by Marc Layton
“I was eight, Damian was twelve.”
“Wow. I can’t believe you had to go through that. I’ve heard about this case. And they never found anything, right?”
Damian shook his head, “Never. And they declared them both dead a few weeks later. It was too difficult to continue searching. They said people have gone missing before. It's tough terrain out there.”
“So what about this Benjamin guy?”
Damian retold the story of Ben and how he had reacted when we spoke to him about our parents. How strange it was that he would react in such a way and how similar they looked to their photos in that book. It seemed impossible.
“It’s just too weird,” he said after the recap. “Too much of a coincidence. They know something, and we need to find out what that is.”
Meredith stared at us both hard before nodding solemnly. “Well, I think it would be best if I go along with you.”
I was never one for ghost stories, and I didn't really believe in them. I didn't realize that Damian did until he mentioned it to me the day before. Ghosts were so abstract, seemingly unrealistic. I almost chuckled at the thought of "fighting a ghost." I didn't even know where we should begin.
7
We grabbed something to eat late in the morning, and Meredith drove us back to our campsite. We dreaded going into those woods again, unsure what would transpire and creeped out by this eerie couple. They hadn't been very hospitable the first time and possibly set our tent on fire. Who's to say they wouldn't kill us when we returned?
As we started to pack our bags for the trek, Meredith grabbed her backpack from her trunk and swung it on her back.
"I don't think you should come with us," Damian exclaimed after a long silence. Meredith looked ready to argue back, but he continued, "If we believe these people truly are ghosts or some kind of eternal whatever, it could be dangerous."
She scoffed. "Danger is my job. I'm here to protect this place, and I'm going to do my job." As she spoke, she got right up in his face and didn't seem so small anymore. "And if you have a problem with that, you'll have to drag me out of the woods yourself."
Damian relented and motioned for her to walk ahead. We all started into the woods, and it was hauntingly quiet. For hours, we walked with barely a word spoken between us. The anticipation began to build as late morning turned into afternoon. The rhythm of our footsteps grew loud, and my heart began to race, the butterflies in my stomach turning sour as we rounded the cliffside by the river.
By the time we made it to the extravagant home, the sun was past the halfway point in the sky, hanging low on the trees. The house looked the same; not a single thing was out of place. We weren't sure where to start. We all stood in the yard staring at each other until I finally gathered the courage to look into a front window.
“It doesn’t look like anyone is home. Maybe we should knock?” I suggested.
Meredith walked up to the large front doors and landed three subtle knocks into the wood. She stood there and waited expectantly. Damian stood behind her as I remained beside the window, peering in. Meredith knocked again. Three times, small clicks rang from the door.
Again, nothing. We all looked at each other and shrugged. No one was home, so we slowly walked around the left side, an area we hadn’t checked out before. The back of the house was as pristine as the front, but the yard was still in shambles. This time, we noticed a small shed that looked oddly out of place.
The shed was small but modern, like it had been pre-made somewhere else and placed on this property. It was white and covered with a vinyl-like material, contrasting with the rest of the house. It was surrounded by long, unkempt grass with weeds braided into each other.
“What do you think is in there?” I asked the group.
Damian looked at me somberly. “I think we’re about to find out.”
When we reached the door, we noticed a small padlock on a chain. Meredith reached into her bag, pulling out a pair of bolt cutters. She twisted them around the chain and yanked them together, breaking the chain apart. It fell to the ground.
“That’ll do it,” Damian smiled.
As we walked inside, we noticed it wasn't dusty like an old shed that hadn't been touched in years. Someone had been here recently, but it was a pigsty, random yard tools (that clearly hadn't been used), and full totes stacked upon each other. Meredith took down the tote on top of the pile and opened it. Coughing from the dust inside, she pulled out a pack of old Christmas cards.
She kept digging into the box while Damian and I took inventory of the tools. Some were more worn than others. It seemed they had recently used a mallet, a rake, a shovel, and a few other tools. Their yard certainly looked like they didn't know how to use any of them. So what were they using these for?
"Hey, guys?" Meredith called us over.
She held up a photo. Two young boys sat in the same sitting room we had seen yesterday. There was a Christmas tree behind them, with presents placed neatly underneath. The boys looked to be about nine or ten years old. The back of the photo, in neat handwriting, stated, Thomas and Jack Christmas 1993.
Damian finally spoke up. “You think they had kids?”
"I don't know; they don't seem like the type. But then, I don't know who else's kids these would be...who would have a picture of someone else's kids tucked away in a tote?"
“Thomas, man, I think we have your lighter,” he tried to chuckle.
Meredith shrugged and snuck the square photo into her pocket. We searched the rest of the shack, but Meredith came up empty as decorations and unused cleaning supplies filled most of the bins. We only found some dead mice and more useless tools, and a lawnmower that clearly had not been taken out in decades. As we walked out defeated, something caught my eye along the tree line.
As Meredith and Damian chatted and walked back towards the house, I began to walk toward the tree line. I tried to find what was so different about this spot, until I finally found a break in the trees and felt my breath catch in my throat.
