-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Thirteen
When Peter was 13 his elderly guardians, alarmed at the amount of violent crime in New York City, moved to a small town named Devil’s Hollow (or, as the locals called it, “Devil’s Holler,'") in upstate New York. There they had purchased an ancient but beautiful rambling farmhouse named the Post Homestead, rumored to be founded by a family that had lived there since before New York became a state.
It was spacious. It was lovely. It sat on acres and acres of what had once been a cattle farm, but for a short time had been an artist colony. It included a wooded area that lay between Endor Road and Witch Road (a subject that led a series of "Which Road?" jokes that Uncle Ben and Peter never tired of.) It was surrounded by paths that went into the woods, one path that ambled peacefully to a serene lake.
Granted, that same serene spot bore the ominous name “Suicide Lake” and also reportedly contained a rock that, at the base, included a door that led straight to Hell.
But the house was beautiful. The original furniture that remained were works of art. The house contained far more bedrooms, in fact entire wings, than they would ever need, but in the end they couldn’t beat the price.
True, it was said to be haunted, but Uncle Ben didn’t mind. He was a practical, well-read man who didn’t believe in 'devils' or ‘ghosts’ or ‘superheroes.’ He wanted a peaceful life, far away from the crime of the city. Why should he care if he had no near-by neighbors?
Evan Post, the last member of the Post family that had lived at the Post Homestead, was supposed to be a witch or a warlock who could poison his neighbors’ wells. Uncle Ben figured that meant that all the neighbors were jealous that Mr. Post had the only good well in the area. There was supposed to be a doorway to Hell under their lake. Uncle Ben joked that the doorway to Hell had to be somewhere, so why not Upstate New York? Evan Post was said to have made his neighbors hogs lay down in the fields and die. Uncle Ben reckoned the neighbors were jealous that Mr. Post’s pigs were healthier than theirs. Evan Post was supposed to have used magic to drive all the rattlesnakes off of the property. Uncle Ben said that was just his good luck.
Every Sunday Aunt May went to the only church in town. It was NOT called the First Devil’s Church, and Uncle Ben wasn’t supposed to call it that, but he did anyway. Every other Sunday Peter went and sat beside Aunt May, combing the glossary at the end of her huge Bible for words he didn’t know. Every other Sunday he was allowed to stay home with Uncle Ben.
Peter was a quiet boy, but he did not like the quiet life. The empty farmlands, small lake and woods beyond gave him plenty of time to study birds, spiders, and other insects. But the library in Devil’s Hollow was tiny, and the town had no movie theater at all. Without a movie theater, how would Peter see the last Star Wars movie as soon as it came out? Ned had promised to tell him if Han Solo was ever rescued, and how, but... long distance phone calls were expensive, and Peter wasn’t sure you COULD describe the movie in a half hour.
School, too, was a miserable place now. Peter’s old school had a chess club AND a science club, and teachers who let him take advanced classes and encouraged (most of) his endless questions. The Devils’ Hollow school was full of boys who hated school and smoked cigarettes and liked to yell lewd comments at the girls. Most of them gave Peter a wide berth. After all, his only stomping ground was a lake that hid a hole that led straight to Hell. After all, he went home every night to a haunted house.
But Peter wasn’t completely miserable.
Not after he made friends with the thing that lived under the bed…