Vodka at Moonlight - 1. Vodka at Moonlight

A blood-curdling scream brought Bradley running from outside the house into the living room. His partner was nowhere to be seen. He darted into the kitchen, stopping at the open cellar door. He stood at the head of the stairs, then darted out of the way as Allen barreled toward him. Relief flooded through him at the sight of his husband, then turned to fear when he saw the expression on the other man’s face.

The normally tan man was pale white, his brown eyes wide with terror. He shoved Bradley out of the way and slammed the basement door shut. He leaned his back against it, chest heaving. Sweat dripped down his now-reddening face.

“What the fuck happened? Are you OK?” Bradley looked the other man up and down, searching for blood and broken limbs.

“You would not believe the size of the spider I saw down there!”

Bradley stared at his lover incredulously. “I thought you fell down the stairs or were being murdered or something! You scared the crap out of me, asshole!”

Allen scowled. “This thing was like a freaking tarantula, I’m telling you!” He crossed his arms. “I’m not going back down there.”

“You are if you want clean clothes. I’m not bringing the washer and dryer up here.”

Allen shook his head. “I’ll wear your clothes.”

Bradley huffed in exasperation. “They don’t fit you. You really want to start doing the dishes?”

Allen snorted. “I hate doing dishes.”

“You know the agreement. You do the laundry, I do the cooking and dishes. If you’re not holding up your end, then the arrangement needs to change.”

Allen raised an eyebrow. “Then we’ll change it.”

Bradley rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to argue, so he changed the subject. “C’mon… you can help me get the last of the boxes in. You know I did warn you there’d be more creepy crawlies in the country.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me there’d be spiders the size of my fist. We need to call an exterminator.”

“Oh my God, Len! It’s one freaking spider! Old farmhouses have bugs; you need to learn how to deal with it!”

“You know… I really don’t want to hear it right now.”

Bradley wrestled a box from the back of his red SUV. He had traded in his beloved truck for something more practical after they adopted their son. He wished he had it to haul their belongings during the move, and was thankful that this was the last load. He read the label on the side before handing it to Allen. “This goes in the kitchen.”

He found his husband’s dramatic march into their new residence amusing, even though he was dreading the laundry/dishes conversation they needed to continue. He grabbed another box and followed him into the kitchen.

 

They spent the rest of the day unpacking boxes and arranging furniture. Bradley was grateful that his in-laws had taken their young son, Mikie, for the weekend, allowing him and his husband to work unencumbered. He loved the little rascal dearly, but had to admit they made great progress on the house without being constantly interrupted by the five-year-old.

Even though Bradley and Allen both loved living in the city, they had decided that a less urban environment would be better for raising a child. They both loved to garden and had a fondness for animals, so when the real estate listing for the historic farm showed up in an email of ‘must see places’ from their realtor, they jumped at the chance to see it.

Allen was initially leery of purchasing the property, since the price seemed too good to be true. It was a large house sitting on about twenty-five acres of land. The property also contained a barn, paddocks, and storage sheds—all in good condition, despite having been vacant for several years. The property had changed hands several times over the past decade, prompting Allen to wonder if the place was haunted or had hidden damage.

They had several property inspections completed—all with the same results—it passed inspection every time with flying colors. There was no question… it was the deal of the century. They wouldn’t find another property in that condition for that price, so they bought it.

The interior had required minimal work. They cleaned away the dust and put fresh paint on the walls. The house contained a lot of natural woodwork, which they polished to a gleam. After purchasing new appliances and furniture, they were ready to move in.

Bradley placed the last book on the bookshelf in the living room and crushed the box it had been in, adding it to the pile near the door. He flopped down on the couch next to his exhausted husband and placed his head on his shoulder. “What do you think now that we’re moved in? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Allen nodded. “Yes, I love it. The house has so much character. I’ve always wanted a place with built-in bookshelves next to a fireplace.”

“It will be even better in the winter… we can have a lot of fun in front of that fireplace,” Bradley replied, almost purring the words. He waggled his eyebrows and tickled Allen’s side.

Allen yelped and tried to scoot away, but Bradley’s arm around his shoulders prevented him.

