Every town has its ghosts. Be it a haunted house, ghosts in the forest at the edge of town or whatever. It’s almost obligatory; an unwritten rule: Thou shall have a haunted place.
Joshua Wayne moved to Doohickeyville with his parents when his father joined the town police department. Soon he, Austin Little and Brent Powers were inseparable. Austin and Brent were natives of the town, and knew all the good places to hang out. They knew the best places to fish, knew where the best swimming holes were, and knew all the town’s little quirks.
Late one afternoon Austin and Brent knocked on the door. Chief Wayne answered the door.
“Josh, you’re friends are here.”
“Thanks Dad.”
Josh came to the door.
“What’s up guys?”
“Hey dude. Think your Dad will, like, let you go camping?” asked Brent.
“Probably. DAD! Can I go camping?”
“Sure,” came a disembodied voice from the living room. “Just don’t do anything I’ll hear about.”
That was the problem when your father was the police chief. You couldn’t get away with much of anything.
“Thanks Dad!”
Josh quickly packed a change of clothes and some of his camping gear in his back pack. After a few minutes, he joined his friends out on the porch.
“Well, I’m ready.”
“Let’s go then,” said Austin and the three of them walked down the street.
“So, where are we camping?” inquired Josh. “Like out in Tucker’s Woods?”
“No man,” said Brent. “We ain’t really going camping.”
“We ain’t?”
“Naw,” said Austin. “Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“A ghost,” said Josh with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Get real.”
“No shit, man” said Brent. “There’s, like, this place they say is haunted just outside of town off the highway.”
“They, huh. Just who is ‘they‘?”
“You know,” said Brent, “just like, you know, people. They say there’s a ghost.”
“Well, does anyone live there?”
“No way, man,” said Austin.
“Yeah, the house has been empty for, like, years or something,” Brent added.
“Why?” said Austin with a sly grin spreading across his face. “You’re not scared, are you.”
“No, I ain’t scared,” said Josh. “It just sounds like, you know, bullshit.”
“Maybe it is, and maybe it ain’t,” said Austin.
“Like, maybe we’ll find out,” added Brent.
And off they went, down Main Street to the edge of town where it became highway 69. Several times police passed on their mopeds, waving with a “Hi Josh” as they rode by.
“Dude, it must suck with your Dad being the chief and all,” said Brent.
“Tell me about it.”
It was about a quarter mile outside of town when they got to a weed grown driveway heading off into the woods.
“This is it?” said Josh.
“Yep.” Austin pointed up the drive. “It’s back there about a hundred yards. It’s so grown up, you can’t even see it from the highway anymore.”
“Dude,” Brent said, “I haven’t been out here at night before. This should, like, be intense, man.”
“Yeah, whatever,” said Austin.
The fourteen year olds headed up the drive toward the house. The drive had a bit of a gooseneck in it, which explained why the house couldn’t be seen from the road. The boys rounded the kink in the drive.
There it was. An old two story farmhouse. Most of the windows were broken out and vines grew up the side all the way to the roof. There was hardly any grass left in the yard surrounding the house, the weeds and brush growing under the cover of the huge trees surrounding the place. It looked as though the house had mysteriously materialized in the middle of the woods.
“Damn!” Josh exclaimed. “How long has it been since anyone lived here?”
Austin thought for a moment.
“It’s been at least twenty years since anyone lived here. The house used to belong to the old man who built it. After he died a few other people moved in, but they say nobody stayed long. They say the old man haunts it.”
“The old man?”
“Yeah. The story goes that the bank took the house in the thirties, but he eventually bought it back. They say he swore nobody would ever take his house again.”
“So what? Was he murdered or something.”
“No way dude,” said Brent. “He, like, pulled an Elvis, man.”
“Yeah, he died on the shitter,” explained Austin.
“And it’s getting deeper by the minute,” said Josh.
“Like, whatever, man.”
“Get your flashlight out. Let’s check it out.”
