Remembrance

by Avery Kloss

  As the motorcycle drove by, Maven cast a look my way, her expression bland. “Is he taking her to the bar?”

  “How would I know? You can’t get in if you’re under 21.”

  “Well, whatever.” I hardly needed to concern myself with these people, mostly because I did not plan on knowing any of them anyhow. My mother wanted me to go to college, and that would take me away. A car approached, the dark green Subaru stopping at the bottom of the steps.

  “Brie!”

  “No need to yell,” I murmured, annoyed several people now stared at me. “I hear you.”

  “Brie!”

  I sighed, getting my things. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Hurrying for the car, I sank into the passenger seat a moment later, wishing I had remembered to bring sunglasses.

  “How was your day?” Mom drove slowly past groups of students, but then we waited for one of the buses to pull out. “Were they nice to you?”

  “Actually, yeah.”

  “Oh, I’m happy to hear that. We’ve good news.”

  “What?”

  “Glory be! We have electricity!”

  “That is good news.”

  “Now I just have to figure out how to get the Internet to work.” She shot me a look. “You’re smart. I hope you take pity on me and help your poor mother.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you.”

  It happened shortly after dinner, while I stood by the sink rinsing plates. I experienced that familiar, yet worrying feeling that always perplexed me. Oftentimes, the depression proved greatest first thing in the morning, an all-encompassing feeling of drowning in an ocean of misery. I hadn’t expected it to creep up on me after eating, the salad mom made sitting in my belly like a rock now. Desperately wanting to lessen the impact, I shut the water off and donned a pair of boots, grabbing a jacket in a closet. Mom enjoyed the use of the Internet at the moment, but only after I hunted down passwords in a notebook for various emails.

  Without being heard, I slipped from the house, where a huge oak tree stood in the front yard, the branches swaying in the wind. I meant only to get some air, go for a little walk, relishing this chance to explore, although night threatened to close in.

  Ten minutes is all I need to clear my head.

  Glancing at the house, with its steeply pitched roof and bay windows, I experienced the impression that I had seen it before, just like it stood now, intimidating and dark, strikingly majestic in size and architecture. It truly was a beautiful house.

  It’s familiar because of Zillow.

  The home’s shiny, well-lit photos graced the real estate website, but to be here in its shadow felt entirely different. The house itself seemed embedded, seared into my mind like a brand.

  Longing to connect to something—anything, I touched the bark of a tree, feeling a light vibration, a sparkling bit of energy that originated deep within the earth. This prompted me to run, dashing through overgrown grass towards the back of the property, where I stumbled upon a Victorian garden. None of the trees had leaves, the flowerbeds filled with dried, lifeless vegetation. I wondered what it might look like in spring when fine roses bloomed and bulbs sprouted from the ground … but … would I still be here? Nearly breathless from the run, I ground to a halt and almost stumbled in my boots. The sky dimmed in the foggy glow of sunset, while the black outlines of several gravestones jutted haphazardly beneath the trees.

  A graveyard! Holy crap!

  This discovery proved morbidly creepy, but … I liked it.

  Does mom know? Ha! We’ve tombstones on our property! Honest-to-God tombstones!

  Why did that bring me such joy, the feeling infectious and light, the brisk exercise warding off a depressive episode, but for how long? Only a sick and twisted person would glory at such a find. My feet crunched over dried leaves and twigs. The sound of a jet engine echoed overhead, as a plane flew to some mysterious destination. I listened for a moment, and wondered at the people on board. A bird squawked noisily, which ended that daydream. A black-winged raven swooped down to pick something up.

  “Meow.”

  Startled, I gazed at the cat, watching as the animal sauntered towards me. “Hi, there.” I bent to pet it, the black fur soft to the touch. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Meow.”

  The animal rubbed itself against my leg, purring. “Are you a neighbor’s pet?” I looked for a collar, but I did not find one. “Mystery cat.” I petted the creature for a few minutes, and gazed solemnly at the graveyard, wondering whom they buried here. In better light, I planned to read the stones.

  Remembering the pile of homework that needed to be done and wanting to take a shower later, I turned for the house. A yellowish glow came from several first floor windows, the second and third story utterly dark. This made the structure appear somewhat ominous, as night approached. Wind blew through the branches, the chill setting in. I hurried around to the front door, my feet sounding hollow in the entrance hall. Several of the bulbs in chandelier needed replacing, which explained why it shone so dimly.

  “There you are.” Mom wore a robe, her feet in slippers. “It’s not much warmer with the heater on, is it?”

  I hung the jacket in the closet, stepping out of the boots. “I guess.”

  “The inspector said the unit was newer, but I have my doubts.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “Do you want to watch a show with me?”

  “I have homework.”

  “What were you doing outside?”

  “Taking a walk. Do you know we have a graveyard out back?”

  “Joan mentioned something about that. It’s pretty hidden. You can’t see it from the house.”

  “It’s kinda cool.”

  She made a face. “Well, it’ll give you and your friends something to do on Halloween.”

  “I don’t know why they didn’t have pictures of it on Zillow. It adds … character.” I teased about this, knowing such a thing would only appeal to very few people, if any.