“You guys are going to want to see this,” I yelled over to them, shakily.
They began to walk towards me and the lot behind the backyard. A line of brush and trees hid it away, but it was like something called me to it. Maybe my parents, like Damian had said. Perhaps they were telling me exactly where to go.
Behind that tree line, there was an empty lot, covered in dirt, with no trees or bushes or flowers. Nothing. Absolutely desolate. That wasn't what was terrifying. Out of the ground, in the back-most left corner of the lot, I saw it. I saw it and knew exactly what this was. A graveyard. The dirty bones stuck out starkly against the dark soil.
We looked at the vast distance between where we stood and where the bones ruptured out of the ground. If the size of this lot was any indication, there had to be tons of bones buried here. Now the tools in the shed made sense - they needed the shovel to bury the bodies.
I felt a chill as I realized these people had murdered my parents. There was no question about it in my mind. My stomach began to turn, my hands shaking. Meredith had to excuse herself so she didn’t vomit. She was strong, but apparently not when it came to graveyards and buried bodies.
“This is horrifying,” she choked, turning the other way.
“Aren’t you a sheriff or something?” Damian asked, trying for humor to mask his shock.
"Sheriff's deputy. And I break up bar fights and do paperwork. I don't find dozens of dead bodies in some random person's backyard."
“What are the chances they aren’t human?” Damian asked hesitantly. I glanced at him. We’d come all this way – he’d practically dragged me out here – but the look on his face told me he wanted to be wrong about this. As much as we wanted to know what happened to our parents, as long as we didn’t, there was a bead of hope. But to me, the bones in the ground extinguished that hope.
Meredith gave him a look but didn't answer. None of us actually thought this wasn't a massive human graveyard.
“Why woul
d they do this? If they’re ghosts, I thought ghosts just haunted their old homes and moved ouija boards,” I said. “How can they even kill someone…?”
Meredith finally collected herself and moved closer to us. “I don’t know a ton about the ghost world, or spirits or whatever, but I have a feeling this isn’t normal.”
"It can't be. We'd have way fewer people in the world if they all murdered this many humans," Damian explained.
We were silent, contemplating. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. Were our parents here, buried in this yard? We needed to do more research. Who were those boys, and why were their photos in a forgotten box in the shed? What happened to them? Were they buried here with my parents? Were they ghosts too?
We slowly made our way back up to the house. The three of us decided to return to the sheriff's station for the night and sleep for a few hours before beginning our research. Damian and I wanted to head back straight away to make sure we weren't walking in the dark, but Meredith wanted to see inside the house. Something about women makes them want to see everything for themselves, even though we already knew what was inside. We shrugged off our irritation and watched her pick the lock.
"Isn't this illegal without a search warrant?" Damian asked, but he shut up when she glared at him.
"Wow," she said, "this is nicer than I was expecting! They have great interior decorating, just a little outdated."
We walked through the sitting areas and went back to the kitchen again, Damian watching out the front door to make sure Ben and his wife didn't arrive early. Meredith wasn't thrilled with the tour and wanted to see the upstairs. I tried to convince her that it was too risky, but the stubborn woman pushed ahead despite my concern. She really would make a great partner for Damian. They were both bull-headed.
The upstairs had one long hallway with one room off to the right and the rest down the strip to the left. She immediately opened the door to the right and stared in shock. She let out a large gasp. I pushed her out of the way to see for myself. There was almost nothing in the room. An old bed and a dresser with an oval mirror above it.
“Meredith! You scared the hell out of me! What if there was something in there!”
“It was just so dusty. Ugh. No one’s been in here for ages,” she complained and scrunched her nose up in disgust.
“Are you guys okay?” Damian yelled from downstairs.
“We’re fine! Your girlfriend is afraid of dust,” I yelled back.
Even though we were far away, I could picture him saying ‘she’s not my girlfriend’ under his breath. But Meredith only smiled slightly.
We began walking down the dimly lit hallway and stuck our heads in a few doors, two bathrooms, and one bedroom—all layered with dust, all small and unused. The master suite was the largest at the end of the hall. We entered the room and were surprised by the level of cleanliness. The other rooms were clearly unused, and I doubt they'd even been in them in years. This room was brightly colored with a large square rug patterned in faded reds and blues. The attached bathroom was also large but had only a tub, a toilet, and a sink.
“Do ghosts use the bathroom...?“ I asked, but Meredith was staring at the bed.
It was freshly made with white linens. “Maybe, if they sleep, too,“ she said.
The room felt cold. A draft flowed through even though there weren't any windows open. The king-sized bed barely filled the room. As we walked around, we felt each piece of wooden furniture. Every piece was dark wood, antique-looking. Everything was old yet beautifully restored or taken care of well.
As we stood in the bathroom inspecting the blue tile, the lights flashed off. Confused and concerned, we yelled to Damian to see if something had gone wrong downstairs.
"Damian?!" I shouted, loud enough to hear through the large house. No answer.
I yelled again, "Damian!"
Again no answer. We rushed downstairs, and I ran ahead with Meredith trailing behind. As we both tumbled down the large staircase, we saw Damian. He stood in one of the sitting rooms, pressed against the wall, gasping for air.
