by S London
“Oh. Well, today may be your lucky day then.”
“Oh?” A twinkle came to Christi’s eyes.
“That just happens to be where my home is. The one in the ad you called about.” Beth informed.
“Really?” Christi’s eyes gleamed.
Beth could sense the excitement in Christi’s voice. At that moment they shared the same thought: ‘I cannot believe my luck!’
“Really.” Beth said, grinning widely. “I’m taking a long vacation, possibly around Europe. I hate the thought of it just sitting there unoccupied all summer long. Heaven knows what could happen. Especially when summer vacation comes and all the beach is swarmed with college students. I’m afraid
someone will mistake it for an abandoned property. It doesn’t look like one, do not get me wrong. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, umm…” she paused, finally taking a breath and thought how to rephrase her last statement. “I…” she began to say more.
“I’ll take it.” Christi blurted out, interrupting Beth. “Sorry.” She added quickly, giggling, feeling guilty for cutting off the poised older lady sitting next to her.
Beth was speechless. She had prepared to have to spend a good part of the noon hour persuading Christi to not change her mind and was shocked at how quickly, how readily, she agreed.
“Sorry.” Christi said again, more sincerely this time.
Beth smiled, amused at how her plan seemed to be so easily coming together.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Beth asked. “Perhaps you would like to see it first?”
“Is there something wrong with the place?” Christi asked, half-jokingly. “I mean is it missing a roof or floors?”
Beth smiled. “Not at all. It’s just with you being a city girl for so long, I thought it might get too quiet for you.”
Christi laughed to herself. ‘If she only knew how much of a relief some quietness would be…’ She sipped her iced cappuccino, pretending to ponder the potential dilemma. “No worries. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes, I could definitely use some quiet time this summer.” Christi answered.
“Besides, that’s where this will come in handy.” She revealed her iPod and they both
laughed.
“Miss Stephens,” Beth said, and patted Christi’s hand the way a grandmother lovingly pats the hands of their grandchildren. “I have a feeling you’re going to love it there, and I’m confident you will be just fine. You may turn into a lobster on the beach, but you will definitely enjoy the house, the solitude, and the home itself.”
For the next hour, they discussed the details of the deal. Christi could move in May and stay until Beth informed her of her return from Europe. Beth also promised to continue paying all the expenses such as
the lease payment and the bills, and to send Christi a small monthly salary for keeping the house safe and clean. They shook on it and signed a piece of paper in the presence of Mary, the waitress, and made plans to meet up the following day to go see the house.
MAY, 1996
“It’s a bitch to get out but people are dying to get in.”
Christi glared at her older brother with a half smile. “Come up with that all on your
own did ya?” she teased.
The tall blonde haired boy waved his sister’s playful insult away and replied, “Nah. Toby told me.”
“Toby?”
“Yeah. Toby from down the street.”
“Right. And it took all these years for you to say it to me.” Christi remarked, rolling her eyes.
Adam smirked. "Since yesterday," he said.
“Since yesterday?”
“Yeah, he told me yesterday when I was at his house.”
“Oh…” Christi said. “How’s that possible?”
“What do you mean? He told me while we were watching ‘My Girl’ with Julie.”
Christi stood, eying her brother. Her eyes searched his face, looking for any signs of sarcasm. There were none. Of all times Christi wished Adam could be serious; this was not one of them.
“Adam…” Christi closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Adam. Adam. Adam.” She murmured, shaking her head slightly, massaging her temples with the tips of her index fingers. “Adam.” She
dropped to her knees, letting her hands fall to her lap, and stared at the ground.
“Christi!” Adam cried, worried. “What is it?” He knelt beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Sis, are you okay?”
Christi didn’t reply. She had no idea how to say what she felt needed to be said. “I… umm… Toby… umm… Toby…” She stopped, unsure how to begin. “You know… Toby…” She stopped again, frowning.
“I know Toby? What?”
“Toby… umm… is… I thought…” Christi mumbled.
“Is what?” Adam raised an eyebrow.
“A… umm… He’s d-“
“Different.” Adam blurted out. A little too quickly, but Christi pretended to not notice.
“Different. Yeah.” As good a word for it as any, at the moment, she thought to herself. She stood, dusting herself off and looking around.
The sun peeked out from behind a small cloud, casting a bright glow on the window of the cars in the nearby parking lot. The day had started out chilly but was now a warm, very warm, eighty seven
degrees. Christi stripped out of her hoodie and tied it around her waist, then pulled her hair back into a tight bun atop her head.
“My goodness, Christi” Adam gasped. Christi turned her attention to her brother, noting his eyes on her neck.
“What?” She said. Her hand instinctively rose to her neck. She felt nothing. “What?!”
Adam chortled. Laughing hysterically, he turned and walked away, leaving Christi on the inside of the cemetery’s gate.
