by Erica Kiefer
***
After parking outside a large circle of trees, we walked passed a “NO TRESPASSING” sign that had obviously been ignored on numerous occasions. Spray-painted profanity stared back at us in bold, fiery letters across the warning. Following the trail of empty beer cans and cigarette butts, we noticed how the lush grass abruptly turned into dirt. Cracked, blackened branches littered the ground and, in the center of it all, were the remains of what was once a large home with exquisite design.
Of course, imagination was required. It helped that the southern portion of the house was mostly intact with its lavish, log exterior. The fire must have been stopped before it had destroyed the house in its entirety.
As my eyes roved along what should have been the rest of the home, my heart felt heavy. Burnt rubble was piled high on top of one another. It looked like a forgotten tomb.
“So it does exist,” Aaron spoke, disturbing our awed silence.
“Told you,” said Adam.
“Why hasn’t it all been torn down and removed?” I swallowed, envisioning the burning flames that had destroyed the home and left it like a grave. It seemed to be a vivid and gruesome reminder of what occurred here. “They at least removed the bodies...right?”
Brooke and I glanced with uneasiness at the debris. I looked away, almost fearing I might see a charred hand emerge from within. I chided myself. That was what too many cheap horror films will do to one’s mind.
Adam smiled at our reaction. “Yeah, don’t worry. No way would they leave the bodies. Rumor has it, the kid who burned it down refused to let anyone clean it up. It was his home and his property—after he had killed his old man that is. He could do whatever he wanted with it. And for some reason, he chose to leave it as is.”
“He probably wanted to leave it as a souvenir,” Brett suggested. “The kid was sick. He killed his entire family. It wouldn’t surprise me if he wanted some kind of trophy or memento of what he had done.”
I grimaced. “Do you know what happened to him?”
Adam shrugged. “Nah. I didn’t look that much into it. I’m betting he’s just your local psychopath now.” Adam laughed at his own joke.
Unsettled, I turned away, observing the trees surrounding us. It was close to dark. I didn’t like how the old tree branches all seemed to hunch over, like they were ready to enclose around us at any minute. A shudder slid down my back and I spun in a quick circle, looking around me. A hand touched my shoulder blade, and I jumped.
“You all right there, Allie?”
I shook away from Aaron’s touch with a sharp inhale. “Don’t do that!” My comment came out brusquer than I intended. Everyone looked at me in surprise.
“The ghost story is really getting to you, isn’t it, little sister?” Nick laughed at me.
“And don’t you ever call me that,” I snapped at him. With my arms still crossed, I stalked a few feet away, turning my back on all of them.
“What’s her deal?” I heard Adam whisper.
“I don’t know....”
I listened to the silence behind me, embarrassed by my reaction. But I couldn’t help it. Talking about death only reminded me of how Maddie had drowned. They wouldn’t understand. Nobody could.
“Well, we’re here. Now what?” Nick said. He walked up to one of the standing walls, his flip-flops crunching against the glass particles beneath him. He peered into one of the cracked windows. “Well, I can tell you what other people have been using it for. I’m going in.”
We followed Nick around the corner of the building and stepped inside a short hallway that led us to a bedroom. Nick gave a low whistle, while Brooke crinkled her nose in distaste.
There was a battered, queen-sized mattress lying inside a weathered bed frame. Next to it was a dresser, positioned on its side like a bench. Formulating the rest of the circle were tree stumps, a large boulder, and other miscellaneous items that seemed to have been brought in and used as chairs. In the middle of the configuration were gray ashes and fragments of wood.
“This is apparently the place to party,” Brett said, kicking aside a beer can and seating himself onto one of the tree stumps. “Not bad for a makeshift campsite. Anybody have a match? I say we make a fire of our own.”
I shook my head in disgust. I looked around at the graffiti-covered walls and the ransacked furniture. This room was one of the few remaining from the disastrous fire. A fire that had taken the lives of an unsuspecting family: a mother, father, and an innocent little girl...
A surge of emotion flooded my chest, taking me by surprise. “This isn’t right. We shouldn’t be here!”
Everyone seemed to be judging the expression on my face. I tried to hide my moistening eyes.
“Allie, this happened a long time ago. We’re not doing anything wrong,” Brooke said. She seemed embarrassed by my objections, smiling in apology to Adam and Brett.
“Yeah, we’re not doing anything worse than what’s already been done here,” Adam said. “We’re just trying to have some fun.”
I shook my head again. “Fine. Do whatever you want. I’ll wait by the car.” Stepping over a block of wood, I marched out of the room and hurried down the destroyed hallway. Escaping the awkwardness I had created, I breathed a heavy sigh.
Outside, night had fallen and the temperature in the air continued to drop. Now I wished I’d brought a sweater to impede the growing wind. I rubbed my bare arms to make my goose bumps disappear, but something else kept causing my hair to stand on end.
I thought about the boy who had killed his family and shuddered in revulsion. Yet my heart also felt an odd sense of remorse for him, for reasons I couldn’t quite figure out. What happened to the boy that made him so hateful, to drive him to do something so cruel? And what happened to him after his family died?
He was probably locked up in some juvenile detention center or circling through state custody from one foster home to the next. How long ago was this anyway? Maybe he was a grown man, locked in prison for theft and other murders, just waiting to get out so he could strike again.
I fought against a wave of apprehension, observing the gloomy silhouettes of the trees, searching for watching eyes or whatever it was that urged me to leave. Closing my eyes, I pressed my forehead against the cool window of the jeep, struggling to contain the overwhelming sadness and panic.
Minutes later, reluctant footsteps and quiet voices approached from behind me, leaving the burned ruins standing alone.
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