Paranormal Anthology with a TWIST

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Paranormal Anthology with a TWIST Page 8

by Bart Hopkins


  Brent clapped slowly. “Well played, Whitney. One down!”

  “It’s okay, baby,” Jill laughed. “I still love you, even if you are a quitter.”

  Jake grabbed his chest in mock indignation. Pushing off the floor, he walked into the kitchen to retrieve another beer.

  “My turn,” Brent said, “and it looks like you get to ask another one, Whitney.”

  “Truth or dare.”

  “Truth,” Brent replied.

  “This is something I’ve wanted to know for a while. How the hell did you get an ‘A’ in Econ 201? You suck at math.”

  “I cheated my ass off,” Brent replied without hesitation. “There was an Asian kid who took the class last year and was selling the answers to the exams.”

  “Jerk! I knew you couldn’t do that on your own.”

  “That was your tough question?” Jill asked surprised. “You are such a sissy with him!”

  “It’s too late to ask another one now,” Brent said. “It’s time to pull the ace out of my sleeve and end this game. Truth or dare, Jill?”

  Jill looked at Jake as he took a seat on the couch. Her boyfriend merely shrugged noncommittally.

  “Dare, I guess.”

  Brent smiled. “Okay, I dare you to spend the night in Creepy Cemetery.”

  “All night?” Whitney asked.

  “Whoa,” Jake said concerned. “Timeout. That escalated a little fast from streaking through the freshman dorm and cheating on a test to spending the night in a graveyard.”

  Brent shrugged. “We all agreed that the gloves were off. Anything goes in this game. So it’s time to put up or shut up.”

  “Still,” Whitney said. She looked at Jill, who hadn’t said anything.

  “Fine,” Brent said, throwing up his arms. “Then let’s make it all or nothing. You do this—you win. You chicken out—I win. What do you say, Jill?”

  “I say you’re an ass, Brent.”

  “You know I’m still playing too, right?” Whitney asked.

  “You never stood a chance of winning. We know too many of your dirty secrets,” Brent explained. He turned his attention back to Jill. “Does that mean you’re not going to do it?”

  Jill knew the cemetery well, having driven past it every day on her way to work after class. All the students called it “Creepy Cemetery” because it was in horrible disrepair. Large weeds grew between and around the faded headstones. Crawling vines wound their way up the rusted metal spokes of the wrought-iron fence.

  “I’m going to do it,” Jill replied angrily, “just to make sure you lose.”

  “To the jeep!” Brent demanded as he stood unsteadily. He set his empty beer bottle beside the others and led the group out of the apartment.

  Whitney hurried to catch up to her boyfriend. From over her shoulder, she called out to Jake and Jill.

  “Shotgun!”

  Jake slipped his hand in Jill’s and felt her sweaty palms. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

  “Yes, I do,” she replied. “I’m going to make sure that asshole loses.”

  The pair climbed into the back of the open-topped jeep as Brent started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Chapter Two

  Jill stood in the middle of the cemetery and rubbed her arms—despite the warm night air. She stepped between a pair of weathered headstones; the names on their faces no longer legible. Nearby, the cemetery was cast into inky darkness as the light from the few streetlamps disappeared behind one of the taller monuments. Despite the broken stonework, Jill could make out the once-delicate features of a carved angel atop a pedestal.

  There were a few of the taller statues scattered throughout the cemetery, though they were in little better condition than the angel against which Jill now stood. Their tall visages blocked the light in long stretches, adding a sense of surrealism to the eerie graveyard.

  Looking around, she sought a place to sit. The choking weeds covered most of the exposed ground, leaving little space for her to rest. Reaching down near a thick stone grave marker, Jill pulled back some of the weeds in a wide enough area for her to sit.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jill muttered to the empty cemetery.

  Bringing her knees to her chest, Jill wrapped her arms around her legs and looked around Creepy Cemetery. It had only been an hour at most since she arrived and she was already starting to doubt her own fortitude. Only her desire to prove Brent wrong kept her seated.

