“I don’t want your brother in my house anymore. I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t want him there.”
“He’s recently deceased,” the girl says. “He was the youngest. He’s only been dead for twenty years. He’s still learning how to use his powers, how to appear.”
“He’s tearing up my house.”
“He’s misunderstood.”
“Why is he haunting a music box?”
“The music box is the only thing that kept him going when my siblings and I were killed. Oh, my parents played off our deaths as accidents, but Frank knew the truth. He knew they had killed us and they would kill him. He tried to run away a few times, but they always found him. They broke his legs to keep him from running again and then he could only lie in bed and listen to the music.”
“But then they killed him.”
“All of us.”
“And now they’re gone.”
“They won’t have gotten far.”
“How can you be sure?” The way she says it is starting to scare me just a little, and I wonder exactly what this ghost has done. I wonder exactly how far she would go to hurt the people who killed her and her family.
“Because I may be linked to this house, Dane, but my powers extend far beyond it. I may be forced to remain here until the end of time, but I won’t allow them to hurt anyone else. No more. Not anymore.”
“Why now?” I have to ask. “You said your brother died twenty years ago. You died longer ago than that, right? Why did you wait all this time to destroy your parents? Why didn’t you kill them as soon as you could?”
“I didn’t have the strength,” she says simply. “You know better than anyone that a newborn ghost is as weak as a newborn human. These things take time.” She moves around the room, floating, watching.
I realize there’s a lot I don’t know about ghosts: quite a bit, in fact. I should probably be terrified, horrified. I should be scared of her, I know, but I’m not. Something tells me that this isn’t a good ghost, but she’s not exactly evil, either.
Unless you cross her or her family.
Then there’s nothing that can stop her.
“They hurt me for a long time. They hurt our family for a long time. They knew it was only a matter of time before my siblings and I could rally against them and destroy them. Frank started to get his powers, and my other siblings did, as well. We started to torment them, so my parents got rid of us, separated us.”
“They sold the items.”
“They sold everything and ran, but it was too late.”
“Frank is in my house.”
“I know.”
“I’d rather he not be, if I’m honest.”
“Frank isn’t mean.”
“He broke all of my bathroom pipes,” I complain. “There was poop everywhere.”
“That’s not that bad.”
“And bugs,” I say. “A bathroom full of bugs is fucking disgusting. Can’t I bring his music box here? Can’t you have a discussion with him?”
“You played the second song,” she says. “He’s been set loose.”
“How do I get him back in the music box?”
It might be my imagination, but the ghostly woman looks a little bit sad at the question.
“My parents wanted to know that, too. It took them awhile to figure it out. Frank can be put back in the box, but I’d ask you to reconsider. Surely there’s room in your heart for a ghost at your house.”
“I’m not adopting a puppy,” I tell her. “This isn’t like adding a family pet. He’s a real person.”
“And he deserves to live.”
“I really don’t want him around.”
“I’ll tell you about Hector,” she offers, and suddenly, I’m the one who’s silent.
“What do you know about Hector?” I ask, and the ghost motions for me to sit.
“We’re going to be here awhile,” she says, and I take a seat in the center of the floor, hoping I’m not about to make a terrible mistake.
Chapter 7
“How do you know about Hector?”
“Everyone knows about Hector. He’s a legend.”
“Please. I haven’t been able to find out what happened to him or how I can set him free.”
“Why would you want to set him free?”
“I want him to be happy.”
“I’m sure he’s happy with you,” the ghost looks a little confused. “Perhaps the happiest he’s ever been. You’re close, are you not?”
“Are you telepathic?”
“We all have our secrets.”
“How do you know about him? What do you know about him? We’ve been living together for ages but I don’t know how to free him. I don’t know how to give him peace.”
“First of all, you need to let go of the idea that ghosts are going to leave you. We aren’t. We’re here to stay. You can’t free us. We don’t have unfinished business. That’s just a lie invented by storytellers to sell books.”
“But…”
“This is our eternal existence,” the woman says. “This is all there is for us. Now, I can tell you why Hector is tied to your house. I can tell you what happened to him. I can tell you everything, but it’s not going to make you feel better and it’s not going to free him. It’ll give you answers, and perhaps it will give your friend closure, but it won’t fix anything.”
“But he doesn’t want to be trapped with me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Him. He makes me say that,” I’m a little exasperated and I shouldn’t be. It’s not her fault, after all. Hector and I have lived together for a long time, though. I think I know my ghost better than most people.
“Have you ever thought that perhaps, just maybe, your ghost is a little bit scared?”
“No. He’s not scared of anything.” The idea is ridiculous. Hector is the biggest badass I know.
“He can’t remember his past, Dane. He doesn’t know his future. Doesn’t that seem like it would be a little bit, I don’t know, intimidating?”
“You don’t know him. He’s not like that. He’s strong.”
“Even the strongest people need help sometimes. Even the bravest warriors need friends.”
The woman’s words sink in for a minute. I don’t think she’s right. I think she’s got it all wrong. She doesn’t know Hector the way I do. She doesn’t understand him like I do. Hector might not be happy he can’t remember his past, but he still wants to be free.
