1 Chapter 1
June 3
Josh Hideaway couldn’t think of anyone else in his life that had temporarily lost their minds at the young age of thirty-five. Not Andy Apple, his best friend of forever. Not his parents, Debbie and Mitch. Not his coworkers at Hatch Films. And certainly not any of his prior boyfriends and lovers, most of which he believed deserved to lose their minds because they had all broken his heart. Losing one’s mind couldn’t have been construed as a positive challenge, he deemed.
Two shrinks both told him, “It can happen to anyone. Disparage is common among the living. There’s nothing to worry about. You just need a little help.”
Truth told, there just happened to be an overabundance of things to worry about in Josh’s world. Comets were coming closer to the planet every day. Isis had planned to annihilate the human race. Electric cars were driving themselves. Viruses were becoming out of hand. Guns in the United States were still legal. Honeybees were almost extinct. Water would eventually be rare to find. Everything concerned him about the world, a little too much.
When did he first notice that his mind spiraled out of control toward insanity? June of last year. Right before the Fourth of July. Approximately three days after Andy Apple told him, “I’m going straight. I’m done with men. They’re all shitheads, ignorant, drama queens, high maintenance, dogs, and impossible muscleheads. I don’t need that in my life anymore. I’ve decided to try women out for a change.”
So Josh blamed Andy Apple for losing his mind. Why not? No one else had the broad shoulders to handle the position. Plus, Andy Apple knew everything about crazy, since he had spent a good few times in the local looney bin, rehabbing his mind and life, suffering from being bipolar.
There were some people in Josh’s life who couldn’t understand that he was half-baked. All of his coworkers at Hatch Films had a hard time relating to his situation. Most of them thought that his good looks (blond hair and blue eyes, six-three frame, one hundred and eighty pounds of muscle) and his intelligence (IQ equaled 135) were promising features in his life. Josh also drove a nice car: Mazda 3, nothing too sporty and fun, but just right. And he owned a condominium along the Allegheny River in downtown Pittsburgh: two bedrooms, two baths, access to an in-ground and heated pool during the winter months, free parking.
Lately, life couldn’t be considered perfect for Josh, though. Honestly, those coworkers didn’t know that he feared egg yolks, would never climb into a car without checking if someone decided to carpool in the trunk, and always read the last three chapters of any mystery. Bottom line: Joshua Franklin Hideaway was plenty fucked, both emotionally and mentally. He’d finally decided to do something about it that summer, listening to his physician, Dr. Shamir Ahmed at Regional Medical in downtown Pittsburgh.
Ahmed told him during his last visit, “You simply need to relax. Too much is going on inside your head. You have the summer off from making movies. Take a month or two and obtain some mental repair. Head north. Your family owns that camp in the woods near Erie that you’ve told me about. Take advantage of it. Rest up. The crazy will then go away.”
“The cabin’s in Templeton. Closer to Ohio than Erie.”
Ahmed waved at Josh and said, “Whatever. Find some sanity. Relax up there. Read a few good books. Take some pictures with a camera. Learn how to paint if you want to. Forget about the city life and your job.”
* * * *
Two days later, Josh forgot about making movies and his executive producing position. He packed a bag with clothes, a few paperbacks to read, and jars of instant coffee. Then he took his Mazda 3 north on Interstate 79 and ended his voyage at his family’s camp next to Lake Penichowaba, a tenth the size of Lake Erie.
* * * *
The seventeen acres butted against the Penichowaba State Forest. A manmade dock hung over the small lake. Oaks, maples, and pines surrounded the single building that looked more like a shed than a cabin. The camp itself resembled a crayon box; somewhat narrow but tall. It had a deck out front, one in the back that overlooked the lake, two bedrooms, a bathroom, no dining room, kitchen, and a cellar filled with blackberry moonshine, which Josh was told to stay away from. Doctor’s orders.
The property and cabin had been in the Hideaway family for the last seven decades. Josh’s long-lost cousins, two brothers who were both established lawyers in their days, purchased the acres in 1954. Locals believed the brothers committed suicide in the cabin. Some forty years later, the so-called cabin felt haunted. Josh’s uncles hung themselves from the cabin’s rafters. Their bodies were taken down by a coven of warlocks and buried behind the cabin. Josh believed their spirits were still at the cabin, among a variety of warlocks’ and other family members’ and strangers’ spirits.
