Enid

Enid

A Story by Megan Harris


I had officially entered the boy’s club. This was something I had looked forward to for months. Jasper’s teammates teased me about it on the car ride up from our home town in Brunswick. Saying things like, “It must have been some awesome sex! Jasper usually never invites his girlfriends along with him.” That wasn’t it at all though. I told Jasper when we first met, this was one thing I wanted to do before I died. The actualization of my dream was something that made me feel uneasy but still I smiled a bit to myself while staring out the passenger side window. We drove onto the route 6 exit and I saw nothing but corn fields. They looked like they’d go on for miles. They turned into farms, the farms into houses, and the houses into a quaint little town fifteen minutes down the road.

We pulled into the graveled driveway of the house we’d be investigating that night. The chipping white painted house was covered from foundation to roof with ivy vines. They crept around the door handle and spun themselves up and around the decrepit brick chimney. It wasn’t very big house – two stories and a small attic very well hidden behind the primordial willows that surrounded it.

The atmosphere was significantly heavier and colder than it had been earlier that week when Jasper and I drove to Andover to check out the area. He was telling me about how he saw this house on an online forum and the owner invited them out when we jumped out of the car Jasper slicked his dark hair back and stared at the house in a sort of awe. We were captivated by how the sun ripped through the tree shadows and embraced the house in an aura of warm yellow light. There was something peacefully poetic about that scene. 

But tonight it was much more ominous the willows bent in creating a sort of cave. I took a breath and lead the group toward the front door, which had been rather beautiful once, it was mahogany with a stained glass window shaped like a flower. It also had two front latticed windows that went from ground to ceiling on either side of it. Some panels were missing glass and were now filled with beautifully intricate spider webs glowing from our flashlights. I thought a saw something dart across my line of vision through the window and stared into the dark empty of the house.

“Well it is your first time, Iris. Want to do the honors?” Jasper said while handing me the voice recorder I turned my head around to face him and nodded. Jasper’s friends watched it as it passed from Jasper’s hand to mine.

“Iris, Jasper, Dexter, and Graham, investigating 115 Maple Avenue on September 22nd 2003.The time is nine o’clock PM.” I voiced into the microphone of the recorder before switching it off and placing it into the right pocket of my ripped denim jeans. We pushed the ivy away from the door handle, unlocked it, and stepped over the threshold. Graham sneezed when the dust picked up from the door and floated into his nose. His long amber hair flew into his face as his whole six foot body lunged forward. Jasper and I were startled by this but Dexter just shook his head and grabbed the back of Graham’s shirt before he fell onto the floor. We set up our laptops and cameras with only four shaky flashlights to guide us. Graham excused himself to search for the breaker box and from the foyer we listened to him sneeze and amble about the kitchen clumsily. We heard him open the basement door and make his way down the creaking steps.

“I was under the impression someone had cleaned this up a bit for us.” Jasper had a look of repulsion as he moved his flashlight along the empty fire place mantle. His light suddenly stopped. He jumped back and shook my shoulder.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?” I questioned, now looking in the direction of his pointed light.

“I thought I saw a picture frame there but it just disappeared.”

“No, I didn’t see it.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t the light and shadows playing tricks on you?” Dexter interrupted.

“I’m not sure.” Jasper seemed a bit let down and continued to help us unpack. We heard a loud crash come from the kitchen as a flashlight beam rolled across the wall parallel to us. Graham entered from the kitchen, mumbling to himself while clenching his left knee. He glared at a shaking Dexter who was covering his mouth stifling a chuckle.

“I thought this place had the power turned on Jasper.” He said through his pain.

“It was supposed to be taken care of. I don’t know. We can work without it.” Jasper moaned while setting up his tripod.

 It was about ten o’clock when we were finally organized enough to start our investigation. Jasper and I headed to the den as Graham and Dexter headed to the basement. The den was covered from wall to floor with splintering wood and I sat cross-legged on the floor patting the space next to me for Jasper to join. When he finally got situated I pulled the voice recorder from my pocket.

“This is Jasper and Iris in the den. Is there anyone else in here with us tonight?” I asked into the darkness to no response.

