Rider's Bones

This is a short story I won second place in a writing contest. I hope you guys like it. It's a ghost story.

Rider’s Bones
A Short Story
By
P.Q. Glisson



Chapter 1
Uprooted

I looked out the window at the new neighborhood I had been forced to move to. The houses were as nondescript as the boringly quiet street they were built on. Oh dear God, why did Dad have to get laid off at the plant? Why did we have to lose our house, be uprooted from the only place I’d ever lived just to be plunked down here, in this nowhere little town in nowhere U.S.A.? I missed the noise of the big city with the constant honking of car horns and the frequent sound of sirens as police cars whizzed by in hot pursuit of a criminal. In the city, you were always on alert, your adrenaline pumping with excitement and the misuse of Red Bull.
It wasn’t unusual for me to survive on two or three hours sleep a night. My friends and I were of one accord; “night owls” was what my Mom called us. It’s funny, we kinda looked like them with our pale skin and wide eyes, too big for our thin faces. It wasn’t that we were anorexic or anything; it was just that we didn’t eat all that much. We didn’t obsess about it, but if you drank two or three Red Bulls a day, your appetite would probably be nonexistent too.
I looked down at the black chipped polish on my short fingernails and thought about the life I’d been jerked out of prematurely. I wasn’t mad at my parents. I was mostly just sad; sad that things had gotten so bad not even the money from my part-time job at the local book store was enough to help save our house and our home from the unreasonable demands of the mortgage company.
We had to sell most of our things because we couldn’t afford the fee it would cost to store everything. I made out like it was nothing when I had to leave most of my things behind. My parents were heartbroken enough as it was. I didn’t want to add to their stress.
If you were to just pass me on the street, you’d think I was some Goth bad girl who stayed out all night and did drugs and went to raves, but looks can be deceiving. On the contrary, I was a straight “A” student and spent most of my time either around books or with my head in one. I had belonged to a few book clubs. We would meet at the local coffee shop where the artsy crowd hung out. No one messed with us. I guess we looked pretty intimidating in our all black attire and dramatic make-up.
I smiled as I remembered the night a group of preppy teens had stumbled inside our little haunt. We were discussing Jane Eyre. At the sound of their irritatingly loud entrance, we all looked up, like birds of prey that had just scoped out a tasty little field mouse. They stopped short, their conversation coming to an abrupt end. After a few seconds, one leaned over and whispered something to the leader. I could’ve sworn it was the word “witch”, and they all turned and made a hasty exit. We burst out laughing and went back to our meeting. But, those days were no more, only a memory to keep in my heart, along with the friends I’d been forced to leave behind.
My Mom kept promising that as soon as we could afford it, we’d get internet connected so I could Wi-Cam, but she warned me it would probably be a few months. I had told her it was cool, that I could just write to them. I made it sound like it would be some kind of adventure into the past; writing on paper with a pen. I’d forced a smile, convincing her of the lie. How was I going to survive without the great World Wide Web?
Just then the car slowed and I looked up to see our new home. My first thought was how much it looked like something you’d see on “Ghost Adventures” or “Ghost Hunters”. The place was old. The paint was chipping and the front porch’s roof was sagging. Shutters hung askew from the windows and the lawn was overgrown. The structure was as desolate and dilapidated as the condition of our family and I immediately felt a kindred spirit with the sorry looking house.
“Well, what do you think, Lucy?” My Mom asked me from the front seat of our second-hand SUV. When I didn’t answer, she forced her voice to remain upbeat. “Of course it needs a little paint and some fixing up, but it has potential, don’t you think?”
I dragged my eyes from the stained glass attic window and looked at my Dad who was waiting for my reply. “Uh, yeah Mom, it’s great. I can’t wait to see my room.”
“Well, you can have your pick of any of the upstairs bedrooms. There are four. The master is on the bottom floor so you’ll have lots of privacy.”
I thought that was perfect but my eyes kept going back to the stained glass window. “Mom, can I have the attic?”
She laughed good-naturedly, “I had a feeling you would want the attic, my little night owl.”
The name brought back the loss of my friends and I swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in my throat. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of my parents. I’d have plenty of alone time to cry my heart out, up in my attic room.

