A Short Story
Here is my most recent short story, please read and enjoy!
Koy
I stared out the small rectangular window at the parade of children that clambered by the mansion after school one Friday afternoon. Day after day I watch them routinely travel the same path back to parks and houses, to continue their eventful, purposeful lives. On this particular day, I sensed something different. It was the week before school ended for the summer and they wouldn’t be walking the path every day anymore. I spotted whispering and pointing among the group and it gave me hope, for a second, that a few children would visit the lonely mansion in the middle of the busy street.
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Ezra
Jackson and I stumbled over the uneven gravel, ahead of the group, moving back home. We only have one week of school and I just can’t wait until we don’t need to visit this messed up street, one that comes with annoyance and bad memories, for two and a half months.
“Look, Ezra, the old man’s flag is moving but feel,” Jackson held his arms out, palms up to feel the dry air. “Humid as hell,” he finished.
He was right, it didn’t feel like spring but it never does in Texas.
“Why do we call it the old man's house?” Benny, Jackson’s younger brother, asked as he slid up next to us on his little bike. “He died two years ago. Just call it the ghost’s house, ya know, because of the ghosts.”'
Yes, the ghosts, I thought. Except there are no ghosts because ghosts don’t exist.
“Get outta here Benny,” Jackson grumbled, stepping in front of his little bike.
“Benny, the reason we don’t call it the Ghost House is because ghosts don’t exist and that would be silly,” I told him, turning my head to the side so he could hear me.
“How do you know ghosts don’t exist?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jackson added and suddenly stopped walking. I walked a few steps forward and then I stopped and looked back “How do you know ghosts don’t exist?” he said again. I couldn’t believe it. I gaped at Jackson for a moment and then he added, “Let’s go then, up to the house.” He took up a step up the steep hill that lead up to the mansion.
The mansion was quite oddly placed, I noticed, as I waited for what would happen next. It was the only mansion on the street. It was the only rather large building on the street as well.
“Okay,” I said. “No one lives there, the house is empty, and it’s probably unlocked too. Let’s go find your ghosts.” I began walking up the steep hill. Soon I turned back around to silence. “What? Are neither of you guys coming? You have to. You have to see, you know, the ghosts. If I find them, I will be the only witness.” I felt awkward saying words I didn’t believe. If I found a ghost, I probably wouldn’t believe it myself.
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Koy
They’re coming, someone’s coming! My quiet voice fell silent and stopped working altogether. Three boys trudged up the steep hill and I began to make my observations. One boy was considerably smaller than the other two. One of the taller two had sleek brown hair that hung almost over his eyes, his backpack looked heavy and his shoulders were slumped. The other, the same height as the first. He had dark black, kinky hair and his skin was considerably darker than the other boy’s. The second boy stood taller; if the first boy stood up straight he would be taller, I thought. The smallest boy looked like a small version of the dark taller boy. I noticed him earlier, trying to keep up with the older two who were always in the front of the line. He had a small pedal-less bike that he left at the base of the hill. It was lonely now, like me.
The boys just arrived at the front door and came face to face with the 10 ft tall oak door. I knew they were hesitating, if only for just a moment. The tall, dark boy said something when they were all still facing the door, then the other two nodded, and then they left. Quickly, they fled to the right, in front of the house and out of my view. Yes, lonely again, I thought.
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Ezra
“We should try and go around the back, you know, just in case.” We stood for a moment longer and then dashed off to the side around the house.
There was an iron fence that was large in comparison to me and my friends but still looked oddly small and unfitting for the house. For another moment we stood, unmoving, chins tilted toward the top of the iron bars. Benny took a step forward out of the line and glanced up at his older brother who was still gazing up at the sun. Then he pressed gently but firmly against the warm metal. I didn’t expect anything to happen, it looked like the sturdiest fence I had ever seen. But it made a noise and opened just a crack under Benny’s slight push. Jackson looked at his brother’s shining face and smiled before slipping through the slight opening with Benny following. The whole interaction to me was quite odd. No one said anything during the time standing before the fence but it was almost as if Jackson and his brother had a whole conversation. Benny, by his glance, asked for permission, and Jackson, by no response, a simple yes. Jackson congratulated his brother with a smile and then it was over. I noticed I was lost in thought so I stopped myself and continued through the fence.