As we drew closer, we saw his feet off the ground and his face starting to turn a shade of blue and purple. Unsure of how to help, I ran to him and began to pry the invisible hands around his neck. As I touched them, they came to life. A man’s set of hands wrapped around my brother’s neck. Meredith joined me in pulling the man off of Damian.
Fighting his beastly strength, we released Damian from his grasp. The hands flickered into sight, Ben's angry face briefly visible before disappearing again. Wind rushed past us, almost pushing us over. Damian fell to the ground, panting and pulling air into his lungs. He grabbed at his throat as if to make sure there weren't still hands around it. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet as we flew out the front door and into the nearby woods. We hid in the trees for a few minutes, watching and waiting for someone to come out and try to find us, but no one followed.
Damian was shaken but had enough strength to make the walk back. Bruises lined his neck. They were hot to the touch, and he continued to raise his fingers to them. He claimed he'd be okay with some painkillers and ice packs, but I could tell the entire thing rattled him. Jumpy and scared, we trudged through the woods.
“I guess that explains how they can harm people,“ Meredith whispered as we hurried down the trail.
We made a fire as soon as we returned to camp. It was starting to get dark. Damian began to cook some burgers as we talked through our thoughts.
"I just can't wrap my mind around this. They are actually ghosts," I started, "I mean, I'm going, to be honest, I never believed in them."
Meredith sighed. “I never say never anymore. Anything can happen, things that are real seem surreal. So why can’t things we’ve never believed in before exist?”
“I always knew.” Damian was staring into the fire, the bruises looking especially ghastly in the firelight.
“Damian, you never knew. Come on. I know I joke about you being a ghost whisperer, but you can’t actually believe you can talk to ghosts.”
Damian turned toward the two of us, his face serious. “Of course I did. I told you, mom and dad have talked to me before. Not...explicitly, but they’ve given me inklings before. I know it was them, I could feel it.”
“Do you think that was your heart, or your parents?” Meredith asked, fully engaged with him.
"I know it was them. It's like they whispered in my ear, but I couldn't hear it. I would just think things and didn't know how my thoughts got there. My skin would get cold, and I would feel dad put his arm around my shoulders. There were ways I could tell."
In shock, I blurted out, "I didn't realize that was happening to you. How come you never told me about it before?"
“Well, it didn’t seem like it was time.”
I felt terrible that Damian believed he couldn't open up to me about his thoughts. But as a man who didn't believe in ghosts before that day, I understood why he wouldn't say anything to me until he had a push to do something about it. I would have laughed at him or written off his experiences.
“That’s very brave of you to share.“ Meredith smiled at him.
He raised his eyebrows. "I'm extremely brave." Ah, there was the usual Damian.
“I like men who are brave.”
“I like women who know what they like.”
I felt as if I had walked into a room I wasn’t supposed to be in. As much as I wanted them to get together, I didn’t want to be in the middle of their flirtatious banter. They stared at each other for far too long, until I finally chimed in.
“Damian, I’m no chef, but I think your burgers are almost burnt.”
We sat and ate together. Meredith told us about her parents and her childhood growing up in Atlanta. Her brothers were both younger and working in her hometown. She missed them all so much, but she couldn't get enough of the countryside. Nature called to her, and you could see it in her eyes. She seemed so at home sitting on a log, her boots planted in the dirt.
“Should we get going?” I asked.
"Yeah...I'm just, are you sure it's okay?" Damian asked.
Meredith nodded. "Come to the station. We can sleep there for a bit and then get to work on figuring out how to destroy these ghastly beings and put an end to this."
8
We piled into Meredith’s car and drove back to the station. It wasn’t long before we were all dead asleep, laying on spare blankets taken from the lost and found.
For a few hours, in my dreams, it felt like nothing had happened. Everything was okay, I was safe, Damian was safe. As I awoke, an empty feeling dropped in the pit of my stomach. Reality jolted me from my slumber. The truth was that I wanted to learn what had happened to my parents. I wanted to understand how to be rid of this demon couple that seemed to want our entire family dead now that we were hunting them down.
Awake before us, Damian brought me coffee. An unusual turn of events since I was usually the one up first in the real world.
“Have trouble sleeping?” I asked him.
“I think I got a few minutes in there.”
I turned his head up with my fingers to see if the marks had worsened, and they had. His neck sported large purple bruises on each side in the shape of fingers. I winced at the sight and removed my hand from his jaw.
“I’m so sorry we left you alone down there.”
He shrugged it off. “Glad I could take one for the team. It looks worse than it is.”
“Well, we should’ve been there sooner. Or done something differently. You could’ve died...”
"But, I didn't," he interjected, sitting.
"I know. It's a good thing you didn't because it's all hands on deck today. Shall we get to work? What do we do about sleeping beauty?"
I pointed over at a heavily breathing Meredith, rolled up in an oversized comforter. Her body was splayed out across the ground with her back to the floor.
“Eh, she’ll join us eventually. Let her sleep in a bit longer.”
