Haunted Read online

  Haunted

  Tredick Foster

  Edited by Eric Weston

  © 2020 Tredick Foster

  All Rights Reserved

  Dedicated to

  My friends, who hate reading.

  I could be talking smack about you in this book and you’ll never know!

  Prologue

  By the end of my freshman year of high school, lunch time at the library had been my saving grace. There was a spot all the way in the back where no one ever went to. I’d sit back there on the floor in the corner, arms folded, head down, napping. This was a necessity back then, not because I was a teenager but because I couldn’t sleep at night. Not with the nightmares… not with what my mom had turned into…

  Walking in that day, I took a casual survey over the whole library. My 15 year old mind had hoped to see the face of my best friend or even my girlfriend. Of course, Russell had to move to Maryland after his mom was killed by the cops, and my girlfriend… well, I couldn’t tell you where the hell Fiona was at that point.

  I was heading back to my corner when I suddenly spotted her. Not my girlfriend, but she could’ve fooled me. She had long, jet black hair down to the middle of her back, just like Fiona did. However, she was a little more tan than her. Fiona was always more of a pale, gypsy-style goth girl, but this new girl didn’t dress like her:

  An oversized, green flannel shirt over a black Pearl Jam t-shirt. Jeans with holes worn into the knees. A pair of black Doc Martens that looked like they’d seen better days, propped up on the chair across from her. She certainly had the look of a 90’s slacker chick on point.

  She was nose deep in a book that had become the very subject of my nightmares, a non-reflective black paperback with a white seal that looked like two overlapping, five-pointed stars. The white lettering above it still gives me anxiety to this day…

  The Necronomicon

  I’d made a beeline over to her, not even knowing what I was doing at first. This girl, a girl I’d never seen before that day and haven’t seen since. She had to know something about what I was going through.

  Without any care, and rather rudely now that I look back on it, I yanked out the chair she had her feet on and sat down across from her. “Uh, hi?” She said both confused and offended. Right to the point, I asked her, “How do I get it to stop?” She went silent, looking rightfully confused until I point to the book in her hands.

  She looked to the book, shook her head with a smirk and said “You start by not screwing around with it.” I leaned in and sternly explained, “I didn’t screw around with it. All I did was take it. I haven’t even read the damn thing.”

  She tilts her head and asked, “Then why do you have it?” I groaned, shaking my head and saying “It’s a long fucking story.” She closed her book, setting it on the table while quipping, “Well, I’ve got a long fucking time.”

  I leaned back, rubbing my tired eyes with my thumb and finger while I start, “Alright, you know about Freddie Small, right?” She asked, “The freshman that killed himself last week, right?” I nodded, “Yeah, well I was asked to look into it.”

  Confused, she asked “Look into what?” I looked at her, unamused and clarified, “Freddie’s death.” She didn’t look anymore informed when she followed up with “Why you?” I rolled my eyes, “Because I’m Rick?” She stayed silent, so I further explained, “Rick Gibson, I solve problems?”

  Her brow narrowed, “I don’t get it, you solve problems because your last name is a guitar brand?” I sighed in frustration, “No, I’m just good at it, I guess. People come to me, I help them out.” She raised her brow as she shook her head, “Ok, does it pay well?” I groaned, “I don’t have the internet at home, so some people give me… stuff.”

  Her brow narrowed again and she asked, “What… stuff?” I rolled my eyes again, “Porn, ok?” Her face twists, “Ew…” Frustrated, I patted the table with my fingers and asked “Can we get back to it, here?” She shook her head, motioning her hand to me to finish.

  I sighed, “Look, long story short, two people are dead and the only common factor is this damn book and I’m next. How do I stop it?” She looked to the book on the table and then back to me, shaking her head again, “What exactly is it doing?” I leaned on the table and explained, “Nightmares… people around me are acting weird. My mom, especially.”

  “Nightmares, like what?” she asked. I huffed in amusement, “Nightmares, like things made up of tentacles and eyes and shit floating through space. Like a million voices chanting all kinds of gibberish I don’t understand.” She nodded while looking to the book, “That makes sense, you’re dreaming about Azathoth. It’s because you’re not using it.”

