Night dawned upon a secluded town buried deep in the woods. Mist emerged from thin air as it roamed about. Remotely located on top of a hill, this small isolated town has had their share of unusual phenomenon. With Hallows Eve approaching at the stroke of midnight, a slumber was about to unfold. In the shadows, an ancient clock chimed an hour till midnight. A group of girls ran down the stairs and into the library.
“Good
thing your parents left early.” The slumber began. A group of girls settled in a
circle on the library floor. They undid their sleeping bag, snuggled in their
blankets and poured their liquor. More emerged from the dark baring food. Each came
in their own set of slumber wear. While some came matching with their attire,
others got creative. The girls cared not for who came to impress. They came as
themselves, with perfect love and perfect trust.
“Where
did they go, by the way?” An inquisitive friend asked as she sat down. Her gothic
appearance stood out like a sore thumb. She sat alone in a company of friends.
Friends who wore color that popped while she preferred standard black. She
reserved a spot in the slumber by default. She, unbeknownst to the rest, is
cousins to the hostess. Though they’ve grown apart throughout the years in
aesthetics, they still share a strong bond.
“They
went up north. Sort out some business.” The hostess replied as she closed the
doors to the library. A devilish grin appeared in her face. She took her spot
in the circle of girls she calls friends. They all squirmed in their spots as
they found comfort in their pillows and blankets. Bags of chips and candy were
passed around. Bottles of liquor were poured and toasted. Anticipation filled
the air. The lights turned off.
A
single beam of light shined on the hostess face as she began her tale of
mystery and horror. “Girls,” the hostess began. All eyes on her, “In the spirit
of Halloween.” Her friends giggled in excitement. “I would like to kick start
this thrilling night with a story.” She paused for dramatic effects. “What
better way to celebrate this night of horror than with a tale tailor made for
this season.” Her friends looked around in amazement.
“Somber
Hill,” she continued, “Has many tales to tell.” They all huddled closer to keep
warm from the cold night. “Folklore spanning to the very beginning of Somber
Hill has taught us that the very grounds our town was founded on is doomed to
fall pray to unusual paranormal activity.” The girls knew all too well what the
hostess meant for they each have had their fair share of unusual oddities.
“Are
you going to talk about that one time Arnold spoke to his dead grandmother?”
Someone asked in the darkness.
“Who
said that?” The hostess replied as she aimed the flashlight to a black top,
then it’s owner. “Amari, if the flashlight is not in your possession, please
keep all comments to a zero minimum.” She then aimed the light back to her. “As
I was saying, Somber Hill has many legends of ghosts and other unworldly
creatures. People to this day swear they have seen gnomes and evil fairies.”
The girls interrupted the hostess story with their claims of encounters with such
creatures in the night. Delving deep into the zeitgeist of Somber Hill.
“Really?”
Amari interrupted, once again. The girls turned to her. “For the hundredth and
last time, no one has solid evidence fairy tale creatures exist.”
“But
I have seen them!”
“Its
not like people are out setting equipment to capture them on film.”
“Don’t
be so quick to dismiss someone’s claims, Amari.”
“Do
you know of any other kind of creature we’ve yet to know about?”
The
girls spoke, all at once. The hostess stood on her knees as she ordered silence
but to no avail. The girls got rowdy as the hostess became agitated. She
repeated herself, trying to restore her dominance, but failed every time. She
finally took her pillow and tossed it to the loudest of them all and soon
silence filled the uneasiness. “If Amari feels she can kick start this slumber,
then by all means, kick start this slumber.” She tossed the flashlight to Amari
and sat back to her spot.
Amari
examined the flashlight as she felt their eyes on her. “Let’s see.” She began.
A haunting story no one has heard before brewed in her mind. “We’ve all come to
know of Mrs. Berry’s wild folktale of Somber Hill and it’s foundation,
correct?” She looked around to bobbing heads in the dark. Dim moonlight entered
the library through open windows that stood high. “I bet none of you have heard
of the tale of The Vengeful Wanderers.”
“The
Wanderers?” The hostess spat.
“Now,
now Abbie, if the flashlight is not in your possession.” She saw through the
darkness her friends glance at Abbie then back to her. She knew she had their
full undivided attention. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand
without ever beginning her frightful true story. “The tale of the Wanderers
dates back to the very sole beginning. Back to when our founding fathers first
established Somber Hill, there was a rumor going around about an ancient
graveyard. According to legend, Somber Hill was once home to a tribe who
migrated from the desert.”
“Actually
Amari,” Abbie intervened, “When our founding fathers came to Somber Hill, all
they found was a deserted piece of land with stones everywhere. As a matter of
fact, Somber Hill was called something else entirely until our founding fathers
settled on it’s current name.”