He still wants to move on to the afterlife.
This can’t be all there is for him.
“This is it, Dane. There’s nothing more. There is no unfinished business. There is no redemption. There is nothing. There is simply continuing existence. Most paranormal creatures don’t experience half the joy and love Hector does, so you should be happy. You’ve been a true friend to him and that might be all he needs.”
“What happened to him?” I sigh. It’s getting dark outside, which means it’s getting dark inside, which means it’s harder to see the ghost. I feel like I’m talking to thin air right now, which is depressing.
The worst part is that there’s a part of me that thinks maybe she’s right. I don’t want to think about the possibility that this creature could know something about my ghost that I don’t. I don’t want to think about the possibility that she knows something about Hector he hasn’t even shared with me.
I don’t want to think about it.
“His family was murdered, Dane. They were killed, like my family was. Hector knew who had done it.”
“Edgar,” I whisper.
“Edgar worked at the shop was Hector. Hector was always a little uncomfortable around the man, but wasn’t sure why. Strange things started happening at the store, though, and Hector began to suspect that Edgar was behind the instances.”
“What sorts of things happened?”
“Things would go missing and dead animals would be left behind in their place: strange things, really. One day, a message was
written in blood in the shop. Then people started to go missing. Children began to go missing.”
“Why would Edgar go after Hector’s family?”
“He hated Hector. Hector approached him and demanded an explanation. He was a good man, Dane. He was brave. He asked what had happened and why Edgar was doing all of this. Edgar just laughed in his face. He laughed and then he said Hector wouldn’t see it coming.”
My heart sinks.
Hector’s family was killed. They were killed and he knew the murderer.
“He tried to stop it,” I say.
“He knew Edgar was up to no good. He tried to keep an eye on him. Several men in town did, in fact. They all took turns keeping watch over Edgar, trying to make sure he didn’t go anywhere he wasn’t supposed to, but one night there was a town dance, and they all went.”
“That’s when he did it.”
“Edgar knew what was going on and he took it out on Hector’s family. His wife and daughter never saw it coming. He quietly slit their throats at the dance and no one was the wiser. Edgar had an alibi, of course, and no one suspected he had been the one to do it.”
“Hector knew, though.”
“He knew. Heartbroken, devastated, he went to Edgar’s house, but it didn’t matter. Edgar was waiting for him, ready.”
“And he killed him. He killed my friend.”
I’m crying now and I don’t mean to be. I shouldn’t be crying over something that happened a century ago, but I am, and suddenly, I wish I didn’t have the answers that I have.
“He got away with it,” I say. “How? How did he get away with it?”
“Haven’t you figured it out?” The ghost looks at me curiously. “Don’t you know why the newspapers never reported anything? They never found the bodies. They never found Hector. Edgar covered everything up and no one was ever the wiser.”
“But how…how do I set him free? Hector is locked in my house. He’s trapped and he can’t get out. What unfinished business could he possibly have? Revenge is no longer an option.”
“The only unfinished business he has is you, Dane. He wants to be your friend. You’re his entire world now. Maybe he doesn’t want to be freed. Maybe he doesn’t want to move on. Maybe all he needs is you.”
And maybe she’s right.
Maybe I’ve spent too much time trying to solve the “problem” of Hector and I haven’t spent enough time trying to understand him. Maybe I’ve been too busy trying to get rid of the ghosts in my house that I haven’t really tried to understand them. Maybe I’ve been convincing myself that I’m a good person, but that’s not what Hector needs right now.
Maybe he doesn’t need someone to be a good person.
Maybe he just needs a friend.
Is there a chance I’ve been missing it all along? Is there a chance Hector doesn’t want to be saved?
“What do I do now?” I ask her. “If I’m not supposed to be digging around in the past, trying to figure out how to free him, then what am I supposed to be doing?”
“Be his friend,” she says. “He just wants a friend.”
“And your brother?” I raise an eyebrow. “What about him? Does he need a friend, too?”
“I won’t tell you what to do about him,” she says. “The decision is yours. There’s a third song on that music box, you know. Perhaps it’s time for you to listen. Then you can make your choice.”
Chapter 8
The thing about ghosts is that they’re super fucking annoying. When I leave the house with Information Ghost, I get in my car and just sit there for a second. It’s dark now and the stars are out. The moon is casting a lovely glow over the old farmhouse and for just a second, it looks serene. For just a second, I forget about the horrors that happened in that house. For just a second, everything is lovely, and then the house begins to crumble.
It starts slowly at first, with just a few tiles falling from the roof: one, two, three. Then a brick falls from the chimney. Then another. My first instinct is to jump out and save her, to save the ghost, but I stop myself.
She can’t be saved.
She doesn’t want to be saved.
If there’s one thing she drilled into my head, it’s that not every ghost needs to be “freed.” Not every ghost needs to be pushed into some sort of alternative afterlife. Maybe we humans have been viewing ghosts wrong this whole time. Maybe what we should have been doing was accepting ghosts for who they are.