  I shrugged, “Ok, so is it the Giant Spaghetti Monster fucking with my life?” She shook her head, folding her arms while she thought out loud, “No, the book doesn’t have that kind of influence over anyone that doesn’t own it… You said someone else died other than Freddie?” I nodded, “Yeah, my best friend’s mom. Cops killed her when she attacked them.”

  Her head moved back with surprise, “Wow. Ok then, did your friend have the book at the time?” I just nod, so she explained “Well, then clearly there’s something attached to your copy. Either Freddie or someone else before him summoned something and it’s following it.”

  I asked in a frustrated tone, “So, how do I kill it?” She shrugged, “I don’t know, call the Darkbreakers and let them handle it.” I tilted my head, “I don’t have five grand.” Her eyes widened at the price, then said, “Leave the book there and move?” I sneered, looking away, “Right, because my dad will definitely help me out. He just went on some reunion tour with his old band.”

  She went silent, then said, “Well, I guess you could burn it.” I looked to her with hope, “You think that’d work?” She shrugged, “Maybe. I mean, if it’s tied to the book, then getting rid of the book should get rid of it as well.”

  I leaned in, excited as I asked “So I just burn it, any spells I need to say or some shit?” She giggled, shaking her head, “No, but you might want to throw some salt on it too.” I looked to her in confusion, “Do I need to marinade it too?” She smiled, “No, salt helps purify it. The salt has to be pure too, so like sea salt. Nothing added to it.” I snapped my fingers, “I think I got some of that.”

  Chapter 1

  I bring my glass down onto the desk, letting out a heavy and emotional sigh. My laptop is sitting caddy-corner on the desk with the screen open. I reach for the bottle of cheap bourbon, pouring myself the third glass of the night. “Sorry,” I explain, “I’ve gotten used to drinking highballs, but without the cherry.” I sit back in my chair, knocking the whole glass back in one gulp.

  “That’s not what a highball is.” Evan says, watching from the video call on the computer screen. Evan sips from his own mug of coffee liqueur, clearly planning on a long night. My glass comes hammering down onto the desk again as I growl. “Smooth as silk!” I exclaim in a raspy tone, to which Evan chuckles.

  “So what’s wrong?” Evan asks, “You don’t talk about when you were a teenager unless some bad shit went down.” I sigh heavily, trying to come up with a linear way of explaining what’s wrong. “Well, Evan. Lemme tell you a story about the House Rent Blues.” Evan sighs himself, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from off camera and spiking his coffee liqueur with it. ”Ok.” He says, “I’m ready.”

  I pour myself another glass as I say, “Came home last Friday. Had to tell the landlady I got fired.” Evan interrupts me as I set the bottle back down, “Whoa, Whoa, Whoa! When did you get fired?” I pick up the glass, just swirling the contents around as I nod, “Yeah, I got fired that Monday.” Quickly, Evan asks “For what?” I roll my eyes, groaning “I really don’t want to talk
about that part. Maybe later.”

  I set the glass down and lean on the desk, my arm propping my head up as I continue, “So, she tells me she doesn’t give a fuck. Just as long as I got the rent next Friday.” Following along, Evan responds by commenting “Which is today.” I just nod and he continues, asking “So you got her the rent?” I shook my head, saying “Nope! So, out the door I went!”

  Evan looks past me, examining where I am. He sees my shitty, twin sized bed on the metal frame along with the single dresser and even the dual window fans on full blast, bringing the cool night air into the hot apartment. “Well, that’s your apartment, so…“ He trails off, allowing me to continue. “Well, I’m gonna get to that here soon.”

  “I came home today,” I keep on, “and there she is, all shitty when she asks if I’ve got the rent yet. I told her I didn’t, because I’d walked all over Hell’s Creation looking for a damn job that paid more than minimum wage. She starts talking about how she saw me sitting on a bench in town. I told her ‘no shit, I was tired from walking all day!’ She told me she didn’t give a shit and made me leave, or else she’d call the law!”

