Ghost Stories from Hell

by Ron Ripley

  His steps carried him to a tall headstone, and he crouched behind it to look at the trio.

  Noah recognized two of them, Hu and Connor. The third was an old man, roughly the same age as Hu if Noah had to guess. A dull white substance caught his eye and Noah scanned the area around the men and the headstone.

  One of them had created a large circle made up of what looked like rock salt. Noah stared at it for a moment and wondered if it was, and if so, then why it would be around a grave?

  The question was too much for his inebriated brain to handle, so he didn’t.

  Movement close to the ground caught his eye, and he turned his head to watch what looked like the tail-end of a rabbit slip into the darkness. Other, similarly sized shapes moved in the shadows, and Noah shook his head. He would need to contact Park and Recreation in the morning, if he remembered, and tell them about the rabbit problem in the cemetery.

  Noah shook his head and thought. Enough distractions.

  He took a deep breath, stood up and advanced toward the grave. He stepped over the salt with his right foot, but stumbled and broke the continuity of the line with his left.

  “Stop!” Noah commanded, the word slurring as he spoke.

  The three men looked at him, staring, surprise on their faces.

  Hu’s gaze went to the line of salt, and his surprise became fury.

  “What have you done?” Hu demanded.

  Before Noah could answer, something struck him in the small of his back and knocked him to him knees. As he struggled to his feet, the creatures he thought were rabbits barreled towards him.

  In a heartbeat, he realized they weren’t rabbits, and with that realization came shock as the creatures transformed into people and moved past him.

  A heavy blow landed against the back of his head, and the world went black around him.

  Chapter 50: Defending Themselves, August 16th, 2016

  Connor dropped the shovel, waves of fear threatening to push him to his knees. A deeper, more primal part of himself screamed for him to run, to race for the fence and scramble over it. Hu’s house would be safe. The statues around and within it would protect him.

  But Connor knew he couldn’t run.

  He had to stand and fight.

  Hu depended on him.

  Clenching his hands into fists, Connor stepped forward and swung a wide, clumsy punch towards a ghost. It was a man in his early forties, wearing a business suit and a Boston Red Sox baseball hat.

  The ghost, with a smile of twisted joy on his face, leaped towards Connor, allowing Connor’s blow to pass through him.

  The dead man’s eyes widened with rage before he vanished.

  A fierce joy surged through Connor and the adrenaline that had demanded he flee suddenly changed, urging him to fight. Connor had never had much cause to fight while living in the facility, and so his punches were amateurish, and poorly thrown, but they were thrown. Some of them even connected. His focus was upon the ghost in front of him, and he rarely noticed either Hu or Lloyd.

  Connor turned to find another ghost, and he saw the detective, Noah Rattin, get to his feet. Yet the man’s eyes were disturbing. In the moonlight, they looked almost silver, as if the pupils were gone.

  Connor watched as the detective staggered forward, reached out, and grasped Lloyd’s arm. The old man turned, a shocked expression on his face.

  Noah brought his fist back and struck the old man in the face, knocking him out. The detective allowed Lloyd to collapse to the ground and faced Hu, raising his fists to strike the man.

  “No!” Connor commanded. “Stop!”

  All of the ghosts stiffened, and Noah did as well. They looked at Connor, horror etched on their dead faces.

  Hu faced Connor and said in an awed tone, “Tell them to leave.”

  “Get out,” Connor spat. “Go away.”

  The ghosts vanished, and Noah’s silver eyes rolled up in his head as he fell backward, landing with a thump on the ground.

  Hu shook his head as he asked, “Can you get the detective onto his feet and out of here?”

  “I think so,” Connor answered.

  “Good,” Hu stated, “I will carry Lloyd. I do not know how much time we have, I suggest we move as quickly as possible.”

  Connor could only nod in agreement as he picked up Noah.

  He half dragged, half carried the unconscious detective towards the gate. And as he did so, Connor’s mind raced, trying to understand why the dead had listened to him.