“You want dinner? I can make us steaks on the grill, or I have that mac and cheese I can put in the oven right now.” He nuzzled into Allen’s neck, planting small kisses in between words. “Which means I don’t have to cook, so that will free us up for other… activities.”

“I think you know what has my vote. I’ll meet you upstairs.” Allen pecked Bradley on the lips and headed upstairs.

Bradley threw the mac and cheese in the oven, not even bothering to preheat it, then joined his lover to christen their new bedroom.

*****

“But I’m not hungry, Daddy!” Michael pushed his plate away from him and crossed his arms.

“You have to eat something, and I’m not cooking anything else.” Bradley moved the dish back in front of the petulant five-year-old.

“You don’t understand. I can’t eat this.”

“Why not?”

“Because the man in the closet told me not to eat anything I find here. I can only eat stuff from the store.”

Bradley and Allen exchanged concerned looks. They had been living on the farm for about a month now, and shortly after they moved in Michael had started talking about the ‘man in the closet’.

“Sweetie, these eggs are from our chickens. They’re better than the eggs from the store,” Allen said.

Michael moved the eggs to the side of his Cars plate. “The other stuff is from the store, right, Poppy?”

Allen nodded. The boy seemed satisfied with that response and ate the hash browns, sausages, and toast without touching the eggs.

After dinner, Michael ran to the living room to play with his favorite toy cars, while Bradley washed the dishes and Allen went down to the basement to bring up a load of laundry to fold.

The ‘battle of the spider’ had Bradley considering divorce. He had explored the entire basement without finding the devilish creature described by his other half. After Allen made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t enter the basement without an exterminator, Bradley decided that the spider would meet a grisly death instead of his husband, whether he found it or not.

Allen was skeptical of Bradley’s claim of the spider’s demise, but chose to take it at face value and resume his laundry chores.

He plopped the basket of clean laundry down on the kitchen table and started folding their socks and underwear. “Brad, I’m concerned about this whole ‘man in the closet’ crap.”

“I know, sweetheart. So am I. But what can we do? We’ve shown him there’s nobody in there, but he says we just can’t see him.”

“Maybe he’s the reason the house went through so many owners and lay vacant for so long….” he said slowly.

Bradley snorted. “Hun…there’s no such thing as ghosts. Michael has a very active imagination. It’s not unusual for kids that age to have imaginary friends.”

“Ones that are adults and tell them to only eat store-bought food?”

“He’s always been a picky eater. Maybe this is his way of justifying it.”

Allen folded several pair of socks, digesting Bradley’s words. A loud noise from behind him caused him to jump. He looked on the floor near the counter and saw the paper grocery bag they used for recycling. It sounded like something had hit it, producing a sharp noise.

“You could have warned me before you threw something past me, you know,” he huffed.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t throw anything.” Bradley’s hands were covered in soapy water as he washed the pans he had used to cook their dinner.

“Well, something made that noise.”

“Maybe it was the man in the closet,” Bradley replied with a grin.

Allen frowned. “Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re a riot, you know that?”

“Actually, it was the ghost of that spider I killed.” Bradley broke into heaving laughter.

“Oh you’re a real comedian, now.”

“Lighten up, darling. I’m sure it was nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m going to put these away now.” Allen grabbed the basket and headed into the living room.

Michael was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by his toys but not playing with them. He doubled over with laughter, which intensified when he saw Allen standing in the doorway. “Spiders don’t have ghosts, Poppy,” he said in between gulping breaths. “Daddy was right the first time. It was the man in the closet.”

Allen’s face paled and his stomach knotted at his son’s words. There was no way he had heard the exchange in the kitchen. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“The man in the closet said he played a trick on you. He hit the bag with the bottles in it and you jumped a mile high! He thought the spider joke was funny.” Michael looked near the fireplace and giggled again. “Yeah, Poppy has always been afraid of spiders.”

“Mikie, who are you talking to?”

“The man in the closet, silly! He’s right there!” He gestured toward the fireplace, but all Allen saw was the faded brick façade.

“Come with me, sweetie. You can help me put the laundry away.” Allen’s heart raced. He had a bad feeling about his son’s new ‘friend’.

“But Poppy…I want to play with my friend!”

