Scary House

by Sean Thomas Fisher

  Gavin’s face soured. “I’m not in trouble, and I’m not your man.”

  Laney rolled her eyes at Boone and pulled Kelly back by the hood. “Will you leave Gavin alone?”

  Kelly broke free and stepped closer, the smell of cherry lip gloss floating on her breath. “Do you need my help?” she asked, taking his hand and making Scotty giggle.

  Gavin yanked his hand back. “Do you mind?” he said crossly, sidestepping around her.

  She moved to block again, examining him with keen interest. “Let me trim your hair.”

  Scotty laughed harder.

  “What?” Gavin cried.

  “Just a little off the top.” She ran her fingers through his long bangs, causing Laney to usher her off to the side. “I’m sorry, Gavin. She’s all hopped up on ice cream.”

  Gavin blazed past without looking back, straightening his hair and grumbling under his breath.

  “Don’t be jealous of my Morrissey door poster, Gavin,” Kelly yelled after him, struggling against her sister’s grip. “He means nothing to me!”

  Scotty shot her a sideways look as he squeezed by. “You’re weird.”

  “You’re weird!”

  “Okay, time to go,” Laney smiled, towing Kelly by the arm. “Sorry guys, and if you’re not busy later, stop by and watch some movies.” Her red smile put a sparkle in her brown eyes. “We’ll be up late.”

  “Okay,” Boone replied, pulling up the collar on his jean jacket. “What’d ya rent anyway?”

  “Come on, Boone!” Gavin shouted from the top of the stairs. “We still have to drop Scotty off on the way!”

  “I thought he rode his bike.”

  “It’s too dark to ride home now. Let’s go!” Gavin galloped down the stairs and burst through a glass door, stopping at a faded silver and black Camaro parked out front. Tugging on the locked door handle, he glared at his angry reflection in the window, cursing Boone for not being outside yet.

  “I can do your hair, too, ya know.”

  Eyebrows dipping, Gavin slowly turned around.

  Scotty shrugged at him. “What? I’ve cut my cousin’s hair before,” he said, leaning his bike against the back of the car.

  Finally emerging from the building, Boone threw Scotty’s bike in the trunk and climbed inside. He slammed the heavy door shut with a metallic clang and leaned over to unlock Gavin’s door but Gavin prematurely yanked on the handle at the same time and the door remained locked. “Stop pulling!” Boone yelled through the window.

  “I’m not!”

  “You just did it again!”

  Gavin held his hands up like he was at gunpoint. “Do it now!”

  Boone popped the lock and Gavin threw the door back, striking Scotty in the knee. Scotty howled in pain and started hopping around on one foot, holding his injured leg like it might fall off. “You idiot, Gavin!”

  “Get in!” Gavin and Boone yelled at him.

  Scotty limped over and squeezed into the backseat, whining and moaning. Boone backed up and dropped it into gear, leaving trails of white smoke rolling across the parking lot. An old man out walking a German Sheppard shook a fist at them but Boone didn’t notice. He was too busy pushing a cassette tape in and cranking up Warrant’s I Saw Red loud enough to wake the dead. Easing back into the seat, Gavin couldn’t stop seeing that dated photograph of their bikes in his head. Somehow, something put it in that dusty photo album. His spine tingled just thinking about it.

  The same something waiting for him right now.

  Chapter Six

  Believe Us Now?

  Letting a branch swing back into place, Boone released a melancholy sigh. “I wonder what she’s doing right now.”

  “Who?”

  “Brenna.”

  Gavin pulled back from the pine tree, face masked in shadows. “Who cares! Let’s just get the camera and bail before Mom gets home.”

  “It’s Saturday night, which means she’s probably at the malt shop laughing it up with her friends, acting like we never happened.” Boone stared at the decrepit house during a thoughtful pause, voice falling to a shocked whisper. “How could she do that?”

  “Boone!” Gavin hissed. “Let it go already. And if you start singing that stupid Warrant song one more time I swear to God…”

  Eyes dialing back into focus, Boone cupped a hand over a flashlight and clicked it on, making his skin glow red with the blood coursing through his flesh. His eyes tightened into determined slits. “Go time.”

