Brenda

My first paranormal investigation… What was I doing? Oh, I know—being crazy, that’s what.

I sat in the front passenger seat and observed Dad, who screeched on the winding road of the countryside and drove toward Brenda’s house. Someone murdered her there in the Seventies, but other sources stated her death was accidental.

“Riley, could you grab my briefcase?” Dad asked, pointing at the back seat. “That’s got everything we need.”

Dad, the ace paranormal investigator in my family, turned to ghost hunting after Mom disappeared soon after I was born. She went into Brenda’s forest and never returned, leaving Dad desperate to uncover the mystery. I think he watched too much Ghost Adventures, to be honest. I never wanted Dad to drag me into his shenanigans, but there I was—a home-schooled thirteen-year-old living alone in the shady Midwest.

I was a little boy; I had yet to reach my growth spurt, so not attending in-person school was for the best (not that anyone was during the COVID-19 pandemic).

With Dad out of work, he turned to his dumb ghost adventures to pay the bills. He had a YouTube channel and everything.

I sighed and grabbed Dad’s heavy briefcase, setting it on my lap. “Dad, you realize it’s 2 a.m., right?”

“Ghosts appear at 3 a.m.,” he explained. “That’s when the portal opens.”

“Sure.” I hid behind his briefcase.

“What are you doing?” Dad snapped, reaching for it. “You must keep it right-side up. It has my Cat Balls, EMFs, and Paranormal Music Box. That stuff doesn’t come cheap.”

“Sure.” While I had heard of EMFs, I hadn’t heard of Cat Balls or Paranormal Music Boxes, but I didn’t ask because I wasn’t interested.

Dad gestured out the window ten minutes later when we reached an overgrown driveway in the middle of an alien abduction zone. “Okay, Brenda’s house is at the end of this driveway.” He beamed at me. “I’m so glad you decided to join me, son!”

“Did I have a choice?” I grumbled.

Dad growled and glared, so I faked a smile and pulled my black hair before my right eye.

A group of banyan trees protruded from the forest surrounding the driveway, giving the area a terrifying, beautiful appearance.

Dad rolled down his Grand Cherokee’s window and said, “Keep your eyes and ears open, Ri. Brenda could be anywhere.”

“But isn’t she a ghost?” I inquired. “Doesn’t that mean she’s trapped in the house?” Gosh, why on Earth did I ask that? Was I actually interested in Dad and mine’s ghost adventure?

Turning away from him, I smacked a mosquito on my cheek and sank into my seat. Those banyan trees screamed death.

“There it is,” Dad whispered after another five minutes. He leaned over the steering wheel and motioned out the windshield.

The house at the end of the driveway was tiny—only one story. It almost looked like a darn mobile home and was falling apart at every end: from broken windows to the roof, which had started caving in on the moss-covered chimney.

I gulped and rubbed goosebumps from my arms.

Dad parked before the house and shut off the car, sealing us in a coffin. “There she is. Isn’t this exciting, son?”

“I wanna go home,” I complained. “That looks like something out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” A cold wind blew through Dad’s open window, blowing his black locks.

He rubbed his goatee, stole his briefcase from me, and climbed out of the car. “Don’t be a wimp, son. We are going to discover the truth behind Brenda and your mother.”

“But there could be bugs in there. Or worse, animal shit.”

“Hey! Watch your mouth.” Dad popped me behind the ear and opened his briefcase, releasing his EMF Meter. He scanned the area and added, “Hm, I’m not getting anything on the EMF yet. Come on, son, let’s get inside. Quickly.”

“When we die, I’m blaming you,” I said, tossing open my door and jumping onto a mass of ferns.

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Dad waited until I shut my door before locking the car. “The locals say she’s a nice spirit.”

“Ghost,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.” I stayed close to Dad, who removed a heavy-duty flashlight from his case and turned it on.

The light landed on a well about twenty feet from the house, sitting at the forest’s edge. “Oh, dude! There’s the well where the murderer dropped Brenda!”