“You can play later; right now I need your help.”

After a few more protests, Mikie waved goodbye to the man in the closet and followed Allen up the stairs.

 

Michael’s conversations with the man in the closet escalated over time, despite his fathers’ attempts to discourage him. It was a point of contention between the spouses. Bradley insisted it was a harmless imaginary friend, while Allen had a more otherworldly explanation—he was convinced the house was haunted.

Allen had put himself on high alert since the incident in the kitchen and his son’s subsequent reaction. He noticed every creak, door slam, and out-of-place object. Bradley had an explanation for everything, but Allen wasn’t buying the ‘house settling’ excuse. Things came to a head after a second laundry incident.

Allen had taken a load of towels out of the dryer and placed the basket on the living room coffee table before being drawn away by Michael. When he returned, the towels were neatly folded. Bradley was cooking dinner, and Allen embraced him, then kissed his neck.

“What’s that for? Not that I’m complaining,” Bradley said, smiling.

“Thank you for folding the laundry. I know it’s not your job, but it was very sweet of you.” He nuzzled right below his husband’s ear, a spot he knew was guaranteed to produce a favorable reaction.

“Mmm…I don’t want you to stop, but I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe.”

“The towels. I brought them up from the basement, then had to take Mikie to the potty before I had a chance to fold them. They were folded when we were done.” He snaked his hands down Bradley’s sides, trailing his fingers along the waistband of his jeans. “I never thought I’d find laundry sexy….”

“While I love this display of affection—and we can have some fun after Mikie goes to bed—seriously, Len. I’ve been in the kitchen the whole time. I didn’t fold the towels.”

“Well someone did, and it wasn’t me.”

They turned simultaneously as Mikie skipped into the room, dragging his teddy bear.

“Mikie…do you know who folded the towels?” Allen asked slowly.

Mikie cocked his head to the side as if listening. “The man in the closet says it was one of the helpers.”

The men exchanged worried looks. This was the first time they were hearing of ‘helpers’.

“Who are the ‘helpers’?” asked Bradley.

Mikie shrugged. “Dunno.” He paused, looking at the basement door. “The man says they’re the ones that keep this place so neat.”

Bradley laughed. “Um…that would be us, honey. Your Poppy and I work very hard to maintain this place.”

Mikie giggled. “Yeah, but they help too. Can I have some chocolate milk?”

Allen’s hands shook as he poured his son the requested treat. He decided it was about time he looked into the history of the property to see if he could find any answers.

 

A few days later, Allen sat on the porch swing, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the fall chill. The trees lining their property sported brilliant hues of red, orange, yellow, and brown. He thought that the view almost made the worry about the man in the closet worth it. He hadn’t had any time to do any research since the ‘helper’ comment, but now that he had a minute to sit down while Mikie played outside, he decided to see if he could find anything on the Internet using his smartphone.

He was engrossed in his search, when the quiet landscape was pierced by a shrill cry. Mikie ran across the yard and onto the porch, flinging himself into his Poppy’s arms, sobbing hysterically. Allen rubbed his hand on the boy’s back until he calmed down.

“What’s wrong, sweetie? Did you hurt yourself?”

Mikie sniffled and burrowed into Allen’s chest. “No. Zeke told me not to play with my new friend. I was having fun. He scared me.”

“Who’s Zeke?”

“The man in the closet. His name is ‘Zekeel, but he told me I can call him Zeke.”

“Ezekiel?”

Mikie nodded.

“Who is your new friend?”

“One of the helpers. He was making the leaves go in circles. Zeke yelled and he ran away. He told me he needed to protect me from the fairies.”

Cold dread settled in the pit of Allen’s stomach. He didn’t know who would say such a thing; they hadn’t had much interaction with their neighbors, but they had seemed accepting and pleasant enough. The thought of a homophobe scaring his son was too much for him to bear. He decided to keep this information to himself, since Brad would just explain it away ‘rationally’. He’d make a trip to the town library and hall of records to see what information he could find.