Jasper scooted closer to me and spoke firmly into the recorder, “If you don’t say or do something we won’t know that you are here. Could you tap on the wall or touch one of us to let us know you’re here with us?” After he finished his question four firm distinct knocks came from above our heads. He asked for the knocks to repeat themselves. Three hard knocks then thudded on the ceiling. Anxiety and an unexplainable urge to move from our position bubbled in my stomach and made my legs twitch.

“Let’s go to the attic!” I stood up and pulled on Jasper’s shirt.

“Why? We may get more activity down here.” He said after switching off his recorder.

“I just have this feeling. Jas, please?”

“Iris, I’ve been doing this for a long time. We need to investigate each area thoroughly.”

“Just this once can we deviate from the system?” I asked again looking above our heads.

He gave in and pulled out his two-way radio, “Hey Dex, Graham, we’re going up to the attic, just so you know.” He was answered by a monotone confirmation by Dexter. We turned the corner, back into the foyer and up the staircase. Each step we took to the second floor creaked and whined, an obnoxious interruption to the silence. We opened four heavy oak doors until finally finding the fifth – the attic. The stairs to the attic were quieter than the others. There were still boxes lying around and I was a bit afraid of how much weight the floor could hold. So I rested myself on the very first stair on top keeping Jasper in eye view as he walked to the far corner. As I listened to Jasper continue asking answerless questions I would occasionally glance away to the hallway below.

Staring ahead I let myself zone out to the sound of Jasper’s voice until something caught my eye. A flash of orange light appeared from behind the open door below. I looked over at Jasper who was well distracted by his electronic devices and I snuck down the stairs. Down the hall a previously closed door had opened. My rational side was telling me that Graham and Dexter had moved upstairs but to my surprise the room was empty. It was small, a child’s room. The walls were pink and covered with the dark spots of mold where water had leaked down them. A tattered curtain barely covered the window to the backyard. There was an old wooden swing tied by rope to a tree branch and it swung back and forth with the light breeze. I felt it through a crack on the bottom of the window pane. I had yet to shake the fear from earlier but there was something relaxing about this moment.

I noticed a twin bed tucked in the corner, it had a metal frame that had tarnished and rusted with age. “How long has this place been abandoned?” I thought as I touched my hand to the still made bed. The blanket was yellowed white but still soft and warm as if someone had just laid on it. I could have sworn I heard a soft giggle in front of me I moved my hand from the bed and shook off the sound. I stood silent for a moment playing with the voice recorder in my pocket.

I turned it on and almost instantly I felt a cold hand on my shoulder. I turned around quickly expecting to see Jasper but saw nothing except for empty space. Walking forward toward the threshold of the door I focused my eyes to the end of the hall following the moldy paisley wallpaper. A mist by the attic door floated toward me. I stepped back into the room, shocked. The further I backed into the room the more it took shape. Then I saw her, she stood in front of me and her sad empty eyes met mine. I noticed that her arms and legs were pallid and thin. I also found it strange that she lacked a torso. Her hair was a misty gray with a tattered ribbon falling off of the right side. She smiled slightly as she held out her white hand to me. I was too frightened to take it at first but forced myself to do so.

“Who are you?” I asked to receive no answer from her lips but in my ear a bubbling, water logged voice whispered, “Enid.”

 I took this as an answer and she led me floating down the stairs to the first floor. The room began to fill with light and the fire place crackled. The mantle above was covered with empty picture frames and a vase full of bright yellow lilies that looked like they were reaching toward the sun coming through the stained glass window on the door. The glass created a rainbow against the now shiny and polished oak floor. She sat next to a stack of books and as she pulled one up to her face a white dress appeared on her frail body. Her hair flushed with a light brown hue now and her ribbon became a soft blue. I admired of how the hair tufted into the loose silk bow and likened it to the clumped white silk that was around the bottom of her dress. As I looked around the room the fear I had felt seemed to fade.

“Is this real?” I asked out loud to myself as I felt the dustless and sparkling mantle, gazing at the orange wave of fire below.

She eyed me and mouthed softly, “Yes.”

