Chapter 1
“You died!” I will never forget those words as long as I live. There are a lot of people who have no idea about the unknown, about what’s beyond this reality. Before last night, I believed that the life I knew was the path I followed until the end. I had no idea what was going to happen to me and who I was about to meet. My grandfather once told me, “People don’t realize half as much as they think they do.” He said that when we were seated across from my grandmother’s coffin. Little did I know his words would ring true one day, and what I thought I knew about everything and everyone was about to change.
I found myself standing in the park across the street from my house, in high grass and dandelions, where giant trees blew in an angry wind. I was wearing a white dress with spaghetti straps and to be honest, I didn’t even know how I got in it. The wind was mercilessly blowing the grass over to one side, causing the dress to embrace my legs, pressing against me like a bed sheet that had escaped a clothes line and wrapped around the trunk of a maple tree in an approaching storm. The clouds above me moved rapidly to the south, and it seemed as if night could not wait to arrive. Another thing I couldn’t understand was the hundreds of grasshoppers that surrounded my feet, gathered around my ankles, jumping around in haste with their loud chirp firing into an impatient twilight. It was like they were competing for my attention. I tried to step away from them, but they only followed me and chatted nervously. Nothing made sense, nothing was familiar. The only thing I could remember was going to bed. After that I was in the park standing in that unforgiving wind. I looked at my house, my neighborhood, and my neighbor’s houses. They were all there like always, even the huge abandoned Georgian Colonial mansion that stood at the edge of the park. It was silhouetted against a darkening blue sky with giant sycamore and white oak trees all around it. Down from the mansion, on 15th Street, was the old school not too far from my own house, and next to an old church that had the dates A.D. 1892-1912 above the front entrance. Across 15th Street on South Avenue was a row of neighbors houses, and then my partially burned house. Across from my house was the park I stood in, and then the big mansion across from the park on Weston Avenue, on top of a small hill of dying grass. So all the neighborhood houses enveloped the park. A few people walked passed my house and gazed at it like some freakish thing; the top floor charred and the two bedroom windows like dark hollowed-out eye sockets. Then I walked across the street, and when I did, some of the grasshoppers followed me. The remorseless wind still whirling and rushing through bushes and trees. I got up to my house and tried to open the side door to see if my family was there, but it wouldn’t budge. I called out for my mother in the gloom, but my small voice only bounded against the stucco structure, having little influence on the hulking things around me – trees and old homes near mine, things that threw shadows on the ground against the street lights that started responding to the growing darkness.
“They aren’t here,” a girl’s voice said. It sounded like it came in with the fall wind that had started to throw my hair to one side. She was a pretty girl. Probably seventeen, like me. She had large eyes, eyes full of grief, misery, fairness and curiosity. She was a delicate and guiltless looking girl who wore a sleeveless butter-yellow summer dress. Her black hair was shoulder’s length, and the same wind that pestered me was now taunting her, causing some of that black hair to move into one eye. “We shouldn’t be out here,” she told me. “He’ll see us.” Then she took my hand and led me away, across the street and through the park to the front of the mansion. The grass felt cool against my bare ankles, and I could feel the wind increase as we approached the mansion’s large wooden porch stairs.
Then frustration swept over me and I tore my hand away from her. “Stop it!” I yelled. “What are you doing? Who are we running from?”
“We have to get inside!” the girl said to me, but I told her she was insane and ran as fast as I could, through the park, across the street and to my house. The girl chased me there and grabbed me before I could reach the side door. Together we tumbled to the grass. “Please!” she yelled. “Before we’re killed!”
“Get the hell away from me!” I shouted at the girl. “You’re crazy!”
Getting up, I was stopped when she snatched my ankle and held onto me. I don’t know why I didn’t kick her. I should have, just to get her to leave me alone. “You don’t understand! He’ll come for us!”
I ripped my ankle from her grip. “Who are you! Go away!” I yelled.
“I swear to you,” the girl said, “if you don’t come with me he’ll kill you.”
“Who?” I fiercely looked all over for my parents and my sister, while minding this strange girl who had gotten up from the grass to confront me again. I went for the door and she was right behind me. I tried the door, but my hand went right through the knob. At that moment, the girl and I both heard a far-off howl. It went from low to high, close to those old tornado sirens I heard as a child, but quieter, and in a much shorter wave.
The girl, with fright in her eyes, took hold of my wrist and said, “He’s out there!” Then she pulled me with her, and we headed out for the street again. I was more afraid of whoever it was coming after us than this girl’s insanity; it was my instinct to live, so I gave up and took her word for it. Perhaps I was being stupid.