The screen door was hanging on by one hinge as they climbed the steps onto the porch. Austin pulled the screen door aside and pushed the front door open. It opened with a groaning, creaking sound.
“Not too clichéd,” thought Josh.
The boys stepped inside. Nothing but a front room devoid of furniture but abundantly supplied with dirt, dust and cobwebs met the beams of their flashlights. Rocks and the resultant broken glass littered the floor.
“Damn,” said Austin.
Damn was right. The place was a wreck. The perfect home for any self respecting ghost to move into.
“This place is, like, totally fucked up, man,” said Brent.
Floorboards creaked under their feet as they made their way through the house. Occasionally their feet crunched on a piece of broken glass, or kicked at a rock.
“Hey! The stairs are over there.”
The beams of two flashlights swung around to join the one emanating from Josh’s hand. The three boys shone their lights up into the darkness.
“What do you think is up there?” asked Josh.
“Not much, I’ll bet.”
“You want to, like, find out?”
“You can if you want to,” said Austin.
“Okay, dude,” Brent said and promptly put his foot through the first step.
“Fuck you!” Brent said as Josh and Austin started laughing at him.
“Maybe you need to try the Slim Fast plan,” Austin said.
“Real fuckin’ funny!”
“Shhh…” Josh said. “Did you hear something?”
“Yeah. Brent falling through the floor.”
“Asshole.”
“No, not that. I thought I heard something from that direction. It sounded like it could have come from behind the house or something.”
“Maybe it was a deer,” Austin opined.
“Or maybe it’s, like, the ghost of the old man come to, like, run us out of his house.”
“Yeah,” Josh smirked. “I wouldn’t want anyone to see if I lived in a dump like this.”
Bang!
“Dude, I heard that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Told you I heard something.”
“It did come from out behind the house,” said Austin.
“See? I’m not nuts.”
“Dude, like I wouldn’t go that far.”
Josh flipped Brent a rude gesture, the effect of which was wasted in the darkness.
“Come on,” said Austin and began making his way to the back door. The other boys followed.
They emerged from the house into a back yard as overgrown as the front. Nothing stirred as they emerged. They shone their flashlights around, until the beams caught what looked like a long wooden box standing on end.
“Dude! It’s, like, the shitter where the old man croaked.”
Bang!
The sound seemed to come from the direction of the old outhouse. The three boys ran to the outhouse and flung the door open, shining their lights in
side. Nothing.
“That’s, like, freaky, man.”
They stood there silently for a moment.
“I heard that,” Josh said.
“What?” asked Austin.
“One of you farted.”
“Wasn’t me,” the other two said simultaneously.
“Well, it wasn’t me.”
“Like, dude. Whoever denied it supplied it.”
“It was probably you.”
“Not even,” said Austin.
Pbbbt!
It came from inside the outhouse.
“Shit!” Austin, whispered. “It came from in there.”
“I, like, told you it wasn’t me.”
“Shut up!” Brent whispered.
His hand moved toward the handle on the door.
“C’mon. On three. One… Two… Three…”
He threw open the door and all three shined their lights inside.
“SHIT!”
There it was, the ghost of the old man. He was sitting on the stool, visible but slightly transparent. They could just make out the back wall through his body. He was looking down, as though reading a magazine. The ghost looked up at the intruders.
“Do you mind?”
Suddenly the ghostly body morphed into a silvery cloud that drifted past the boys and out into the night, where it dissipated like steam on a warm day.
“Augh!” the three boys screamed and took off running. They scampered around the house, down the drive and out to the highway. They barely slowed down until they got back to town.
Chief Wayne was sitting in the living room reading when Josh stumbled through the door. He looked at the clock. Only a quarter to ten.
“I thought you guys were going camping?”
He stared at the look on his son’s face for a moment.
“What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Dad,” Josh gasped.
———-
Copyright 2008 – Mary Rae McPherson
Filed under: Fiction | Tagged: Humor, Humour, Short Stories | Leave a comment »
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