Scares

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.