“You
are right on that Abbie.” Amari replied, nearly blinding her as she aimed the light
to her face. “There’s just one thing wrong with that story. Those stones they
found weren’t just stones left misplaced by accident. Those stones were in fact
headstones.” She paused for a dramatic reaction. In the dark, her friends sat
wide eyed. They wanted more.
“Impossible!”
A response echoed in the room.
“Believe
it.” Amari replied.
“How
could they have known they were headstones?” Abbie asked, curiously but
doubtful.
“But
they did.” Amari answered. “They knew where they stood was a burial ground from
the natives they massacred. They knew, they just didn’t care. All they saw was
in fact a deserted piece of land with stones everywhere.” She said, teasing
Abbie who was now covering herself with her blanket. “Our founding fathers took
the stones and rolled them down the hill. They didn’t even bother to move the
bodies. Thus beginning the Somber Hill curse.” Silence settled in the room. The
girls did not want to admit the facts for they seemed all too real for a scare.
“And we all know what happens when you disrespect the dead’s final resting
place.”
The
girls remained silent. Owls echoed in the night. Dogs barked at the mist,
wolves howled at the moon and lost entities roamed the streets at night. The
girls sat in a circle with the dim moonlight revealing fear in their eyes. Amari
peeked at the clock tower that stood by a bookcase. “Legend states that at the
stroke of midnight on Hallows Eve, the Wanderers come out from underneath to seek
their revenge on those responsible for invading their burial grounds.”
“Some
claim the Wanderers are responsible for the missing people that vanish without
a trace here in Somber Hill. Others say the Wanderers only haunt those
whose ancestry dates back to the founding fathers themselves. The tale of the
Wanderers has many variations of fate that await those who cross their path but
they all state the same thing. If ever you hear a knock at your door past
midnight on Hallows Eve, never open it for you’ll only invite the dead.”
“Very
funny Amari.” Abbie snarled. “You do know who’s sitting beside you right.”
Abbie stood to turn the lights on. Amari turned to her side. “You’re aware Dana
is related to one of the founding fathers too, right?”
“I
thought we were just telling scary stories.” Amari replied, defensively.
“You
call that a story? Felt more like an accusation.”
“Well...”
Amari added but laughed afterwards. “Lighten up guys, it’s just another
folktale to tell in the dark, nothing more.” Amari looked around to a group of
girls too scared to admit it. “What did you expect from the only gothic chick
in the group?”
“Why
did you invite her again?” Stacy asked Abbie.
“Our
parent’s are related.” Abbie replied.
Ding!
A low chime echoed throughout the library. Startled, the girls jumped while the
rest shouted in fear. Even with the lights on, they were scared and alert. The
clock tower that stood by the bookcase rang twelve times, slowly and
hauntingly. They looked at Amari who couldn’t help but to grin. “How about we
do each other’s nails?” Amari suggested to change the topic.
The
night furthered into the witching hour. The girls were now fast asleep, tucked
in their sleeping bags. The town tower struck three times. All was silent until
a knock came about. Abbie peeked in the darkness to find her friends sound
asleep. She laid her head back to the comfort of her pillow when a second knock
came again. “Okay guys, whoever’s doing the knocking can stop.” Silence. A
third knock came about.
“Amari,
quit your shit!”
“It’s
not me!” Amari spat. They were wide awake before they knew it, alert and
scared. Another knock came in the dark, this time, originating from the front
door.
“Who
could be knocking at three in the morning?” Stacy asked. They gravitated to one
another, fearing the worst. “When were your parents suppose to be back?”
“It
can’t be them.” Abbie replied. Another knock came, this time louder. “This is
ridiculous.” Abbie left the library and headed straight to the front door,
illuminating the lights on her way. The girls waited in the library, intensely
watching Abbie peek through the peep hole. She stood on her toes as she placed
her eye on the small opening. To her astonishment, she found no one. Slowly,
she walked away then another knock came. The doorknob rattled. The girls
screamed as they held each other tightly.
“What
should we do?”
“Call
the cops!”
“Who
could it be?”
Thump!
Thump! Thump! The knocks became louder and louder. The knobs
began to rattle violently. Someone was trying to get in. Amari mustard the
courage to check who stood outside. She too found the front porch empty. “It’s
probably some pranksters.” Amari said as she joined the gang. Relieved, Stacy
headed for the lock and proceeded to open the door.
“Stacy
wait! No!” They all yelled but were too late. Stacy opened the door and invited
the dead inside. In the midst of night, a gathering of lost vengeful souls
found not one but two bodies to replace what has been taken from them. In the
dark, a commotion spread the girls apart. Amari guided the girls up the stairs
while calling for Abbie. As light resumed, Amari’s haunting screams echoed
for her cousin and her best friend.
