Ghosts in the Graveyard

by Kim Bowman

  Just thinking about it again made Charlie shiver. “So it hurt?”

  “Kinda. More like it made my whole body tingle like when your hand falls asleep, only about ten times worse. Made me wanna crawl out of my own skin. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  Neither could Charlie, and it hadn’t happened to him. He could only imagine how Jack must feel.

  “Come over here and sleep. But bring your own blanket and pillow.” Charlie scooted over and made room for Jack.

  “Thanks, Charlie.”

  There was rustling as Jack pulled his cover from the mattress. He hopped onto Charlie’s bed and settled in. To be honest, Charlie was glad to share his bed. He was still freaked out and didn’t want to sleep alone. His mind kept turning over the fact that the ghosts were probably still milling about in the house. They could even be right in the bedroom and he and Jack wouldn’t know it.

  Jack’s breathing evened and Charlie sighed. At least one of them would get some sleep. Folding his hands on his chest and looking up at the ceiling, he started silently reciting the Lord’s prayer.

  Chapter Six

  From ghoulies and ghosties

  And long-leggedy beasties

  And things that go bump in the night,

  Good Lord, deliver us!

  ~Scottish Saying

  “Charlie, wake up.”

  The whispering he could ignore. The poking…not so much.

  “What?” he snapped when his arm started to ache and he felt a bruise forming from Jack’s constant jabbing.

  “I…have to go to the bathroom.”

  Charlie pulled the covers over his head. “So go.”

  “Will you go with me? Please. I-I’m scared. What if the ghosts are still here or come back.”

  “Jack, can’t you wait ’til morning?”

  “I tried to go back to sleep, but I can’t hold it any longer. I really have to go. Please come with me. I don’t wanna go by myself.” Jack’s voice shook as he finished.

  Charlie groaned. Unbelievable. Just when he’d finally fallen asleep.

  A hard thump on his back nearly sent him tumbling to the floor.

  “Please, Charlie. I can’t wait much longer.”

  Resigned to the fact that’d he’d better go with Jack or risk having his bed soaked, Charlie kicked the blankets off and stood. “Fine. I’ll go. But if we get in anymore trouble, I’ll clobber you.”

  Jack jumped from the bed. “Thanks.”

  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Charlie started across the floor. When he was a couple feet away from door, a round yellow beam struck the center of it, and he could clearly see a shadow coming toward him. On instinct, he jumped back, startled, at the same moment realizing the dark silhouette was of him. He wheeled around.

  “What are you doing? Turn that thing off,” he snapped at his brother.

  “You don’t think we should take it with us?”

  “Sure. If you wanna run the risk of Mom see it and getting in even more trouble. Now turn that off and come on before I change my mind.”

  “Okay, one second,” Jack said. He crossed the distance between the two beds, bent down, and rustled around.

  “What are you doing now?”

  Jack stood up and held out the crock he’d mixed the black salt in. “Mother got our necklaces and paper straws, but not this.”

  Charlie’s mouth fell open and he just stared at Jack for several beats before he could speak. “Are you for real?”

  Jack shrugged, dancing up and down. “What? Nothing wrong with being careful.”

  Shaking his head, Charlie spun back to the door. “Well while we’re downstairs, you’re gonna pour that out, clean the bowl, and put it back.”

  “Okay. Let’s get going. I can’t wait any longer.”

  Charlie cracked the door open and peeked both ways. Sure the coast was clear, he motioned for Jack to follow him into the hall. He turned left and Jack grabbed his arm.

  “Not that way,” Jack said, shaking his head.

  “What do you mean ‘not that way’?”

  “The back stairs are scary, and you wouldn’t let me bring the flashlight.”

  “If we go down the front stairs, we have to pass by Mother’s room. She’ll hear us.”

  Jack crossed his legs and bounced up and down. “Please, Charlie.”

  Charlie gave a loud sigh. “Fine. But be quiet and be careful with that bowl—here, just give it to me before you drop it or spill it.” Charlie took the crock and started down the hall.

  “Hurry up. I’m dyin’ here,” Jack moaned.

  Charlie suffered a moment of guilt about deliberating going slower than necessary just to torment his little brother and picked up the pace.

  The stairway was at least six feet across and led down to the main entrance. Going down the steps, the front door was on the left and the stairway faced the living room. The banister and spindles had originally been painted white. But their mother had scraped the paint off, sanded it down, and stained it the same wood color as the steps.

  There was a hollow clanking Charlie could only compare to footsteps echoing on a wood floor. It sounded like it was coming from above and behind them. Both boys halted and cringed, slowly turning their heads expecting to see their mother, but what they could see of the upstairs hall was empty.

  “I really wish we had our flashlight with us,” Jack whispered, taking Charlie’s arm.

  “Me too. Let’s just get to the bathroom.”