  Evan narrows his brow “She can’t do that, what about your shit?” I shrugged as I decided I was done nursing my glass of bourbon and knocked that whole thing back. Once down, I explained, “Yeah, but I wasn’t about to let shit escalate to that level, so I just left.” Evan nodded, getting the logic behind it.

  “So I head over to Russell's.” I state, which Evan nods, sipping on his no doubt hard-as-a-brick coffee. “Which is at the other end of the fucking city-” “Oldbridge was a suburb.” Evan quickly interrupts. I look back at the screen with a scolding look, “Don’t sass me, boy.” Evan just chuckled.

  “SO!” I exclaim, continuing “I get to Russell’s and tell him what happened.” Evan interrupts, asking “Russell is a guy from work, right?” I nod, explaining “Yeah, that Russell. So, I ask him if I can crash on his couch for a night or two and he tells me his wife’s already pissed enough that he got fired too.” Evan raises his brown, leaning forward as he asks “Wow, really?” I simply nod.

  “So, the whole reason I had to walk over there is ‘cause my phone’s dead, right? I’m hanging out over there for a little while, charging my phone and he and I come up with a plan,” I say. Evan becomes more enthralled with the story, leaning forward. “So, once my phone has a good 30% on it, Russell drives me back here. I go to the landlady and I end up showing her that I’ve got like three grand in my savings from my bank app.”

  Evan exclaims, “You what?” I smirk with a chuckle, nodding as I explain “Ok, look. I’d been saving up my tax refunds from the first, like… three years I was with the Darkbreakers, right? Figured I’d take an epic vacation or some shit one year, but then they changed shit up and I forgot about it. So, I showed that to her on my phone and she got all lovey dovey and shit.”

  “So you’re gonna use that to supplement your rent?” Evan asks. I exclaim “Psh! Fuck no. I used that just so I can get back in and get my shit. Right now, I’m just waiting on Russell to come pick me up around back, then haul ass back to Mom’s.” Evan looks surprised that I’d be capable of something of this level of shady, asking “What if the landlady sues you?”

  I chuckle as I screw the cap back onto the cheap bourbon, “That’s the good part. When I moved in, there was no paperwork to sign. No contracts or any legal documents. Mostly so she could pull shit like she did earlier.” Evan looks surprised again, “Wow. What the fuck…” I nod, “I know, right?”

  I get up from the chair, bottle and glass in hand. I zip open my big duffel bag and shove the bottle and cup inside among my clothes. Meanwhile, Evan asks “So, what do you plan on doing with the three grand?” I just shrug, saying “I don’t know. I planned on living off it while I try to find a new job.” Evan then asks, “Well, are you gonna have to pay your mom rent or anything?” I shook my head, explaining “No. I offered, but she turned it down.”

  “Well,” Evan starts. “I’ve got an idea.” I sit back down at the desk, leaning in and propping my head up again. “I’m listening.” I confirm. Evan then simply says “Start your own firm.”

  I look to him, quizzically as I rhetorically ask, “Fuck you talking about?”

  He laughs, “You seriously haven’t thought about it?”

  I shrug, “Why would I? There’s no one else here with experience.”

  “What about Russell?”

  I wave my hand “Russell wanted out of the game anyway. Plus, he’s not gonna cart his ass all the way to Potton and back for work.”

  “Well, you have the money. Or, at least most of it. Just hire someone.” Evan explains.

  I shake my head, “Dude, I’m not gonna take some leap of faith like that.” I leaned back in my chair, continuing “There’s a whole other half to the business that I’d need to provide that I have no expertise in. That’s why there were three of us.”

  I was the Occult Profiler,” I lay out, “figuring out whatever we went up against. Rachel was the Alchemical Physician who performed all the exorcisms and broke curses. Russell was the engineer who knew how to fix and maintain our equipment and the fucking van at that.”