Chapter 2
Voices

The front steps creaked loudly under my feet as I walked to the front door which was hanging slightly crooked on its old rusted hinges. I stepped over the threshold and a heavy feeling ¬came over me. Jerking my head sharply to the left, I thought I saw a shadow pass out of the corner of my eye, but there was nothing there.
“Man, I’m getting freaked out over nothing.” I decided to explore the house later as I made my way up the large staircase. It was very impressive, even in its neglected state. The banister was made from some sort of dark wood and the stairs were covered with an old flowered rug which did nothing for cushioning the creaks as I hurried up the steps.
I stopped, my eyes riveted to the large stained glass window that overlooked the equally large landing set between the first and second floor. It was beautiful. Too bad it couldn’t be seen from the front. The design wasn’t a picture of anything, just puzzle pieces of rich reds, greens, blues, yellows, and oranges. Except for a layer of grime and dust, the window looked untouched by time.
‘It must look amazing in the morning with the sun shining through, bathing the front of the house in multi-colored light,’ I thought as I ran a finger over the glass. ‘Maybe I’ll volunteer to clean it for Mom.’ I made a mental note as I continued onto the second floor where I was greeted by a very long hallway.
As I looked around, I couldn’t see a staircase to the attic room. “Humph, that’s strange. How are you supposed to get there if there’s no stairs?” I decided to check out the rooms. Maybe there was a pull down entryway. If that was the case, I’d have to rethink my accommodations.
The first door opened into a fairly large bedroom complete with twin beds and kid type furniture. I moved to the next door. Behind it, there was a smaller bedroom with a crib and changing table. The room was a faded out pink and there was a rocking chair by the window.
I began to feel anxious as I closed the door. Why was there furniture still in the rooms? What had happened that everything was just as it was, as though whoever lived here, never really left?
The third bedroom was obviously the room of a teenaged girl. Faded flowered wallpaper covered not only the walls but the ceiling as well. The white canopied bed was covered in a yellowed white eyelet coverlet with small pink roses and white French Provincial furniture. Pastel colored flowered throw rugs were scattered throughout the room and a cedar hope chest sat at the foot of the bed.
As I entered the room, my eye was drawn to a large stand alone closet. The thought jumped into my head before I could stop it, ‘If the other rooms were left exactly as they were, then could it be….’ I pulled the doors open.... “Yep, I was right.” The sound of my voice in the empty room, made me jump. I shook off the creepy feeling as I stared, opened mouthed at the dresses hanging there.
Taking one black flowered dress down, I put it up against me and turned to see myself reflected in the Cheval mirror. It was a spooky feeling, seeing my distorted reflection in the grimy old mirror. I could easily pass for a girl of the fifties if it wasn’t for my dramatic make-up and the purple streaks in my jet black hair.
Putting the dress quickly back into the closet, I left the room and proceeded down the hall to the next bedroom, only it wasn’t a bedroom at all, but a large sewing room. There was an old foot pedal sewing machine and a clothes mannequin in the corner next to the heavily draped window. The walls in this room were covered in what looked like yellow satin wallpaper and the hardwood floors were bare. Instead, there was a large wooden table set up in the middle of the room with bolts of cloth still laid out as though the seamstress was still using it. I got goosebumps as I looked around.
Mom said there were four bedrooms, but as I closed the fourth bedroom’s door, I noticed several more doors on the opposite side of the hallway. I assumed one would be a bathroom so I quickly opened the door directly opposite the sewing room. I was somewhat surprised to find it was a closet, the linens still on the shelves. The next door opened into the upstairs bathroom.
An unobtrusive room, it was simple in design. A toilet, clawfoot tub and a pedestal sink were the only amenities. “Well at least we have indoor plumbing.”
Making my way back to the top of the stairs, I was getting frustrated. “Where the hell is that stupid stairwell?” I was about to give up and holler for Mom when I noticed a slight crack in the wallpapered wall at the beginning of the hallway. Studying the crack closely, I discovered it wasn’t a crack at all, but a seam. Running my hand down the seam, it became evident to me that it was a hidden panel.
I tried to pry it open with my short nails but couldn’t get a good enough grip. “Argh!” venting my frustration, I turned around and rested my back on the panel. ‘Click’. I came off the wall and the panel opened behind me to reveal a spiral staircase. “Finally,” I exclaimed as I went in and climbed the stairs to the attic room.
I don’t know what I was expecting but nothing could’ve prepared me for what lay before me. The room wasn’t an attic at all. Whoever stayed here before, was a person after my own heart. The room was free of wallpaper. Instead, the walls were painted robin’s egg blue. Another clothes mannequin stood close to the stained glass window, a miniature of its larger cousin overlooking the landing. This room was furnished as well, but unlike the other bedrooms, the bed was more for an adult or young adult of unknown gender. The headboard was large and scalloped with intricate detail around the edges. The other furnishings were a mismatch of light and dark woods and the floor was scattered with rich dark red Oriental rugs. It was perfect. There was even enough room for my pottery and sculpting supplies. At least I’ll be able to get some work done up here.
I took a flying leap onto the large bed and was rewarded by a cloud of dust and dirt rising up around me, enveloping in its stiflingly musty scent. ‘Achoo!’ I sneezed, jumping up off the bed, slapping at my clothes, trying to rid myself of the years of filth that had accumulated on the sheets.
Just then I heard someone snickering. I turned toward the sound thinking my Mom or Dad had followed me up the stairs and had witnessed my stupidity, but there was no one there. “Hello?” I asked as I strained to see into the darkest corners of the room. There was no one there that I could see, but I was certain I heard someone.
“If you’re there, come out, show yourself.” I made my voice sound more authoritative than I felt. What if the figure showed itself? What would I do, carry on a conversation with him/her/it? My clenched fists hanging loosely at my side, I waited, unable to breathe, half hoping I’d get an answer, half praying I would not.
Just about the time I had convinced myself I was hearing things, the faintest whisper reached my ear. “Hello”. Just a rush of air, but the word was unmistakable. My false bravado quickly dissipated as I stifled a yelp, spinning in the direction where the sound came from.
“Who…..who are you?” I asked, my voice cracking with fear.
It only took a few seconds before I had my answer.
“Rider,” the disembodied voice whispered into the musty air.
“Rider?” What kind of name was that? Was it a name, or a profession? It if was a name, surely it was a guy’s name. I’d never heard of a girl with the name “Rider”.
“Wha…..what are you doing here?” I was becoming less afraid and more curious.
“My room.”
“Your room? You mean this is, was, your room?” I asked the all too obvious question and felt like one of those dorky ghost trackers, but hey, I was just trying to communicate. I found an overstuffed chair and plopped down into it only to be engulfed once more in a musty dust cloud. “Ewww,” I exclaimed but stayed where I was, waving my hand in front of my face and coughing as I choked.
Immediately I head the voice again, this time out and out laughing. This spirit or whatever it was, was actually laughing at me! I narrowed my eyes, my face beginning to flush. “Shut up! It’s not funny!” I suddenly realized that I was telling the spirit to shut up when all along I was trying to communicate with it. I burst out laughing and the spirit joined me good-naturedly.
I wanted to ask it some more questions but just then my Mom called from the floor below. “Lucy! I’ve given you plenty of time to explore, now get down here and help bring some of these boxes inside!”
I jumped up from the chair and hollered back, “Okay Mom! Be down in a minute!” As I started to leave, I caught a movement over by the bed. My eyes were glued as I watched a small dust devil form then build with force until it stood about five feet tall. As I took a step towards it, the small tornado dissipated and became a cloud of dust once more.
“Rider?” I called quietly, waiting to hear a response, but I could somehow feel it in my bones; he/she/it was gone. I sighed in relief/disappointment as I descended the iron staircase to help my parents. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. We had moved into this small boring suburb in a small boring town, but there was nothing boring about our new house; our new haunted house.