  “I’m glad you like that … feature. I worried you’d hate the place.”

  “Not a problem.” Movement on the stairs caught my notice, the fleeting image of a woman standing there, although she looked transparent. It disappeared a second later.

  “Something wrong?”

  I swallowed. “N … no.”

  “Well, I’m gonna watch a show. I need to chill out. These last three days have been exhausting.”

  Despite the odd occurrence on the stairs, I ventured towards them. “You don’t have to drive me to school.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can walk, Mom. It’s not that far away.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I headed up the steps. “Yeah. Dr. Jessops says walking is good.”

  “That reminds me. I have to find you a doctor here. You really should continue with therapy.”

  “Don’t need it.”

  “That’s what he said you’d say.”

  Standing on the landing, I gazed down at her. “If I feel like I want to talk to someone, I’ll let you know.”

  Her frown revealed worry. “You’re handling everything … a little too well.”

  “Just because you expected me to freak out, doesn’t mean I will.”

  “You’re putting on a good face, but I know this has to bother you.”

  “Change is a part of life. I’ll deal, Mom.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’m taking a shower.” I strode down the hallway, not needing or wanting another pep talk.

  8

  I woke before mom got up, and went down to make a cup of coffee. Not quite awake yet, I sipped the beverage, exhausted from being up so late. I gazed wearily at the window, where the chatter of birds resounded on the other side of the glass. Noting the time on my phone, I had to get ready if I planned to walk, desiring to be more self-sufficient.

  Deciding on a black pair of jeans
and a grey, long-sleeved Rockies shirt, I wore a jacket and a knitted hat, ready to face the elements. Long, dark hair hung past my shoulders. Thrusting my arms through the straps of the backpack, I reached for the doorknob, just as mom appeared, a yawn escaping her.

  “I nearly missed you.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a ride?”

  “I wanna walk.”

  She hugged me. “You know which way it is?”

  “It’s easy, Mom. Relax. I can find the school.”

  “Okay. Did you pack a lunch?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Do you need any money?”

  I sighed. “No. I’m good.”

  “All right.” She waited for me to leave, a tired smile on her face. “Have a good day, honey.”

  “It’ll be a blast,” I said sarcastically, stepping out into the grey morning haze. I left by the kitchen door, and planned to walk through the cemetery on the way to town. I wanted to see it in the light of day.

  A cold, slightly damp breeze blew hair in my face, the grass beneath my feet wet. Wearing waterproof boots, I could have waded through a river, and it would not have mattered. Streams of sunlight broke through the branches, most of which did not have leaves, although a few dead ones dangled. Gazing at the tombstones, I marveled at how many crosses there were, the stones darkened by age, needing a good power washing. It looked just as creepy in daylight, even more so with the whitish mist that slowly evaporated, as the sun struggled to reach the ground.

  Passing through, I gazed at the stones, seeing some as old as the late 1800’s, wondering if anyone who had lived in the house had been buried here. A black raven perched upon the top of one of the crosses, his eyes following my every move. The property sat on several acres, a thin forest providing a feeling of isolation and peace. Something drew me to this place, a calm serenity pervading my senses. I did not have the luxury to linger, though, because I needed to arrive at school on time. But, I planned to return later, the cemetery ours now, purchased with the property.

  “Mom, you bought a bone yard,” I chuckled under my breath, picking up the pace.

  The feeling of peace ended abruptly upon my arrival at school, the sound of cars, buses, and people filling the void in my brain, although I longed not to be here.

  “A few more months,” I whispered to myself. “Get in; get it done; finish. You can do it. Piece of cake.”

  Finishing most of the homework, I came prepared for Psychology, having read the required chapter and taken notes. We did a lab in chemistry, the girl I sat next to entirely clueless about electron configurations. I dozed off a bit in Spanish, although I managed to finish up my US. Government reading while a boring video played. Lunchtime provided ample opportunity for stress, not seeing the girls who had kindly offered to sit with me yesterday. I took my bag lunch and slid onto a bench nearest the door, just in case I needed to make a quick exit. I ate a pita stuffed with salad fixings, while I kept my gaze down to discourage conversation. Despite these efforts, someone sat across from me a moment later, and I found myself staring at the girl named Maven Brown.

  “I assume the seat’s not taken,” she said, reaching for the sandwich on her tray, her fingernails painted black.

  “It’s a free country.” I felt eyes in all directions, people noting that I no longer sat alone. I forced myself to be cordial. “I’m Brie.”

  “I know.” She wore dark eyeliner, her lashes impossibly long. Being closer to her, I noted the paleness of her skin, the complexion clear. Dressed in dark pants and a deep green sweater, she glanced at me. “You’re the talk of the school.”

  I tried not to visibly cringe. “Wonderful.” I had a sip of water, spilling some on my chin. “The guy on the bike yesterday, is that your boyfriend?” I debated ignoring her, deciding to just pry into her personal life instead. It might annoy her enough to sit elsewhere.

  “Yes.”

  “He’s a little old for you, isn’t he?”

  She chewed the sandwich, appearing not to take the least bit of offense at my rudeness. Then she smiled, a flicker of intelligence gleaming in her soft, dark eyes. “You’re a bit old for high school yourself, don’t you think?”

