Your Side of Midnight

They were barely down the stairs before the banister began to rattle violently in place. The panicked expression on their faces and the burning fear in the eyes of the mother and her two children were witness enough to the stories about their new home and about all the warnings they had so arrogantly chosen to ignore. After all, as the father had reminded them time and again, there was no such thing as ghosts. He had even boldly announced the mantra upon entering the home as its new owner two weeks ago.

As the young mother grasped the newel post at the bottom of the staircase, she used it to fling herself towards the front door. Behind her, while she scrabbled madly to unlock it, the menacing sounds of glass crashing unseen in the kitchen resembled small explosions as plates shot out of the cabinets and slammed into the walls. Lights flickered throughout the home as scraping noises and heavy thumps came from the second floor directly above their heads. Her son, twelve years old and at the over active age where imagination held ceaseless wonders, ran ahead of her to the safety of the porch once she pulled the door open. He was too terrified to do more than utter short barks of fear while he tried to look at everything at once with his wild eyes. He clung tightly to his little sister as she screamed in his arms. Upstairs, their father finally came down, carrying a few hastily packed suitcases and his daughter’s favorite stuffed toy tucked away beneath his arm. He had just made it to the bottom landing before the heavy storm door slammed shut and then locked behind the rest of his family who were gathered and waiting anxiously for him on the porch.

She, dressed only in her gown and housecoat, began to pound on the old door with both fists while a heavy gust of wind from the east came shrieking around the eaves and drowning her frantic cries. He didn't have the courage to head to the back of the house and go out of the kitchen door, so he did the only thing his instinct told him to. “Get away from the window!” he called to his family, and then tossed the largest suitcase into the large picture window, cursing loudly when it rebounded and slid across the hardwood floor. In a scramble of panic, the husband lifted it again and swung it by its handle as hard as he could. When the corner connected with the glass, it shattered outward and he was able to make his escape. He paused once to grab his glasses, wallet and keys off of the coffee table, and then hastily climbed through the wreckage as the TV turned on to a dead station, sending a blast of angry white noise after him. As he reached through the mangled maw of the windowpane to retrieve his daughter’s stuffed toy, fallen while he was busy tossing the luggage through the broken window, the TV swung around and began to shuffle its way to him, blaring the loud, idiot noise.

The young boy lifted his head towards the old house as they hurriedly loaded themselves into their car. Lightning flickered briefly, sending the sharp angles of the roof in silhouette to the stark contrast of the gray-purple night sky which was quickly becoming stormy. It wasn't raining yet, but the wind was now blowing hard enough to rock the vehicle, bringing in the threat of the hard, cold rain that would soon engulf them. The husband fumbled with his keys while his wife cradled their young daughter while the baby let out piercing shrieks. She was too young to understand what was happening, but the loud and frightening noises and the fear her family exhibited was all she needed to know before adding to the cries of fright around her.

"Let's go dad..." the son said. His voice was low as he watched the old house with a fresh sense of trepidation. The upstairs lights were flickering on and off like stuttering strobe lights, and the curtains from the broken window in the living room were billowing out of the ruined pane of glass. Even over the wind and the approaching grumble of thunder, they could hear the crashes and thumps of furniture being tossed about, as if a tornado had decided to spring up within the structure. More glass broke and somewhere, the repeated sound of a door slamming reached them. Then, the front door threw itself open, as if the unseen occupant suddenly decided that he wanted to have one last word with the new people who had foolishly moved into his house. A black form began to slowly materialize on the wrap around porch, one of the features the wife had immediately fallen in love with on the old Victorian home. As it began to move towards them, the husband finally got his trembling hands to turn the ignition, and gunning the engine once, he threw the car into reverse. His wife cried for him to slow down, or he would surely crash into one of the old oak trees that lined the vast driveway. And then what? Would they be devoured by the enraged ghost?

Another gust of wind rocked the car as the man whipped it recklessly onto the country road and they sat, staring at the shapeless entity as it began to move over the front yard. It seemed to pause for a moment, as if deciding which direction to take, and then began to float with the wind to its back, right towards the family.

"This can’t be real! There's no such thing!” the father said with a voice full of breathless fear and a healthy dump of adrenaline. He spoke the words as he was trying to reassure himself and to convince himself that this wasn’t really happening.

"Just go, honey! Just drive!"

The toddler continued to scream as her mother held her tight.

"It's coming, Dad, go!" his son cried out as he gripped the back of the seat and leaned forward.

The first drops of rain began to dot the windshield and another clap of thunder, louder this time, broke him from his trance. He threw the car into drive, pressed the accelerator to the mat and in seconds, they were nothing but taillights heading into the distance. The last thing Billy heard as he took his natural form was that of the little girl and her loud cries.

Across the narrow country road, a young apparition stood in the remnants of his own driveway, holding his wrists at the small of his back as he watched the family car speed off into the distance. He clucked softly and then shook his head as the black void slowly took the shape of a young man just barely out of his teens. The disapproving spirit often would like to say that Billy's bark was worse than his bite, but he knew better. Far too often he had seen people run screaming from the old Holmes place, and it was a wonder that Billy, who had just spotted him, hadn't tried to run him away from his own haunt.

"Go home," Billy grunted as he floated towards the road where the other spirit stood.

“Sorry, but I just had to see this one,” Gregg said. “After you told me about them painting the kitchen mauve, I knew it would simply be a matter of time.”

“Pink.” Billy frowned. Now the tail lights weren’t even visible, and the squatters were finally gone. “It was pink, and I will not put up with that in my house.”