  Rifling through her purse, Jill pulled out her cell phone. A single phone call to Jake could end this stupid bet but she felt a strong twinge of pride. Calling Jake might end this—but it would also mean conceding defeat to Brent of all people. Brent personified everything Jill hated about fraternity guys. Angrily, she shoved her cell phone back into her purse.

  “No problem,” she tried to justify. “Only seven more hours to go.”

  Jill groaned at the thought. She leaned back against the headstone behind her but immediately sat back forward. Glancing over her shoulder, she tried to read the inscription on the stone. It was far too weatherworn, however, and the words were little more than faint indentations on the stone.

  She looked around the cemetery and frowned. Sitting amidst the forgotten graves, Jill felt like a trespasser. In the most literal sense, she supposed she was. It was in the spiritual sense that bothered her most. Around her were the lost and forgotten graves of unnamed brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, husbands, and wives. She nearly expected at any moment that a hand would burst through the ground at her trespass.

  The thought made her angry. “I never should have watched those stupid horror movies with Jake,” she grumbled.

  As she sat, a cool evening breeze supplanted the warm night air. She shivered and rubbed her arms furiously. The breeze grew progressively stronger, whipping her hair into her face. As she exhaled, Jill could see her breath escaping in puffs of white.

  Furrowing her brow, she stood and jumped in place, trying to regain the circulation in her extremities. She hadn’t dressed for the cold, nor had she expected such a frigid breeze.

  “Screw this,” she shivered. “This isn’t worth it.”

  Jill reached into her purse and her hand closed over her cell phone.

  I’m sorry, a whisper carried through the evening air.

  Jill froze in place, her purse slipping from her fingers and falling to the ground at her feet. She glanced around the cemetery but, as far as she could tell, she was still alone.

  “Hello?” she replied nervously. “Is someone there?”

  Her query was met with muted silence. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

  Gingerly, Jill stepped over some of the nearby undergrowth and peered around the tall angel marker. The cemetery was still empty, despite the unnerving voice.

  Her heart thundered in her chest but she saw no one else. Turning slowly, she returned to her previous spot. As she began to sit, the voice whispered once again.

  I’m so sorry.

  “No way,” Jill said adamantly. “I’m done here.”

  Grabbing her purse, Jill turned toward the main gate to the cemetery. As she stepped over the fallen headstones nearby, the vines and grasses clung to her thin shoes, seemingly begging her to remain. Cursing, she pulled her feet free and hurried toward the gate. Rounding the last of the tall monuments, Jill froze. There, standing amongst the shorter headstones, stood a small girl with her back to Jill. The girl’s face was buried in her hands and her shoulders heaved with silent sobs.

  Gooseflesh ran along Jill’s arms at the sight of the lonely girl. Stepping forward cautiously, she called out to her.

  “Excuse me,” Jill stuttered. Her heart pounded in her chest. “Little girl? Are you okay?”

  The girl continued to sob in silence. From behind, the girl looked no older than eight or nine—far too young to be alone in a cemetery. Part of her wanted to rush to her aid, but that part of her was greatly overwhelmed by her skepticism. Look
ing at the crying child, she suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

  Jill shook uncontrollably as she stepped forward.

  “Damn those stupid horror movies,” she bemoaned.

  Clearing her voice politely, Jill took another step forward. “Little girl? I heard you whispering earlier. Are you okay?”

  Again, the girl didn’t acknowledge Jill’s presence. With great resolve, Jill approached the girl. It was only when she reached out to the girl that she realized something was very much amiss. As the moon emerged from behind thick clouds, the girl grew translucent, exposing the silhouettes of the gravestones behind her through her willowy frame.

  The girl’s shoulders were no longer wracked with sobs. Turning toward Jill, the girl raised her head and her wispy hair cascaded out of her face. The young girl’s delicate features were marred by the ruin that was the right side of her face. The soft skin fell apart beneath her right eye, drooping in swaths of torn flesh and exposed sinew. Beneath the shredded cheek, her clenched teeth were exposed. Foul fluid oozed from the wound, running over the shattered jaw and broken teeth. The wound stretched beneath the hair that fell over her ear.