“Do you believe that crap?” I inquired. “Why would someone drop a corpse into a well after killing them?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Dad answered, winking. “Now, let’s go.”

We hiked to the house and climbed the creaky staircase to the front door, halfway off its hinges.

The first thing I saw was crap littering the floor: clothes, bedsheets, chairs, boxes, etc. The rumor was that the previous owner had run out, leaving everything behind because of spooky occurrences. Not only that, but I saw the entire house from the living room, where Dad and I entered. That’s how small it was. Four rooms branched off from it like veins. One was the kitchen.

Dad’s light landed on the room in the back. “That room there is Brenda’s bedroom. We’ll set up the music box in the living room and then try to communicate with her through the speaker.”

I had no idea what he was talking about.

Dad stepped over a flipped-over chair with a broken leg and studied his meter. “Brenda, my son and I mean you no harm. We’re curious about the Afterlife and wish to know your story.” His meter spiked to orange right when he said that. “Ooh, ooh! Do you see that, Riley? That was instant!”

“Great,” I said through clenched teeth. “Can we leave now?”

“Without looking around? Heck no!” Dad left me and set his briefcase on the living room couch. “Brenda, we’re setting up a few toys for you to play with.”

I hoped those toys didn’t include me, but knowing Dad…

I walked over to the house’s rotten fireplace and checked the shelf above it. A few pennies were beside a blue bowl that pinged when I touched it with one of the coins.

I heard a creak and questioned, “What’s that?”

Dad and I jumped when the door to Brenda’s room slammed shut automatically.

“Oh my God!” I yelled, pressing against the wall.

“Wait, wait,” Dad said before I ran out. He took his EMF Meter and Spirit Box to the door and carefully opened it, poking his head inside. “Brenda, was that you? Are you okay with Riley and me visiting?”

I jumped again when his Spirit Box went off. “Yes.”

OMG! What the frick was happening?

“Wow,” Dad told himself. “Brenda, thank you.” He spent the next five minutes setting everything up. Dad set two small balls on the living room’s coffee table and showed me a coffin-shaped music box. “This is a Paranormal Music Box. It emits an ultrasound beam and will trigger whenever something walks in front of it. An amazing piece of tech.”

“Did you get that from Ghost Adventures?” I grumbled.

“Maybe,” Dad answered.

Of course.

Dad set the box on the edge of the chimney shelf and stepped aside.

“OMG!” I shouted when a quick, creepy tune came from the box.

“It’s just calibrating,” Dad explained. “Come on, let’s go into Brenda’s room.”

His Spirit Box went off again. “Music.”

“Yes,” Dad said, gesturing at the music box, “this is a music box. You can play with it as much as you want.”

“Music,” repeated the Spirit Box.

I swore, was Dad messing with me? This wasn’t real, right? Was he filming something for his channel?

“I like you,” said his Spirit Box.

A cold presence touched my shoulder, and I sprinted into Brenda’s bedroom, tripping the music box. “Something touched me in there!” I shakily told Dad, who entered after me.

“Oh, it’s you she likes.” Dad shut the door behind him but kept it cracked.

“What do you mean, it’s me she likes?” I tripped on the single mattress in the room and fell onto it.

“She must be around your age,” Dad guessed. “Spirits don’t age after they die.”

I gave up trying to explain the difference between a spirit and a ghost.

Dad observed the near-empty room. “Brenda, you like Riley, right?”

“Yes,” answered his Spirit Box.

OMG!

“Oh, wow. Well then, Ri”—Dad smirked at me—“it looks like I need to turn this investigation over to you.”

Yeah, right! I wasn’t going to get caught up in a fake ghost relationship!

There was silence for a few minutes, and then the Spirit Box said, “Lonely.”

“Lonely,” Dad repeated. “Brenda, are you lonely? If you are, could you give us a sign?”

That was when I heard it—the familiar, creepy tune of the music box in the living room.

Dad gasped and whipped around. “The music box!”

And then the Spirit Box begged, “Help.”