  They descended the last couple of steps and turned right, hugging the wall. The long, dark, narrow hallway appeared to stretch on forever. The blackness seemed to swallow Charlie, and he was glad to have Jack holding his arm so tight he was cutting off the circulation. They passed the formal dining room, and Charlie’s anxiety grew, goose bumps crept along his spine and through his body. A sudden cold current whooshed down the hall causing the swinging door leading into the kitchen to sway. The movement was slight, barely discernable, easily brushed off as his mind playing tricks on him. But there was no denying the high-pitched squeak the hinges made as the door swung.

  “Ch-Charlie,” Jack said, his voice trembling, hand squeezing Charlie’s arm tighter. He’d obviously seen it too.

  “Just a couple more steps.” As Charlie said the words, the temperature once again dropped. He hugged the bowl closer, wrapping his fingers along the rim, ready to toss it at the first sign of attack but too afraid to turn his head and look behind him.

  Finally coming abreast of the door, Jack wrenched it open and ran inside. Charlie followed, turning the deadbolt to lock the door, glad to barricade himself in the small bathroom as the thunk of footsteps obviously not his mom’s grew louder, closer.

  Charlie tried to convince himself he was letting his imagination run away with him. But there was no denying someone was coming down the hall. It was faint, sounded faraway almost, but footfalls were definitely coming toward the bathroom. The sound stopped outside the door. Charlie and Jack jumped back, clinging to each other, when the knob started to turn.

  Chapter Seven

  Fear is the prison of the heart.

  ~Anonymous

  To say Helen was having a restless night was an understatement. Between the fitful child curled up beside her and how annoyed she was with the boys for their shenanigans, there was little chance she’d be getting anymore sleep.

  It was clear the boys had been frightened too. Maybe she should have let them bring their pillows and blankets to her room to sleep for the night. But when Millie’s screams woke her and she flew out of bed only to learn the three of them had been up to mischief, her fear had quickly turned to anger and she’d let her temper get the best of her. Especially after finding the boys in the kitchen with the back door open pouring her salt on the floor. For what purpose, she didn’t know or care. It was wasteful, and she should have made the boys mop the floor after they swept up the crystals. But they had school in the morning and it had already been after one.

  Just as he
r pique started to diminish, her mind drifted to the pages that had been ripped from her favorite book to make “ghost weapons” and her anger returned with a vengeance.

  She picked the clock up from the nightstand and groaned. Four o’clock. Why, of all times, did Charlie and Jack have to pick the night before her twelve-hour shift at the hospital to wreak havoc?

  One week isn’t nearly long enough a punishment. What in the world would possess those two—

  There was a loud creak followed by a knock and a pop. Helen bolted upright, her eyes darting around the room, pulse racing. The child beside her stirred and she looked down. The site of the sleeping child calmed her momentary panic and she relaxed. The house was old and it was probably just settling. The boys and their crazy notions about ghosts invading their house even had her jumping and letting her imagination mess with her mind.

  Helen tapped the bottom of her palm against her forehead several times. How stupid she’d been. This was all her fault. The first time the boys had claimed to see ghosts, fear that they were seeing the devil led her to take them to Father Aaron, who gave them a stern lecture on how spirits were nothing to trifle with. She could still remember the horrified looks on Jack and Charlie’s faces as the priest read the Bible passage from First Samuel about Saul visiting the witch En Dor and how the spirit she summoned was more than likely a demon. Her bad judgment was the reason her babies were terrified. They’d been trying to protect her and Millie, and how had she rewarded them?

  She was a terrible mother. Why did the poor kids have to be stuck with her? Charles was so much better at corralling the kids and making them feel safe…making her feel safe. For what seemed like the ten thousandth time, Helen said a silent pray for her husband to come home soon.

  With a loud sigh, she rolled to her side, determined to try and get a couple hours of sleep. Her eyes automatically landed on the space at the bottom of the bedroom door and she let out a gasp. The beam of a flashlight wobbled and bounced as it moved past her room.

  Those boys! When I get my hands on them…

  Helen jerked the covers back and bounded out of bed then cringed when Millie began to whimper and fuss. She leaned over and patted the little girls back. “Shh, sweetie. It’s okay.”

  After a couple of moments, Millie settled and her breathing evened.

  Careful not to disturb the sleeping girl, Helen crept over to the door and opened it. There was an all-too familiar creak followed by another, indicating the boys were heading down the front stairs. She snuck down the hall to the top of the stairs just as two dark shadows too tall to be Charlie and Jack reached the entryway and turned right toward the kitchen. Although black, she could see the other side of the wall through the creatures. No, that wasn’t possible. It had to be shadows she’d glanced at and not the trespassers. There was no such thing as ghosts. They glanced her way and she retreated several steps, hoping they hadn’t seen her. She backed up too far and bumped the picture on the wall. The prowlers swung around and made garbled, incoherent chattering noises to one another and then started back up the stairs.

  Heat radiated from her as adrenaline surged through her body. Panic wrapped around her throat, squeezing it almost completely closed, forcing her to take shallow breaths. She’d locked all the doors herself, yet she couldn’t deny what she’d just seen. Intruders had somehow gotten inside and they were headed straight for her.