  He tried to understand what was going to come next in the strange new world he had been thrust into. And wondered if he would survive it.

  Chapter 51: Explanations, August 16th, 2016

  Both the detective and Lloyd were unconscious, and Connor worried that the men should be brought to the hospital and not kept in the kitchen. The two of them were stretched out on the floor, but Hu had assured Connor they would be fine.

  While he trusted Hu, Connor was still concerned for their well-being.

  He and Hu sat in the garden, their chairs turned to face the kitchen. They had been quiet for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “I didn’t see my mother there,” Connor said, interrupting the silence and unable to keep the horror out of his voice.

  “I did,” Hu replied.

  Connor glanced at him, wondering how the man could be so unperturbed by what they had experienced in the cemetery. He pushed the thought away, cleared his throat, and asked, “How are we going to find a bead in a grave?”

  Hu let a small, wry smile slip and he said, “We will feel it. You more than the rest of us, I think.”

  The tone of the man’s voice made Connor ask another question, one that had arisen only recently.

  “Hu,” Connor said, “why did the ghosts listen to me?”

  The older man looked down at his teacup for a moment, then smiled and said, “Do you recall when your mother spoke about your sweetness?”

  Connor nodded. The memory was an uncomfortable one.

  “There is something special about you, Connor,” Hu said, “something that attracts the dead to you. There is a purity to you that draws them like moths to the proverbial flame. Yet at the same time, they seem bound to listen to your commands. This is an aspect to you that we need to explore further, my young friend.”

  The sliding door that led from the kitchen to the garden opened, and Detective Noah Rattin stepped out. In the glow of the exterior light, the officer looked queasy, his face pale and his forehead slick with sweat. His gait was unsteady, and when he reached them, Noah sank down and sat on the ground.

  He blinked several times and asked, “What happened?”

  “In the cemetery?” Hu inquired.

  Noah nodded, wincing as he did so.

  “Ghosts, Detective,” Hu replied. “They made an appearance, and when you broke the salt line, you let them in. We were attempting to retrieve an item.”

  “You were robbing a grave,” Noah retorted, closing his eyes. “Someone hit me on the back of the head. And it sure wasn’t a ghost.”

  “Believe what you want,” Hu said, turning his attention back to Connor, “we have little time for the likes of you.”

  Noah frowned. “Ghosts don’t exist.”

  “Ghosts,” Hu snapped, “are what killed Lieutenant Ward. There is no other explanation. I do not believe she fell through her own fault.”

  Noah’s face grew whiter, but he didn’t argue the point. He swallowed and asked, “How can there be ghosts?”

  Hu chuckled. “Better to ask why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, young man. For some questions, there are no answers. Ghosts are one of them.”

  “Tell me this,” Noah said, looking at Connor, “did you know there was a body in your house when you set it on fire?”

  Connor kept his gaze steady as he lied. “I didn’t set my house on fire.”

  Noah snorted, shook his head, and said, “Sure.”

  “Connor!” a woman yelled.<
br />
  Connor stiffened while Noah looked around, frowning.

  “Don’t answer,” Hu whispered. “Let her fester beyond the dogs. It will keep her off balance, which is how we want her when we retrieve the bead.”

  “Connor!”

  “Who’s yelling?” Noah asked. “Why aren’t you answering her?”

  “That’s my mother,” Connor whispered.

  “Bull!” Noah snorted. “Your mother’s dead.”

  “Yes,” Connor agreed, “but look.”

  He pointed to a spot beyond the nearest dog statue, where his mother stood and glared at them.

  The detective let out a string of curses that brought a laugh from Connor’s mother as she took a step closer to them.

  “Tell me, Connor,” she said, “what did you do to us in the cemetery?”

  “Not enough,” Connor replied.

  “Perhaps not, my sweet, little boy,” she agreed, “but let’s talk a little more about it, shall we? Come to your mother, let me hold you. If only for a little while.”

