Chapter 6

The Spirit Day Festival came. Michael was not going this year, or any other year.

He took out his favorite bat from his closet that his father had gotten for him when he first started playing baseball, with his name engraved onto it and everything. He practiced a few swings. It was time to end him and his sisters suffering once and for all. He dialed his aunt’s cell phone number.

            “Hello?” Answered that snappy voice he hated.

            Michael cleared his throat. “Is this Anne Burtson speaking?” he mimicked a deep voice.

            “Yes, it is. What is it?”

            “I’ve received a report of violence going on in your household. Please come to the town’s police station at five sharp so we can ask you a few questions.”

            “Damn, again? How many times do I have to go over there?”

            “I promise this will be the last.”

            “Yeah okay, where’s the station again?”

            S**t! Michael had totally forgot to come up with where he would tell her to come. Then he remembered: Everyone in the village was at the festival, which meant the shrine near the woods was deserted.

            “1150 Feather Road, just keep going on the path up to the woods. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

            “Fine. This better be the last.” She hung up without another word.

            Michael smiled a full, gruesome smile. Soon, it was all going to be over. He grabbed his coat, and then his bat. Yes, very soon.