by Rick Suttle
I grabbed the back of Sarah’s blouse and tried to pull it loose from the door. The ghost banged against the door.
“Did you get it?” said Sarah.
“I’m trying.” Another loud thump!
The grayish white mist seeped through the bottom and sides of the narrow door. Then the large head appeared through the top of it. The spirit shouted something that I couldn’t understand. His neck and shoulders barged through the door. Arms formed again where the mist seeped in at each side. Then two ghostly hands reached for Sarah.
“Move over,” said Bill, as he lunged past me. He grabbed a knife from his belt and sliced the back of Sarah’s blouse. Sarah fell to her knees just as the entire mass of mist passed through the door. It reached for her ankles. Bill grabbed her arm. “Run.”
We darted through the two doorways between classrooms toward the annex hallway, as a loud rumbling sound thundered behind us.
“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! . . . AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Duck,” shouted Sarah, just after she turned and reached for the far doorknob. I saw her dive on the floor. Bill and I dropped to our knees and covered our heads as a desk flew over us and smashed into the front wall. We stayed down. Seconds later, two chairs whizzed by and crashed into the door.
Sarah stood and pulled the door open, kicking the two chairs aside. Bill and I jumped up at the same time and sped through it. I got through first . . . and then Bill. Sarah followed and slammed the door shut.
We tore through the annex hallway and didn’t stop until we got to the office. Mike was staring at the cameras when we walked in. He looked up.
“We got a picture of that thing,” he said. “The camera just flashed when it exited the annex hallway.”
“I didn’t set it on picture mode.”
“Well it flashed.”
“He’s following us,” said Sarah. “We have to go.”
Sarah grabbed a bottle of water. She had mixed something in it earlier but I didn’t know what. She repositioned her bag around her left shoulder and ran into the hallway.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Follow me.” Mike and I charged through the open door.
Sarah stormed up the main hallway to the first intersection near the restrooms. She removed the cap from the bottle, poured some in her hand and started sprinkling it outward. As I caught up to her, I heard her reciting the Lord’s Prayer.”
“Our Father, who art in heaven . . . hallowed be Thy name.”
I knew then that she was sealing that section of the hallway so the ghost couldn’t come through it.
“What’s going on?” said Bill, as he walked up to us.
“Sarah’s using salt to prevent the ghost from coming through. Salt is a pure substance that keeps spirits away. She’s using a mixture of holy water with it.”
“Is that a demon?” said Bill, his voice quivering.
“I’m not sure,” said Sarah. “But I have to treat it as such to be safe.” Sarah finished the prayer as she continued spreading the water. “Let’s get to the basement.”
Just after Sarah spoke, Bill said, “You kids go on. I’m going to guard the front door.” I know Bill was scared but he wasn’t doing us any good guarding the front door. But I was glad to get rid of him.
Mike was the first one at the elevator. He hit the “Down” button and the elevator pinged right away. We all rushed inside . . . then exited the elevator into the basement. We ran to the boiler room, where Sarah repeated what she’d done upstairs. Except this time, she sealed the entire room. She was five feet away from sealing the doorway, when the elevator pinged.
“Hurry up, Sarah. He’s coming,” said Mike.
“What kind of ghost keeps using an elevator?” I said—more to myself than the others.
Sarah poured the water and flicked it out as fast as she could. She finished sealing the doorway just as the ghost yelled something in the basement hallway. His voice echoed; he sounded even angrier than before.
She placed the bottle of salt water on the floor and turned toward the far wall. I pulled out the Ovilus. Sarah inched her way forward as not to frighten the child spirits. She stopped six feet from the wall. I stood in the middle of the room with my Ovilus extended forward.
“Theresa, are you here?”
Another growl and roar from the hallway. He was close.
“Theresa, I can help you move on as soon as I get rid of the evil man. But you’ve got to tell me what happened.” Sarah knew one of the things that kept the kids here was that they needed to tell their story. It was like unfinished business.
“He’s behind me,” shouted Mike. I looked back—almost sorry I had. The spirit stood in the doorway, its head surging to the hallway ceiling. It then lowered its large head and tried to penetrate the seal in the doorway. Seconds later, a clear bubbly-shaped indentation emerged from the center of the doorway. Then two smaller indentations formed below where the hands were.
“It might not hold,” said Sarah. “So keep sprinkling the water.”
“Mike.”
“I’m on it.”
Mike grabbed the bottle and started pouring and flicking the water through the doorway and on the floor below. He closed his eyes as he prayed. The angry spirit shouted and backed up into the hallway. I then heard a low growl rumbling behind Mike.
“Theresa, is the man in the hallway responsible for your death?” Sarah waited a few seconds, but I couldn’t hear any response on the Ovilus.
“Can you tell me . . . ?”
“Yes.” The electronic voice emitted from the Ovilus jolted me. Goosebumps formed on my arms and forearms, then streaked across my body. I suddenly felt chilled. I shivered. Sarah pitter-pattered her feet as the chill from the girl and other child spirits filled the air.
“Good, Theresa,” said Sarah. “Who is this man?”
