Snow, Cold and the Old Farmhouse

A snow day

Lying in bed, I can hear the wind howling outside.  Thinking through what I need to do today I pull the covers up and shut my eyes, attempting to ignore the day, and shut the world out. Hearing a happy scream, I realise that sleep is not going to happen as my daughter Betsy comes flying into the room and jumps on my bed.  Pretending to not hear, she starts screaming louder.

“Snow, snow, it’s snowing, Mummy it’s snowing.”

Rolling over, I groan, I hate snow.  It’s cold and wet and my car can’t hold traction to the road in it. Forcing myself to sit up, I know I can’t put the day off any longer. Glancing at the window, the garden is white, and the trees are swaying. Snow is always exciting for a child, but they don’t have to worry about getting about in it.  For a child it often means, school is closed so out with the sleigh.  As my table starts vibrating and my phone does a dance, my day has well and truly started.

Work crisis

As the doctor in a small rural community, it is always me that gets the call when someone is hurt. Battling through the snow I’ve known for months that I need to replace my car.  I need a four-wheel drive for the country roads and today I need snow tyres. Slipping and sliding around the country lanes in my old Ford I pray that I get to my patients safely.

Reaching the derelict farm, I see the police, and an ambulance. Pulling on my wellies, I started walking towards the commotion. Greeted by the paramedic, he wished me luck, I wondered why.  Walking in, old Mrs Masters pulled my arm.  Tears were pouring down her face, I knew that she had not told me everything when she had called me out.  “Doctor, please come”, did not cover Mr Masters lying on the living room floor dead and their son sat nursing a bleeding wound.

Looking up at the police man, I enquired what had happened. He informed me that during the night an intruder had entered the farmhouse.    Mr Masters had threatened them with his shot gun, but the stranger had disarmed him and then turned the gun on him. He was long gone into the snow, leaving devastation behind him. Asking what he had wanted, Mrs Masters now through tears asked me to sit down.  As the doctor I have known this family many years and did not expect to hear this story.

Snow and the farm

When the snow comes to the farm and the wind blows a cold chill, something in the house is wakened.  Years ago, Mr Masters had been in the basement when he found an old box.  Left by previous owners who were rumoured to have fled the house one night and never returned. Inside the box was paperwork and photographs detailing how dangerous the farmhouse is when the weather turns  cold and it snows. The ice formed creates dangerous patterns on the windows and tells tales of what has happened before.

Tonight, the intruder had stolen the box. Mrs Masters had lost her husband to a box that told secrets about their home.  Why would a stranger want the box? What business is this to anyone, other than the Masters family?

As Geoff, the policeman sat down next to me, I knew I was about to find out. Two months ago, a stranger had appeared in town.  We get many tourists, but this one had made himself known by asking questions that had raised suspicions.  I’d shrugged him off as just friendly but now I remember him asking about the Masters farmhouse.  Geoff then advised that the stranger was possibly Bill Arnold, the son of the previous owners who had fled.

This needed investigating further, we needed to find him.  What is in the box that can help Bill? What are we missing here? How dangerous is the Farmhouse?

The Arnold family

“Geoff, we need to find the Arnold Family, we need to know why they fled? What the real reason was.  We then might know why he took that box tonight and why it was so important that he killed Mr Masters for it.”

“Truth is Doc, the Arnold family didn’t go too far away.  From what I’ve been told they are about thirty miles away in Peace River.”

Thirty miles, in this weather. “Do you have four-wheel drive and snow tyres?”

“Yes, why what are you suggesting?”

“We need to talk with the Arnolds and possibly find the box.  Ted Masters died for a reason, and the Arnolds fled for a reason.  The story of this house in the snow, sure sounds creepy, especially when pictures are formed in the ice on the windows.”

Peace River

On reaching the town, everything was silent, where was everyone? Passing the pub, we could see the door open, so stopped the car and parked.  Walking into the bar, this place was quiet but not empty. Seeing a familiar face I hoped we might find the people we were looking for.

“Hey Doc, what brings you to Peace River?”

“A mysterious house and a family who ran.”

“How do you mean.”

“Ed, do you happen to know someone with the name Arnold?”

As the pub went quiet, I knew I had been heard.   As a little lady appeared and grabbed my arm,

“Not here, come with me.” Nodding at Geoff I motioned for him to follow.  Walking into the pub kitchen I could see more blood. Why all the blood?

“I know why you have come. The Masters Farmhouse is dangerous, and they need to get out.”

“You know Mr Masters is dead don’t you.”

“What did the disease get him too.”

“Disease, no, he was shot, shot for a box full of paperwork and secrets.”

Disease

This was becoming quite a day.  I could now see two people lying on beds in a little room off the kitchen.  A young man, Brian, was tending to them and reading, The box was not just any box, and the farmhouse was not just a farmhouse.  As the little lady started to talk, I learnt that the Arnolds had fled the farmhouse after learning about an incurable illness, caused by the house.  In their panic they had left the box behind.

As the years had past, they had gone from fit and well to bedbound to now coughing up blood.  Their son had broken in for the box in the hope for an answer to cure his parents. Brian had tried to explain about the curse, but Mr Masters had refused to listen and just aimed his gun.  On disarming him he had accidentally shot him and then his son, he then ran.

Phoning Mrs Masters I advised her to leave the Farmhouse immediately and stay with family, it wasn’t safe.  Looking at the paperwork in the box I could now see formulas. This was quite ingenious, the box contents told of a curse on the house and the illness borne upon its inhabitants.  It also told that the curse is alive when it is snowing and the stories of past pain will be displayed on the windows.  The formulas were a guide to the cure.  Pulling out my phone again I photographed the formulas. Emailing them to a scientist I know I asked if she could help.

A cure

Months later, the university created a vaccine and a medicine to help anyone affected by Curse-a-poxy.  Unfortunately, it was too slow to save the Arnolds, but Mrs Masters and her son were grateful for the vaccine.  The Farmhouse is now empty and boarded up.  Too many stories and no one wanted to live with the curse.  The Farmhouse is now being researched by the university with many questions needing answers, like who invented the curse and why?  A sad story made worse by the cold and snow.  When it snows it is always cold, The two are an axiom,  they don’t need to be proven it is a fact.  My daughter loves the snow, for the Masters and the Arnolds it certainly did not bring happiness, just fear and sadness.

Driving home in  my old Ford, I know that I need to be grateful for what I’ve got. Maybe if the snow stays, I should get out the sleigh and try and enjoy it with my daughter.  As my mobile rings I know duty is calling and a snow day will just have to wait.

Written for Blog Battle Axiomatic

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