The Folcroft Ghosts

by Coates, Darcy

  There wasn’t enough time to mind her steps. She stumbled, staggered, and crashed through the trees, her torso bent to help her watch the ground and make sure she didn’t stray off the worn path.

  Animals howled in the distance. A bird exploded out of the grass between two trees and screamed in terror as it spiralled towards the sky. Tara was gasping, her legs shaking and a headache pounding behind her eyes. She slowed, bent double to catch her breath, then started running again.

  The path levelled out. The trees thinned. Then Tara broke through into the clearing, and the lake’s water sparkled like a diamond sea ahead.

  Kyle was already on the pier. His shadow stretched ahead of him towards the dock’s end, where two eyes glowed out of the darkness.

  Tara, her heart in her throat, scrambled down the embankment. “Kyle, wake up!”

  He twitched, but the slow, sluggish paces didn’t stop. He was nearly at the dock’s end. A long grey hand reached out of the lake and stretched its fingers towards Kyle, as though offering to help him into the water. He extended his own hand to the dripping limb, and the glowing eyes flashed brighter.

  Tara caught Kyle’s shoulder as he started to topple forward. She threw him back. They hit the wood, and pain flared through Tara’s bruised side. She didn’t allow herself a chance to rest, but rolled onto her knees to face the pier’s end.

  The drowned girl’s glowing eyes narrowed. Slowly, the extended hand drew back, and the dripping creature submerged itself into the lake’s depths.

  Tara wrapped her arms around Kyle to keep him grounded. He blinked furiously as confusion and fear alternated over his face. “Wha… where—”

  “May’s dead.” Tara spoke between thin, painful breaths. “The house is full of dead bodies. We’re not even related to the Folcrofts. This whole situation is bonkers.”

  “Was I… sleepwalking?”

  “More like sleep lured.” She glanced at the still water a final time then tugged on Kyle. “Let’s get away from here. I feel like Anna’s still watching us.”

  Kyle got to his feet. They held on to each other as they walked back to solid ground. Tara’s legs were still shaking, so she collapsed onto the dirt once they were far enough away from the shore for her to feel safe. She ran her hands over her face. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Same.” His face was pale and serious as he sat cross-legged at her side and watched the water. “I’m really, really sorry. I tried to stop May from going back inside, but—”

  “It’s okay. She was—is—smarter than I gave her credit for.”

  Kyle worried at his lip then said, “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Tara lifted her eyes towards the starry sky. The clouds were dispersing, and the moon broke through, bright and clear. “I really, really have no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “We’ll be together, though, won’t we?”

  “Yeah.” She reached out and gripped his clammy fingers. “We’ll stick together.”

  She was so tired, she thought she could fall asleep there, even with sticks and rocks poking her back. The relief of finding Kyle had drained the adrenaline out of her system and left her shaky and dizzy. Kyle seemed to understand and let her sit in silence for several minutes. Then he turned towards the woods’ edge. “Did you hear that?”

  Tara sat up as sick dread built in her stomach. “What was it?”

  “Like footsteps or something.”

  Heavy, slow steps moved in their direction, crunching leaves and snapping sticks. Too heavy and loud for a mountain lion or a ghost.

  Tara pulled Kyle to his feet and shuffled away from the noise. Peter came through the tree line. His face had lost its colour, and the angular cheeks seemed sunken. He still cradled May’s body, and her slack face seemed strangely peaceful in the moonlight.

  “Peter?” Tara waved for Kyle to stay behind her as she stepped forward. “Are you okay?”

  He didn’t answer. Slow, steady steps carried him towards the pier.

  Tara cautiously followed. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving May a place to rest,” he grunted. “Anna’s been lonely for a long time. She’ll be happy to have family with her.”

  Tara stayed on the shore with Kyle by her side as they watched Peter. He followed the pier to its end then knelt on the last plank. The green-grey hands rose out of the lake, their fingers stretching towards Peter, and he lowered May into the arms. Together, they eased her body into the water.

  Kyle hung on to the corner of Tara’s jacket. She was glad to have his company. They watched Peter as he stared into the water, waiting for him to stand, but he never did. Instead, he swung his legs over the edge of the pier. Tara gasped and started forward. “Peter—”

  He slid himself over the end of the dock and plunged into the lake. The motion, smooth and graceful, barely disturbed the water’s surface.

  “Stay here,” Tara said. She jogged to the pier’s end and knelt on the last plank, in the exact same space Peter had occupied seconds before, and looked down.

  The water was inky black and impenetrable. A single bubble rose out of the depths and burst when it reached the surface, but otherwise, the water was undisturbed.

  Tara sat back on her heels as a strange surreal sense of finality spread through her. She didn’t know how to feel. Peter had killed, but he’d also shown her mercy. Now that both he and May were gone, relief mingled with a strange, deep grief that she couldn’t explain. She stayed on the edge of the pier for several long minutes, until Kyle’s hand patted the back of her shoulder.