  Connor shuddered and looked away as Detective Rattin got to his feet and walked towards the edge of the garden, an expression of disbelief on his face.

  Connor wondered if the man would be foolish enough to step beyond the dogs. Then he realized the detective didn’t know about the statues, but before he could react, Hu was on his feet, racing for Noah.

  Connor’s mother smiled, beckoning the detective to come closer.

  Chapter 52: Detective Rattin and Disbelief, August 16th, 2016

  Noah saw the woman at the edge of the garden, standing in a shadow and not quite visible. He knew it couldn’t be Connor’s mother because he had read the report about her death. Why Connor would say the unknown female was his deceased mother wasn’t something Noah was concerned with.

  He wanted to know who she was, if she had anything to do with Meg’s death, and he was tired of listening to the lies coming from the two men about ghosts.

  Noah had walked only a few steps towards the woman when someone grabbed his arm and stopped him. The grip was like a vice, each finger digging deep into him, the pain sharp and ripping a gasp from him.

  Noah twisted around, tried to free his arm, and got ready to yell at Hu.

  The look on the man’s face was as hard as his grip. There was no humor in it, or in his voice when he spoke.

  “Detective Rattin,” Hu said, “let me assure you that the woman you see before you is dead and that she would like nothing more than to kill you.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” the woman said, laughing. “He’s jealous that my attention is on you. And what woman wouldn’t be interested in a man such as yourself? A police officer and handsome. Yes, come closer, Detective, I think we would have a great deal to talk about.”

  A curious tingle rose up in his stomach, and Noah glanced from her back to Hu.

  The old man shook his head, took a small flashlight out of his pocket, turned it on, and aimed it at the woman.

  Noah couldn’t tell if she was attractive. He didn’t notice the color of her hair or the clothes she wore. All of the identifiers he had been taught to notice as an officer were forgotten as he stared at the light.

  The beam passed through her, illuminating the shrubs behind her. She didn’t cast a shadow, and when she saw his face, the strange woman let out a laugh.

  “A shame, is it not?” she asked. “But there are still ways I can entice you, Detective. Come a little closer, and we can discuss it.”

  Hu leaned close to him and whispered, “Ask her to come to us.”

  Noah did so, and the woman sneered at him.

  “Don’t listen to him,” she snapped. “Come to me.”

  Noah shook his head; the idea that Hu and Connor might be right was gaining credence.

  “You come here,” Noah said. “Step into the garden. I’ll get us each a beer.”

  The woman sneered as she replied, “You’re a coward, and worse than a child. Why are you listening to that old fool?”

  Noah’s head had cleared from both the blow received at the cemetery and the alcohol he had consumed earlier.

  “No,” Noah replied, “I don’t think so. And from what I can see so far, Hu here has his head on straight. Who are you?”

  The woman scoffed, then answered the question. “I’m the boy’s mother, although he’s a little older than when I died.”

  “Why are you here?” Noah asked, a chill racing up his spine and settling into the base of his skull.

  “I’m hungry,” she whispered, “so hungry, Detective. Do you understand that? Have you ever been so hungry that you couldn’t stop trying to eat, and when you were eating you couldn’t put the fork down? That’s how hungry I am. How hungry we all are.”

  “How many of you are there?” Noah asked.

  She smiled. “Enough. More than enough. Eventually, you’ll leave this little garden, Detective, this small oasis. When you do, one of us will be waiting for you. And then we’ll feed.”

  Noah’s stomach twisted, sick with a growing fear. He had a horrifying image of the dead devouring his flesh.

  “We will eat you,” she continued, and a wicked grin spread across her face, “and I will shred your flesh, leave it hanging from the trees in the cemetery. How do you think your colleagues will react to that?”

  Noah didn’t have an answer.

  But Connor did.

  The man had appeared at Noah’s side, and the woman smiled at him.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” she said.

