their cold, damp, skeletal hands up and down my head, face, and torso. It was like being burned with ice. I know that makes no sense. But that’s how it felt. They laughed and smacked their lips, and groped, and rubbed, and my entire body screamed under that icy torture. I wanted to die. I wanted it to end. I wanted to forget what this felt like. But I never would. I knew as long as I lived I would never forget. It would always be there, always, always, sometimes beneath the surface, sometimes on top of it, but never gone, never forgotten.
Please let me die. Please. Please. Please.
I heard something shatter. My window. Not me. I didn’t do it. Who did it? One of them? No telling. Doesn’t matter. Not now. Not at this stage. It’s broken. That’s all I need to know. Like the busts in the hallway. Broken. Like me. Like my arm. Like my sanity. Their laughs. Their faces. Their cruel, hateful, spiteful little faces. Their torn bodies. Their glow. They glow! Holy hell, they glow, and they hurt, and they are hurting me, and this is what it is going to be like from now on, for me, the rambling, the stuttering, the fragmented thoughts, my life, my life is gone, madness, insanity, they’re laughing, still laughing, at me, at my expense, laughing, and touching me, and hurting me, and…
And I ran for the window, jumped, cleared the sill, and welcomed the cold rush of night air on my face.
Episode 4
Henry’s Favor
1
That one photograph of my mother and I, which I had set up on the mantelpiece in my room, was literally the only physical possession I owned that bore my mother’s likeness. So when I discovered that it was missing, I panicked.
Frantically throwing items around the room, pouring through the little armoire that held my handful of belongings, casting darting glances under the bed, my horror mounted bit by bit. Where was it? How could it be missing? It wasn’t like I took it down and played with it. It wasn’t like I walked around the house with it. It wasn’t like I had all that many things to begin with, that it would be mixed up among them. It should still be sitting where I left it, without exception. There was no reason for it to be gone.
It dawned on me that there was only one real explanation: someone took it.
Naturally, the first thing that popped into my mind was that Seth, the obnoxious new kid with the big mouth and the penchant for archery, had pranked me somehow. And not in a good, wholesome way, either, like how some kids will often unleash harmless jokes on one another for a good laugh. No, if Seth took it, he was being evil about it. He was doing it to hurt me. Although I couldn’t be completely sure that he was the culprit. What about Trevor, with his little mysteries and his tales of ghosts? Or Esau, who still creeped me out and always seemed to be hiding something and who still wouldn’t answer me about Helen?
I decided to listen to my gut, and question Seth first.
I wasn’t halfway across the room to the door when a loud commotion arose in the hallway. Many loud, excited voices echoed from far away, accompanied by footsteps marching away quickly. Something was going down. Something big. You can just tell these things sometimes by the energy people give off. That was when I heard the sirens approaching the house. Many of them. The view outside my window startled me; police squad cars, an ambulance, and lots of people running about. It looked like complete pandemonium out there.
I meandered downstairs, not quite sure that I wanted to know what was going on. My heart thrust against my ribs, and an overwhelming sensation of gloom just seemed to be hanging over me. Something really bad had happened to someone who lived here, I just knew it. But it wasn’t until I was standing under the stars that I knew how bad it was. I tore my eyes from the sight of that crumpled form lying near the base of the wall, splayed out on the grass like a marionette doll with its strings cut. Above, Seth’s bedroom window loomed, shattered, shards of glass missing.
I plopped down on the front steps, and just sat there with my head in my hands, trying to puzzle it out. The medical crews ignored me, but a police officer did eventually wander over and ask me a few questions. He quickly surmised that I knew absolutely nothing, and he let me be.
At some point Trevor materialized beside me, his eyes thick and crusty from sleep. His red hair was disheveled, several strands jutting out at odd angles. The skin across his face was stretched tight in an expression of stricken fear.
“They did this to him,” Trevor said.
I was tired of hearing about ghosts. “Please don’t start with that again.”