‘Stephens – Matthews Family Lots’ the sign above the gate’s door read. The iron bars wrapped around the half an acre of land behind the church they attended twice a week. The church building was rather large in size and made of cement floors and brick walls, inside and out. It was two stories plus a basement, and divided somewhat like a triplex, or possibly a quad. The front of the structure was where the services were held, while the back was used for funeral services. Downstairs was off limits to
anyone other than those who worked for the funeral half. The upstairs was for the two families which resided there- The Stephens and the Matthews.
“Adam, wait up!” Christi called, following Adam hastily, her hand still at her neck. Adam’s gaze was convincing, though his sudden hysterics were too. Her fingertips felt nothing unusual but she
couldn’t shake Adam’s gaze from her mind.
“Catch me, Christi” Adam called back to his sister without turning around. He continued to walk away, Christi still walking hastily in attempt to catch up with him.
Crunch. Crunch. Crack.
A noise from behind Christi startled her. She jumped and spun around. A loud crack, a breaking sound like a branch snapping in two, as if someone heavy, husky, strong, had stepped on one. She felt her pulse quicken. No one was in sight but that didn’t mean no one was there.
Three years ago she had learned the hard way that she had a unique gift. At first, she was terrified. Until she learned no harm was meant, and she was only sought out for help. It took nearly a year to reach the comfort level needed to not jump and scream and make a scene whenever a soul was in her presence.
“Abigail?” she whispered, sensing it was her. Sensing? More like hoping. She rather enjoyed the company of the little girl. It was like having an imaginary friend that you didn’t have to make up conversations with, or even a name for.
She stood, motionless, her eyes surveying the acre of stones and plastic flowers. Still she saw no one.
“Christi, come on! I’m about to leave without you.” Adam called from the distance. He stood by the gate, fussing with the chain that once served a purpose: to hold the gate clos
ed. “Geez, Dad. A little updating once in awhile wouldn’t hurt.” Adam mumbled to himself, picking at chipped parts of the rusted chain.
“No kidding.” A voice, a female voice, came from behind him. He whipped around quickly, expecting to see his sister finally ready to go.
“There you a-” he began then stopped mid-sentence. He felt his breath catch in his throat. Unable to speak, or react, he stood, staring at the figure that hovered nearly three feet above him. Floating, the figure was the form of a young girl, and appeared to be hanging from something. But what?
“W-who are y-you?” Adam gasped, slowly regaining his composure, and breath. He stared, flabbergasted at the sight before him. The girl giggled, did some sort of acrobatic flip and landed on the ground.
“Abigail.” She answered - her voice was young and innocent. She was not at all transparent but Adam had a strong sense she was a spirit. Her shiny blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes made her look like a
doll. A doll with a soul, he thought to himself.
“I’m not a doll.” The girl said simply and giggled again, sincerely amused. “I’m a little girl, just like you’re a little boy. I just am without a body, of course.” His eyes widened and she giggled again.
“Abigail?” Where did he know that name from?
“I think I know you, but I don’t know how.” Adam replied, rubbing his jaw with his thumb and forefinger.
“Ten days,” the little girl said. She paused for several moments then said, “ten days ago, I fell.” She appeared to be climbing onto something. “Doing this.” She raised her arms, her hands wrapped around something, clutching tightly. She hopped and curled her body upwards; her skinny and pale legs hooked over that same something, at the same level as her skinny and pale hands. Slowly, she let her hands open and straightened her back, hanging upside down, by her knees.
Adam’s heart leapt into his throat. He was speechless and terrified. The girl reminded him of a child playing on monkey bars at the playground. Except… underneath the little girl’s knees… was air.
Nothing but air.
Adam opened his mouth to say something, to warn the girl how silly she was being, and how dangerous her silly act was, but it was too late. All of a sudden, a loud snapping sound rang out and the girl
plummeted to the ground below, landing in a very manic position. She was frozen for several moments before her legs rolled over her head. She rolled into a sitting position, her head falling onto her shoulder then backwards. Adam stared, wide-eyed, in shock, in horror.
“Ho… ly…” he mumbled, unable to find enough breath to finish his short sentence.
“Okay, let’s go!” Christi beamed, jumping onto her brother’s back. “Let’s get out of here, there’s too much fresh tragedy lingering in the air. I can feel it.”
JUNE, 2007
“Don’t go.” The voice whispered.
“Chrisssy…”
Christi stirred beneath the covers, restless. The open window let in a cool breeze. She could hear the waves of the ocean and smell the rain that had just begun to fall.
“Chrisssyyyy…” the voice called again.
The waves crashed into the large rocks that rested along the water’s edge.
“Chrisssyyyyy…” the voice called, louder this time.
Christi reluctantly opened her eyes and
stared up at the ceiling. The room was silent; the voice was gone as if it had never existed. The waves, too, had lessened, though the rain still fell steadily, softly. The wide wrap-around porch allowed
for the windows to stay open even during the heaviest downpours. It was one of the reasons Christi agreed to ‘rent’ the home. The fact that the back yard was a private beach and there were spectacular 180 degree views from the loft was the top reasons of course. Most of all she liked the solitude; the way the place made her feel isolated from the rest of the world; or at least from her busy life and the drama of New York City.
