The Cottage
The children of the Leur residence knew nothing of manners or social expectations, they lived in Drenthe, a town far from the bustling streets of Amsterdam, that belonged to a weary district in the Netherlands. The mornings were never fast paced in Drenthe. As the sun bloomed across the horizon, chickens squawking and a pair of hooves repeatedly hammering away at the gravel path signalled the arrival of the farmers daily deliveries. The aged tractors slowly dragged across the fields, as the sowers lazily filled each trough with a seed. The old dames would gather together and render their own versions of folk songs in unison. However, the Leur children did not live a life that was slow nor dull. They found joy in the little things, running through freshly seeded farms, the crackling hay fires that they set occasionally late at night near Mosiah’s barn and the sweet nectar of the stolen fruit from the market. The mother of the children who did not mind their impish acts was stringent about one thing, the children leaving Drenthe. For they were to always stay in Drenthe.
Straus was the oldest of the three, yet he wore the least teeth and the most defacements. He had spent all of his life causing chaos among the people of Drenthe. He had vandalised every door in Drenthe, terrorised every farm animal, ragged on every passer-by and had stolen all various kinds fruits from the market. There was only so much to do in Drenthe, after all it was a rustic town deserted by settlements on all four sides. Certainly, he thought there must be another way to pass the seemingly stagnant days in Drenthe.
Lukas was the second born, but only by a few hours. Yet, he was already years ahead his brother in all of his classes at school, which Strauss never attended anyway. The teachers adored him and could not bring themselves to believe that he was from the same household as Strauss, notorious for traumatising students and at most times, teachers. However, outside the classroom on the streets it wasn’t unreasonable for the on-looker to assume that Lukas and Strauss were brothers.
Then there was Sadie, the youngest sister that came along with the boys wherever they went and did whatever they did. For every doorbell that was rung, she rung one too. For every donkey that was poked, she poked one too. She played her part, wholeheartedly, too. Together, the trio proved to be troublesome to the people and most other living things of Drenthe.
The days in Drenthe only got slower for the three, with each day having less to do than the last. It wasn’t long until Strauss bought up the cottage old man Dutch was always talking about. The cottage that was abandoned for years, standing alone right outside the border for decades, and rightfully so the cottage was not spoken about as it was of no significance to most people of Drenthe. Except for one man, old man Dutch. He preached about it, day and night.
‘Strauss, no we can’t go to the cottage’ It was almost never that Lukas opposed his brother’s off colour proposals. But this time it was different. They would have to leave Drenthe’s borders. Strauss remained silent.
‘Strauss, stop, can’t we just run down some chooks instead?’ Though Lukas did not want to leave Drenthe, he had no choice. Strauss was already guiding the oblivious Sadie along the ragged gravel path leading to the edges of town. After a hundred quarrels and numerous moments of hesitation the siblings were outside Drenthe.
‘What about father?’ Lukas tried one last time before Strauss replied ‘Enough ya babbling. We goin to tha cottage and ya can go and run down some chooks instead. Ya coward.’ Pale cheeks turned red and the middle child complied with his brothers decision.
‘Ya know they say tha cottage isn’t really abandoned or that’s at least what ol man Dutch says. What appened to his family anyway. Ain’t he have children round our age?’ Sadie asked trying to cover for her brother.
‘His family was decades ago, they prolly left him. Who would wanta live with a mad man like him anyway?’ Strauss said as he continued staring down at his brother.
Neither of them wanted to say it, but they were all thinking about him, the Mogai. The man that Dutch claimed that lives in the cottage.
As they stepped of the main road towards the cottage, the ground grew harder, filled with cracks. The cracks were dry and dragged on for so long, like scars inscribed into the earth. In the brindled light of dusk when the sky turned gray and brown, the cottage stood alone. As if under a constant shadow, as if the sun keeps reaching for those walls who turn away. The paint on the walls had peeled off and the wood was rotten, never having felt the touch of a human in decades. Two lonesome trees, stripped of any life that remained within them, stood by the cottage, its only living companions over the years.
‘You think the Mogai is real?’ Lukas blurted out as they approached the gates.
‘Ion know, but Dutch says where his eyes should be, he got two gouged out oles’ Strauss recalled from a memory that was vivid as he thrashed the metal gates open.
Lukas peered through the window, as shards of glass crushed under his feet.
‘They say he got half his face burnt off and that you can see his bones at times’ Sadie said as she hid behind Lukas.
The Leur children creaked the door open with neither of them wanting to be the first to disturb the thick layer of dust that had collected over the years.
Strauss half heartedly dragged his foot over the sill and placed it on the grimy floor. A loud clatter dispersed across the room, like the clapper against a bell. Strauss stood motionless as Sadie screamed clenching her hands around Lukas’s waist.
To their relief it was a faded lattice locket, that Strauss had stepped on. The locket was initialled Sarah. D, with a tarnished photo of a girl who looked around their age.
Inside, there wasn’t much that may have disappointed the children. The air was heavier and pressed down on them with every breath. The cottage was filled with open spaces, broken cupboards, empty photo frames and a ceiling attic.
The children found a ruined couch covered in withered leather and sat upon it. Exhausted, they heard the wings of birds, fluttering by a cracked window. Their raucous calls grew quieter as they flew away.
Strauss continued ‘But worst of all, when he appears, he says.’
‘You’ve come to play?’ The Mogai said above them.