I slipped through the fence and took a couple of quick strides to catch up with the others. The side of the house was large and the wood looked old and tired, the gray paint was peeling and chipped. The other two boys had reached the end of the house and they were standing once again gaping into whatever yard the mansion had, not moving, not knowing what to do next. The yard exhibited the same run-down, old, broken atmosphere as the side of the house had. There were a couple of scraggly trees scattered around the yard and the grass was a dull green. It was almost like the nature around the house that should have been bright green and blooming this time of year, was reflecting the unkempt house in its color. There was also a wide, shallow pool, still filled with water. A layer of leaves, dirt, and residue lay over the top of the water. A short porch extended away from the house and two simple lawn chairs along with a table sat facing the yard. The yard chairs gave me the impression that an elderly couple was just here, enjoying a cup of tea and they both went inside for a moment to get another cup, yet that couldn’t be it because the chairs were frayed, falling apart, and long forgotten.
I walked up, leaving the other boys who were still taking in the scene, and ran my finger over the frayed edge of a chair. I gasped in through my teeth as a little bit of red pooled at the tip of my finger from a slight cut. The blood ran over my finger and on my fingernail as I squeezed it. I looked up at Jackson and Benny,
“This is cool,” I gestured around, although I have to admit I didn’t like the sound of it. I couldn’t quite figure out what I felt about this, it was more than cool, it was amazing and terrible. Amazingly terrible, that’s what it was.
I looked up and noticed how the back of the house stretched tall, past the setting sun, and the darkening sky. Two long vertical windows on either side of the porch, four windows in all, spread over a large part of the wall. No curtains to mysteriously blow in the wind, just odd and lengthy windows.
Then a figure inside the house flew past the third window from the left. No, not a figure. It almost looked like a sudden gust of wind dyed white, inside the house.
“Did you see that?” I whispered it, without meaning to. I glanced back at Jackson and Benny, although they were both staring into the layer of film on top of the pool. They seemed mesmerized, like they couldn’t take their gaze away.
“Guys,” I took a step toward them.
“Uh,” Jackson slightly moved his chin in my direction as he muttered that simple syllable, but he didn’t lookup.
“Guys,” I said again, “Come on, let’s move on.”
Jackson jerked his head in my direction like it was the first time I had said anything and he grabbed Benny’s hand.
“Whad’ya say Ezra?” he said and walked toward the door as if nothing had happened.
“Um, nothing, I mean it’s not important.” They walked again, toward the door, I took three long strides, turned the knob, and in a matter of four beats, realized it was locked.
I have to go back. I laid face and belly down on my bed that night, in my small room with the ends of my long arms and feet hanging off the twin-sized mattress. There was something strange and mesmerizing, and disconcerting, about that house. Something that I had never seen before. I knew though, that I had to go back. I turned my head to the side so that I could breathe properly and fell asleep without dinner, without pj’s on, and stayed until 5:45 am.
I didn’t plan anything that night, it just happened. Once I saw what time I woke up, an idea popped into my head. I didn’t feel tired and of course, that helped.
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Koy
I heard a noise, I jumped when a rattling noise came from the back of the house. Nothing had happened since the night before and I hadn’t moved much from the little window since the boys had left, either. I hurried, just then, to the back of the house, through all the bendy and narrow hallways and I saw something I had given up on long ago. The same boy from the night before was peeking in through a small window in the door; he held a small flashlight attached to a ring. After a moment his head disappeared, it began to sound like he was scratching on the door, a slow rhythmic scratching like if he scratched enough the door would just fall away. I don’t think that was his plan but eventually, it did. After probably two minutes the door swung inward and groaned loudly. The boy cringed at the noise like he was nervous about being heard. He looked different than the night before, I couldn’t see him very well because it was only 6:00 am and he grasped the only light besides the sky starting to lighten from behind. From what I could see he looked a lot messier than the day before. His hair was in a mop on his forehead not pushed back as it would be for a usual day of school. His mouth looked smudged with leftover food. He looked a little scared, and he looked a little scary. His eyes darted around the room and peeked at every leftover lamp and every forgotten book.
He had only taken one step into the house, that's why he can’t see me. I forget, sometimes, that I am real. That people can see me.
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Ezra
I formed a simple plan. It went like this:
Get my key, flashlight, and lockpicking set.
Get some food to eat on the way.
Be quiet.
Pick the lock on the back door of the mansion.
Explore the house.
Somehow, prove there are no ghosts.
Steps one to four went well but that is not the part I have been worried about. I was glad the sun was rising, I think it’ll help step number five.
