In one back corner of the laundry room, there was as window. It looked as though it had once been a door, but was now boarded up so that only the top of the door was open, leaving a small square window. If you looked through that window, you would find another room, a room almost completely filled with dirt. Dirt. It seemed as though the very earth resented the house and was taking back its rightful place, taking over the basement, room by room. Kate shivered thinking about it.
“Somebody go get a flashlight,” Seth said.
Lucy turned to go, then stopped. “Marie, come with me.”
“No, go yourself,” Marie said.
“I’ll go. Come on,” Kate said. The two girls ran up the stairs, returning only seconds later with a flashlight.
“Hmm,” Seth said as he peeked through the opening.
“What?” Kate asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer. Still, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to see into the room. Yes, the room was still filled with dirt. Peering into the room, she could see only the top of the rock wall and the dingy wood ceiling. The rest of the room was filled completely, a flat surface of hard packed dirt. So weird.
“Looks normal.” Seth said. The beam of the flashlight illuminated the corners of the room.
“I can’t see!” Marie whined.
Kate chewed on her lip for a moment. “Seth?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm, despite the fact that her body was shaking so hard that her vertebrae were rattling like canastas.
“Yeah.”
“Stupid question. Where did all these rocks come from? How did they get thrown around like that, hard enough to dent the washing machine? I mean, you’re a smart guy. What’s the most logical explanation?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have any idea.” Seth said as his turned off the flashlight. He actually looked worried. Kate had not seen him interested in anything in weeks, so it was almost refreshing to see him nervous.
“A guy at school told me that our house was….” Kate trailed off. She really didn’t want to sound like an idiot.
“What?” Seth asked.
“Oh, he said that this house was haunted. Silly, huh?” It didn’t seem so silly now. Kate looked at her sisters and brother. They all stood silent and stared at her. Nobody wanted to validate that theory, apparently. Nobody denied it either.
“Um, guys?” Lucy said softly. “What should we do with all these rocks? I mean, do we just leave them here and tell Mom and Dad when they come home? Or, should we, I don’t know, put them back?”
“They won’t believe us, will they?” Kate said, looking from her sisters to her brother. “They’ll think we had some sort of group hallucination.”
“Or they’ll think we went out into the yard, collected rocks, and then threw them around the laundry room for fun,” Marie added with a sneer.
Seth heaved a great sigh. “You’re probably right. They won’t believe it. I’m not sure I believe it.”
“Well,” Kate said, her lip still quivering, “let’s put them in a pile, I guess. So nobody trips over them.” She picked up a rock and tossed toward the back wall. It rolled for a second, then came to rest in a deep shadow. Kate could barely see it now. She picked up another rock, flipping it toward the back wall. Her sisters and brother began to do the same. Pretty soon, the laundry room was clear.
“Let’s go,” Seth said, and turned to leave the room. His sisters followed closely. They clamored up the stairs and back into the bright kitchen. Seth turned out the light and closed the basement door firmly.
“What do we do now?” Lucy asked.
“Now, we watch a movie and eat popcorn. What else can we do?” Kate retrieved the now cold popcorn from the microwave. It smelled slightly burned. She dropped it into the trash and got another one from the pantry.
“I’m going back to my room,” Seth said, and with that, he disappeared up the stairs.
*
Kate couldn’t get the rocks out of her head. She kept hearing the sound, over and over again, the sound of all those rocks being thrown around the room. Haunted? Is that why the house was so cheap? As she brushed her teeth that night, she decided to make a phone call in the morning. It made her feel a little better, like she had a plan.
It was already late, but Kate had her nightly business to complete. She reached for her paper and pen and jotted a quick letter to Jacob. She did not tell him about the rocks. He probably wouldn’t believe her either. In fact, she wasn’t sure now what had happened. Tired and cold, she wrapped herself up in her comforter and curled up on the bed.
But sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed left, tossed right, lay flat on her back, put a pillow between her knees, lay on her stomach, tried deep breathing exercises, imagined herself in a shady wood, pictured herself in a rowboat on a calm pond, and tried breathing deeply again. She couldn’t help thinking about the strange happenings in the house. What was next? She didn’t want to know.
After an hour, she decided to have a snack. She padded softly down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. She filled a bowl with cereal and poured on milk. Glancing at the basement door, and satisfied that it was still firmly shut, she headed for the family room where she turned on the television and flopped into her father’s favorite chair, releasing a puff of air that smelled like a combination of aftershave and kielbasa.
The late-night talk shows were already over, but she found an infomercial for old love songs from the sixties. She found the music comforting and innocent. Kate listened to the songs and watched the titles zip across the screen, mindlessly eating her cereal. After a few minutes, keys jangled in the lock of the back door. Matt, back from his weird date thing, saw Kate and made his way into the family room.