Chapter 3
Spirits

After moving boxes and cleaning, I collapsed into the dining room chair as Mom served up a simple dinner of potato soup and ham and cheese sandwiches. Downing a small can of Red Bull, I managed to eat a few bites of soup and half of a cheese sandwich. Being a vegetarian, I elected to pass on the ham. “Mom, is it okay if I go upstairs. I think I’ll just take a bath and go to bed early. I’m bushed!”
“Sure honey, just be sure to pick up some fresh linens on your way up, and there’s a box next to the stairs that has all the supplies for the bathroom. Just send your dirty clothes down the laundry shoot. Oh, and don’t forget to take a change of clothes with you.”
“Okay, Mom, Jeez, you’d think I didn’t have a brain.” I mumbled as I gathered an armload of things and trudged up the stairs. Though I was bone tired, I couldn’t help but smile as I looked around the large foyer. It was looking better, definitely looking better.
After soaking in a hot bath, I changed into a pair of black sweats, a hot pink graphic tee and walked upstairs to my bedroom, my palms sweaty, making it hard to hold onto the box of clothes my Mom had dropped at the bottom of the spiral staircase.
Taking the linens from the top of the box, I proceeded to strip the dusty old bed. Giving it a thorough cleaning, I put on the mattress cover then finished off with crisp clean sheets and my favorite patchwork quilt. I loved my quilt. It was the only thing I had left of my Grandma. She used to make them from scraps of cloth that was given to her by the local clothing stores. The designs were always random, but beautiful in their chaos of patterns and colors.
I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling exhausted but productive. Just as I was drifting off to sleep….
“Lucy.” My whispered name was like a breeze as it gently blew around my head. Being in the stage between wakefulness and sleep, I smiled and answered.
“Yes?”
“You’re hogging the covers.” The amused voice replied and I became aware that my Grandma’s quilt was sliding off my body. Was I dreaming? My eyes flickered open. Normally, I would’ve been wide awake at the slightest movement, but I was so tired, I just managed to roll over in time to see the shape of a body form under the covers.
I rubbed my eyes hard with the heel of my hands and looked again at the impossible sight. There was definitely someone else in bed with me. The indentation of a head on the pillow next to mine was evidence of that.
“Rider? Is that you?” I asked, my voice croaky from sleep….and something else.
“Hello Lucy.”
I was taken aback. The voice was no longer just a whisper…..and it was most definitely not female. Crossing my legs Indian style, I reached across pulled back the blanket. At first there was just a slight outline on the covers, then slowly a body began to form, taking on the definite shape of a human being.
“Hello Rider,” I said as I watched the teenaged boy materialize in front of my eyes. He wasn’t bad looking…..for a ghost. I wondered why he was bound to this house. What could be keeping him here?
“Uh, Rider, I know this is going to sound like a rather obvious question but, why are you still here?” Instead of answering me, he sat up and looked directly into my wide blue eyes as I stared into his honey hued orbs.
“You have very pretty eyes, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He grinned and his whole face lit up with an inner light. It was amazing, sitting there, talking to a ghost like he was some guy from school. His hair was shaggy and stark white. My Grandma used to call kids with white hair, cotton topped. She said that most of the time their hair would turn black or dark brown by the age of eighteen or so, but Rider must’ve been an exception to the rule.
“Thanks.” Was all I could think to say as I watched his eyes travel from my face to my hot pink graphic tee.
“You wear strange clothes. They’re very bright. I like them.” He looked down at his white tee shirt and jeans, then slapped his chest. “Mine are so boring!” Rider turned back to me, moving scant inches from my face. “I would love to be able to change my clothes but these were the ones I died in and until…..” He seemed to catch himself at the last minute, his eyes suddenly wary as he looked around the room as though searching for something.
“Rider, what is it? What’s wrong?” I whispered, the air suddenly becoming chilled. I shuddered uncontrollably. He turned to me and I almost thought he was going to put his arms around me for comfort as he reached for me, but instead he became a vapor and disappeared. “Rider? Where are you? Come back!” I called but it was no use. I could feel a heaviness in the room. The same heaviness that I’d felt when I first entered the house. Funny, I didn’t feel it when Rider was here, only when he left…..no, he didn’t leave, he was forced out. But by what, or whom?
Suddenly, a book flew from the old dusty shelves and would’ve smacked me in the head if I hadn’t ducked at the last second. “Rider! That’s not funny! You could’ve hurt me!” Even as I shouted at him, I had a feeling it wasn’t Rider. Someone or something else was in the room.
“Who’s there? I’m not afraid of you! Show yourself!” I demanded of my unwelcomed visitor. Its answer was to fling another book at my head.
“Stop it! I don’t know who you are but this is my room and I demand you leave here this second!” I jumped up from the bed and walked around the room, straining to see into the dark corners of the attic. I was beyond exhausted and pretty pissed off at this point. I was in no mood to deal with a poltergeist or whatever it was that was in my room.
“Oh, go to Hell!” I spat as I collapsed back onto the bed. Surprisingly, my eyes closed almost immediately as I sank into a heavy sleep, filled with dreams of cotton topped boys with eyes the color of golden honey.

Chapter 4
Rider

The next few days passed without incident. I missed Rider. That was weird. How can you miss a spirit that you’ve spoken to a couple of times and only seen once? But I did. I missed him. Although, I was extremely glad the other spirit had decided to keep quiet and give his pitching arm a rest.
It didn’t take long with all three of us working on the house to get things in working order. Dad took care of repairing the porch and sprucing up the lawn. Mom and I took turns stripping wallpaper and painting.
Mom selected the colors in the foyer and I had to admit the woman had an eye for decorating. The sunny color she’d picked to go in the foyer was perfect as the morning rays picked up the myriad of colors in the stained glass window.
Each room was given special attention and its very own color. Windows were washed and wood was polished until the place literally sparkled.
We had a yard sale and managed to sell off the nursery furniture, the old clothes and just about everything else that we absolutely did not need. At the end of a very long day, my Mom had met the neighbors and banked a little over $500.00.
I was up in my room, putting my large collection of paperbacks on the tall book case when….
“Hello Lucy.” His soft voice sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to keep my excitement down as I answered him.
“Hey Rider.” I continued to put the books on the shelf as I kept my voice even…maybe a little too even. He could tell something was up.
“So, putting up some books, huh?”
I looked up to see him leaning on the edge of the bookcase and gave him my best ‘whatever’ look. “Duh, you think?” as I rolled my eyes. I didn’t mean to be so rude but he had just disappeared, leaving me with that other book throwing spirit, and it made me mad.
“Alright. Maybe I’ll come back later?” He started to fade into mist.
“Wait! Don’t go!” I cried as I jumped to my feet. “I’m sorry. I was just mad because you’d left, and then that other ghost showed up…”
He became solid again. “Did he hurt you?”
I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was sincerely worried about my wellbeing. I was surprised and a little concerned. “Well, he threw a couple of books at my head.”
“I’m so sorry! I would’ve stopped him but materializing weakens me.”
“Who is he?” I asked as I made my way over to the bed. I watched as Rider followed me, sitting on the edge of the bed. I sat down beside him and ached to have his arms around me, but he just sat there with a very concerned look on his angelic face.
“That was my Stepfather, Michael. He’s not someone you want to mess with. He’s……a very bad man.” He looked at me with those golden eyes, reached his hand out and gently laid it on top of mine. I felt the pressure of his hand even as it melted into mine. “You have to leave here. You and your family. It’s far too dangerous….especially since……”
“Well, that’s just great. Here we are, stuck in this place. We can’t move out. We have no where else to go. My Dad lost his job and we moved here so he could go to work at the paper mill.” I began to sniffle as I struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over my eyes. “Please Rider, there has to be something you can do.” I reached out to touch his shoulder but my hand passed right through him as he started to fade. “Wait, don’t go! Why do you always leave right in the middle of our conversation!”
“I’m sorry Lucy, but I can’t stay solid very long without fading out. I will come back as soon as I can. In the meantime, don’t do or say anything that will make Michael angry.” His voice started to fade as his body turned transparent, eventually disappearing altogether.
Don’t do or say anything to make Michael angry? Was he kidding? How was I supposed to do that? I didn’t know what would make Rider’s Stepfather angry. All I knew was that he hadn’t shown up since that first night and that was fine by me.
I pulled a Red Bull out of the compact refrigerator and sipped on it while I read one of my favorite novels, Jane Eyre. I always loved the way Jane, a plain governess, found love in the most unexpected place, and though it looked like she was going to end up alone and heartbroken, she had her happy ending.
After finishing off the energy drink, I tucked the novel under my bed, rolled unto my back and stared at the ceiling, thinking of Rider. What happened to him? Why can’t he stay solid? And why does the sound of his voice send tingles down my spine? I had a feeling it wasn’t a ghost thing.
It’s funny, but I had expected to spend a lot of time in my room crying about the life I’d left behind. Instead, I found myself preoccupied with a mystery; a mystery I vowed to solve. Rider deserved to find peace and I was going to help him.
All the T.V. programs about ghost trackers had one thing in common; they were always asking the ghosts why they were stuck there. I would try to get Rider to tell me the very next time he appeared.