If there were ghosts I thought they would be waiting for me at the door so I stood at the entrance for a long moment looking in. I wanted to make sure nothing was going to surprise me. So I stood, I stood and I looked over every little thing around me. To the left of the door, there was a large library. The two doors that stood in my way from seeing the size of the room were tall and had clear glass window sections on them but it was very dark in the library. One of the doors, however, was slightly open and I could see a little shelf of books in the corner. From what I could see the books didn’t look very dusty. Why were there so many books anyway?
For the next hour, I ran through the house. I tried to make a map. It turned out vague and messy but it’s something. Every turn the house seemed to get stranger. It was a house that looked bigger once you got on the inside and it was filled with the oddest items.
There was a clock in the shape of a star in the kitchen, there was an emerald statue of a troll in the bathroom, and there was a wall of strange-looking chests and boxes lined up in the attic. It looked like the old man who died in the house was just going on a vacation and left yesterday, all of his stuff was exactly where he left it. What was the man's name again? My friends and I only call him the old man but I remember talking about it with my mother when he died. Mr. Chester, I think. It was tragic, I remember, the man was walking down the stairs, he fell and hit his head on one of his old relics. His grandson found him and I don’t think he has been the same since finding his grandpa laying all mangled and bloody from the fall.
I had been walking in a circle on the first floor without realizing it, while I thought about the past owner of the mansion. What did I truly think about it? I asked myself. I thought it was amazing. Mr. Chester has so many things that no one else has. Well, he had them.
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Koy
I followed him in the shadows, I know it sounds strange saying I followed him but I wasn’t being strange. I was being observant. Is this what people do when they are sure they are alone? The boy ran, he walked, and he jumped on the spots that creaked all throughout the mansion. At one point he just walked in a circle with his head down for quite some time. He went upstairs to the attic and ran his hand over every chest and box of old and not so interesting relics that were lined up against a wall. And then he stopped. I think he found something he liked. He had just walked down the steps from the attic and he found a golden cart. It was crafted beautifully, I thought so and he thought so too. It was gold and had a couple of jagged gold stars attached to the sides. He ran his finger over the smooth edges and the magnificently designed stars. Then he touched his finger to the tip of a star, he pulled his hand away and gasped slightly. The point of the star pricked his finger, he squeezed it and wiped a spot of blood on his shorts. Yes, this house was precarious.
Just then, I decided to step out of the shadows. He got absorbed in squeezing his injured finger for a moment. So I stood, my body flickering in the sunlight. Then he looked up. He yelped and fell backward onto the steps, hitting his elbows hard against a jagged one. He yelled again and started forcing himself up the stairs.
“Hey!” I said as loud as I could. I stepped forward and my body flickered again from the sharp light that was pouring in through the nearest window.
“Stop! It’s okay, it’s fine!” I said again. He stopped scrambling backward, he was breathing hard and his eyes looked angry.
“So you are a ghost,” His breath came in gasps as he said it.
` “Um, yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. “I am not really a mean ghost, like everyone thinks,” I said as loud as I could. He came one step down the stairs toward me. “I am a lonely ghost.”
“Are you Mr. Chester, the man who died here?”
“No, he is in the only room you somehow missed to look through. If he had seen you, he probably would have scared you and ran you out. He’s not mean, he just doesn't like people touching his stuff.”
“So, who are you?” the boy asked, quieter.
“I am his grandson.” I watched him gasp but I wanted to change the subject. I know it doesn't matter now, but I didn’t like talking about how I died two days after my grandpa.
“You know what that is,” I asked as I pointed to the cart he was looking so intently at a moment ago.
“Uh, no.”
“Well,” I responded. “That is what killed my grandpa, what he hit his head on when he fell down the stairs.” The boy gasped again. I don’t blame him. I did more than gasp when I found out.
“What’s your name?”
“Ezra,” He responded. “And yours?”
“Koy, I am Koy. Do you wanna stay on the stairs or come down?”
“Uh,” He stood up, “I should go home, my mom is gonna get worried soon.”
“O-Okay,” I said, moving away from the stairs. He walked down the stairs and we walked, together, to the back door.
“Do you think you’ll come back?” He stood for a moment considering my question.
“Yes, I think I would like to.”
“Alright, come whenever you like.” He left, I closed the door, and I smiled.
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Ezra
As I walked home, my mind felt like a firework show. I thought of everything at once and didn’t quite process each thought. Ghosts are real? I didn’t expect to see a ghost. What if I just saw a ghost because I was looking. But we talked, and that felt very real. I guess I will just have to go back until I am sure that Koy is not a figure of my imagination. However, for now, I knew what I would tell Jackson, Benny, and anyone else who asked. Ghosts don’t exist.
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