  Gavin looked back to the house glowing beneath a massive moon floating in space like a child’s lost balloon. The place looked completely different at night. Foreboding wasn’t a strong enough word, and when he thought about leaving the Polaroid Spectra AF in there like some kind of fool, he wanted to pull his hair out. This was the last thing he expected to be doing right now. “I want to kill myself for leaving that in there.”

  “Me too,” Boone solemnly replied, studying the house for a long moment. His head suddenly whipped around as if he heard something creeping up behind them. Staring at where the Camaro sat out of sight on the other side of the darkened field, he passed Gavin the flashlight. “Make it quick.”

  Slack jawed, Gavin stared at the light without taking it. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

  “Are you insane? This place is a death trap. I can smell it from here.”

  A cool breeze sent a quiver through Gavin. “Please, I…can’t do it alone.”

  Sighing, Boone stood up, unable to tear his eyes from the house. “I could seriously kill you right now. I mean, look at this place. Would you just look at it?”

  “Hey, at least you forgot about Brenna.”

  “Who?” Boone replied, giving his brother a faint smile and easing out into the backyard where every tree was a darkened silhouette holding a pitchfork or machete. The moon cast their cautious shadows out behind them. Dry leaves crunched beneath their feet as they waded through the tall weeds. The house watched their every move, seeming to brighten at their presence. Boone stopped at the backdoor and took a courageous breath before reaching for the doorknob.

  “Wait,” Gavin whispered, staring at the ground.

  Boone jerked the flashlight to a dirty penny lying tails up on the back steps.

  “What the heck?” Gavin mumbled, taking a step back.

  Boone bent over to pick it up.

  “No, don’t!”

  Jerking his hand back, he looked up. “What’s wrong?” he whispered through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t touch it.”

  “Why not?”

  Gavin stared at the coin as a thin cloud slipped over the moon, draping them in gray shadows. “I don’t know. Just…don’t.”

  Releasing a pent-up breath, Boone took a quick look around. The wind ran its fingers through the tall grass, making it appear as if something was burrowing closer.

  Gavin thrust an index finger out at Boone. “Behind you!”

  Boone spun on his heels, flashlight slicing through the darkness like a light saber. “Gavin, you dick,” he grumbled, hearing his brother’s muffled laughter.

  “Sorry,” Gavin giggled, trying to swallow his amusement. “I thought I saw something.”

  “Sure you did.” Composing himself, Boone tried the doorknob and, unlike with the realtor, it clicked right open. The flashlight’s beam bravely stepped inside first, roaming the outdated kitchen all by its lonesome. “Wow, I can’t believe someone hasn’t trashed this place by now,” Boone whispered, stepping inside and swinging the light from the rack of dishes to the old phone hanging on the wall. “This is so weird.”

  “I told you,” Gavin said, seeing the Hummel figurine and TV Guide lying right where Scotty dumped them on the countertop before racing out the backdoor. “It’s like whoever lived here just took off one day and never came back.”

  Boone yanked the light to Gavin’s face, making him shoot a hand up to block it. “Maybe they were murdered by some psychopath,” Boone coldly whispered. “Maybe their gho
sts are trapped here to this day.” He turned the light on his own face, making it glow. “Maybe they want you to come live with them because they’re tired of playing Clue by themselves,” he said, diving into a rolling bout of ghostly laughter.

  Arching an eyebrow, Gavin waited. “You done?”

  Boone took a deep breath and blew it out. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Crossing the kitchen, Gavin went into the dining room. “Ghosts can’t be trapped anyway. They can walk through walls.”

  Boone’s feet glided through the silvery shafts of moonlight slipping around the thin curtains. “No, I meant trapped in this world, left to wander the earth in shackles and chains. I read about a ghost like that in a book called Cold Summer Nights. That stuff can really happen.”

  Eyes snagging on the dining room table, Gavin noticed the squirrel salt shaker tipped on its side.

  “Hey, if ghosts can walk through walls,” Boone said, examining the place like a hard-boiled detective, “how come they don’t fall through the floor?”