“Hey, sis. What are you doing up?” He stole the remote control from the arm of Kate’s chair and flopped onto the couch, flipping through the channels.
“Couldn’t sleep.” She told him about the rocks in the basement. Matt looked at her with complete disbelief. “Go see them for yourself, if you want. They’re still down there in the basement. I’m not going down there, but you can.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. Obviously, Matt wasn’t very concerned. Maybe Kate should worry less too.
“How are the twins?” she asked, changing the subject.
“They’re a lot of fun.”
“Do you have a favorite?” Kate couldn’t help teasing him a little.
“I think I do. Marcy. She has lighter hair and a tiny mole on her cheek.” He continued flipping through the channels. “I’m glad she has that mole or I’m not sure I could tell them apart. That could really get a guy in trouble.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Could be fun trouble.”
“Do you like it here, Mattie?” she asked him.
“It’s okay.”
“Do you miss Nebraska?”
He sighed and said, “Every day.”
Kate slurped down the last of her milk. Saying goodnight to Matt, she made her way up the stairs and again curled up in bed, hopeful that sleep would come soon.
*
Kate dreamed. She was walking in a field. She knew she was wearing a long dress, because she could feel the material swishing around her legs. As she walked, she noticed that the sky was dark and ready to burst with rain. Just then, sprinkles began to fall. She felt them flicking lightly at her face. She turned her head up and breathed deeply. The moist air felt good in her lungs.
She continued on her walk, not knowing where she was headed, but not concerned with her destination either. The area seemed familiar, like she had walked these fields before. Ahead, she saw a building. An old barn, she thought. She decided to head for it. As she drew near, she suddenly heard a low growl.
Instinctively, she froze. She listened intently, trying to locate the origin. It sounded like a dog. A big dog. Without moving the rest of her body, Kate slowly turned her head to each side. Nothing. The low, rumbling continued, only ceasing when the dog stopped to take a breath. Then, Kate heard the intensity increase,
the growl became more ferocious. She knew the dog was about to pounce. Panicking, she snatched up her skirt and turned to run.
Kate awoke, sweaty and breathing heavily. Beside her bed, the alarm clock suddenly began to buzz loudly, startling Kate so violently that she reached out and whacked the clock, knocking it to the floor.
7.
“Patrick, it’s Kate Gilbert from school.” She had thrown on a pair of jeans and Jacob’s football jersey and tossed her hair into a pony-tail. She had called Chris first to get Patrick’s phone number. Chris had sounded sleepy, like he wasn’t used to getting phone calls at ten in the morning on a Saturday.
“Kate? What’s up?’
“Remember how you said my house was haunted?”
“Yeah,” Patrick said. He didn’t sound sleepy at all.
“Well, something very strange happened here last night. I was wondering, since you know about this kind of stuff….” She didn’t know Patrick very well. It felt funny to be asking for his help. “Maybe you want to come over and see it.”
The phone was quiet for a few moments. “Cool. I’ll be right over,” he said and hung up.
*
He showed up in his usual gray trench coat, although it was a warm, sunny morning. He also had a briefcase. His long hair was pulled back into its typical ponytail.
“What’s in there?” Kate asked, pointing to the briefcase.
“Uh, just some reference material.”
“Oh. Hey, do you want some soda or anything?” Kate offered.
“Do you have coffee?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“I’ll take a cup. Black,” he said as he laid his briefcase on the dining room table. Black coffee? Yuck.
“Listen,” Kate said as she brought him a cup of steaming black coffee. “My mom and dad don’t know anything about it. If we see them, you’re just here to work on a class project. We’ll tell them that we’re, I don’t know, doing research.”
“Okay. What happened?”
Kate motioned her head toward the kitchen and began to walk toward the basement door.
“This is a great house,” he said.
She grunted in response. The beauty of the house had begun to fade for her.
As they stomped down the old stairs, Patrick pulled a camera out of his trench coat pocket and looked through the viewfinder. This was no cheap digital camera either. It was expensive and complicated looking, Kate noticed. Patrick twirled the dials and stood back. The flash was blinding in the dark basement.
“Why are you taking pictures?” Kate asked.
“This is a really cool basement,” he said, snapping photos of the small hallway. “Besides, you never know,” Patrick said, putting his camera back into his pocket.
Kate turned the corner and walked into the laundry room, flipping on the light. Patrick followed. Kate explained about the clamor, the crashing of rocks against the walls. The rocks were still lying in a pile.