Chapter 5
Secrets

The next morning, I borrowed the car and made my way to the public library. I knew that if there was anything to find, I’d find it there. I was especially curious to see if there were any old newspaper stories about our house and the family who left so suddenly.
As soon as I walked in with my red graphic tee shirt, men’s suit vest, black tutu over a red and black plaid school girl skirt, torn black leggings and black army boots, I was the center of attention. It was cool though. I was used to getting looked at.
I held my head up high as I approached the customer counter, my library card dangling between my fingers.
“Yes, may I help you?” the middle aged woman looked at me over her reading glasses.
“Yes ma’am. Could you please tell me where I can find books on the history of the town and where you keep old newspapers, say, from the early to middle 70’s?” I asked in my most respectful voice.
Right away her demeanor changed and she smiled at me warmly as she came around the counter and led me over to the section I was looking for. She then walked over to a row of tables where on top sat these huge computer screens. I looked at her helplessly.
“What are those? Are they some kind of computers from the 80’s or something?”
She chuckled not unkindly and explained, “No no, these are micro-fisch machines. Don’t you have these where you come from? By the way, I didn’t catch your name, honey.”
“Oh, it’s Lucy; Lucy Kramer. We just moved into the old house on Wiley Drive and no ma’am. We have computers that you use to surf the net.” I answered, smiling back. “Don’t you have the internet here?”
She laughed out loud now; something I’m pretty sure was not allowed in a library.
“Oh my dear Lucy, of course we have computers and we are fully capable of surfing the net, but when it comes to local history, nothing beats a fisch machine. Here, I’ll show you how it works.”
After she instructed me on how to use the monstrous machine, she left me to my search.
I had to admit, once I got the hang of it, the fisch machine was quite accurate and compared to surfing, it was quicker. Unlike the net where you had to weed through tons of sites that ended up not being of any help, the fisch machine had the information right there, all you had to do was put in the cartridge with the correct date.
I wasn’t sure of the precise date so I looked at the headlines from the middle 70’s on. I don’t know if it was pure luck or something else, destiny, fate, whatever you want to call it, but I wasn’t there ten minutes before a story caught my eye.
It talked about the house on Wiley Drive and the mystery of what happened to the family who lived there. According to the article, the family had up and disappeared overnight, nothing was taken from the house. There was no sign of a struggle or break-in, but the residents, The Simmons, Michael, Rita, Rider, Rose, Regan, Reggie and little Rhoda just vanished without a trace. The only thing missing was their car which was never found. When interviewing neighbors, they just said that the family was nice. Mrs. Simmons did some sewing to make extra money and was very talented. Rider was the oldest and had a job at the gas station and Mr. Simmons, well, no one said much of anything about him except that he was quiet, kept to himself. They knew he wasn’t the father of the children. Their father had died in a mining accident and left Rita with four kids, one on the way and very little money.
I read on, searching for some clue as to how Michael Simmons ended up in their lives but there was nothing.
My head was started to spin so I decided to leave the machine and go to the public records section. As I skimmed volumes, it didn’t take me long to locate the one with the map and parcel of the house on Wiley Drive. There was a record of previous owners and went all the way back to the original family who built the house, but it was just a bunch of information that offered little help.
I looked at the clock on the wall and was astonished. I’d been there for four hours? Putting everything back just as I’d found it, I gathered my purse and headed toward the front, not failing to draw glances as I passed between the tables.
As I reached the front desk, it suddenly occurred to me, I didn’t get the name of the sweet librarian who’d been so helpful. I quickly looked at the name plate; Gloria Driggers, Head Librarian.
“Miss Driggers, thank you so much for all your help. I was hoping to use this but unfortunately didn’t find anything useful I could check out,” as I held up my plastic library card with the hologram on the front.
“Oooh my! That’s something you’ve got there! May I?” She held out her hand and I gladly placed it in her palm. She held it like it was a rare find, moving the plastic back and forth as she watched the hologram change from a stack of books to my picture. “This is your library card? It’s so….modern! I’d heard of these but never seen one in person before.”
I was instantly curious. “Well, what do your library cards look like?”
She pulled out a business card with the library logo on it. There were lines where a person’s name and address could be filled in. That was it.
“Sad, isn’t it? We just don’t have the funding for something as sophisticated as what you have, but it works for us.” Her apologetic tone was amusing. She really was the epitome of what a librarian stood for. She was probably just like me growing up; always searching for that next book, ready for new adventures inside the pages.
“You know, Miss Driggers, my card probably won’t work here and since I plan on visiting the library often, it might be a good idea for me to fill out one of your cards.” I smiled my sweetest smile and was rewarded when she smiled back.
“Oh, Lucy, you’re a book lover too? That’s wonderful! What’s your favorite novel?”
“Well that’s easy, but you’re going to think I’m a real geek. I know with all these paranormal novels out with vampires and werewolves, witches and wizards, which I’ve read some of, I still find that ‘Jane Eyre’ is still my all time favorite.”
She looked at me with something between shock and respect.
“I knew I was going to like you. ‘Eyre’ is also my favorite, though I pull out an Austin novel every now and again for a little light reading.”
“Ah yes, I especially enjoyed ‘Sense and Sensibility’. I looked again at the clock and noticing, she graciously cut our discussion short.
“Well, Lucy Kramer, do come back soon and maybe we could have lunch. I’m absolutely starved for intellectual stimulation,” she whispered as she handed me my brand new library card.
As I took it and gingerly placed it inside my wallet, I grinned. “Are you sure you want to be seen with a….character like me?” I thought of the sight we would make; me with my Gothic wardrobe and her with, well….her.
She patted my hand and leaned in conspiratorially, “I could tell you some secrets about folks around here that would make your hair stand on end, starting with the family who used to live in your house.”
“You knew the Simmons?” I couldn’t believe my good luck.
“Oh, Rita and I were best friends.” Her face sagged as a cloud seemed to pass over her. “I still refuse to believe she left with that….that man, in the middle of the night. Something still stinks about the whole thing. Come, have lunch with me tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it, okay?”
“Sure, no problem. I’d love to hear more about it.” I was practically jumping up and down inside. This could be the puzzle I’d been missing. Maybe I could help Rider afterall. “So what time do you want to meet?”
She smiled with relief. “I break for lunch at noon. I normally take a sandwich and eat it in the park. It’s so lovely there.”
“Alright then, tomorrow at noon. I’ll see you then.”
I waved goodbye and nearly skipped to my car. I couldn’t believe it. I had found the one person who might be able to put the pieces together. Was it fate, or were there other forces involved? I was just so happy that I finally had a chance to help Rider.
I stopped as something occurred to me for the first time. If I help him, won’t he ‘cross over’? And if he does, I’ll never see him again, or at least not until I die too.
The thought was enough to put a damper on my good mood, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
“Oh Rider, soon you’ll be in Heaven with the rest of the Angels.”