“Master.” I watched the same digital word appeared on my Ovilus.
“Was he your schoolmaster?”
Nothing.
“Don’t be afraid, Theresa. Was the man in the hallway your schoolmaster?”
The ghost roared. He again tried to penetrate the door seal.
“Yes.”
“What was his last name?”
Theresa didn’t respond.
“What was his last name, Theresa? Please tell me.”
No response.
“I’m sensing that she’s afraid of the evil man, so she doesn’t want to reveal his name. I’ll have to communicate telepathically.”
Sarah dropped her hands at her sides and went into a trance. Something metal clanged in the hallway, followed by a roar.
“Dylan.”
“Yes, Sarah.”
“Try to remember this name. Wabbington . . . Joseph.”
Sarah was nodding.
“Accident?” said Sarah. “Okay.”
Mike and I listened. A deafening silence poured over the room for several seconds.
“I’m getting something here,” she said. “Theresa’s telling me that the schoolmaster punished the children by sending them back to that room in the corridor. He was mean but didn’t leave them back there on purpose.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Sarah had never gotten this much information from an investigation.
“They were back there when the flood came. The man got sick that day and had to leave. He forgot to tell the other teachers. Several kids went back to rescue the three children and couldn’t get back.”
Sarah moaned as she came out of her trance.
“The floods kept everyone away for over a week. The children froze to death because no one could rescue them.”
“That was the big mystery,” said Mike. “Jake Dansfield said nobody knew why they were left behind.”
“That’s the historian?” said Sarah.
“Yeah.”
Just then, a chair came flying through doorway. It struck the back wall and broke into a dozen pieces. The shattered wood clacked against the concrete floor.
&
nbsp; “We’ve got to get rid of this guy,” said Sarah.
“How?” said Mike. “By beating him up? Think again.”
A file cabinet drawer flew past Mike’s head, barely missing him.
“Come on,” I said, motioning the others toward the doorway.
CHAPTER 19
I peeked into the hallway. The ghost was six feet away to my right, so we couldn’t use the stairwell.
“Let’s go,” I shouted.
We all ran toward the elevator as fast as any of us had ever run. Just as Mike pushed the “Up” button, a spark shot out and the light went out.
I gazed down the hallway. The large mass was moving toward us. Sarah turned and took a few steps toward him.
“What are you doing?” said Mike.
“I know who you are, Joseph,” she shouted.
The mist started swirling in an upward motion, with streaks of dark objects running through the center of it. Then the arms branched out. Suddenly one arm thrust forward and a wrench came flying down the center of the hallway. Sarah ducked.
“Take cover,” I shouted.
Sarah backed up. Five seconds later, she dodged a hammer that zipped through the corridor and struck the back wall.
“Come on, Sarah.” I said. “We’ve got to retreat.”
Mike took off running and made a left down the adjacent corridor. This time, a screwdriver whirred through the air and bounced off the wall across from me.
“Missed me, you idiot,” Sarah bellowed.
“What are you doing? Let’s go.” I inched along the wall and tried to grab her. She waved me off.
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”
“He’s already angry, Sarah. Don’t aggravate the situation.”
This time, a hacksaw hummed by and bounced against the back wall, followed by another wrench.
“I’ve got to get him closer,” said Sarah.
“Why?”
“So he doesn’t blow out my sage when I light it.”
“You’re going to try and smudge him away now?” Sarah nodded, still gazing down the hallway. The ghost moved closer.
Suddenly the spirit started hurling screws and bolts at us. He tossed the objects with such force, it seemed as if they were fired from a gun.
Sarah and I both dove on the floor. We then got up and took off running. Mike was standing near the closet as we rounded the corner.
“Come on,” he said.
“It’s not safe this time,” said Sarah. “We’d be sitting ducks.”
“What’s the heck is he throwing now?” said Mike. “I heard all kinds of things bouncing around.”
“Stuff from the tool cabinet,” I said.
“But we were just in the boiler room. When did he get tools?”
“He probably got them after we left last week.”
“Smart cookie.”
“Shhhhhhhh!” said Sarah.
She pulled the bag off her shoulder and opened it. She fished around inside and pulled out one of the smudging sticks, a small bowl and lighter. She then lit the end of the smudging stick.
“Mike, run ahead and see where the entity is,” I said.
“No way. I’m not that stupid.”
“Whatever.” I trotted to the end of the wall and peeked around the corner. The mist was growing bigger. It was now near the elevator.
I waved my brother and sister forward.
Sarah held the bowl with the sage stick as smoke billowed from it. She started waving a feather over the bowl to spread the smoke around. She turned the corner and faced the ghost. I followed. Joseph, or whatever he was now, was ten feet away.
“You are dead, Joseph, and you no longer belong in this school,” said Sarah, as she waved the feather over the gray smoke. She walked toward the mist. “You must leave now.”
Joseph started to retreat as Sarah continued advancing. I didn’t know why Sarah was using the sage because you usually needed a window open to get rid of a spirit. Then I realized what she was doing.
Sage is repulsive to spirits. Some EVPs even suggested it burned them. The ghost roared and continued moving backwards.