  Evan nods, retorting “That’s true. Plus, you can’t realistically change career paths so drastically. Not in such a short amount of time, at least.” I nod, explaining “Now, I can work around not having an engineer. However, I’ve got to have a witch doctor and I only know of two I can trust; that’s Rachel and that’s you.” Evan sits back in his chair, understanding what I’m asking. He falls silent in contemplation.

  Chapter 2

  When I got to Mom’s, it was something like 1am. I walked up the driveway, duffel bag in hand with my backpack hanging off my right shoulder. My buzz had faded during the hour and a half, so I was eager to get inside and start back in on this bourbon. The idea of getting blitzed drunk in the bedroom I’d spend most of my teen years in has started to become more and more romanticized in my head.

  I make it up the back porch and I’m suddenly met with the back door locked. Jiggling it, thinking it’s old and stuck, I think back to Mom telling me she’d leave the door unlocked for me when I got here. I guess she forgot. Hell, it’s a good habit to have and not think about anyways. However, it’s not the ideal situation for myself.

  I take the two steps from the door to the deck furniture; a metal and glass table with metal chairs that have padded seats. I drop my duffel next to the chair I pull out and set my backpack down onto the table. I prop my head up with my hand, elbow on the cold, glass table top and I sigh heavily. I try to think of what to do next.

  My mind wanders around, unable to stay on task. All I can do is think about is what Evan suggested. I won’t do it without him and I meant that. I’m not gonna offer only half a business to the public and lose money because of it. I know how this works; I’ve been in the game for the last 9 or 10 years. I could try and find Rachel; I’ve always been a good detective like that. However, if she’s up and disappeared, it’s for a reason. I need to respect that.

  My mind keeps wandering, this time caused by my missing buzz. I imagine the bottle in my duffel bag talking to me. “C’mon,” it says, “There’s literally nothing else to do.” Like a crazy person, I entertained my imagination and looked down at my duffel. “Yeah,” I say “but we’re outside.” The bottle huffs in amusement, “We’re on private property! Plus, we’re on the back deck. Literally no one can see us with the light off.”

  I sigh, taking a beat of silence as I look around. The Bottle is pretty much telling the truth. There’s two pine trees that stand only ten feet or so away from the deck, blocking most of the line of sight from neighbors in the back. However, both neighbors on either end could see into the back deck if they looked over. I then look to the floor itself and sigh, taking in another reality.

  “I’m gonna need to be pretty loaded if I’m gonna sleep on this hard floor.” I mumble, to which The Bottle happily says “There ya go!” S
o, I pulled the pillows out of the bag, tossing them to the corner of the deck. This reveals both the bottle and the glass from earlier in the night, laying on my clothes. I pull them out, setting the glass on the table and immediately opening the bottle, pouring myself a heavy swallow.

  The rest of that night becomes a sort of blur. I remember lingering on Evan’s business idea, but I quickly devolved into hypothetical situations of impossibilities mixed with music. I remember placing a heavy importance on keeping my headphones on, so as not to “get discovered” while in such a state. Vague memories of pathetic stumblings, hands outstretched to grab at my desired objects, as if I were some oversized child.

  I woke up the next morning, clenching my pillows parallel to my own body as I lay on my stomach. A hand on my shoulder was rocking me side to side. “Rickie?” The familiar feminine voice asked, “Rickie, wake up.” I groaned as the world gently tipped and rolled in random directions. I rolled over to see my mom spinning above me.

  “I’m sorry,” She explained, “I forgot to unlock the door last night. It’s a habit. I’ve got to get to work, so go on in and get some sleep, ok?” I sat up, her words registering in my head non-linearly and coming together over time. Still figuring out what she said, I watched her walk off the back deck, to the driveway and head out in her car. Afterwards, I think I spent another half hour just sitting there, still trying to decipher what she’d told me.

  Once I found the energy to stand up, I began the tedious process of cleaning my things up. I shoved my headphones back into my backpack and the pillows back into my duffel. Looking around, I found my phone near the back door, plugged into the outlet. I dragged the duffel and backpack into the house with one hand while I stayed bent over, grabbing my phone and charger. I checked the time to see it was 9 in the morning.