  Jill threw a hand to her mouth to suppress a scream.

  As their eyes met, the girl opened her mouth to speak. No words escaped, but her teeth gnashed together through the spectral wound on her face.

  Unable to contain her horror, Jill screamed and ran. She wasn’t sure if there was another exit to the graveyard but she was beyond caring. She ran as quickly as possible away from the abomination blocking the main gate.

  Jill leapt over a fallen tombstone and hurried toward the rear of the cemetery. Though the cemetery wasn’t large, she found herself completely disoriented in her panic. Her chest heaved and each breath felt like a knife being pulled across her lungs. Jill ran until she reached the rear fence of the cemetery and banged the palms of her hands against the rusted iron spokes.

  “Help me!” she screamed into the night. Light bled through the fence from the nearby street lamps and a small number of apartments across the street were still illuminated—but no one responded to her cries.

  “Jake! Brent! Whitney!” she cried, though she doubted her friends were still nearby.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Please, someone help me!”

  Beside her, a hand emerged from a grave. The hand dug into the dirt as it pulled upward, exposing a soiled head as it emerged from the earth. The corpse’s eyes glowed with a similar shimmering light that Jill had seen in the little girl’s face. The corpse struggled to free itself, hanging halfway out of the hole from which it had been crawling free. The man’s decaying head turned toward Jill. Between its eyes, she could see an old bullet wound. As she watched, ethereal blood oozed from the wound and ran into the ghost’s eyes.

  Screaming again, Jill rushed past the corpse and sprinted toward the front of the cemetery. From the corner of her eyes, she could see other ghosts emerging from their graves. An elderly woman, dangerously thin, tugged at her rotting burial dress. A young man pushed against a headstone, his face falling away in strips of half-eaten flesh. The spectral skin vanished into the ground as it fell, making way for more decay and filth.

  To her right, the cemetery’s gate appeared. Turning sharply, Jill felt a sharp twinge in her knee and pain lanced up through her hip. Biting back the pain, she hobbled to the gate.

  Jill slammed into the closed wrought iron but the gate refused to give way. Her hands shaking, she sought a lock or latch but nothing was apparent. No chain wrapped around its frame. No latch held it closed. The gate itself just refused to open.

  “Oh God,” Jill cried. She tried to breathe in but the muscles of her chest seized. Clutching her chest, Jill sobbed soundlessly.

  I’m sorry, a ghostly voice whispered from behind her. I’m so sorry.

  Jill turned quickly and found herself staring into the face of the spectral girl. With each soft breath, spittle leaked through the girl’s ruined cheek and dropped onto the sleeve of her blouse.

  The girl wasn’t alone either. Jill was surrounded by the decomposed specters of the cemetery. Their mouths moved but, like the girl, no sounds emerged. In staggering, shambling steps, the ghosts moved toward her.

  Bile rose in the back of her throat as hopelessness seeped into her mind. She drove her back against the fence and slid down to the ground, sobbing violently.

  “Stay away from me,” Jill cried, covering her eyes with her hands.

  She kept her hands over her eyes as she awaited the clawed fingers of the undead. As the realization that she wasn’t being attacked crept into her mind, she slowly lowered her hands and looked around. To her surprise, the corpses had stopped a few feet in front of her.

  The little girl stepped forward, stopping just outside Jill’s reach. The others remained where they were, standing stoically with their arms held down at their sides.

  Opening her mouth, the little girl began speaking again, her jaw mashing against the jagged wound on her cheek. Despite her insistence as she spoke, no sound emerged.

  Tears streamed down Jill’s face. “I don’t understand. What do you want?”

  It’s all my fault, a ghostly voice called out.

  The voice didn’t come from the little girl, or any of the other ghosts hovering around her. Jill wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked past the gathered specters.