The door to the mansion was big and wooden and very old. It had a large cast iron door knocker in its center, and it made a high-pitched squeak when she shoved it open. We hurried in and the girl pushed it closed. As soon as we stepped onto the marble floor leading to a grand staircase, I saw shadows within the darkness of the hall way, and they quickly moved and flew away from me and off into the living room where empty broken bookshelves that were built into the walls on either side of a large brick fireplace. The living room’s entrance bordered the large hall. It was an obscure welcome, with its old evening haze that gradually melted into a kind of murkiness the farther I went inside; I couldn’t see anything around the fireplace, just blackness. But I knew there were others like the girl I was with, watching me from their hiding places; I could see the darkness move slightly, the shadows staring at me in awe. I looked around for the girl and got worried when I couldn’t see her. Then there she was in the large hall near the front door. Her pale, almost lurid shape stood motionless at first, and I could see a misty form beside her, fading in and out, and it looked like the girl was saying something to it. Then the smoky shape dissolved and the girl turned to me and walking into the living room, where she spoke to the hiding shadows. “Come out,” she said, and they appeared from the void, flowing and dissolving into the light. There were five of them -- three boys and two girls. They gawked at me and examined me like curious little children, frightened, and yet, excited by this new thing before them.
These sights I beheld, the mansion’s very big living room, the others staring at me like some classroom study of theirs, and the girl next to me, who only a moment ago pulled me in from the outside away from some danger she could foresee, caused me to quietly lose my breath. I just wanted to go home. The more I tried to make sense of everything, the more peculiar it all became. It was this magical abnormality around me, the odd, unnatural beauty of the others, and even a far out scent of vanilla that imbued the room and brought on bizarre and stunning fears I had never experienced. I wanted to inhale those fears, yet, run home into the arms of my mother. “I don’t know who you are,” I said to the girl. My words quivered. “I want to leave now.” I started for the door. I had enough. I had to get away from this radiant delirium.
“You can’t!” she yelled. “If you...”
“Don’t tell me I can’t!” I shouted. “I want to go home!” I could not grab the door knob and I stopped trying when I heard that faint groan again. It came in with the small rumble that trembled my finger tips. I turned to the others in the vestibule where they looked blurry and unfathomable.
“You don’t understand,” the girl said. “Don’t go out there.”
“You’ll be taken,” another said from behind the girl.
I stopped and shook my head wildly to clear the voices. “No!” I screamed out. “I want my mom and dad!”
The other voices in the vestibule followed with, “Don’t leave!” and, “You’ll be safer with us...” and the girl was yelling something, and trying to get the others to be quiet, and all of these words that chimed in the vestibule were suddenly hushed when at last the girl cried out to me, “You’re dead!” She came into the vestibule and took my hand.
I just stared at her for a moment.
“You died!” she said again. “Alright? Does it make sense now?”
Instantly I told her, “And you’re demented.” I backed away from her, putting my hands up. “I don’t know who you are or what you want.”
The girl only folded her arms and cocked her stance, flipping her head to get some of the hair away from her eye. “Go ahead,” she said, obviously loosing patience with me from the tone of her voice. “I promise you’ll be captured.”
“By whom?” I asked her.
She said nothing. She only stiffened her jaw, ran her tongue along her teeth, and gave me a sort of, go-out-there-and-find-out look. I kept my eyes on her and waited, perhaps for her to say something else, anything other than what I was hearing. I don’t know why. In a way I was hoping for another option other than her telling me I was dead. Something came back to me, something I remembered happening to me before I arrived in all of this. I stared off into one area of the room while the girl spoke to me, “You need to think back to where you were before you came here.”
I turned to her and said, “I was in my bed.” I looked at the others entering the hallway, and I must have had fright in my eyes because I saw empathy overcome them. For a moment I thought one of them would actually comfort me. “I remember going to bed.” I paused for a moment, thinking about what had happened to me, about being awakened by someone yelling my name. “Oh...” I gasped, my eyes wide. “There was a fire!” I was looking at everyone in the hall, my eyes jumping from face to face. “I tried to run downstairs to my mom and dad, my sister. I fell down the stairs...” I stopped talking. The girl stepped closer to me and caught a tear that had trailed from my eye. “Where am I?” I asked her. I then immediately fell to my knees and cried out for God. Why God? Where was He? It was like waking up and thinking the horror that happened to me in real life was all a nightmare, but then realizing it in fact actually took place. I then called out for my mother. I grabbed my hair and screamed for help. Someone touched my shoulder, maybe out of sadness or understanding. I only slapped that hand away and shook my head. The girl took my hands and forced me to stand up, telling me to be strong, and that there was a reason I was with them, whoever they were. I felt like I was listening to someone right before fainting. “You’re in a safe place,” she said. Her eyes spoke trusting words, abducting my anguish, my sorrow, all of my suspicions, and gave them to herself to bear for me, and they reflected everything, even the horror that impregnated my very heart.
