3 bar menu

Chapter 4

 

---

Author: Rhonnie Fordham

---

The Friday afternoon dragged on. Tony brought in the bags and luggage, most of which belonged to Linda Kane. The crew packed heavy for a mere weekend excursion. And Tony wasn’t too happy about it.

On the outside, the Christy house looked as fine as ever. The house you would least expect to see be the home of such tragedies. Two stories of upper-middle-class Heaven.

Certainly, the home was guarded well enough. The wrought-iron fence was sturdy enough to stave off any outside trouble. Security cameras surveyed the yard at an efficient rate. Together, such protection formed a strong team designed to keep the evils of this world at bay from the Christy house… or you could say it did an efficient job of keeping innocent outsiders from ever encountering what lurked within Stanwyck’s most notorious house.

The sun poured in through the house’s large kitchen windows. The house had a spacious kitchen. It was clean and full of modern appliances. Everything just perfect except for the one gaping knife wound marring an otherwise flawless wooden table.

Eager to start work, Bridget scattered her equipment all across the table, covering up the knife mark with her “tools.” Her utensils were not unlike the typical gear necessary for any other ghost hunter: an infrared thermometer for sensing temperature drops (AKA “cold spots”), a hi-tech tape recorder for capturing “voices,” and an infrared camcorder for the off-chance you actually come across an apparition. Unlike the ghost hunters and amateurs you would see on T.V., Bridget’s gadgets were not gaudy or flamboyant. They were efficient. Like her.

Bridget tested the equipment and made sure each piece worked to perfection. In all her years as a paranormal expert, she’d yet to come across a real haunted house. The Christy place was her best chance yet, and she knew it. She wanted to be prepared.

Bridget put the infrared camcorder to her eye for a quick test. Like a student filmmaker, she scanned the kitchen.

There the boy stood in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room! It was unmistakable. Just like in the first video from Amanda’s bedroom. There he was, clothes and blood and all. Only this time, those eerie eyes weren’t glowering at Amanda. They were latched onto Bridget. In the murky filtered lighting, he looked like a blazing demon.

Scared shitless, Bridget jumped back and lowered the camcorder. “Shit!” she said as she noticed the boy was gone. He was no longer lurking in the doorway.

Acting quick, she put the camera back to her eye. But the moment was over. Even through the camcorder, the thrill and the boy were gone. No one was in the doorway.

Bridget lowered the camera. Unsure what she saw, she cracked a weak smirk and placed the camcorder back on the table. That was a jump scare for the ages, she thought. Probably my only one for the weekend, so she better enjoy it. She figured Amanda already had her losing it…

Bridget turned and looked out a window.

The garden was off in the distance. Coated in sunlight, it looked glorious. Like a serene daydream. The flowers were tall and looked lush enough to lay in. A long-handled spade stuck straight out of the garden’s soft soil, lending the sight an even more wholesome mystique.

Captivated, Bridget walked up to the window for a closer look at this breathtaking view. Such a garden was too beautiful for this era, Bridget thought. It and all those flowers belonged in a Norman Rockwell painting. I could get lost in this, Bridget mused. Then she wondered what such a garden was doing in this supposed house of horrors? Nevermind the fact that the rest of the house lacked any of the garden’s passion or character.

“Not bad, huh,” a female voice said.

Bridget turned and saw Amanda waiting in the doorway. The same spot she saw the weird little boy. “Oh, hey,” Bridget said awkwardly.

Entering the kitchen, Amanda motioned toward the window. “I try to take care of the garden at least once day.” She noticed all the gear lying on the table. “Oh wow!” she exclaimed as she walked up to the tools.

“Yeah,” Bridget said with a smile. “I always come prepared.”

Amanda stopped and looked down at all the unusual instruments. “What’s all this?”

Amused, Bridget waved toward the tools. “They just help me with my investigations.”

Amanda started to touch the camera, but out of courtesy, looked over at Bridget. “Do you mind?” she asked like a curious elementary school student.

Bridget chuckled. “Go ahead!”

Excited, Amanda scooped up the camera and inspected it with awestruck eyes. “Wow! This is so fancy.”

Bridget walked up to her. “It’s supposed to be the latest model.”

Amanda looked through the camera lens and pointed it all around the room. The perspective was like crossing over into another dimension. The Christy house under filtered lights. Definitely a unique perspective. She giggled with awe. “Shit, this is amazing!”