Chapter 6
Rider returns

That night, I seemed to be worn out from all the research done at the library so I begged out of dinner, grabbed a granola bar and went upstairs to lie down. I had so much information to process before tomorrow and a million questions to ask Miss Driggers.
So I wouldn’t forget, I grabbed a notepad and a pencil and began to make a list of things to ask. Well, it ended up not being a million but I managed to list the important ones.
I was just putting away the pencil when Rider materialized on the bed.
“Hello Lucy. How have you been?” He asked in a genial tone.
I wanted to smack him. Didn’t he miss me as much as I missed him? Was time nonexistent for him? These were questions that would have to wait until another time….if that time ever came. Tonight, I just wanted to enjoy his company for as long as I could so I promised I wouldn’t talk about his ‘predicament’, instead I would concentrate on just getting to know him a better.
Though I was extremely tired, which I happened to be quite a lot lately, I smiled sweetly, reassuring him how happy I was to see him again.
“Hey Rider. I’m fine. Hey listen, I thought it might be fun to play a little game. Do you like games?”
His face lit up as he grinned. “Oh yes, I love games. What kind of game did you want to play? Oh wait, I think there are some old board games over here in this corner.” He was off in a flash, sticking his head through boxes and trunks.
I hollered at him, “No Rider! Come back here!”
He floated back over to the bed, confusion written all over his face.
“I thought you wanted to play a game.”
I put on my best understanding face. “Not a board game; more like a word game. It’s a way for us to get to know each other better.”
His look turned cautious. “What kind of word game?” He looked around as though he were afraid of being found out.
“Oh, it’s just a harmless game. Have you ever heard of ‘twenty questions’?” I asked innocently enough. I had to convince him that I was on the up and up. “Okay, well, I’ll start. When were you born? Okay, that’s question number one. You answer then I have to answer the same question. Then you get to ask me one that you’ll have to answer too, get it? Alright, lets start again.” I had every intention of asking the same question but just rewording it. “What’s your date of birth?” I half expected him to disappear as he looked around nervously then back at me.
“June 22, 1959. Now it’s your turn,” he answered, his voice still wary. He was hiding something and it was going to take some doing to get him to spill it.
“June 26, 1993. Now it’s your turn to ask a…..Rider? Is something wrong?” He had gone catatonic, not saying a word, just staring at me. “What’s the matter with you?” Automatically I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder but it passed right through; big surprise.
“You…..you were born in 1993? How can that be? What year is it anyway?”
I realized then and there that Rider had no concept of time. To him it was still 1977. “But Rider, how would you explain the way I’m dressed?”
He looked at me as though I’d sprung a leak or something.
“What are you talking about? You dress fine. Your hair is a little flat, but with some mousse and a good hair spray, you could fix it right up.”
I laughed as it became apparent my “look” wasn’t so original after all. “I’ll look into that, but lets get back to the game, okay?” He nodded. “So it’s your turn Rider.”
He looked at me then pursed his lips, deep in concentration. “What’s your favorite color? Is that okay to ask?”
I yawned, opened the fridge and pulled out another Red Bull. I could hardly keep my eyes open. How could I be so hyped up and tired at the same time? Upending the drink, I sucked it dry before crushing the middle and tossing it into the waste basket next to my computer desk.
“Yeah, actually that’s a good one. Mine is blue.” I plopped back onto the bed on my stomach. “Okay, now it’s your turn. What’s yours?”
Rider leaned down next to me and I looked up into his soft golden eyes. “Well, until just recently, it was green, but now I’d say it most definitely is blue….like your eyes.” He reached out to pull a lock of hair that had fallen over my eye, but his hand went right through.
I tucked the wayward strand behind my ear. “Rider, does it bother you that you can’t feel things?” I whispered.
“Is this your turn for twenty questions, because I don’t think you can answer that question,” he teased.
“No, I mean when you touch me and you know….you go right through? Does it bother you?”
Suddenly Rider was lying on his back, his face just inches from mine. “It does bother me. It would be so easy to put my arms around you and pull you down for a kiss.” He sighed in resignation. “I think about that.”
I was floored. My eyes bugged out as I sucked in my breath. He thought about kissing me? I had done the same thing. I desperately wanted to feel his arms around me. “Rider….I….we…..”
“Oh, it’s okay. I know you don’t feel the same. It’s just that I like you Lucy and I never got the chance to have a real girlfriend. The only kissing I’ve done was one night at a party and we were playing ‘spin the bottle’. I kissed Julie Harris. It was quick and our teeth clicked. But I don’t expect you have anything to worry about, me being transparent and all.”
He flashed that beautiful smile at me and I felt my heart skip a beat. Why couldn’t he be a real boy? He’d never had a girlfriend before? That was hard to believe, but I knew he was telling the truth. What boy would admit to such a personal and possibly humiliating fact?
“Uh, Rider, I have to confess, I have wondered what it would be like…..to kiss you too.” I yawned again and clapped my hand over my mouth. “I don’t know why I’m so tired, but I don’t want to sleep. We’ve only gotten to question number two in our game.” Even as I said it, I had to stifle yet another yawn. I just wasn’t going to last much longer.
Rider got up and stood by my bed. “I’ll let you sleep. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started to fade out.
“Wait Rider, please, just stay with me until I fall asleep?” I knew I was begging but I wasn’t ready for him to leave yet.
He smiled and replied, “Okay,” as he jumped on the bed and snuggled down in a half-sitting position.
My face flushed red but I crawled into the space he filled and laid with my back to his chest. Of course my body went right through his. It was as close as we could get to embracing, but it would have to do. I pulled up the covers and snuggled down into his arms. “Goodnight Rider,” I whispered.
“Goodnight my Lucy”, he replied as I slipped out of consciousness.