*****

Allen yawned and scratched his belly as he padded down the hallway to the bathroom. He regretted drinking that last glass of wine before bed. He’d needed it, though. Bradley was steadfastly against Allen’s suggestion of a house cleansing. Allen didn’t see what harm it would cause. His hope was that the man in the closet would disappear and not scare their son anymore. Something needed to change, though, if they were to maintain a healthy marriage.

He paused at Mikie’s door. His son was awake and chanting a short rhyme:

Vodka for two

is pure delight

special for you

drink at moonlight

He peeked in the door, and his son was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the closet as he recited the chant. Since Mikie seemed OK, he headed to the bathroom and back to bed.

 

The chant became a regular part of Mikie’s play. His response when asked about it was that the helpers sang it all the time. One day, he slunk onto the couch next to Allen and lay his head on his father’s lap.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Zeke’s mad at me.”

“Why is he angry?”

“He doesn’t want me to play with the helpers. He told me to stop talking about the moonlight. He scared me.”

“Maybe you should stop saying that rhyme, then. Five year olds really shouldn’t be talking about vodka, anyway.”

“But I like it, Poppy. And I like the helpers. I like Zeke, too. I don’t want any of you to be mad.”

Allen rubbed Mikie’s back until the boy fell asleep. Bradley had an overnight business trip planned the following week, so Allen thought it would be a perfect time to do something about the man in the closet and the helpers.

A week later, Allen dropped Mikie off at his parents’ house for the day and arrived home in plenty of time to meet his guest. He felt guilty for going behind his husband’s back, but he knew Brad would never agree to spending money on a medium.

Allen hadn’t been sure what to expect, but a middle-aged woman in jeans and a sweater wasn’t it. She looked…normal. She laughed at the expression on Allen’s face when she introduced herself.

“You must have been expecting someone with a crystal ball, purple shawl, and Russian accent. Sorry, I’m just boring old Stephanie.”

Allen felt immediately at ease. She toured the house and grounds, and after about an hour they sat in the kitchen sipping tea.

“Well there’s definitely a lot of activity here. I can sense the presence of a ghost. You have a son?”

Allen nodded. “Mikie. He’s five.”

“The ghost seems quite protective of him and the property. The good news is that I don’t sense any malevolence. There’s more than just the ghost here though, isn’t there?”

Allen told her about everything they had experienced since moving in.

Stephanie furrowed her brow. “Well, I can do a cleansing if you want, but I’m not sure how effective it will be. My experience is with ghosts and the dead…I don’t sense these ‘helpers’ you mentioned, so I’m not sure what to tell you about them. Have you researched the history of the property?”

“Not yet. I’ve been meaning to, though.”

“Well, that would be the next step.”

Allen agreed to the cleansing, and picked up Mikie after the medium finished. The boy sniffed the air, then scowled at his father the minute they entered the house.

“What did you do, Poppy?”

“What do you mean?”

“Zeke is very upset. He says you tried to get rid of him.”

Allen sat on the couch heavily. “I just wanted some answers. I wasn’t trying to get rid of him.”

“He says he’s our protector. He needs to stay here to keep the helpers in line.”

“OK, Mikie. I understand. Tell Zeke I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend him.”

Mikie giggled. “He’s right here, silly. He says not to do it again.”

“All right. I promise.”

*****

Allen kept the medium’s visit a secret from Bradley. Things were tense enough between them without adding any additional stress. Bradley continued to refuse to believe that anything other than a little boy’s—and an insane husband’s—overactive imagination was occurring. That changed one mid-fall evening. Halloween was a week away, and Mikie’s talk about Zeke and the helpers had escalated.

Bradley decided to extend an olive branch to his husband, and after putting Mikie to bed early, he served Allen’s favorite meal of prime rib, garlic mashed potatoes, and cherry cheesecake for dessert. Their sex life had suffered since moving into the farmhouse—Allen was self-conscious about the possibility of a ghost watching them—but after dinner they retreated to their bedroom to renew their relationship.

Afterward, Bradley headed to the bathroom to clean up. He stopped at Mikie’s room when he heard his son’s voice repeating the vodka chant. He opened the door to see Mikie sitting on his bed holding a small glass bottle.

“Daddy and Poppy say that vodka is for adults.” He paused as if listening. “What is it, then?” He giggled. “I like juice. OK. I’ll try it.” He raised the bottle to his lips.