  “Because they hover.” Gavin darted into the living room and slid to his knees on the green shag carpeting, squeezing in between the coffee table and couch while Boone wielded the flashlight around the room. Reaching into the darkness beneath the yellow couch, terrible thoughts of spiders and snakes tripped through Gavin’s mind as he blindly felt around.

  “Did you guys do this?”

  Gavin glanced over at the broken lamp in Boone’s ring of light. “Scotty bumped it after the realtor left,” he replied.

  Swinging the beam across the room, Boone lit up a child’s rocking chair and a nervous chuckle slipped past his lips. “This place is even creepier than Aunt Martha’s and I didn’t think that was possible with her urns of cat ashes and everything.”

  “Can you shine that light over here?” Gavin pulled something out from under the couch. “Ahh!” he cried, flicking the skeletal remains of a dead mouse off to the side.

  “If I were you, Gav, I’d just let that camera go at this point. God knows what else is under there.” Boone lit up the carpeting under the couch as Gavin’s hand dove back in. “There’s a reason why nobody has messed with this place over the years.”

  Gavin stopped and looked up at him. “And why’s that?”

  “Didn’t you ever see The Amityville Horror?” Turning, he headed for the dining room. “In fact, I’m leaving right now. That’s the first thing that family should’ve done.”

  “Boone!” Gavin stretched farther, lying on his stomach and reaching in up to his shoulder. Carpet fibers tickled his cheek. The smell of dirty socks reached his nose. His fingers came across what felt like a dried grape, then a wheel of some kind, followed by something that felt like fresh Play-Doh. “Got it!” he cried, coming back out with the camera wrapped in his dusty fingers. Popping it open, he gave it a quick scan for any signs of trauma. Sweet relief swelled inside his chest, opening his airways. “Yes!”

  “Nice!” Boone said from the dining room, gesturing with the light. “Now let’s go.”

  “Hang on! Don’t you want to see the picture of our bikes?”

  Curiosity pulled him back into the living room, like a moth to a flame. Directing the flashlight to the coffee table, he watched Gavin pull a photo album from the cavity in the middle.

  “This is it,” Gavin said, stuffing the camera into an inside coat pocket before losing it again. Boone crept closer, the flashlight gleaming off the plastic covered pages as Gavin flipped through them, taking another stroll down memory lane he didn’t wish to take. He flipped faster, until reaching the very end. Staring at the last page in utter disbelief, his heart banged against the Polaroid inside his coat. “It’s gone,” he whispered, turning back to the first glossy page.

  “What’s gone?”

  “The picture of our bikes.”

  Boone straightened up and swung the light around the room, bored with the results. “You guys were just trippin. I’ve already seen a doll with pigtails sitting in that rocking chair and an old man playing the piano. Now let’s get out of here while we still can.”

  Gavin flipped through more pages, reliving the mother’s slow nosedive into depression all over again. Shaking his head, he stopped where he thought the picture had been. But instead of their bikes laying in the bushes out back, there now sat a photo he didn’t recall seeing the first time around. It was the little boy again, this time riding a chipped-up merry-go-round with skeletal trees and dark clouds looming in the distance. Jeffrey’s coat was zipped so tightly, he looked like he was suffocating. His mother stood on the other side of the merry-go-round, arms wrapped in a dark shawl, staring at the camera through vacant eyes.

  “Gavin?”

  Gavin tried shaking off the goose bumps sprouting along his flesh and turned the page, desperate to escape those haunting eyes. “It’s got to be here,” he insisted, squinting in the faint glow from the flashlight that needed new batteries. “We all saw it! I should’ve taken it.” He cringed, realizing he just let a prime supernatural opportunity slip right through his fingers. The pages slapped harder. It had to be here. Had to.

  “Gavin!”

