Whistle

“Pepper! I swear, if you don’t stop joking around, I’ll take you out myself. Never mind them.” Jeanie clenched my shoulder painfully, her nails digging into my skin. 

“Them?” I laughed. “Relax, you big baby. It’s just an old wife’s tail.” I looked at her smugly as I pursed my lips again. She smacked her hand over my mouth with a clap that echoed in the dark quiet of the woods. “Um, ouch,” I swatted her hand away. 

“I’m serious,” she said with a suddenly hushed tone. “You heard Aunt Maple. She said never to do it.” 

“Holy moly, Jeanie, you won’t even say it?” 

“I- I would say it… it’s just that I don’t want her to hear me. I’m afraid I’ll get in trouble.” 

“Wow, okay, first of all,” I explain in as condescending a tone as I can manage, “Aunt Maple is an old bat, except bats can hear. Second, we’re like fifty yards away from the treeline. So even if she wasn’t deaf as all get out, there’s no way she could hear us.” Jeanie began looking around like she was expecting to find something. I roughly turned her shoulders to make her face me again, giving her a gentle shake as I attempted to hammer home my point, “It’s. Just. A. Story. No noise on Earth can conjure up some monster that doesn’t exist.” 

“Eat up, youngins. It’s straight to bed when you’ve finished.” Aunt Maple, the old crow, knew two things: How to make the best venison chili in the state of Vermont, and all the legends ever made up by parents who wanted to scare their kids into listening. “Did you girls have fun on your walk?”

“Pepper was going to whistle!” Jeanie burst out. Aunt Maple stopped cold. She carefully set her spoon down as though she didn’t want to make any noise. “I stopped her, though.” 

“I told you-” she began to lecture. 

“Oh my gosh,” I interrupted, “I cannot believe you’re still trying to convince us that some monster is going to come eat us if we whistle at night.” 

Aunt Maple stayed quiet for a long time. She stared down at the table, deep in thought. I glared at my sister. She never could keep her big mouth shut. You’re so dead, I mouthed to her. 

“Pumpkin,” Aunt Maple said, breaking the silence, “I’m gonna tell this to ya one more time: Do NOT whistle at night around here. It calls them.” 

“I’m so done with this crap,” I sighed, rubbing my face hard.

“Pepper!” Jeanie scolded me. “You can’t talk to her like that!” 

“That’s okay, sugar bug,” she replied calmly. “Alright, youngin. You think you know what’s out in them woods?”

                “Yeah,” I said smugly, “absolutely nothing.”

                “Okay, then. Let’s see.” Aunt Maple got up, grabbed my arm with a surprisingly firm grip, and led me to the front door. She opened it. “Go on.” 

                “What?” I tried to keep the sarcasm in my voice, but something about her tone made my stomach drop. She was completely serious.

                “You think you’re so smart? Get on out there and whistle.” She gave me a quick shove and closed the door behind me. The sound of the lock clicking sent a quick wave of panic through me. 

“Hey!” I banged on the door. “What is wrong with you?” I hated the old hag. 

“Go ahead, smart mouth,” her voice came muffled through the door, “give us a whistle.” 

My face burned. I felt like screaming. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents about this. Maybe that would finally convince them to take us to Florida every Summer instead of dumping us here for three weeks. “Fine! I will!” I let out four long notes, mimicking Katniss Everdeen’s mockingjay call from The Hunger Games. Maybe these fake monsters were Suzanne Collins fans. 

               “Will you let her in now?” I could hear panic in Jeanie’s voice. 

               “Not yet, let’s give them time to show their ugly faces. That’ll learn her.”

          With each passing minute, I became more and more angry. I was sure the mosquitoes had drained an unsafe amount of blood from my body. I had just raised my fist to bang on the door again when I heard it. I stopped cold, my fist inches from the wood. A distant clicking sound came from the treeline, probably seventy-five yards from the porch. My heart began racing, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing I was freaking out. 

          “Okay, Aunt Maple. Ha-ha. You’ve had your fun, now let me in.” Another clicking sound- this time from the trees on my left-hand side. The clicks from in front of me came again. They were talking to each other. I froze. “C-come on!” I shouted, trying not to let my voice quiver, “I get it. Please let me in. It’s- it’s gross out here, and these bugs are eating me alive.” Being eaten alive, I shuddered. 

       I began to hear movement in the woods in front of me. Slow but defined steps. Something was creeping along the forest floor- and it was coming for me. 

        “Pepper?” Jeanie called.

       “Jeanie, let me in!” I was begging now. “Please!” The steps picked up, coming from both directions. “Oh my gosh, okay!! Aunt Maple, I’m sorry! I didn’t know! Let me in, let me in, let me in!!” I smacked my fists desperately against the door, feeling like I was going to pass out and throw up. Faster, faster now the steps came. Closer and closer. 

         The sound stopped abruptly. I stopped too, afraid to make another sound. I looked to my left. Squinting into the darkness, I made out a shape. It had sharp edges and limbs that were too long. There was no discernible face. I trembled.

         Before I could start breathing again, the thing charged at me. It wasn’t even me in my body anymore. I was an observer. I closed my eyes, ready to meet my end when I felt a familiar strong grip on my arm. It yanked me inside and slammed the door shut. 

       For a moment I just laid on the floor. I couldn’t even begin to process what I had seen. 

      “Is she breathing?” A voice that sounded like Jeanie’s hovered over me. I heard the click of a shotgun being loaded. 

      “I think so. Move over, hon.” I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard scratching at the door- frenzied and violent. “Cover y’all’s ears!” We both did as we were told. A BANG crashed through the door, leaving a gaping hole. I dragged myself off the floor. 

       The hole was big enough for me to see through it from where I was. My eyes widened as I saw the second creature lumbering toward us. 

         “Aunt Maple!” Click. BANG. The thing dropped dead. 

I don’t remember much else about that visit. I never told my parents what had happened, but they took us to Florida every Summer anyway. I still go see Aunt Maple from time to time. I respect her- and fear her since I found out she was Annie Oakley. Next Summer, I’m taking my two boys to stay with her for the first time. They’ll play in the woods all day and eat chili in the evenings. But I guarantee this: no one will be whistling at night.