but

my feet were frozen to the ground. A shrill scream escaped me. A familiar, deep voice
whispered inside my head, ​‘And that is what happens when you trick
yourself into a delusion.’