  “What!” Looking up from the photo album, his heart skipped a beat. Boone was a junior in high school and used to have a real-life girlfriend and nothing scared him. But the look on his brother’s face defied everything Gavin had come to know and believe. Following Boone’s horrified stare to a framed photograph on the wall above the couch, he got to his feet and went closer. The flashlight beam tightened on an old black and white picture of Boone’s Camaro parked on the gravel road where they just left it, spiking Gavin’s fear. His blood pumped faster when he noticed the family that used to live in this house staring back from the other side of the car, their moonlit faces cold and blank. The father stood off to the side, the wind tugging at his jet-black hair while the mom glared at the camera through soulless eyes that followed them wherever they went in the room.

  “The hell is this?” Boone croaked, finally finding his voice.

  Gavin pulled out the camera, popped it open and took a picture of the old photograph. The motor whirred, lazily spitting out a dark image that would need a minute or two to develop. It was imperative his friends see the framed picture of Boone’s car hanging on the wall of this Godforsaken house, because it would convince them that Gavin had been right all along. Supernatural chaos was, in fact, turning this town upside down. “Believe us now?” he whispered, meeting Boone’s horror-stricken gaze.

  Staggering backwards, Boone’s voice came out in a shaky whisper. “Let’s get out of here.”

  A loud thump pulled their eyes to the ceiling, gluing them in place.

  “What was that?” he barely said, lighting up the cobwebs dangling from the darkened ceiling light.

  Gavin looked to the staircase, barely noticing his breath rushing out in white plumes as his eyes reluctantly climbed the steps. “Something upstairs.”

  Boone jerked the flashlight to the top of the staircase where Gavin expected to see a man standing at an awkward angle with an axe hanging heavy in one hand. Instead, the beam disappeared down the upstairs hallway into the darkness. “Something like what?”

  Swallowing dryly, Gavin turned back to the photograph hanging above the couch. “The same something that did that.”

  Boone followed his brother’s gaze to the framed photo of the unhappy family standing by his car. Clearing his throat, he looked at Gavin. “Okay, time to go.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ghost Goggles

  The harvested cornfield was bumpy with six-inch stalks jutting from the oil-black dirt in regular intervals, making it an awkward walk back to the Camaro. Not as awkward, however, as the framed photograph of Boone’s car haunting their thoughts. A shooting star scratched the black sky as a heavy silence settled around Gavin like a thick morning fog. His uneven footsteps turned him into a zombie limping through the night, inching painfully closer to the road they couldn’t yet see.

  “What if they�
��re waiting by the car?” Boone asked again, straining to see up ahead. The moon slipped behind another passing cloud and, suddenly, it was dark. Country dark. But Boone still wouldn’t turn on the flashlight, preferring to slip off the property unnoticed instead.

  “They’re not.” Gavin glanced at his brother and turned back to his footing. “They weren’t waiting by our bikes earlier today, so I doubt it.”

  “Yeah, but you said the family wasn’t in the picture with your bikes…right? But they were with my car.”

  Swallowing what he was about to say next, Gavin let the conversation morph into a dreadful silence that left him fighting off one morbid thought after another. Bats whizzed by overhead, using high frequency chirps to avoid colliding with his face before fluttering back into the night. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to wrap his mind around the impossible. He was ecstatic to have proof of the framed picture but terrified of what might be waiting by the car. The moon popped out again, throwing their shadows ahead of them and Gavin couldn’t help but feel like they were walking into a trap. He looked up and saw the faint glow of the gravel road cutting through the darkness in the distance, a pale gray streak running through the night.

  Boone slowed down. “Are they there?” he whispered, hair blowing in his face.

  “I don’t think so,” Gavin replied, squinting at the silver and black Camaro that now just looked black. “I can’t really see.”

  Boone grunted. “Why didn’t we bring a weapon?”

  “You can’t stab a ghost.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I…” Gavin shut his mouth and wondered if this tar-black field would be the last thing he ever saw. In what could be his final moment on this planet, he found himself wondering who would come to his funeral. Would the whole school come? Or just his immediate family and friends? Would more people come to his funeral than Aunt Martha’s? Exhaling a calming breath, he stumbled over a stalk. Probably not more than Aunt Martha’s funeral. That church was packed with old people and, unless the whole school came, Gavin couldn’t compete with her longtime circle of friends.