  “Let’s go home,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  25

  Morning

  The walk back to the house felt like an eternity. The sky lightened by fractions, and by the time they exited the woods, sunlight framed the large, now-seemingly mournful house.

  For a moment, Tara considered never stepping back inside the building, but she knew that would be unreasonable. They were both tired and hungry, and getting to town wouldn’t be an easy feat. Kyle obediently followed her onto the porch and through the door.

  “What do you want for breakfast?” she asked.

  “Not pancakes.”

  “I’ll see if they have any cereal.”

  Kyle found spoons while Tara sorted through the cupboards. May had stocked the pantry with a dozen brands of cereal, none of them opened. She found the honey-flavoured one Kyle liked and put it on the table in front of him. Then, on impulse, she turned on the kettle.

  I could have a cup of tea and make him coffee. She nearly laughed at the idea of repeating the Folcrofts’ daily habit—but the image hung with her as she retrieved the milk from the fridge and chose her own cereal.

  We could actually do it. May said she left the house to us. We could stay here, just like they did, and look after each other. Kyle would take care of the garden. I would make our meals. There are enough cookbooks that I’m sure I could learn how to. We could uncover the house’s secrets, find the war money they have hidden, and I can drive the Jeep into town whenever we need supplies. Even if people noticed May and Peter were missing, they probably wouldn’t ask many questions.

  Over time, we would become the new Folcrofts.

  Tara sat opposite Kyle, unintentionally taking May’s seat. He scooped huge spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth, his hand moving faster than his jaws could until his cheeks bulged with food.

  If Mum’s gone… this might be the closest thing to home we have.

  “Whatcha thinking, Tara?” The words were garbled around his food.

  She opened her mouth to tell him about the half-formed concept then caught herself. She laughed. “Just crazy thoughts.”

  “Please stop.” He scrunched up his face. “I’ve had enough craziness to last me a lifetime.”

  She shook her head. “Yeah, me, too.”

  I’m not May. I’m Tara. I blog. I suck at geology. I hate hot weather and want to be a freelance journalist in a few years. We’re n
ot Folcrofts. And we’re not staying in this cursed place.

  She stood and moved around to the chair beside Kyle, where she normally sat. She poured some of Kyle’s cereal, doused it in milk, and started eating.

  “Do we have a plan?” Kyle asked.

  “Sort of. I’ve got a few things to take care of before we leave. You can catch up on some sleep or finish a book or whatever while you wait.”

  “Sure.”

  She was surprised he didn’t press her with more questions, but he seemed content to trust her. The pervasive fear that had dogged him since arriving at the house had finally fallen away, and he now kicked his feet and ate with gusto like he normally did. Tara smiled as she finished her own breakfast.

  The idea of sleeping for a few hours was tempting, but she wanted to leave the Folcroft house as soon as she could. There was one thing she had to do before they could go, though.

  While Kyle washed and put away their dishes, Tara climbed the stairs and followed the hallway. The locked room’s door was still open, its handle falling out of the cracked wood, and Tara took a quick breath before stepping inside.

  The scene looked wholly different in daylight. She could see the seats clearly, and the occupants were no longer drowning in shadows. There were four chairs: one for Harry Folcroft, one for Eileen Folcroft, and a smaller bundle, which must have been the young Christopher. The fourth chair was empty, but the indent in its cushion told Tara it was used frequently. She imagined May coming into the room every evening and sitting amongst her passed family. It made her shiver.

  “Please forgive me,” she said as she approached the nearest bundle. Long hair peeked out from under the blanket wrapping, identifying it as Eileen. Tara gingerly picked up the corners of the cloth and lifted. Eileen’s body had long-since withered away, and her bones were light. Tara hefted the bundle and carried it out of the room, down the stairs, and through the front door.

  The garden trenches she’d helped dig the day before were still open. They would be shallow graves, but Tara prayed it would be enough as she placed Eileen’s body in the first indent.

  She returned to the locked room. As she entered, she caught the faintest glimpse of a man pacing across the carpet before he vanished. She licked her lips then picked up Harry Folcroft. The room was quiet and empty during her third trip, when she retrieved Christopher. She lined the family up, one in each trench, then found the shovel leaned against the house’s porch and began burying the Folcrofts.

  The work was so absorbing that she didn’t notice Kyle had followed until she heard the chink of a second shovel digging into the dirt. They worked side by side, piling the soft soil over the bundles to create burial mounds. Tara patted them down while Kyle disappeared around the house’s corner. He returned carrying a large oval stone. He staggered under its weight, and Tara hurried to take one side of it. They placed the stone at the head of the first grave then made the trip two more times.

  “Will that be enough?” Kyle asked.

  They stood at the graves’ feet and examined their work. Tara was breathing heavily and felt grimy but relieved. “I hope so. May believed their spirits didn’t pass on because they hadn’t been buried. I think this was why they asked for help.”