Chapter 7
Awareness

I slept late the next day and screamed when I saw the time. I was going to be late for my lunch date with Miss Driggers.
Throwing on a pair of black skinny jeans, a bright purple graphic and my favorite black high top converse sneakers, I pulled the brush through my matted hair a few times and giving up, pulled it back into a tight ponytail. Scrubbing my face and hurriedly slapping on some eye make-up, I glanced at my reflection in the Cheval mirror. “Humph, it’ll have to do.”
I started to grab the car keys from the key ring, but it was missing. “Oh no, I’m so going to be late for sure now.”
Going to the garage, my eyes went to my old bicycle. For some unknown reason, my parents decided to keep it while selling off just about everything else.
“Well, guess I’ll get my exercise today,” I shrugged as I climbed on and took off at breakneck speed.
*******

By the time I reached the park I was panting. It was a couple of minutes past 12:00 when I pulled up next to the bench where Miss Driggers was feeding pigeons with some bread from a paper bag. Anyone just walking by would think she was a bag lady. It was funny, but in the sunlight she looked older. I wondered just how old she really was. Maybe that question would be answered today as well.
“Hi Miss Driggers,” I called as I sat down next to her. “Sorry I’m late. My mom took the car.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I was just feeding my little friends here,” she said jovially. “Here, why don’t you try it. They take to the ones who feed them,” she said as she held out the bag to me.
I took some crumbs and tossed them out to the dozen or so grey and white birds pecking at the ground. “They are kinda pretty, aren’t they?”
“Oh Lucy, I am so happy that you think so. Most people look upon them as scavengers and rats with wings, but they are relatively docile and fairly trusting.” She was getting really animated and I couldn’t help but be caught up. “They even have a kind of hierarchy. See that big dark grey one in the middle; the one that all the others stay a respectful distance from? He’s the alpha male; the one that keeps the others in line.” I nodded and she pointed to another, smaller white one, with grey spots. “That is the other male, possibly the son of the alpha. See how he stays away from the alpha but in front of the other pigeons? He’s their protector. If the alpha male attacks, he’ll first have to go through the white one.”
She laughed. “I do go on. I’m probably boring you to death.”
I rushed to reassure her. “Oh no ma’am, I’m fascinated, really.”
She looked at me, surprise clearly written all over her face. “You really mean that, don’t you dear?”
“Yes ma’am. It’s a compulsion with me. I’m kinda like a sponge. I love to learn new things. My mind is an open book with blank pages waiting to be filled up.”
“Lucy dear, that’s a wonderful way to put your love for learning. Oh, you are very special, did you know that?” She took my hand and covered it with her the other.
“No ma’am, I’m nothing special.” I found myself uncomfortable with the unsolicited praise.
Looking at the absence of a purse or book bag, she suddenly pursed her brows together. “Lucy, didn’t you bring anything to eat?”
It hit me that we had a ‘lunch’ date and I hadn’t brought anything. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it. I just didn’t want to be late and miss you.”
She smiled. “Well, we can share mine then. Do you like peanut butter and banana sandwiches?” she asked as she dug inside her huge handbag and pulled out another paper bag, stuffed to bursting.
“I love PB&B’s,” I replied. How did she know it was my favorite? I craned my neck as she pulled out the sandwich. “What else do you have in there? It looks like everything but the kitchen sink.”
She laughed again. The sound was soft and musical. “Well, I have some celery and pimento cheese spread, an apple and a pear. Oh, and lets not forget dessert”, she exclaimed as she pulled out two Little Debbie Devil Food Cakes in plastic wrapping.
My mouth watered and my stomach grumbled. “You sure do eat a lot.” As soon as the words came out, I slapped my hand over my mouth. What a rude thing to say. I wouldn’t blame her if she told me off, but I was shocked when she laughed and looked at me with nothing but kindness in her pale grey eyes.
“Oh dear Lucy, I usually bring extra food for the homeless people I meet here once in a while, but today, today I had a feeling I was going to be sharing with you, food as well as information.” She handed me half a sandwich, an apple and one of the cakes. “You eat and I’ll talk, okay?”
I answered by taking a huge bite of the delicious sandwich. She gave me a sweet smile which quickly turned to a frown as she dredged up the old memories of Rita Simmons.
“Okay, you know that her husband died in a mining accident, right? Well, it left her with no income other than what she made from seamstress work. The officer who came to deliver the bad news was Michael Simmons. He immediately took a shine to Rita and made stops at the house everyday to see how she was getting along.
He was civil to the children but it was evident he and Rider butt heads every chance they got. Rider thought of himself as their protector and he wasn’t happy about Michael pushing his way into their lives so soon after the death of his father.
Anyway, Rita told me that when Michael asked her to marry him she told him that she loved him but she wasn’t ‘in love’ with him. I remember when she told me on this very bench, she was shaking her head. She said he didn’t care. She said that he told her all he wanted was to make sure she was taken care of; that they all were. He told her he loved her enough for the both of them and he didn’t expect anything in return.
Rider hit the ceiling when Rita told her oldest she was marrying Michael. He loved his mom, but he could tell something was ‘off’ about the police officer.
They argued; he said he would work two…three jobs to bring in extra money so she wouldn’t have to throw her life away on a man she didn’t love, but Rita didn’t want her teenage son’s grades to suffer. She wanted him to get into the best college and make a real life for himself.
Well, they had the wedding. I was the maid of honor, and Rita settled into being Mrs. Michael Simmons. It was a very tense day when she announced she was pregnant. I asked her if she was happy about it and she assured me she was, but….I don’t know, I just couldn’t see it.
As the pregnancy progressed, she began to ignore my phone calls and make up excuses not to meet for lunch. I tried to keep in touch but she just shut me out.
I decided I wanted some answers so I cornered her at the market and demanded she talk to me.” Her voice broke and I laid my hand on hers, patting it understandingly.
“Rita said that she was very unhappy but put on a front for the kids’ sake. She felt trapped. She said she wanted to leave him; that he was abusive to her, but never in front of the kids and never to the point where she needed medical treatment. He was very careful not to hurt his unborn child.
She broke down in the store. I held her while she cried but she pulled away, looking around nervously. ‘The walls have eyes’, she whispered. Then she told me she loved me, but couldn’t be friends anymore; it wasn’t safe…..for me.
Nothing changed after little Rhoda came along. There was no baby shower or gifts or visitors at the hospital. I sent some flowers, a card and a little stuffed bear but I never got a response.
I wanted to tell someone, but he was a respected police officer. Who would I tell?
On the night that they left/disappeared, whatever you want to call it, I knew something had happened, but when the police finally went and checked after Michael had not reported to work, they found no evidence of a break-in and no sign of a struggle.
People talked for a while, but then things settled down and life went on. I never heard from any of them again.” She turned to me then and totally floored me.
“So tell me something Lucy, why are you so curious about the Simmons?”
I was caught off guard and struggled for a plausible explanation, but nothing but the truth came out of my traitorous mouth. “Rider is still in the house,” I blurted, my face turning scarlet.
Her eyes grew wide. “What!?”
I stammered as I rushed to get the words out.
“I….he…..well, he’s not exactly in the house….it’s more like he’s….uh….well….he’s a ghost.” There I had said it. I waited for her to tell me I was crazy and get up and leave, but she just stared at me. Finally, she sighed and hung her head.
“I had a feeling something very bad happened in that house. The fact that Rider’s spirit is still in the house just proves it. Has he said anything about that night? What about the rest of the family? Are they there too?”
Now it was my turn to look at her like she was crazy. “Miss Driggers, why are you so quick to believe me? You don’t know me. I could be lying to you.”
“Please Lucy, call me Gloria, or Glory. Why would you? Lie to me that is?”
I looked at her in disbelief. She was so open and honest about everything. I had never met an adult who gave credence to a teenager without solid proof, but Gloria Driggers was something else.
“Rider is the only one I’ve spoken with and seen….but there is another spirit in the house….and it’s Michael Simmons. He likes to throw things at me,” as I recalled the night I almost got beamed by a book. “Rider seems afraid of him and told me to be sure not to make him mad.”
“Hmm, I don’t get it. Why would Michael be in the house? If he did anything to the family, wouldn’t he have left? It doesn’t make any sense.” She squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Listen to me Lucy. Rider is right. You shouldn’t do anything to make Michael mad, just keep a low profile. I’m going to do some digging and see what I can come up with.” Her eyes beseeched me, “Please be careful. Michael was a beast in life, and he’s most likely a monster in the afterlife.”
“Okay. I won’t do anything until I hear from you. Thank you Miss….ah Gloria. You don’t know how much your support means to me. I’d say something to my folks but they think I watch too many supernatural documentaries already. They’d never believe me.” We hugged, exchanged phone numbers and said our goodbyes.
As I rode away on my bike, I felt positive for the first time since I first arrived at the house on Wiley Drive.