So we sat there quietly for who knows how long. We watched the crew work. Esau was in the thick of it, barking at people, waving his hands emphatically as he gestured first up to the window, then to the ground, over and over. Overhead, the moon shone down on us with its soft glow, and only occasional strands of clouds would threaten to conceal it. The inky blackness of the night matched the substance of my thoughts.
And I’ll admit it; the thought kept occurring to me that if Seth had in fact taken the picture of my mom, and if he died, then I might never learn where he hid it. I would never find it.
Esau marched over and looked down on us, Trevor and I, seated on the third step from the bottom.
“Seth is in critical condition,” Esau said. I exhaled. At least he was alive. I feared he wouldn’t even have that much going for him. “It’s hard to say how much permanent damage he might have sustained. But it’s bad.”
“We’ll have to pray for him,” Trevor said.
Esau’s head snapped around and he fixed the boy with his fiery gaze. “Pray? Since when do you pray?”
Trevor’s head sagged. “Nevermind.”
“For all the good praying does anyway.” Then he looked over at me. “It looks as though he either fell out his window, or he jumped. Did either of you see anything? Hear anything?”
We both shook our heads in the negative.
“I didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard the commotion,” I said.
Esau nodded. “I was on my way to speak to him, when I discovered his room empty and the window broken. I looked out.”
Things slowly quieted down after the paramedics loaded Seth onto a stretcher and drove off. It took forever for them to get him ready for transport. Too many things that could have gone wrong if they moved him the wrong way. I guess they didn’t know exactly what was broken and which shattered bone might puncture which internal organ if they weren’t careful enough. Nevertheless, one by one, the emergency vehicles and squad cars disappeared down that twisted drive, and, in the absence of their flashing lights, the night became that much darker.
I returned to my room, feet dragging. Did he jump, or had he fallen? Falling didn’t make sense. How could he have fallen out of his window? But why would he have jumped? Neither explanation made much sense.
I opened my bedroom door and walked in.
The little girl was sitting on my bed.
I immediately recognized her from my first night at the house, looking down at me from between the railings of the bannister. She still wore that same blue smock dress that complemented her blonde curls so much. Upon seeing me, a modest smile played at her lips.
She pointed to the mantelpiece in the corner of the room, where, wonder of wonders, the framed picture of my mother and I rested as though it had always been there.
“She’s very beautiful,” the girl said.
I was speechless. Many conflicting thoughts raced through my head at the same time. For starters, the photograph had not been there when I left my room. I was sure of it. I had practically torn the room apart searching for it, something I would not have bothered to do had it been in the very first place I looked, the place where it was supposed to be all along anyway.
The second thing that went through my head was that this girl did not belong here. I had been at the estate long enough to know she was not one of the guests, or one of the workers, or one of the family members that lived there.
And she glowed. I know how that sounds. But there was a faint luminescence to her person, a shine that came from wit
hin, like someone had shoved a lamp under her skin. And now, up close, from her clothes to her hairstyle, I knew that she belonged to another era, a bygone year.
She watched me take all this in, hands folded in her lap, waiting.
The third thing that went through my mind was the one I had the most trouble with. Because she wasn’t a little girl. At least, not technically. Maybe once upon a time. But not now. And then I knew with certainty that Trevor had been speaking truthfully all this time about the other residents of Drury Manor.
I wish I could say that it was the first time I had ever seen a ghost.
2
The ghost and I stared into each other’s eyes. The moment might have lasted a second or an hour. I was transfixed, my brain threatening to shut itself off altogether and go on a long overdue vacation. The ghost probably did not suffer from any such ailment, but then again time is probably less of a factor to the undead and they can afford to be more patient. I’d bet the young girl could have sat there all night without batting an eye.
I would eventually have to sleep, however.
“What are you doing here?” I said.
“My name is Elaine.”
It wasn’t lost on me that she had not answered my question.
“Hi, Elaine.”
“Hi, Henry.”
“Now that that’s out of the way, what are you doing here?”
She turned her head and looked toward my window. It was eerie watching her move. She