  “It’s a nice place,” Kyle said. “Close to the house but looking over the woods. The ground’s rich enough that plants will grow over them in the next few years. I think I’d be happy to be buried like that.”

  “Me, too.”

  They bowed their heads and shared a moment of silence. Tara prayed that the Folcrofts would finally have peace and silently thanked them for saving her from the bunker. Then, wordlessly, the siblings returned inside.

  Tara showered and changed while Kyle finished packing. Then, while he cleaned himself, she went down to the bunker and retrieved the key ring from where she’d left it in the metal door. The Jeep’s key was easy to identify; it was newer and cleaner than the others. She unlocked the vehicle and helped Kyle load his things.

  “Are we going to drive back home?” he asked.

  “No. I can’t drive well enough to cope with the highways. We’ll take this as far as the town.”

  “Can I return the books to the library?”

  Tara shrugged, so her brother raced back into the house and brought down an armful of his books. He loaded them next to the suitcases in the backseat, then they took the front, and Tara started the car.

  She thanked her lucky stars the Jeep was an automatic. She let it crawl over the potholes and exposed roots lining the driveway then tried applying some power as they turned onto the main road. It was a nerve-inducing ride, and the car’s side scraped the rock wall to their left twice, but Tara felt a surge of pride as they pulled into the town. Kyle only looked a little queasy and gave her a thumbs-up when she grinned at him.

  Three empty parking spaces in a row gave her an easy target. The car’s hood bumped the street sign in front of them, but Tara figured she would only cause more damage if she tried to correct the car’s crooked angle. So she just turned it off.

  Kyle undid his buckle. “Is it okay to leave it like this?”

  “Yeah. We don’t need it anymore, so I’ll leave the keys in the ignition. If no one takes it, I guess it’ll eventually be towed.”

  They carried Kyle’s books back to the library. The woman behind the desk barely looked up as they dumped the piles onto her desk. Then they collected their luggage, returned to the street, and made their way to the bakery.

  Pattie looked up as the bell over the door jingled, and surprise and pleasure lit her face. “Oh, hello, Tara. And you must be Kyle.”

  “Hey.” There was no easy way to lead into her request, so Tara simply spread her hands and said, “You asked me the other day if I needed help. I’m ready to answer honestly. Yes. We need to get out of here. Can you drive us?”

  “I—uh… Of course.” Pattie, flustered, shot a look over her shoulder. “Um, Dave? Can you watch the shop for a bit?”

  “It’s a four-hour drive,” Tara said and gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry. But I’ll make it up to you. You can have the Jeep parked in the street. And if you’re curious, I can tell you the truth about the Folcroft family.”

  26

  Home

  Tara had never liked hospitals. They were too white; the tiles floors, the sheets, the walls, and the curtains competed to out-bright each other. The watercolour bird and nature scenes spaced sparingly along the hallway walls didn’t do much to provide relief. There was one patch of colour in the building that made Tara very happy, though.

  Chris sat propped up in bed. One arm had to lay flat at her side for the drip line, but the other held Kyle’s hand, her thumb running over his knuckles in soothing strokes.

  “Are you sure you’re happy at Mrs. Jennings’s?”

  Her voice was still raspy, though it was getting stronger each day. The doctors were talking about starting physiotherapy before the end of the week. She was eating more, too, and colour was returning to her face.

  Tara answered. “Yeah, she’s been great. It’s like a holiday. Kyle reads until he gets headaches, and I have a virtual monopoly over the computer.”

  Chris chuckled. “Don’t fall too behind on your schoolwork. You won’t be able to take much more time off.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

  Kyle and Tara shared a brief glance. They’d been home for six days, and so far, the secret hadn’t escaped.

  Their mother thought they were staying at Mrs. Jennings’s. She had been told they were with a non-existent aunt. In reality, Kyle had gotten his wish: he and Tara stayed in their home. The shops were close enough for them to walk, and Tara had figured out how to pay bills with Chris’s bank account. They caught the bus into the hospital each day.

  She and Kyle worked together well. They shared the cleaning and the cooking, and only left the house when the neighbours weren’t home to notice. The plan was to tell their mother about their stay at the Folcrofts’ eventual
ly, but not until she’d recovered enough to come home.

  Tara had been dreaming about the stone house surrounded by woods. During idle afternoons, she found herself wondering if Peter’s and May’s ghosts lingered at the lake. She imagined walking through the meandering paths and listening to the birds and wild animals dart between the trees. If she stayed there long enough, she might eventually hear the shuffle of ghostly footsteps following just out of sight.

  She knew she would return to the house eventually. Maybe after enough years had passed to soften the memories, she would drive up to the old stone building, walk through the creaking hallways, and visit the overgrown graves of the people she’d started to think of as her family.

  The End

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