At last she told me her name was Raina, and then she introduced me to the others, saying, “These are my friends.” One of the boys wore a white t-shirt, jeans, and a large red and white letterman jacket with a chenille letter “N” on the left breast. He looked like he was from a time when love, marriage and romance were real. When men were men, and defended what they believed in; when men weren’t afraid to fight. A time when rock and roll was being born; when girls my age would sit in their rooms and listen to forty-fives. When kids danced to jukeboxes in malt shops. He said his name was Breed, and that he had been in the house for a long time. There was also a boy they called Haven. He wore a white long sleeve collared shirt under and gray sweater vest. His brown hair was neat and wavy. He had a sculpted face and a build like Superman. He reminded me of some swashbuckling pirate. He said hello to me with a slight nod, a handsome smile, and eyes that told of daring and courageous adventures. The other boy, who was named Always, was much taller than the others. He had a red Adidas jacket with a red t-shirt under it and faded blue jeans. His hair was parted down the middle and feathered on either side. Beside him was a girl named Echo, who had pretty red hair and freckles along the bridge of her nose and under her eyes. She wore a dress almost like the one I had on. The last one I was introduced to was a girl whose name was Sean Season, but Raina told me they called her Scout. She had full, straight black hair that just touched her shoulders, lightly brushing them whenever she turned her head. The hem of her blue spring dress came down to her knees, and it had white zigzag trim there and around the short sleeves. There was the same white trim around the neck that that met a pretty white bow in the center of her upper chest. She never really spoke to me, just stared, waiting for me to say something else.
There wasn’t much of any kind of talk there in the living room, even when I told the others my name was Kenna, and I knew they weren’t ready to fully accept me. I was prepared for that, but I couldn’t understand their suspicion and distrust, because I still didn’t know what they were hiding from. Raina told me about a woman named Ms. Williams, who was the very first to arrive at the mansion, that she was somewhat of a mother to her and the others. Raina then told me she wanted to show me something, then took my hand and led me back into the big hallway where the head of the grand staircase was. On the first landing of this staircase there was a large windowpane, which disclosed the lifeless blank of the dark outside. I was taken past the window and to the second flight of stairs, and when we reached the second floor, I was awe struck, and even frightened by the gloom that barely hinted at the long halls and the many doors they had.
Raina turned to me while I looked around with the fascination of a small child and said, “This house has a lot of windows.” I was brought to one of the doors and when Raina opened it a cool, stale air brushed along my hair, and it had the scent of aging wood and old books. There were two old dressers against one wall, an old broken bed with the mattress still on it, some empty boxes, and an old lamp that had been smashed in one corner. Some of the wallpaper was torn away, and there were holes here and there where the wallpaper spiraled and drooped, exposing lathing and crumbling plaster. There were two pairs of French windows on the south wall, and it amazed me that the glass on the windows was still in one piece. “This is your room,” Raina said. She walked over to one of the French windows and looked out. “These windows will become your best friends.”
I stood next to Raina and peered out the window with her. There it was, the park I stood in, and across from it, my house, my neighborhood, the tree I used to try to climb when I was a child, and the old abandoned school down the street from my house -- Northgate High School. I watched a bald man walk ever so slowly toward it, scanning the neighborhood, as if he was looking for something -- someone. He wore thin round glasses, and was dressed neatly in a black suit and black tie. I compared him to the street signs he passed. He was by no means a small man. Both Raina and I watched him walk along for a moment, but my eyes gradually went over to my house again. “I want to go home,” I said. “I’m not dead.”
“If you leave,” she said, “he’ll get you.”
I realized she was talking about the bald man because she was still staring at him as she spoke to me. The man made it across the street, onto the grass, and to the side door of the school. I remember that building well, because when I was a child my sister, Heather and I were told by a lot of the grown-ups to never to go near it. No one ever dared to trespass there, even when some of the bigger neighborhood kids would challenge each other to see which one of them could get closest. Those kids would only run away and swore to others that they saw something there. There were always stories about the school, stories about it being haunted, stories we would all listen to on hot summer nights while sitting on each other’s porches, while there in the humid night air it stood like some monstrous fortress in wait for the perfect moment to invite an unsuspecting soul inside. The bald man walked carefully and almost mechanically, small debris swirling around his feet and ankles in the sleepy breeze of the early September night. It was as if the little pieces of paper and leaves and other things were ordered to follow him. He paused for a moment to glance up at the fantastic structure before him, and then vanished into the side door. It felt like a cold rain swept through me and I shivered slightly. Raina noticed that and said, “Don’t worry. He can’t get us in here. He doesn’t know where we are.” She slowly turned her head from me. “He feeds from the unsuspecting.”