  The spirits parted in front of her. Beyond the throng of apparitions, another spectral figure walked through the cemetery. The figure was female, but her silhouette was far less defined than the spirits nearby.

  Can you forgive me?

  The little girl gestured to the newest figure. Despite her apprehension, Jill walked through the parted crowd of ghosts and approached the newest figure. The closer she walked, the more defined the figure became.

  The woman’s dark hair fell over her shoulders, concealing her face. Her arm was cradled in a sling. A long black dress framed her body, hanging down below her knees.

  “Hello?” Jill whispered.

  The woman bent over, placing a single flower against a headstone. The headstone shimmered with the same unearthly light that permeated all the spirits in the cemetery.

  Jill tried to read the name on the headstone but the words danced in her vision, like she was trying to read the words through deep water.

  Standing again, the woman stared down at the ghostly grave.

  “Hello?” Jill said again. “Can you hear me?”

  The woman turned toward Jill. Jill’s eyes widened in surprise and her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Whitney?” Jill said through a choked sob.

  Jill rushed forward but Whitney’s spectral gaze wasn’t looking at her friend. As Jill tried to embrace her, she fell through the intangible figure and collapsed onto the weed-covered ground.

  Surprised, Jill pushed herself to a standing position. She reached out hesitantly and tried to touch the fabric of her friend’s black dress but her hand passed through unhindered.

  “What is this?” Jill asked, turning sharply on the little girl. “What does this mean?”

  The little girl tilted her head to the side knowingly. Jill shook her head at the implication.

  “No,” she said, a different wave of horror washing over her. “You’re wrong, if that’s what you think. Whitney isn’t dead. I was just with her.”

  The little girl stared at Jill with sad eyes.

  “I don’t believe you! You bring me here, scare the crap out of me, just to show me my dead friend? What is this, some Sixth Sense bullshit?”

  Jill shook her head. “No, she’s not dead. I was with her an hour ago. Is this a look at the future? Are you showing me what will happen to her? Fine, tell me what to do. Help me save her.”

  The little girl shook her head.

  “Please,” Jill pleaded, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Please just tell me how to save her. She’s my best friend. She’s all I’ve got.”

  Jill turned back to Whitn
ey, only to see her friend’s shadowy form retreating toward the cemetery’s gate.

  “No,” Jill demanded. “I won’t let you leave like this! Look at me, Whitney! Look at me!”

  Hurrying, she caught up with her friend. She furiously swiped through Whitney’s translucent figure over and over again without resistance.

  “Look at me!”

  Losing her balance on her last swing, Jill fell to the ground. She pounded her hand on the ground and cried into the grass.

  A shimmering glow illuminated the ground near her head. Looking up through teary eyes, Jill saw the young girl standing over her.

  “Help me,” Jill sobbed.

  The little girl simply shook her head.

  Angrily, Jill climbed to her knees so she was eye level with the girl. “She’s my best friend. You can’t have her. I won’t let her be dead!”

  The little girl shook her head again, an action that was mirrored by the other approaching apparitions.

  “Damn you! She can’t be dead! You brought me here to see this. Why would you do that if I can’t do anything to save her?”

  The little girl merely shook her head again.

  Jill felt the panic well inside her. She stood and turned back to Whitney, who had nearly reached the gate of the cemetery. Jill didn’t know what would happen if she let Whitney leave through the gate but her mind screamed that she needed to stop her.

  “Whitney! Whitney!” Jill screamed into the night air. She waved her hands over her head. “I’m right here—look at me!”

  Jill hurried to catch up but the little girl appeared before her, blocking her way. Beyond the girl, Jill could see Whitney getting closer to the exit.

  “Get out of my way,” Jill demanded angrily.

  The little girl shook her head, her eyes pleading even as her mouth moved wordlessly.

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Jill cried in frustration. “Don’t you get it? I don’t know what you’re saying!”

  The little girl pointed toward Whitney and the gate.

  Jill followed the girl’s gesture and saw Whitney paused by the closed doorway.

  Goodbye, Whitney said softly, her words carrying through the graveyard.

 

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