  There was a squeak and a click, Helen wasn’t sure from where, and the ghosts, burglars, whatever they were whipped their heads around and glanced down the hall. They did more of the shrill babbling and reversed directions, heading down the hall toward the kitchen instead.

  She sighed in relief but was shaken. Why hadn’t she listened to Charlie and Jack? They’d tried to tell her someone was in the house and she’d ignored them. Had yelled at them and sent them to bed. In her defense, Charlie and Jack had been convinced they’d seen ghosts so—

  The boys!

  Helen hurried down the hall, past her bedroom, and swung open the door to the boys’ room. Both beds were empty. Her babies were gone. Gripped by hysterics, she ran over and ripped the pillows and blankets off, throwing them to the floor. Her knees buckled and she crumbled to the floor, dropping her head to the mattress. Tears filled her eyes then poured down her cheeks. She sobbed thinking of how terrified Charlie and Jack must be and what could be happening to them.

  Her head snapped up. The boys had been afraid earlier. Scared enough to not simply forget it and get in their beds and go to sleep. Besides, had burglars barged into their room, she would have heard her kids screaming or struggling. Wouldn’t she?

  Helen grabbed the flashlight from the nightstand and ran to the closet, praying the boys were just frightened and hiding. She swung the door open and shined the light inside. Bone crushing, paralyzing fear snaked around her and squeezed her heart when there was nothing but clothes, toys, and shoes inside.

  She just stood there staring at the empty closet, refusing to accept that the boys weren’t in their room. If the intruders had grabbed Charlie and Jack, when she saw them downstairs, she would have seen her sons too. So where were her kids?

  Alarm bells went off in Helen’s mind. The click that had drawn the burglars’ attention. She knew that sound. It was the bathroom door shutting. The boys were downstairs and they were in danger.

  Chapter Eight

  True love is like ghosts,

  which everyone talks about but few have seen.

  ~Author Unknown

  Charlie and Jack sat huddled together in the small bathroom. The house was quiet. Too quiet.

  “Do you hear anything?” Jack asked in a whisper.

  “No.”

  “I want Mom.”

  So did Charlie, but he wouldn’t admit it to Jack. He also didn’t want to think about what might be happening to her and his little sister.

  “Do you think the spooks went upstairs after Mother and Millie?”

  So much for not thinking about it. “Mother can take care of herself and Millie.”

  “I think we should go check on them.”

  Charlie pushed his brother. “Are you crazy? We’re going to sit right here until morning.”

  “And wait for the ghosts to come back and get us. No thank you.” Jack stood.

  Charlie grabbed his brother’s arm. “I said we’re staying put.”

  Jack jerked away. “You can stay in here if you want, but I’m not. We at least have the black salt I made. Mom and Millie have nothing. We gotta help them, Charlie.”

  “Sit down and stop being stupid, Jack. What good has any of this stuff done us so far? The ghosts are still in the house. They walked in the back door and over the salt you’d poured there. Then right through you when you had on that horrible garlic necklace,” Charlie pointed out.

  “Yeah, now that I think about it, garlic is to keep vampires away,” Jack said.

  Charlie wanted to punch his brother. Lay him out flat. “You really are an idiot. Pfst, vampires. I deserve to be grounded for listening to you in the first place.”

  A sharp pain shot through Charlie’s ankle and up his leg. He grabbed his calf and rubbed it. “Ouch! Did you just kick me?”

  “I’m not an idiot. The salt didn’t work because I never finished putting it along the entrances. And if I’m so stupid, why did those things quit turning the knob and leave when we pelted the door with black salt?”

  Charlie opened his mouth to answer then snapped it shut.

  Jack crept over to the door and put his hear to it. “It’s quiet. I think the coast is clear. Come on. Let’s go check on Mom and Millie.”

  He was all for that. Their mother could ground him for another week if she’d let them stay in her room for the rest of the night. Retrieving the bowl from the floor, Charlie stood and walked over to the door. Jack slowly opened it and stuck his head out.

  “I don’t see anything. Let’s go.”

  “You do realize if we go screaming to Mother about ghosts, she’ll prob
ably ground us for a month and we’ll be seeing Father Aaron on a regular basis until Christmas,” Charlie said, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack pulled the door closed and faced Charlie. “Do you have a better idea? I for one don’t wanna sit in the bathroom all night freaked out. The knob turned, Charlie. We both saw it. And we both know it wasn’t Mom. She would have beat on the door and yelled at us to get back upstairs to bed.”

  He had a point. Whatever had been outside the bathroom door and in the middle of the hallway hadn’t been their mother. Although they didn’t say it, both boys knew it was the ghosts who’d been in the kitchen earlier.

  “Okay, so now what?”

  “Well, we know whatever was in the hall didn’t go into the kitchen, so I say we head in there and take the back stairs up to Mother’s room,” Jack explained.