Bradley was across the room in three strides and grabbed the bottle from his surprised son’s hands. Mikie started crying. “You scared me, Daddy!”

“What is this? Who gave it to you?” Bradley had just raised the bottle to his nose to sniff it when it flew out of his hand and smashed against the wall as if someone had grabbed it and thrown it.

Mikie sobbed uncontrollably. Bradley grabbed his son and ran into their bedroom. Allen sat up, alarmed.

“What happened?”

Bradley relayed the events that had occurred in Mikie’s room while consoling his distraught son. After a few minutes, the boy calmed down enough to speak.

“What happened, sweetie?”

“The helpers gave me some vodka and wanted me to drink it. I didn’t want to because Zeke said I should only eat stuff from the store, and Daddy said that vodka was for adults. They’re my friends, though, so I didn’t want to make them sad. Then Daddy took it and Zeke threw it and it broked. The helpers all ran away when Zeke came in. They don’t like him.”

The men decided that Mikie should remain with them for the rest of the night. The incident had them both disturbed. They took turns cleaning up in the bathroom, then settled on opposite sides of the sleeping child.

“I believe you now,” said Bradley quietly.

Allen squeezed his hand. “I have a confession….” He told his husband about hiring the medium, and her findings. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you upset with me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, sweetheart. So what do we do now?”

“I’ll head into town tomorrow and see what I can find out about the farm’s history. Maybe that will give us an idea of how to proceed.”

Bradley nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. Let’s try and get some sleep. I love you, you know?”

Allen smiled. “I know. I love you, too.”

 

Allen headed to the small town’s hall of records after breakfast the following morning. The clerk was a white-haired gentleman who looked at Allen strangely when he gave the farm’s address.

“You mean the faery farm,” he stated. “That place has always been a hotbed for queer things.”

Allen bristled at the casual use of the slurs. He had no idea that he and Bradley were so well-known, but he’d be damned if he was going to tolerate any discrimination. “You might want to check your watch, old man. Even though it doesn’t look like it here, it is the twenty-first century.”

“Well what’s got you in such a huff? You want help or not?”

“I’d love some help, but calling me a fairy isn’t exactly polite.”

The man stared at him blankly.

“My husband and I bought the place about six months ago.”

Realization dawned on the clerk’s face. “My apologies, sonny. No offense meant. I wasn’t talking about you and your spouse. F-A-E-R-I-E-S—your place is swarming with them.”

“Maybe we can have a seat and you can explain it to me,” Allen suggested.

“It’s a bit of a long story. You like coffee?”

Allen nodded. The old man poured two cups and set them down on the table before withdrawing a large tome from a dusty shelf. He settled across from Allen.

“It starts two hundred years ago with a man named Ezekiel Miller.”

Allen paled at the mention of the name. “Who was he?”

“The man that built the house you live in. He settled here after moving from England. He had a wife and six children. His is a tragic story. All of his children disappeared when they were five years old, which made the townsfolk suspect him of foul play. His wife died giving birth to their sixth child, and five years later, Ezekiel hung himself in the farmhouse after that child disappeared.”

The clerk opened the book and showed Allen a picture of a rather dour looking man dressed in a three-piece suit, standing on the porch to the farmhouse.

According to the old man, inhabitants of the house had experienced strange phenomena since then. Crops either flourished or refused to grow—there was no middle ground. Unexplained sounds, doors opening and closing, lights turning on and off—mostly benign haunting-type activity—were reported by all who spent any amount of time on the property. There was one common thread, however. Any children that lived in the house and reached the age of five disappeared without a trace.

Allen’s hands were shaking so bad, he had to set his cup down before he spilled coffee all over the table. “What happens to them?” he whispered.

“The faeries take them, to be raised as their own. In the old world, they would leave a changeling in place of the stolen child so no one would suspect. There weren’t enough of them here to do that, so they just took ‘em back to their world.”

“I don’t understand…I thought faeries were an English legend?”

“Ezekiel brought over a lot of his belongings from England. Best guess is that the faeries hitched a ride and set up shop when the crates were unpacked on his land.”

“Why would they be talking about vodka then? Vodka is Russian.”