“Wow, this is so cool,” he whispered, turning to her. Kate noticed that, probably for the first time, Patrick smiled at her. A nice improvement, she thought. She liked him better already.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Kate said sarcastically. “What does it mean? What do I do about it?”
Patrick didn’t respond, but instead continued photographing the room and the pile of rocks. Kate hid her eyes, protecting them from the white flash.
“What’s in there?” he asked, gesturing toward the window to the dirt room.
“Take a look,” she said.
The room was dark, but enough light filtered through that they could see the smooth surface of the dirt.
“That is so bizarre,” Patrick said and snapped a picture. He turned and looked around the laundry room again. “Have you ever noticed this?” he said, peering closely at the rocky walls.
“What?”
“There’s a funny, shimmery kind of paint on some of these rocks.”
“There is?” Kate said, leaning in closer to Patrick. He smelled nice, like fruity shampoo.
“Yeah, I wonder what this is.” He leaned back, snapped a picture and moved to the left. “Look, there’s more over here and over there.” He looked around the room. “The whole room is covered in it. It’s hard to see until you get up close, but it’s there.”
“Hmmm, what could it be?”
Patrick took several more pictures, then they both proceeded back up the stairs to the dining room. Patrick picked up his cooling cup of coffee and gulped it down.
“I’ve heard about things like this, but I’ve never seen it before,” Patrick said. This was the first time Kate ever saw him excited about anything.
“Me either, until last night.”
Patrick opened his briefcase and pulled out an old book with a split spine. Kate noticed the title was Dictionary of the Weird. He flipped to the end of the book and stopped on the S’s.
“Here we go. ‘The Stone-Throwing Ghost.’ I thought I remembered something about stones and ghosts,” he said.
“Ghosts, great,” she murmured as she leaned over Patrick’s shoulder to read.
Stone-throwing ghosts have presented themselves throughout history, the most famous of which occurred in 1895 on a quiet street in Chicago. During an evening get-together, stones began to appear from nowhere and were hurled at the guests at high velocity. No one was seriously injured in the attack, but several people were struck by the rocks and had the bruises to prove it.
Another occurrence happened on Long Island, New York, in fall of 1922 when a socialite couple complained to their friends of strange happenings in their new house. A paranormal study was conducted, during which rocks were occasionally pitched at the researchers from thin air. Investigations into the origin of the rocks were inconclusive.
In both of these situations, as throughout paranormal history, most rock-throwing occurs when guests are in the house. But on several reported occasions, rock-throwing took place when the homeowners were alone, or when the house was empty. Both families suffered rock-related injuries and both families returned home on occasion to find rocks strewn about the floor of their home.
Rock-throwing ghosts seem to be agitated spirits, unhappy with their situation. The throwing of stones seems to give them an outlet for their discomfort.
“Agitated spirits, unhappy with their situation?” Kate spoke the last words aloud. “Oh, great. I’m living in a house with agitated spirits,” she said.
“I think you’re right,” Patrick said, calmly.
“There’s something else.”
Patrick looked at her with interest.
“The other night, I could swear that my chandelier over my bed moved by itself.” Kate felt silly even saying it. Kate hoped he wouldn’t laugh at her.
He didn’t. “Hmm,” was all he said, chewing on his lip.
“I mean, it didn’t just wiggle or sway. It circled and twirled, and then without me doing anything, it just stopped. I just sat there and watched it the whole time.” She paused and watched him intently. “Do you think we’re in trouble? I mean, could it get dangerous?”
“It’s possible that there’s a spirit in this house that doesn’t want you here. I mean, the house has been vacant for a while. And before you moved in, only the Blacker family lived here. They lived here for, like, a hundred years. Apparently they were okay, but your family is not.” Patrick paused and ran his hand over his head and down his long ponytail. “This could be just the beginning.”
*
Patrick left minutes later to return home, citing chores to complete for his father, but he promised to peruse his other “reference materials” for occasions of stone-hurling.
Kate also had chores to do. Kate always felt that, after a long week of school and homework, Saturday was time to relax and have fun. Unfortunately, Kate’s mother didn’t see it that way.
This Saturday morning was a flurry of activity. The two oldest boys were recruited for unpacking and organizing the garage. A tough job, but the girl
s would have equally tedious unpacking and other chores in the house. Mom recruited Kate for unpacking the rest of Dad’s books. Kate initially objected to this task, but after a while, Kate lost herself in categorizing and then alphabetizing books. Pretty soon, the books were all unpacked. She stopped for a soda and a sandwich.
Just as she finished, Mom approached her with a bucket. “Done? Good. Now you’re going to the clean the chandeliers.”
“What?” Kate asked whiningly. “Why? They’re way up on the ceiling, way up there. Nobody notices them.”
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