All the while, Bridget studied her, curious if Amanda would see the boy too. Judging by Amanda’s giddiness, apparently not.

“Really cool,” Amanda said. Her smile faded quickly.

“Well, thank you.”

Through the camera, Amanda saw him again. The boy in the doorway. He gave her the death glare of a prisoner on execution day. The filtered lighting gave him that same otherworldly look… like a snapshot from a surreal nightmare.

Bridget noticed Amanda’s sudden mood change. The joy was replaced by unease. “Hey, you alright?” she asked Amanda.

“Uh, yeah,” Amanda mustered as she lowered the camera. She glanced at the doorway through her own eyes.

But the boy was still there! In real-life. Not caught in the murky surveillance camera footage or infrared lighting, but merely a few feet in front of her. His image clearer than ever. He wore the ripped clothes. Just a silent specter. His glare was even more frightening up close. So was all that blood covering his face and clothes.

Gasping, Amanda took a frightened step back.

Bridget snatched her shoulder in a firm grip. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Speechless, Amanda faced Bridget real quick before looking back at the doorway. The boy was gone.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Bridget asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” Amanda responded. Trying to keep her cool, she laid the camera back on the table. She wasn’t fooling anyone, definitely not Bridget. “I was just kinda weirded out.” She forced a smile. “You should understand. In a house like this… things can get a little crazy.”

“I see.”

“I think it was just the lighting.” Amanda forced a laugh and pointed at the camera. “That thing’s a little crazy.”

“I know,” Bridget said quietly. She spun the camera around on the table, trying to not seem too interrogative. “Sometimes, the mind can do funny things, you know.”

Amanda didn’t respond. The comment seemed to offend her.

“Particularly in houses with dark histories,” Bridget said. Keeping her cool to appease Amanda’s temper, Bridget stepped closer toward her. “But if you saw anything in that camera, I wouldn’t flip. Ghost stories can even get to me sometimes. They make me see stuff too.”

“So you have seen something?” Amanda asked, unable to contain her smug excitement.

Bridget smirked. “Let’s not get carried away.” She leaned in closer, teasing Amanda in a (for once) light-hearted manner. “Like I said, the mind can play tricks on you. Especially when you’re scared.”

Amanda flashed her a grin, amused by Bridget’s constantly-dismissive skepticism. The animosity was dying down between the two.

Keeping her sardonic coolness, Bridget stepped toward a window. “Until I really have an experience, I’m gonna stay skeptical.”

Amanda followed her up to the window. “But you don’t have to.”

“No,” Bridget began. She turned and faced Amanda. “Actually, I need to.”

“But why?” The curious Amanda stepped right in front of Bridget, bridging the gap between them. “I mean this is your life.” She motioned toward the equipment, embellishing her point. “You obviously take this shit serious. So why be so…”

“Why be a pessimist? A bitch?”

Amanda cracked a smile. “Well. To be honest…”

Chuckling, Bridget looked out toward Amanda’s garden.

“I mean you don’t have to be so negative about everything,” continued Amanda.

Not sure how to respond, Bridget looked over at her. For once, Amanda’s words were affecting her… albeit, not Amanda’s accounts of ghosts in the Christy house.

“I just don’t understand how you can be so negative about something you love,” Amanda finished.

The two looked at one another in reflective silence. Bridget was unable to resist Amanda’s green saucer eyes. Amanda was so naif, Bridget thought. A mother with a psycho husband and missing children, yet a mother who was apparently still so idealistic.

“I’d just think you’d rather be doing something else,” Amanda half-joked. “If all you’re trying to do is cut everyone down, calling them liars.”

Bridget sensed the real emotion in Amanda’s last line. “Look, I’m sorry about how I was back there,” Bridget stated.

Surprised by the “apology,” Amanda didn’t say anything.

Bridget looked away before confronting Amanda, struggling with spilling her guts out like this. Usually, Bridget wasn’t the one to level with her subjects. Hell, she never did. She didn’t like doing this with her grandmama, her family and friends, or the many therapists she’d employed over the years, much less someone who might be full of shit and trying to con her. “Ms. Kane and me. We come across a lot of fakes. Tons of them. There are just… so many fucking disgusting people who prey on people like her and me. Especially Ms. Kane because she really wants to believe.”

“Easy target,” Amanda commented.

“Exactly!” Lost in her emotions, Bridget waved her hands around. Now she was probably acting like Amanda, she thought. And she was. “They’re always just trying to take advantage of her! You know, an older, pretty widow who likes paranormal shit. Hell, you had her hooked with just one video!”