I caught up with Sarah.
“I need to drive him into one of the rooms so we can open a window.”
“There’s one in the boiler room.”
“And in the room next to it,” said Mike.
“Yeah,” said Sarah. “We just need him to go in one of the rooms.
I hadn’t seen the other window. But the one in the boiler room was so dirty light couldn’t pass through it.
“What if they don’t open,” said Mike.
“Then we break them,” I said.
“AAAAAHHHHHHH,” Joseph shouted, as he continued retreating. He backed up to the boiler room doorway waving his ghostly arms. He suddenly disappeared.
“Where did he go?” said Mike.
“He’s gone,” I said.
“He’s in the boiler room,” said Sarah, as she looked down at her bowl. That’s when Mike, who had just walked ahead of us and was two feet from the doorway, jumped backwards. He ran into Sarah and knocked her on the floor. The bowl fell out of her hand and shattered on the cement floor. Sarah still held onto the smudging stick.
“The bowl’s broken,” I said.
“Sorry,” said Mike. He shook his head.
Sarah stood and held the smudging stick up.
“Where’s the feather?” she said. I saw it on the floor by her feet and picked it up.
“Here.” I handed it to her.
Sarah had just grabbed the feather, when the ghost surged into view through the boiler room doorway. She jumped. Just then the mist spread across the hallway and billowed to the ceiling.
“You must go now,” said Sarah, as she waved sage smoke with the feather. We stood behind her, ready to pull her back if Joseph grabbed her.
“Leave!” the spirit shouted.
“You must depart now . . . You no longer belong in this world.”
“Die!”
I pulled Sarah back by her blouse. “It’s not working.”
“It will,” she said.
Just then, the size of the foggy mist expanded and inched closer to Sarah. She had just waved the sage smoke toward Joseph, when he released a gust of air.
Sarah flew backwards and rammed into us, then we all fell on our behinds. She dropped the feather but held onto the sage.
Just as we stood, a second burst of air—one that was even stronger than the first— thrust all of us backwards. I couldn’t gain my footing as the air velocity increased. Sarah fell on her butt and did two backwards somersaults. She kept trying to stand but the force of the air kept pushing her backwards. She slid down the hallway floor on the seat of her pants. The flame of her smudging stick went. Mike and I rolled over several times before we regained our footing.
“Run,” she shouted, as she stood and darted for the adjoining corridor. She ran to the closet and waited for us. She then reached into her bag and pulled out another smudging stick.
“We’ve got to try again,” she said.
“He’s not budging,” said Mike. “We’re going to get ourselves killed.”
“We can force him into one of the rooms and make a run for it.” She handed smudging sticks to Mike and me and grabbed one for herself. She then lit them one by one.
“What about bowls?” said Mike.
“We don’t need them,” said Sarah. Just wave the smoke toward the spirit with your hand. The three of us should be able to push him back into the boiler room.”
We rounded the corner. Joseph’s massive but unrecognizable form stood by the elevator. His large angry face then turned when he saw us.
We approached the ghost standing side by side—with Sarah in the middle. She then moved a step ahead of us. The evil spirit turned its entire mass to face us.
We closed to within ten feet of Joseph, holding up our smudging sticks . . . and then five feet. That’s when he started retreating. Seconds later, I heard him moan as he continued reeling
backwards—his phantom arms waving in front of his face.
We backed the angry ghost to the boiler room doorway. Sarah jumped forward and shouted, “You get out of this school, Joseph. You hear me? You no longer belong here.”
She threw the sage at the misty form. The smudging stick passed right through its midsection and landed on the boiler room floor. The ghost backed up.
“Run,” said Sarah.
CHAPTER 20
We sprinted down the hallway and made a left into the back intersecting hallway, which led to the stairwell. Just as my foot hit the first step, I heard the ghost yell behind us.
“AAAAAHHHHHH! . . . AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
My Ovilus, which I had forgotten to turn off, started spitting out random words with its electronic voice detector.
“Kids . . . Gone . . . Angry!”
“Get . . . Out!”
“Die!”
“Will . . . Kill!”
We jumped the steps two at a time, zipping around the first landing and heading up the second flight of stairs. Just as we sped to the landing at the top of the steps, I noticed the door was back in place—the one we’d dissembled last week. I grabbed the handle. It was locked.
“We’re stuck again” I said.
“Who the heck put the door back up?” said Mike.
“I’d assume it was Bill.”
“What a moron!” said Mike. “Now what?”
“The smudging’s not working,” said Sarah, as she caught her breath. “And I don’t think anything else I have will work either.”
“What?” said Mike.
“You heard me.”
“What about the salt water?”
“I forgot it,” said Sarah. “And you had it last.”
“It’s still in the boiler room,” I said. “I saw Mike set it down when you were talking to Theresa.”
“What are we going to do?” Mike’s eyes widened—mouth open. His throat churned. He turned toward the door and started pounding on it with his fists.
“That’s not helping,” I said.
“Then what do you suggest?” said Mike. He stopped striking the door.
“The prayer, Dylan,” said Sarah. “The one you gave me.”