Someone could fall in there and no one would ever know.
I turned around.
The shape of a very pale, very thin boy in shorts and a tank top stood right in front of me. He placed his finger over his lips and made a shushing sound. The boy then turned around and ran down the trail. He disappeared almost as quickly as he had showed himself. It was all so brief.
My shoulder hurt pretty bad but there was no way I was standing around there until I felt better. I jogged back to the main trail and then started running—hard. The wind whipped around me but there was no way in hell I was falling again.
I probably did a six minute mile back to the trailhead.
Josh and Charlie were still standing in the same spot when my foot hit the trailhead grass and I ran a few steps past them before stopping. I was breathing hard and my shoulder still hurt as I turned and walked towards them. They stared at me wide eyed as I tossed the flashlight at Danny.
“What happened in there?” Charlie asked.
“Go in there and find out,” I said as I turned back around and walked towards the Jeep.
“What does that mean?” Danny asked?
“It means no more thrill seeking for a while, boys,” I said as I hopped in the car. I started her up, backed out of the spot, and rumbled over the gravel and dirt to the narrow, dark road.
The stars glittered over the grassy field that spread out to the north and the warm breeze soothed my aching shoulder. I checked my phone; it was only 12:45 a.m.—I could still swing by the bonfire. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the headlights of Josh and Charlie’s cars swinging out of the parking area and the image of snowy white Joey popped back into my head.
I turned back around and tossed the phone back on the passenger seat.
Screw getting buzzed at the bonfire.
A late night of Xbox was good enough for me.
Istared at the old colonial house across the grassy valley. It was still the same eggshell color, but even from a couple hundred feet away I could see the last twenty years hadn’t been too kind to it. Decaying wood, a broken porch, and the red brick chimney had somehow been knocked in half. The house had really become an eyesore.
Three days had gone by since I’d driven the Jeep up here, and like clockwork her laughter had started at sunset every day and gotten fiercer into the night. But she was quiet so far today. Why? The sun had already become a big orange fireball and began to dip towards the mountains to the west.
Maybe she was watching me stand here—waiting to see what I did.
Or maybe she didn’t even exist.
Maybe there was no ghost of a girl who’d hung herself in the upstairs loft of the old Wilton house. And maybe there wasn’t any crazy laughter that had haunted me as a kid, just the wind playing tricks on me just like my parents had said it was whenever I’d brought it up.
Maybe.
Today I was going to find out once and for all.
Time to face the twenty-year-old fear.
My family had moved from here when I was twelve and I hadn’t been back since. Hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t needed to. But things hadn’t gone great for me the past year. Bad divorce, bad job, and bad investments. Hell, lately I couldn’t even get myself to go to the gym.
So I’d decided I needed to do something powerful. I needed to kill off the silly nightmare of a ghost that had taunted me as a child and nagged at my memories as an adult. I needed to know it wasn’t real.
I looked over my shoulder at the gray brick house I’d lived in as a kid. My parents still owned it but they never came back to it after we moved. It was a total contrast to the Wilton house: big glass windows, solid brick walls, and a black, paved driveway that was as smooth as ever when I drove the Jeep up it.
I looked back at the Wilton house, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
A jack rabbit hopped along the side of the valley as a quiet warm breeze caused the grass to flicker. A quiet wind and no laughter. I continued walking down into the valley; a raven landed on the grass about ten feet to my left. It stared at me and tilted its head. I stopped walking and we looked at each other. A few seconds later it flew off. I started walking again and looked up ahead.
The old house sat patiently.
The breeze picked up and I thought I heard a giggle. She had never been loud at this time, but the wind was never strong at sunset either. It wasn’t until midnight and beyond that things got wild; I’d spent a lot of nights at 3:00 a.m. staring at the ceiling with my eyes wide open listening to what I swore were cackling shrieks of laughter.
I reached the bottom of the valley, walked the flat fifty or so feet, and then started to make my way up the slope at the other side. Around half way up, the wind got stronger and the giggling started again; it was louder this time, bouncing across the bluish purple sky like mischievous chimes. A few goose bumps popped up on the back of my neck.
Got to see this through.
A minute later I was on the other side of the valley about ten feet away from the house’s cracked cement porch.
The wind had stopped blowing and it was quiet again—no giggling, no laughing. I stepped onto the porch, went up to the thin door, and turned the knob. The door creaked open.
I stepped inside.
Looking over the room I saw old photos on the paint-peeled walls, dust covered books, a couple of dresses bunched