Chapter 8
Revelations

I went straight upstairs to my attic room and lay down on the bed, processing what Gloria had told me earlier. My heart pounded in my chest as suddenly the pieces began to fall in place.
Michael Simmons was the big bully pigeon; Rider was the white one with gray spots, keeping his distance, but protecting the family from the controlling stepfather.
Could it be? Is it possible that the whole family is still in the house? An unnatural chill went through me as I thought of Rider’s family at the mercy of such a Tyrant. “That must be why Rider is always looking around. I bet he’s keeping an eye out not just for Michael but his family as well.
Well, I had a few hours of daylight left. I know I promised Gloria I wouldn’t do anything but what harm would it do just to walk around the grounds. Surely that’s allowed.
I headed outside to the large area where trees and bushes grew at the back of the property line. I paid no attention to the brambles as they clawed at my legs and arms.
Coming to an open place, you wouldn’t call it a field exactly; more like an area where the trees had either been chopped down or burned. It looked like someone had started clearing it, intending to build something there.
I was looking for something, what I didn’t yet know, but I just felt what I was searching for, I would find here, in this desolate place.
All of a sudden I felt the ground beneath me start to give and jumped sideways to keep from tumbling into a large hole. I had never seen a sink hole, but it looked like what I would think one would look like.
I crawled over to the opening and looked down into the darkness. I couldn’t see the bottom; the sun was too far to the west, descending, making way for the night. I would have to come back with a flashlight. I could have waited until the next day but I felt an urgency I couldn’t explain. I had to see what was down there.
Hurrying back to the house, I stopped in the kitchen looking through the cabinets and drawers. “Oh come on Mom, where do you keep the darn flashlights?” I became frustrated and in my frustration started slamming the drawers shut, making a terrible racket.
Going into the foyer, I checked the coat closet and found one on the top shelf. Grabbing it, I checked for batteries. They looked okay so I ran out the back door and to the spot where I’d almost plunged to my death.
As I crawled over to the hole, I began to get an eerie sensation, like I was being watched. I shrugged it off and concentrated on the task at hand.
Turning on the flashlight, I pointed it down into the dank depths. I choked back a scream as the light revealed a body at the bottom; not a body exactly, for it had been there so long, only the bare bones remained. This explained a lot.
“So that’s why Michael Simmons is still in the house. He never made it off the property after…..” I was sure he’d killed Rider’s entire family. I turned the flashlight to the left, then the right, but Michael’s bones were the only ones in the hole.
“Where did you hide their bodies you Son of a B***h!” I pounded the flashlight on the ground in frustration. I believed the bodies of the Simmons were somewhere hidden inside the house.
I had to find them.