My eyes and ears were having a hard time adjusting to the dimension I had found myself in. I could still see flickering shadows of Graham, Dexter, and Jasper as they roamed around the house looking for me. At one point, after resting myself on to the floor next to Enid, I could have sworn I heard Jasper scream my name. I did not call back though, too interested and curious about my current situation.

Enid did not say much at first but I persisted questioning about her former life until I had formed some semblance of knowledge about her. She was nine and she held out both hands while counting her fingers to show me. Her pale pink lips curled up into a smile revealing crooked off-white teeth. She told me she had been living alone here for years. Well that was at least before I came along. I asked why she hadn’t picked one of my friends to join her instead of me. She smiled, put her book down, and walked toward me.

“They can’t see me like you can.” She giggled as she poked the top of my forehead. Her saddle shoes clicked on the floor after her tip toe bounce. She seemed to be always bouncy even her voice leapt with melody.

I felt the spot where she had poked still a little confused.

“You wanted to see me. No one has ever looked as hard as you.” She clarified as she rested herself next to me. Her voice was like music and it followed the tune of the phantom wind chimes from outside the door.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

            “It doesn’t matter,” she whimpered a bit, “it’s just nice to have someone to talk with me.” She cuddled closer to me. I took her hand into mine and held it tightly and I wanted to stay there. Just sit next to her for the rest of my life. It was impossible though. I knew I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with a ghost or perhaps just an illusion.

            Enid looked up at me and her darkened eyes glowed sprightly, “How long can you stay?”

            “A little longer.” We sat and looking at the fire for what seemed to be hours just giggling and talking to one another. As the moments melted into one another I no longer had the urge to pull myself away. My eyes fell down to the book she had been reading.

            “What book is this?” I questioned as I reached down to trace the bold gold leaved lettering with my fingers.

            “It is my favorite story. My father used to read it to me. It is about a man who decides to go back to where he belongs too late.” She shifted a bit and removed her hand from mine, “You should go now your friends miss you. You’ve been here too long and you can’t stay. But I hope that you will come back and visit me again, please?”

I stood up and Enid wrapped her thin arms around my waist. I looked down at her and smiled a bit petting her head, “I promise, Enid. I’ll come back.”

 I walked toward the front door and looked back once more as I twisted the handle only to see the dusty house from before. Enid had vanished. I reluctantly crossed over the threshold and saw Jasper standing in front of me angry but relieved. He ran toward me, hugged me, and cursed me at the same time. I giggled through tears and refused to answer his questions.

The car ride back was uneventful; I fell asleep on Jasper’s lap as Graham drove us home. When we stopped at a gas station through Chesterland I woke up and say Jasper staring out the window petting the top of my head.

“Jasper,” I whispered, “Have you ever seen any ghost?”

He looked down from the window quickly, “Oh you’re awake.”

“Have you ever seen a ghost?” I repeated louder than before.

“Did you see a ghost at the house?” his brown eyes glittered with excitement.

“No…that’s not what I mean. I mean I didn’t see anything.”

“I have never had the fortune of seeing a ghost, Iris.”

I yawned and turned my head to the back of the passenger side chair falling back to sleep again. When I returned to my studio apartment the next morning I hopped online and searched endlessly for signs of that book that Enid had. It took me forever but I finally found it. It was in a book with other short stories – “Rip Van Winkle.”

-

            The memory of Enid never left and if it wasn’t for life stopping me from adventuring out of my own town I would have went back sooner. I listened to the recording from the house every day and Enid’s life story consumed me. I wanted to go back on the anniversary of the day I met her but there was someone I had to tell first.

            I flipped through my old contacts and decided to meet with an old friend for coffee downtown.

            “You never told me what happened that night we were in Andover. Are you ever going to?” Jasper questioned as he stroked his Styrofoam cup full of espresso.

            “I just wandered off somewhere for a while but I wasn’t lost or anything.” I smiled a bit while noticing he was still quite unsatisfied with my answer. I laughed while taking a long sip of my iced mocha. “I think I want to go back though.”

            “I can’t,” he began, “I have way too much to do and plus my wife would probably be upset. You know how she is about me and my old girlfriends.”