Maybe we should have been accepting them for what they are.
Maybe there’s still time.
The entire house falls to the ground. Brick by brick, tile by tile, it collapses into a pile of memories and pain. Dust billows up and for just a second, I think I see the glimmer of a paranormal flying away from the house, but I must be wrong. That can’t be possible.
She can’t be escaping from the house.
Isn’t that how haunting works? Isn’t she bound to the house forever? Only now that I’m looking even closer, I’m pretty sure she’s definitely flying away, and then I realize that maybe, there’s a way I can give Hector his freedom after all.
And maybe that doesn’t involve sending him away.
Maybe that doesn’t involve solving the “problem” of his existence.
I haven’t exactly been the best friend to Hector, but all of that is about to change. All of that is going to be different.
I just have to get to him.
But first, I need to see Candice.
I get in my car and after a quick search in the employee directory, I find her address. I punch it into my cell’s GPS. She actually lives pretty close to my own house, so I drive over and go knock on her door.
“Just a minute,” she calls out, and I wait, wondering if this is a stupid idea, wondering if this is a terrible, horrible idea. Then she opens the door. “Oh, it’s you.”
“It’s me.”
She looks over her shoulder nervously, like someone is here, like someone is going to catch her talking to me.
“What are you doing here, Dane?” She steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind her. “You should have called first.”
“You’re avoiding my calls. You’re avoiding everyone.”
“I’ve had some personal stuff going on.”
“Like your very own ghost?”
Her mouth drops open. Candice quickly pastes a neutral expression on her face, but it’s too late. I’ve already seen how shocked she is. I already know her secret.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I have one, too.”
“You?” Her mouth drops open. “How?”
“Actually, I have two.”
“You have two?”
“Yes. Two ghosts. All mine.”
Mine.
It’s such a possessive word, such a final word, but it’s the truth. Hector is a brooding whiner and Frank is a precocious troublemaker, but they’re mine. They’re my ghosts and I’m going to take care of them, and I know exactly how to do it now.
“Tell me about your ghost,” I say to Candice. “What’s the deal with the quilt?”
“She’s in the quilt.”
“She can’t come out?”
“No.”
“She just moves around inside the quilt?”
“Yes.”
“Is she mean?”
“Oh, heavens, no!” Candice brings her hand to her chest, as if the idea is simply unfathomable. “She wraps the quilt around me extra tightly at night when I’m scared and even gives me massages. It’s basically amazing. It’s not dangerous at all. She’s not dangerous at all.”
“We can free her,” I tell Candice. “We can free the ghosts.”
“How?”
“There’s a way, but I’m going to need your help.”
Chapter 9
When I get home, Hector is nowhere to be found, but it doesn’t matter. The first thing I need to do is play the music box. Candice sits beside me on the couch, quilt in hand, and I open the box. As soon as the music begins to play, her
quilt bunches into a ball on her lap. Yeah, I’m guessing Blanket Ghost recognizes the song.
I’m guessing she can sense her brother.
“It won’t be long,” I say. “We just have to make it through the songs.”
“What’s the deal with the music?” Candice whispers.
“That’s what I couldn’t figure out. I played the first two songs and suddenly, Frank was out. Suddenly, he was at my house, but he wasn’t visible and he didn’t communicate.”
“Not with words, anyway,” Candice is eyeing the broken paintings hanging on my wall and the shattered glasses on the floor.
“I meant to clean that up.”
She just shrugs.
The second song comes on and suddenly, an overwhelming sense of sadness fills me. I can tell the music is affecting Candice, too, because even though she isn’t crying, she’s silent and her eyes are wide. Her breathing is quick, almost like she can’t catch her breath.
“Turn it off,” she whispers.
“Not yet.”
“It’s too sad.”
“We need to let the music play. That’s what the ghost told me. She said to listen to the song, to let it play.”
Candice reaches for my hand and grips it tightly. I’m glad she reached for me, but not because it’s romantic. I’m glad because right now, I feel very, very sad, and I feel very, very alone. These are two emotions I don’t enjoy feeling, two emotions that I’d rather not have to deal with. Touching her, having someone to keep me grounded, means I don’t feel like I’m facing this on my own.
We’re facing it together.
The third song begins, and instantly, the air in the room turns cold, and then hot, and then cold again. The windows rattle and the house shakes, but Candice and I sit still, holding hands, watching the music box.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
“Not really.”
“We should close the box.”
“Not just yet.”
It’s almost over. We just have to hang on a little bit more. We just have to let the song play, to let it finish, and then he’ll be free. Then Frank will be free. Then he won’t be trapped anymore.
“The problem is that his songs didn’t finish,” I tell Candice. The whole room is shaking loudly, and I realize it’s a good thing I don’t have any close neighbors. What would they think? They’d probably flip out. “Frank was released from the box, but only partially. That’s why he couldn’t communicate. That’s why he was struggling. Only part of his spirit was released. The song is the key. The song will let him out of the box.”
The Haunting of a Ghost Page 4