Chapter 9
Rest in Peace

I ran upstairs to my room, calling Rider’s name.
“Rider, where are you? I have wonderful news!”
I sprinted up the spiral staircase and into the attic room.
“Rider! Rider! Please answer me! I need you to be here! I found the bones of your stepfather!” I stood in the middle of the room and screamed his name. “Rider!”
“Lucy? Why are you yelling? I’m right here.”
I looked over to see him in his favorite stance; leaning up against the edge of the tall bookcase. “What’s the deal? You look really excited. Take a breath.” He walked over to where I was and looked closely into my eyes.
“Rider, I found the body of your stepfather. He’s on the grounds in the back of the property!”
His eyes became alarmed, darting around the room. “Lucy, I told you not to do anything to make him angry and you go and find his body. What part of my instructions didn’t you understand?”
All of a sudden a chill entered the room. I took a breath, when I let it out I could see it in the air. I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing them as, impossible as it seemed, ice crystals were quickly forming around the room. “Rider, what’s happening?”
He looked at me and sadness was etched on his beautiful face.
“Michael is here.” His voice was apologetic as his body became translucent. He was disappearing? Leaving me to that murderer’s mercy?
“Rider! Please, don’t leave me! I’m scared!” I cried out, but he faded into nothingness. I choked back a sob and bottled up my fear, turning it to anger; anger that gave me the strength I needed.
“I guess I’ll have to do this on my own.” I yelled into the cold stillness of the room as the pressure began to build around me, like a storm gaining power. “I’m not afraid of you Michael Simmons! You were a tyrant and a murderer, but now you’re nothing! Nothing but a big pile of bare bones in the bottom of a sinkhole! A sinkhole! Man, were you stupid! You thought you could get away with murder, but in the end, you became trapped here, in this house!” I laughed out loud, daring him to respond. “You may have been able to scare Rider and his family, but you don’t scare me! You’re nothing but vapor.” As I walked to the door, I was repelled, as though an invisible force field hit me dead on. Landing hard on the area rug, the breath rushed from my lungs and I was stunned for a minute or two.
Refusing to let him win, I struggled to my knees and crawled to the door. The air started swirling around, picking up speed until it felt as though I were trapped in some freakish indoor tornado.
Okay, so he was more than just vapor. It was clear he had some power over the elements. I couldn’t give up now. If I did, he would take control over me and that was one thing I would never let happen.
Unexpectedly, there was a calm in the room. Then I heard the sweetest voice. “Lucy, run!” It was Rider. Somehow, he had stood up to Michael just this once and given me the few seconds I needed to escape.
Once in the main hall, I scrambled down the steps. The lights had gone out in the house and I had dropped the flashlight upstairs in the attic. I had to get the lights back on.
I quickly ran down the stairs and into the basement where the electrical box was located. It was almost pitch black except for a sliver of moonlight coming from the basement windows. I stumbled around, searching for the box when my foot got snagged on an upturned board in the floor. I hit the ground hard, bruising my hands and tearing my jeans.
I sat on the floor and pounded my fists in anger and frustration.
Suddenly I remembered something I’d seen on one of those ghost story programs my Mom always scolded me for watching. “The basement. The bodies are almost always buried in the basement.”
Could it be that simple? I began pulling on the loose boards. I thought I would have a problem with getting them to come up, but they were just placed on the earthen floor, not nailed down.
My eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark, so I could make out the area where I had removed the boards. Getting up I felt along the wall and found my Dad’s shovel. He was always very tidy and hung all his tools and things on hooks.
Grabbing the shovel, I began to dig.
“Please God, let their bodies be here. Maybe if I can uncover the bodies, their spirits will at last find peace.” I kept praying as sweat dripped off my forehead.
I felt the air getting chilled again and knew that Michael had gotten through Rider and his spirit was trying to manifest itself, gaining strength as it sucked the energy from the room….and me. I realized I was getting tired; not just tired from digging but bone tired. He was sapping my strength, like a vampire.
It was getting hard to move my arms. I was in trouble and I knew it. “Rider, if you can hear me….please, I need your help,” I whispered as the shovel felt like an anvil in my hands.
“Stop it! You’re killing her!” I heard Rider’s voice but it seemed very far away as the shovel slipped from my hand. All I wanted to do was lay down and sleep, just for a little while.
“You killed my whole family. I couldn’t do anything to stop you because I wasn’t home, but when I got there you took care of me too. I was too late then…..but I will not let you harm my Lucy!”
I felt the strength start to return to my body and I sat up just in time to hear Rider yelling.
“You have no power over us anymore! I am the one with the power now! LEAVE US ALONE!!”
The words rang through the room like church bells as his declaration broke Michael’s hold.
My strength was renewed and I felt completely refreshed as I grabbed the shovel and began digging again. I didn’t stop until I felt the shovel hit something under the floor.
Sitting on my heels, I began digging with my hands until suddenly my fingers touched something. Just then the lights came on and I looked to see that it was a skeletal hand.
When I touched it something miraculous happened. A light swirled up around me and took the shape of a woman. Then another shape, and another until there were five spirits standing over me. I didn’t realize until I put my dirty hands up to my face that it was wet with my tears.
“Lucy, my Lucy. You have saved us,” Rider said as he materialized next to me.
I was still crying when he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close: His solid arms around me. “Rider, you’re….you’re….Oh Rider!” I squeezed him tightly and cried into his shoulder. He held me until I had gained my composure.
“It’s alright now Lucy. Michael is gone and you’ve uncovered our bones. My family would like to thank you.”
I looked up into his incredibly beautiful face and then into the faces of his family. They were looking at me with gratitude in their eyes. Then his mother smiled and looked at Rider. They nodded to each other and she and the others dissipated before my eyes.
I gazed into his amber eyes, etching them forever in my memory and just as I opened my mouth to say something, he smiled, took my face in his hands and kissed me.
It was the most incredible and amazing kiss ever. It was also my very first kiss ever. His lips moved over mine in the sweetest way.
When he finally broke free, his eyes were dark amber. “Wow, Julie Harris move over. That was so much better.” He tried to keep his tone light but I detected a definite tinge of sadness. With his next words I knew why.
“I can’t stay, you know. I have to move on….cross over….whatever you want to call it. My time here is done.”
I could feel his body begin to get mushy, less there and I started to panic. “No! Wait! Don’t go! Rider Please!” Even as I said the words, I knew they were useless. He had to go. “I….I’m going to miss you,” I whispered as the tears fell down my cheeks.
He went to wipe them away but his fingers passed through. He was spirit again.
“Don’t be sad Lucy. What you did was very brave. Whether it was you finding our bones or my new found courage that broke the spell, it wouldn’t have happened without you. I will never forget you. I can only hope you’ll think of me from time to time.”
He stood up and the light around him was enough to illuminate the entire basement.
“I love you Lucy. We’ll meet again….someday,” and he was gone.
“I love you too Rider and I will never forget you.”
I walked upstairs to call the police.

The End

Author's Note

It took me about two days to write it. I was thinking it would make a wonderful little movie on something like ABC Family or maybe Disney.