Amanda smiled. “I could tell.”

“And look, I don’t blame her.” Bridget did her best to calm herself down, but she was still high-strung. She sounded more attached to Linda than to anything supernatural. “After Ray divorced her, she was all alone. She had all her money, but no one to share it with or leave it to, and she’d always been fascinated by the hauntings and the paranormal stuff. You know her type.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s the one to watch that Haunted Family shit on Destination America instead of the soaps.”

The comment made Amanda laugh. “You trying to say she’s mainstream?”

“You get the idea.” Bridget steadied herself, doing her best to mask her vulnerable feelings with her clinical tone. She also wanted to stay respectful to her good friend Linda. “I mean shit, some asshole conned her out of a hundred grand over this shack in Louisiana! I mean it was a fucking shithole. Wharf rats were making the noises, not some Goddamn ghosts!”

“Oh my God, really,” Amanda said in disgust.

“After that bullshit, she got in touch with me. I’m not even sure how she found me since I never go on those shows or put myself out there much.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Yeah,” Bridget said with a laugh. “I try to take things more seriously, you know. Be more rational. So yeah. She needed me.” Like she was trying to convince herself, Bridget kept on in a softer tone. “She really did.”

“How’d she find you anyway?” Amanda asked.

“I think she saw my site on a forum. Probably Reddit,” Bridget said with a laugh.

“Oh.”

“I kinda have my own cult following. I just don’t like to exploit it and push it on everybody. I don’t have the personality for that shit.”

“No shit,” Amanda said, not missing a beat.

They shared a friendly laugh together. “I don’t know, we’ve gotten real close,” Bridget said. Such warm reflection could be seen melting her purposefully-stoic demeanor. “I just try to look after her.”

“I don’t blame you.” Amanda smiled. “You two make such a strange couple though.”

Bridget chuckled. “Yeah…”

“Like how did y’all get so close?” Amanda asked with particular interest.

“Well.” Bridget hesitated. Giving in with an awkward grin, she looked right at Amanda. “She’s kooky. You’ve seen her.”

“Right.”

“But she’s got a lot of heart,” Bridget continued with confidence. “She believes in me.” The memories made Bridget lose her voice. More memories than just her time with Linda. Their bond had roots in deeper relationships for Bridget. “In a thing like this, that’s important. It’s rare. And honestly, no one’s ever been like that to me, no one’s trusted me or my gift like that except for her and my grandma. And grandmama, she had heart too. They’re actually quite similar.”

Sympathetic, Amanda watched Bridget continue her emotional explanations.

“I think that’s why I get so protective of Ms. Kane. I want to prove her right. Just like I always did for grandmama. They deserve that at least.”

“No, I totally get that,” Amanda said. She gave Bridget a warm smile. “It sounds like you need Ms. Kane.”

“True,” Bridget replied. “I guess we need each other.” She looked away, her typical cynicism starting to reappear through her tender refuge. “It’s just so many people will try to make fun of her, take advantage of her.” Bitter, she faced Amanda. “They did the same thing to grandma. I just, I have to step up for them against all those assholes. It’s what really drives me. Not the ghosts or the spirits I hear, but them. Proving it for them.”

Amanda nodded, visibly relieved to see this side of Bridget. She was just as shocked as Bridget by their bonding.”I understand. You’ve gotta do what you gotta do with all those douchebags running around. I don’t blame you.”

Staving off her emotions once more, Bridget walked back to the table. “Yeah, sadly, that’s most of the industry though,” she said dryly. She started toying with the infrared camera. A distraction from the more personal aspects of her career.

Breaking the somber silence, Amanda nodded at the camera. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen on that?”

Cracking a weak smirk, Bridget faced her. “Well, I mean it’s nothing like what you see in the movies.”

“I figured that.”

“I catch a weird glimpse here and there. Nothing specific, just quick visions really.”

Amanda stepped next to Bridget and pointed toward her eyes. “So it’s nothing as clear as what you see in those, huh?”

“I guess you could say that.” Bridget turned and looked back out the window. She felt like something kept compelling her to look out at that magnificent garden. Maybe it’s just all the beauty or the peace, Bridget pondered.

Amanda followed her gaze toward the spot. The forest of flowers. “I got a little carried away I guess,” she said.