  Ah, touché, you little bitch. She got me on that one, a prickle of irritation flaring. I thought of a saucy retort, settling on a bald lie. “I just love people. The more people I can expose myself to, the better. It’s totally my thing.”

  She snorted, finishing the sandwich with one last bite. “Right. That’s why you’re hiding out by the door. Where are your friends from yesterday?”

  “Don’t have a clue.”

  “Steffy and Tara are gossips. Be careful what you tell them.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” I had no idea who to trust, not knowing any of these people.

  “Welcome to Clatskanie,” she said dully. “I heard you were from Denver. This must be a shock.”

  I glanced around the room, dozens of tables filled with students, while a cacophony of laughter and talking rang out. “There are worse places.” An image of the cafeteria at The Hope Unit filled my mind, people dressed in hospital gowns, some hunched over tables, drugged out of their minds, while others sat in the corridor banging their heads against the wall. I had been a headbanger a time or two myself. “Yep, it can be a lot worse.”

  “You bought Ravon Manor.”

  “My mom did.”

  “It’s a dope house. Lots of people have died there.”

  She was trying to shock me. “I know. I’ve seen a ghost twice already.” I stared at her pointedly, wondering what she might have to say about that.

  “What did it look like?”

  “It’s a woman with blonde hair.”

  She nodded. “Suzie Moore.”

  “What?” I blurted, coughing.

  “That would be Suzie Moore.”

  “The ghost?”

  “Everybody knows about it.”

  I shrugged, not having a witty response, being bested in the shock department. “I don’t think she’s malevolent. She seems … friendly enough.”

  “The story is she was in love with a vampire and vice versa. His enemy killed her out of vengeance, and now she roams Ravon Manor seeking her lover.”

  “Come on,” I laughed, finding that ridiculous. “Right.”

  She glanced at her phone, which was one of those newer ones my mother would not allow me to have. “It’s true. Look it up.”

  “You lost me on the whole … vampire thing.”

  A hint of a smile emerged. “You believe in ghosts. Is it such a stretch to think vampires don’t exist?”

  “I believe what I can see. An image of a floating thing is one thing. I’ve never met a vampire before. Maybe if I do, I’ll believe it.”

  She slid from the bench, grabbing the tray. “Be careful what you ask for. I’d stick to ghosts. It’s way safer.”

  I would have responded, but she strode away, disappearing from the room.

  I watched mom place the dishes in the sink after dinner. Thoughts of my conversation with Maven returned, and I found myself asking, “Do you know anything about the previous owners of this house?”

  Mom stood at the sink, rinsing a plate. “Gosh, I bet there are a few. It’s over a hundred years old.”

  “Is there some way to find out?”

  “It’s on the historic register. I guess; City Hall might have information or the library. Those would be my best bets.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “I spoke to someone at school. They said something about it.”

  “You should probably ask Ruth. She’s been here for decades. She would know.”

  “I’ll check the library when I go. I’m supposed to get some books for English anyway.”

  She leaned against the sink, holding a glass of wine. “Do you like the school?”

  “It’s like any other, Mom. It’s fine.”

  That response seemed to satisfy her. “I�
��m having some people out tomorrow to give me estimates.”

  “You’re not gonna mess with my room, are you?” I suddenly felt protective of the space, not wanting one single thing changed.

  “No, not unless you want to.”

  “I don’t. I like it the way it is.”

  She ran fingers through her hair. “Do you think … do you think we have a ghost?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Several times today I got the feeling … like a weird feeling. It’s like I’m not alone. I see stuff outta the corner of my eye a lot. I’ll go into a room and it’s … like someone’s there.”

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned into the chair. “Yeah.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think so?”

  “Probably.”

  “I wonder if I should sage the house?”

  “I doubt that’ll do anything. Whoever it is, it’s not a negative feeling. It’s just some poor soul lost or something.”

  “Maybe, once it’s renovated and filled with more furniture, it won’t bother us anymore.”

  “That’s not going to affect it.”

  “I don’t know if I can live with … this ghost. It’s weird.”

  “It’s just energy, Mom. Whatever it is, just leave it be. It was here long before us. If anything, we’re the ones invading its space.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. You got a point there.” She had a sip of wine. “You don’t think it’s going to break things, do you?”

  “It hasn’t so far. It’s not a big deal, Mom.” I got to my feet. “I want to go check out the attic before it gets darker.”

  “It’s a dusty mess. Someone left a bunch of stuff up there, some furniture too. I might be able to refinish a few pieces. I’m hoping it’s antique. I’d love that.” She smiled warmly, her expression relaxed. “I’m glad we had this talk. I wasn’t going to mention it, but at least I know I’m not crazy.”

  “No. One crazy person in this house is enough.”

  9

  I never did venture to the attic, distracted by something else, finishing homework and taking a shower. For several days, I did not experience anything weird in the house, wondering if maybe the spirit had grown used to us now. By the end of the week, I felt a little more at ease at school, meeting a few more people and catching up on tests. Although mundane and a waste of time, I appreciated the busy schedule and that mom found a new therapist for me to talk to, which I dreaded.