“Feeds?” I asked.
“He’s very powerful,” Raina said. “He was once a science teacher at the school. His name is Mr. Murphy.” Raina began struggling with the window latch, but her thin, frail hands were no match for it. “He feeds from others in the school to keep his strength.” She looked at me as I helped her open the window. “He wants his revenge.”
Raina climbed out the window and onto the roof, then knelt down and when I asked her where she was going, she said, “You can’t come with me.” She lowered her head a little and stared up at me, her eyes like some nocturnal cat. A frolicsome smile came over her. It frightened me to see her suddenly change her character, from somber and calm to this surprising devilry. “I’m going to go spy on him,” she winked at me, “see what he’s up to.” She stood up, letting the wind catch her hair, then looked down at me. “Please don’t tell Ms. Williams what I’m doing.” In a moment, like an eager and imprudent child, she flew away to the school, among the nearing evening, the whispering leaves, and the arousal of being caught.
Right after I closed the window I heard someone behind me say, “She’ll be back.” I turned around and there was Haven, the boy in the gray sweater. He stood in the doorway, partially shrouded by the darkness of the hall. He stepped into the room and into the faint light, looking around as if in disapproval of what he saw. It took him a moment to speak while he examined everything around him. “This is the room of an Arrival,” he said at last.
“What?” I asked.
“An Arrival,” he said, staring at me like I never heard the word before. I could tell he was trying to be mannerly in his comment because he had a slight smirk on his face. “That’s your level.”
“My level?”
“We all have levels here,” Haven said, not really looking at me when he spoke, but fiddling with some hard cover books that were arranged on the bed. He held up one of the books, smiled and said, “H.G. Wells.”
I didn’t care about the book; I was amazed by this boy, the way he carried himself into the room, how calm he seemed -- confident, heroic, bold, and fearless. I wanted to know how he died, how long he was in the mansion, what he was like and what he did when he was alive. I kept myself from asking him. I don’t know why.
“He fell in love with one of his students,” Haven said.
I was thrown back by what he told me. “Who?”
He smiled at me as if my question was cute to him. “Wells.”
I lifted my head up momentarily, keeping my eyes fixed on him, then nodded slowly. “What level are you?” I asked him. I could tell he was thinking about it. He kept looking at me until that little smile appeared again. There was an embarrassing silence as I was expecting him to just tell me. Instead he decided to show me. He took a deep breath and transformed himself into the very book he held earlier. I couldn’t believe what he did. He stayed that way for a few seconds and then changed back. He tried to stand straight but kept wobbling from side to side, nearly losing his balance, looking at me in some form of shock, like the way someone looks at you when they’re choking.
“There you go, showing off again,” a voice said behind him in the hallway. I guessed her age to be around seventy-years-old or so. It was Ms. Williams, the old lady I saw in the downstairs hall talking with Raina earlier. She walked into the room and looked at Haven in amusement. “Haven is a shape-catcher,” she disclosed, putting her hand on his shoulder. I didn’t say a word about Raina leaving. I still had no idea what the consequences would be if any one of us were caught by Mr. Murphy. There were rules in the mansion that I still had to learn. I just knew it.
Night finally arrived, which meant the shape-catchers had the task of guarding the house from Mr. Murphy; I was told by Ms. Williams that even though it didn’t matter what time it was, Mr. Murphy preferred night time when looking for other spirits. She told me the shape-catchers had hiding places outside near the mansion, and that Haven and Raina were nearly finished with their training, so watching over the mansion, I suppose, was a sort of exercise, a drill.
“Come with me,” Ms. Williams said. She left the room and I followed her down the hall. To the right of us was the mansion’s library. She held the door for me and when I entered, there was Echo seated at one of two oak tables beside some bookshelves. She had her hands folded and against her mouth with her thumbs resting under her chin. Her red hair was full and falling into her face. She looked up at me from the table and half-smiled -- sort of nervously. She reminded me of the sun just before it touches the ocean. Her eyes were strange. She exuded the same vanilla scent that caught my attention earlier in the living room. So I only imagined it was her who smelled so creepy and beautiful. The library was as dimly lit as the rest of the mansion, only some of the lights worked. I wanted to sleep there, to just forget all of this and sleep.