“No,” Bridget said as she faced Amanda. Bridget’s expression wasn’t built off of skepticism or resentment but respect. “It’s beautiful.”

Amanda couldn’t hide her proud smile. “Thanks.”

“It’s impressive, honestly.”

“Yeah.” Silent, Amanda stared at the garden. Even though it’s pretty, its loneliness mirrored Amanda’s. All those flowers with no one to show them off to. “Honestly, it’s become my life at this point.”

Noticing Amanda’s carefree smile being replaced by a solemn melancholy, Bridget turned and looked out at the garden. Amidst the flowers and plants, the long-handled spade still stuck out of the ground like Amanda’s own personal signature to this work of art.

“It means everything to me,” Amanda said. She turned away from the window, plagued by her memories. “At this point, it’s all I’ve got.”

Bridget watched her tremble. Amanda’s emotional outburst was much more erratic than Bridget’s.

“It’s all I’ve got left of them,” Amanda struggled to say. She looked at Bridget with tormented eyes. “I had started it before, but I… I wasn’t done when it happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Bridget said softly.

“After everything, it’s all I could do,” Amanda said as she looked out at the garden. “It took my mind off the pain. The memories. It was like therapy for me.”

Bridget noticed how the garden captivated Amanda even more than it did herself. She was probably picturing her young kids frolicking through those flowers, Bridget thought.

“They wanted me to finish it,” Amanda said. She choked up and sniffed. “Amy and Michael… God… I never finished it for them…”

Bridget rubbed Amanda’s arm, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay,” Bridget whispered. Maybe she wasn’t great at this whole consoling thing, but she was at least trying.

Lost in her memories, Amanda let out a tranquil laugh. “They wanted us to be like farmers. Grow our own food.”

Bridget gave her a reassuring smile. “The green thumb, nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah,” Amanda replied with a laugh. She looked directly at Bridget. Their mutual respect and matching smiles had replaced their initial tension by now. No sign of hostility was left.

“Look,” Bridget began. Lowering her hand off Amanda’s arm, she maintained eye contact with her. “I’m really sorry about how I was back there.”

“No, don’t-”

“No, I was being a total bitch.”

Amanda grinned. “Maybe just a little.”

“I know. Believe me even I know how I can get.” Bridget glanced at the garden before facing Amanda with full sincerity in her eyes and heart. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your family. I really am.”

Emotional, Amanda just nodded. “Thank you.”

“I often look past the stories and the histories, all just so I can prove everybody wrong,” Bridget confessed. “But that’s not right. There are real victims in these places, and I shouldn’t be like that. Especially considering what all’s happened with you.”

“You’re not the first,” Amanda commented, fighting back tears. “No one wants to believe me. All they do’s just question me or think I’m hiding something. That I’m hiding something about my own children…”

Empathetic while still trying to keep her usual detachment, Bridget got a first-hand view of Amanda’s rising intensity. Like an actress selling her Oscar moment, Amanda was full of pleading passion.

“But I’m not, I swear!” Amanda yelled. “I just want someone to listen to me! Someone to believe me.”

“I want to believe you, Amanda,” the calm Bridget said. She rubbed Amanda’s arm. “I do.”

Amanda nodded. In this cloud of suspicion and tragedy, she was now at least momentarily comforted.

“Believe me, I know how frustrating it is,” Bridget continued. “To not have people take you serious or to just be flat-out treated like shit, I know.”

“You do?”

“Number one, I’m a woman,” Bridget responded with a smile.

Amanda chuckled.

“Number two, I’m a black woman,” Bridget stated.

Like reunited old friends, the two shared another laugh. “And what’s number three?” Amanda asked.

“Oh, number three?” Sarcastic, Bridget pretended to hesitate. “Oh yeah, I’m a black woman who sees fucking ghosts.”

Amanda beamed with a smile, her brightest one in quite some time. “Okay, you got me there.”

“You see my point?”

“No, that’s fair.”

“Yeah, so I can at least feel you there, girl,” Bridget said. She gave Amanda a playful hit on the shoulder. “Just know one thing.”

“What?”

Bridget leaned in closer, the chummy-chummy sorority sister routine giving way to her typical laser-sharp toughness. “If you’re lying and this is another con, I’m gonna turn you into a motherfucking ghost myself. And I’ll do it.”

Not sure how to take Bridget’s warning, Amanda deliberated on a response. She displayed a sly grin. “I guess you’ll just have to find out yourself.”

---