  “Be quiet,” Connor said in a soft voice.

  His mother’s eyes widened and looked at him with a shocked expression. She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t open. Terror filled her eyes.

  “You’re going to return to the cemetery,” Connor said, staring at the ground. “You will not speak to any of the others. You won’t do anything except remain in Pine Grove. You will wait there until you are freed.”

  Noah watched the woman as Connor spoke. She shook her head and tried to pry her mouth open with her hands. Despite all of her efforts, she wasn’t able to speak. Her hands fell limp to her sides, and she glared at her son in silence.

  Connor didn’t look at her.

  “Go now,” he said, “and remember what I said. You will not speak or communicate in any way with the others in the cemetery.”

  Noah watched as the woman vanished.

  Hu let go of him, went to Connor, and patted the man on the back.

  “Well done,” Hu said. Then, to both Connor and Noah, he inquired, “Would either of you like some tea?”

  Noah could only nod. The world had become much darker than he had ever imagined.

  Chapter 53: A Bad Night’s Sleep, August 17th, 2016

  Later in the night, after Connor’s mother had been cast back to Pine Grove Cemetery, Hu had explained the circumstances behind Feng and the beads to Noah. While the detective still appeared skeptical at times, he kept his thoughts to himself. When Hu had shared a great deal of information about the dead man, they had found separate places to sleep in the house. Connor had fallen asleep on the couch, Rex on the floor beside him. Lloyd had been helped upstairs, and Noah had stretched out on some blankets in the kitchen.

  Connor had woken up several times, each preceded by a nightmare of his mother and father. In the dream, his parents had chased him through the cemetery. Dozens of silver foxes had darted out from behind headstones and trees, cutting off his escape and forcing him deeper into the cemetery, which had become limitless. The light had been a dull, hazy gray, the morning sun revealing each new horror.

  Finally, unable and unwilling to sleep any longer, Connor had gone into the kitchen. Rex had followed him, laid down beside the detective, and returned to sleep.

  Connor gave the dog a wistful glance, then went about making breakfast. By the time he had finished, Hu arrived. They moved in silence, not out of respect for Noah, but because they were used to the quietness.

  When the two of them had eaten,
Hu sat back, lit his pipe, and looked at Connor.

  “You do not look rested,” Hu said.

  “I’m not,” Connor replied. “Nightmares.”

  “Ah,” Hu said, nodding, “I am sorry to hear that. It will make the day’s work a little more difficult for us, I am afraid.”

  Connor rearranged his dishes on the table before he asked, “Are we going to try and dig Feng up today?”

  “This evening,” Hu confirmed, “and we will have a difficult time ahead of us. Once Feng realizes what power you hold over the others.”

  “Will my mother listen to me?” Connor asked. “Will she do what I told her to?”

  “She should,” Hu answered, “for while she is strong, I do not believe she is strong enough to disobey your command.”

  “But why?” Connor asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice. “What is it that makes me special?”

  “Part of it is your isolation,” Hu said, speaking slowly as if he was choosing each word with care. “There is a reason why so many stories revolve around the pure of heart and the pure of flesh. You spent decades away from the world, Connor. But that, as I said, is only a part of it. The remainder, I am not quite sure. There have been others like you, from what I can gather in my reading. Yes, there have been plenty who can hear the dead. Plenty who can speak to them. But those who can command them? Ah, no, my young friend. Your kind are few and far between.”

  Hu leaned forward, smiled and said in a low voice, “They are afraid of you, and rightfully so. For the wicked ones, you are their downfall.”

  Hu’s words weren’t comforting. Instead, they placed a heavier burden on Connor, and his face must have shown it.

  Hu smiled at him, an expression of understanding.

  “This will be difficult for you,” Hu said, “but I am confident in you, Connor. You showed remarkable strength as a child, and while you may not be sure of yourself, you were last night, when it was important. The detective is alive because of you, and I do believe you have removed your mother as a threat.”