            “I didn’t mean with you. I’d like to go by myself.”

            He laughed a bit and looked at me firmly while pushing his grayed hair back, “You know it’s been thirty-five years. Who knows if that place even exists now?”

            “You’re right. Yet, I’d like to see it one more time.”

            “You’re a very strange woman, Iris. Has anyone ever told you that? You completely changed after that night. What was it about that house that has you still so fascinated?” He smiled while turning around and tossing his empty cup in the trash can behind him.

            “You want to know really?” I said again pulling out my mp3 player from my pocket.

            “What are you going to show me?”

            “What happened to me that night. I’ve been listening to this ever since that night – listen, you can hear me ask a question and then after it - just running water.”

            He put the headphones on as I turned played the recording. He concentrated on the sound and then he nodded his eyes widened with shock, “I can hear you and it but there was no water on in that house that night.”

            “I know. The water sound that sound was a ghost. Her name was Enid,” I pulled out papers from my purse, “She was a girl and she lived there. These are the Ashtabula county records. That property was owned by a family they had a daughter they named Enid. The mother killed herself and the father, well, he blamed Enid and then drowned his daughter. See here – he served a life sentence in prison for murder.” I pointed at all the papers I had collected.

            “How come you’re telling me this now?”

            “I had to make sure she was real. I didn’t want to believe that she was. I didn’t want to believe that I was the only one who could see her. I’ve had these for awhile but I just wanted to tell someone who was there and you are the only one I still knew how to contact.”  

            Jasper smiled, “Well, you’ve never lied to me before. This almost makes me want to go out and do investigating again. I am jealous though, I mean, I did that for years and you did it once -”

            “And I saw her.”

-

            After finishing my own coffee and driving down the main road, I turned away from my apartment and on a whim drove two hours north. The endless corn fields and the quaint small town hadn’t changed at all. Then I pulled into the driveway of Enid’s house, it was nothing but an empty plot of land now with a stone foundation where a house used to be. It seemed to have been torn down for years because willow roots were plowing over the cement foundation. I sat on a bit of cement where the fireplace used to be. Staring hard into the distance I tried to see Enid. I saw nothing but the ancient maple tree now missing the branch where the swing used to hang. I knew that she was gone and hoped that she had finally found her way out of her imprisonment.

I felt a bit sad though, guilty, because I hadn’t kept a promise. I lay on the cement staring up at the night sky for hours and thought about that night. I replayed it over and over in my head until I felt myself get tired. I fell asleep there with regretful tears in my eyes and woke up in a dream. Enid was there and we were swinging together on the wooden swing in the backyard. Everything was full of color as we danced around in the bright green grass blades and basked in the aura the sunlight had created. We joked and giggled until we cried.

“It’s nice not to be alone anymore.” She whispered through smiling teeth.

Hours later the sunrise burned my eyes open forcing me to walk away from the cement plot and back to my car. I sank into my grey seat and wrapped my wrinkled fingers around the wheel. It had been years since I first drove into this drive way. I tried to picture the house on the cement plot the way it had been. I failed to place the image of it in my head. I turned my head to my passenger seat and there laid a book that has never been out of my possession since after meeting Enid. It was my favorite book and in this instant, driving away toward the east horizon, I was recreating the ending.

© 2009 Megan Harris


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Reviews

The beginning of your story made me think of ghost hunters while I was reading it ( I really like that show). You had an intriguing plot and all and all I thought your story was really good. I liked the characters throughout the piece and how only one of the characters saw the "ghost"

Great job :]

BrittneyMarie

Posted 15 Years Ago


Th story sure starts out like a scary tale: the group of ghost chasers (if that's what they are in the tale), entering the abandoned house to investigate it. The character that is Enid appearing before the narrator sure was the scariest part of the tale, and it's a good thing I didn't read this story during the night time. But in the end it was enjoyable and a well-likable character the ghost happened to be.

Posted 15 Years Ago



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Added on October 6, 2009

Author

Megan Harris
Megan Harris

Niles, OH



About
I'm a writer/photographer who writes poetry and stories. I love to do it and can't imagine doing anything else with my time. more..

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