Thunder. The sudden crack of it startled Christi out of her moment of peacefulness. By now, she was wide awake and hunger had crept upon her. She crawled out from beneath the covers, grabbed the throw from the nearby chair, wrapped it around herself, and walked into the hallway, headed toward the stairs.
Silence.
She had made it halfway down the stairs when she heard the voice again.
“Christi” It came from behind her. She turned, but no one was there.
“You really need to stop it, whoever you are. I came out here for peace dang it so let me have some, please!” Christi snapped in a loud whisper and continued down the stairs.
“You didn’t have to be so rude you know.” Someone said as she stepped off the last step. This time the voice came from in front of her. This voice she recognized well.
The room was dark but Christi could make out the form of a young boy sitting in the chair by the fireplace. Christi stood in the doorway of the kitchen and stared at the boy. “Neither do you.” She said to him and turned away to make herself some tea.
* * * * *
The doorknob rattled. Christi paused, mid-step and waited to see who would emerge from the other side. She waited, but nothing happened. The doorknob became still and the door remained closed.
Christi arched an eyebrow and took a step toward the door, her right hand placed on the wall to steady her.
“You really should turn around and go to your own bed and rest.” The voice inside her head was repeating to her. But as is usually the case, Christi’s curiosity overpowered that inner voice. Creeping closer to the door, Christi’s inner voice went from calmly persuasive to extreme hysterics. “Stop! No closer!” It screamed. “Stop now. Do not go in there! Do not!!!”
Christi paused. Whilst curious to check out the room, she was also curious as to what was making that voice in her head so hysterical.
‘Maybe I’ll wait until morning…’ she thought to herself.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ the voice agreed.
Christi took one last long glance at the door and the doorknob, her eyes tracing the outline of the entire door. She sighed, a sigh of giving in and turned around. A dark figure with a womanly shape stood at the end of the hallway. Christi stepped toward her but the figure moved quickly, as if hiding around the corner, timid or shy.
“Hello?” Christi called. She heard what sounded like faint shuffling but there was no answer. “Hello-o?” She said, half teasingly, half-provokingly, but there still was no answer.
‘Hmm…’ Christi mumbled to herself and walked to the end of the hallway. She peered around the corner but no one was there. ‘Where could she have gone?’ she asked herself.
The hallway Christi stood in was the main second floor hallway; the hallway that contained all the doors to the bedrooms and the upstairs bathroom. At the end of the hall, to the left was the stairs, and
to the right was another small, much smaller, hallway. A hallway that led to a wall, but she turned right anyway. There were no rooms down that hall though there was a door. One narrow cedar door with the word LINEN on it, spelled out in lettered tape.
Christi reached for the doorknob of the cedar door, turned it and slowly opened the door, peering inside. It was a closet, made up of three shelves. There was definitely no room for any person to hide in there but that was the only possibility. Where else could the woman have gone?
‘This is definitely a head scratcher,’ Christi thought to herself while scratching her head. ‘Maybe I should call someone… but whom?’
“Just go to bed, Christina.” The inner voice had returned. This time, Christi obeyed.
* * * * *
“Whoa. Rewind. You know the house?!” Christi exclaimed.
Patrick chortled. “Yes I do. I grew up in this neighborhood. My mom used to work there as a maid.”
“When you were little?”
“Yeah. She passed away three years ago, but she would always come home of a night telling all kinds of stories.” Patrick took a sip of his iced tea then continued. “
She said a young girl would follow her around while she was cleaning… keeping her company, telling her stories…”
“Oh. Cool?” Christi murmured. She was still a bit speechless, unsure how to respond to the news. ‘Small world, big city.’ She thought to herself.
“Yeah. Mom never said whether they were real or not, though.”
“Huh?” This got Christi’s attention. “Real or not?” She bit the straw she’d pulled out of the cup of her iced Capp and raised her eyes to meet those of the young man sitting across from her.
“The stories.” He answered quickly.
“Oh.”
“Yeah…”
“So, who was the girl?” Christi asked, suddenly feeling the need to be nosy.
Patrick shrugged. “Mom said her name was Abby.”
“Abby.” Christi repeated.
“Abby was shy. Never left the house; never had friends over. I guess Mom was her only friend.”
“Sad. What about her family?”
Patrick shrugged. “Mom never said a word about the girl’s family. She just told stories.”
“Hmmm…” Christi mumbled. “Something about that feels… sounds… just… odd…”
* * * * *
“I found something the other day. I want to show you.”
“Uh-oh.” Patrick said teasingly.
Ignoring him, Christi led him up the stairs to the second level of the home.
“Ooh. Taking me upstairs.”
“Yeah…”
“That’s fantastic.”
“Yeah…”
“Finally.” He placed his palms on Christi’s hips.
Christi stopped in her tracks, Patrick nearly running into her. She turned, locked her eyes on his and said, “Sorry, but I’m not interested in letting you park your car in my garage.” She thought about quickly turning around but decided against it. And was happy she did because his reaction was
far too great to miss. His eyes narrowed, his face got tight, his mouth agape, a total look of shock. Disappointment. Was that a tear?