“They have no desire to learn our language properly. My guess would be it’s something that looks like vodka.”

“How do we get rid of them?”

The old man laughed. “You don’t.”

Allen frowned and rose from his seat. “Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it, sonny. Good luck!”

Allen had a feeling he was going to need it.

 

Allen and Bradley spent the next week researching faery lore, but couldn’t find anything specific to ‘helpers’. The closest they came were the tales of Brownies—faeries who helped people in exchange for small treats.

They were hoping that Halloween would be a welcome distraction. Ever since the ‘vodka’ incident, the man in the closet seemed to be omnipresent, to the point of annoying Mikie. After dinner on Halloween, Mikie dressed in his Batman costume and the family prepared to head into town for trick or treating. Mikie ran upstairs to his room to retrieve his forgotten flashlight. His parents waited several minutes before becoming concerned.

“Maybe we should go check—“ Bradley was interrupted by his husband’s decidedly un-masculine scream. Allen stared straight ahead, his face as pale as a ghost. Standing directly in front of them was a black-haired, middle-aged man dressed in an old-fashioned suit.

“It’s Ezekiel Miller. I recognize him from his photo,” said Allen.

“Ye must protect him, especially tonight—All Hallow’s Eve. Do not let him leave yer sight.”

“How is this possible?” Bradley asked.

“On this eve, the veil between worlds is lifted. It is the only time I can appear to you in this form. It is also the night they will try to take him. Do not let them succeed, or you will never see your son again.”

The men ran upstairs and simultaneously exhaled in relief when Mikie emerged from his room holding the flashlight.

There were throngs of parents with costumed children of all ages trick-or-treating around the small town. Some of the adults were wearing costumes as well, and the majority of houses were extensively decorated with Halloween accoutrements.

Mikie loved all of it, only getting scared by the house covered in large, fabric spiders. That prompted Bradley to mercilessly tease his husband, who sympathized with their son. After spending two hours scouring the town, an exhausted Mikie fell asleep on the drive home, his bag full of candy clutched in his hands.

Bradley carried him upstairs and into his and Allen’s bedroom. He was going to heed Ezekiel’s warning and not let Mikie out his sight. The boy slept between his parents, who didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight. Bradley and Allen awoke to the sound of crashing and breaking glass. They sat bolt upright and Bradley turned the light on to see his glass of water shattered on the floor.

“You must hurry! Go save him!” Ezekiel Miller stood before them, gesturing out the window.

Allen realized in horror that Mikie was no longer in their bed. The two men ran down the stairs and out the door.

“There!” The man in the closet pointed toward the forest.

A shaft of moonlight lit a sight that made both men’s blood run cold. Mikie was skipping toward the forest, ringed by creatures about the same size as him. The creatures faded in and out of sight, like bad TV reception. One of them held the boy’s hand as they danced toward the woods.

“Mikie!” yelled Bradley as he ran toward them. Allen wasn’t far behind, but he wasn’t as fast as his taller husband.

Bradley grabbed Mikie, who immediately burst into tears.

“I want to go with my friends!” he wailed, flailing his arms and kicking his father.

Bradley tucked the boy under his arm and ran toward the car. “Get the keys!” he yelled to Allen.

Allen ran into the house, emerging a minute later with the keys in hand. Mikie continued to scream and sob uncontrollably. The creatures stood several yards away, hissing and scowling at Ezekiel Miller, who blocked their path. Bradley opened the rear car door as soon as he heard the lock activate and strapped the struggling boy into his car seat.

Allen slid into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle. Bradley was just about to shut the door when his son’s voice stopped him.

“Why won’t you let me be with my friends, Daddy? Zeke was wrong about them. They only want to play with me.”

Bradley’s heart felt like it stopped when he saw the glow in his son’s eyes. They looked like liquid moonlight. “What did you do?”

“Vodka is yummy, Daddy. I don’t know why you didn’t want me to have it.”

Bradley shut the door and sat in the passenger seat. Allen peeled out of the driveway and headed toward his parents’ house. Mikie looked out of the window with a smile on his face, eyes glowing like moonbeams with the light of the ‘vodka’. He knew he’d be back, and then he’d go with his new friends.