Gregg reached out and patted his friend gently on the back of the shoulder. “Alright, feel like a game of cards?”

“Sure, as soon as we’re done nosing through their stuff.”

“Oh, I hope they have books,” Gregg said eagerly.

“No such thing as ghosts,” Billy grumbled. “I showed you no such thing as ghosts!” he called to the darkness where the taillights had finally disappeared.

“Your folks have been in a car wreck! The police told me to come get you! Quick! Hurry up and get in, so I can take you to them!”

At seven years old, Amanda had better sense than to get into a car with a stranger. Her mother had warned her many times in her short life that people would say or do anything they could to convince a child to come willingly along with them. However, the man’s urgency, mixed with a healthy dose of well-acted panic, brought fear and dread to her heart over the concern for her parents. She ignored the needle prick of warning in her soul and the pull in her gut as she opened the car door and climbed in. The man continued to rattle off about the accident, telling her it was terrible, and that he would take her to them.

That had been over an hour ago. Bon Hollow wasn’t a large town, but its rolling countryside made up for the size it lacked. When Amanda realized that they were no longer headed in the direction of the hospital, she turned to the man and stared at him silently for an explanation that he refused to give. Instead, he continued to grip the wheel tightly in both fists while he stared ahead. Beads of sweat were forming on his temples, and she could see his pulse ticking in his throat.

“I want to go home,” she murmured quietly.

“Shut up,” the man snapped in distraction as he alternated glances between the passenger window and the driver’s side. He seemed to be looking for something as they drove along an old country road. The car was going slower now as they topped a rise and then he put his foot on the gas. There, just a bit away, was the old barn that sat in the middle of a field. There was a heavy tree line along the road, but the old tractor driveway was still manageable. He had found this out of the way place while scouting for a new location that would give him some privacy after he found his latest victim. Amanda gripped the door and held on tightly while they bounced into the deep ruts in the old drive, and she let out a soft gasp as the man gunned the engine to get the car behind the barn as quickly as he could.

“You can scream all you want,” he said as he shut the engine off. “It won’t make a difference. No one will hear you.”

The little girl began to cry as her arm was wrenched painfully, and as he began to drag her across the seat, she began to struggle, her screams shrill and terrified. She fought him like a fish on a hook, and for every direction he jerked her, she floundered in the opposite way in a futile effort to protect her life.

Growing tired of her struggles, he reached over and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking on it hard enough to feel some of the strands pull loose from her scalp. She let out a sharp cry of pain as her struggles died down, and then he pulled her from the vehicle and hauled her across the old gravel driveway and through the dead grass, where they left a scuff trail behind them as her screams echoed off the mute witnesses of trees. When they got to the double set of old barn doors, he pulled her around, still by the hair and smacked her cheek hard. “SHUT UP!” he screamed in her face. His eyes were wild, and his breathing was labored, as adrenaline coursed through his system. “Just shut up and when this is over… I’ll set you free.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” Amanda whimpered softly as she cupped her reddened cheek. Tears brimmed in her eyes, shimmering as surface tension kept them from rolling down her face. They doubled her vision, making his face swim and dance. “I want my mama…”

“Life hurts, kid. Better learn it now.” His name was Lance, and he had come from a fairly decent background. His mother was a homemaker, and his father had worked in a steel mill. By all accounts, he had lived a normal life. He just had a dark side that he insisted on feeding, the inner bully in him encouraging him to harm those smaller than himself. It had started with animals and then worked its way up to victims who could better reason their fates. He enjoyed the begging most of all; it made him feel powerful, unstoppable, even when he stopped their hearts from beating.

“Get in,” Lance ordered as soon as he pulled the stubborn door wide enough to allow them entrance. When the little girl turned to run, he grabbed her by the hair once more and then lifted his arm to deliver a powerful blow to the child’s face. Satisfied with the split lip he gave her, he lifted his arm again and backhanded her against the same cheek he had struck the first time. Amanda wept, holding her face and shaking uncontrollably. He was already feeling the familiar thrill as he shoved her inside the dark structure.

The barn had once been used to cure tobacco. It was spacious and barren, save for a few pieces of forgotten farm equipment resting close to the west wall. Beams of moonlight poured in through the gaps of the rusting tin roof, giving Lance plenty of light to see by as he shoved Amanda down to the dirt floor. She began to fight once more, her screams turning to squeals of panic as she fought for her life. She thrashed as he pinned her down by the shoulders and then grew silent, her eyes widening in the darkness. Even in her terror, she could sense something approaching. Lance, busy trying to undo his pants, noticed that she had grown still and for a brief moment wondered if she had died of a heart attack. It had happened once before. He lowered his face to look at her and then frowned. She was still alive but wasn’t focused on him anymore, and he didn’t like that one bit. For a brief moment, he had the horrible fear that maybe someone living down the road had spotted his car driving slowly past their house. Maybe they had seen them pull into the barn drive and had come to investigate. He couldn’t ignore the way the hair on his arms and along the back of his neck began to stiffen and rise as his skin puckered into gooseflesh. Disregarding his zipper, he reached around and pulled out the knife tucked into the back of his waistband as he turned to look behind him. He was positive someone would be standing there with a cell phone in their hand, dialing 9-1-1.

No one was there. He looked back at Amanda. “Nice trick, kid.” He popped the switchblade open and then trailed the dull side of the blade along her cheek, smiling at the way she cringed from the cool metal. “Pretty scary, huh?” he smiled at her, showing most of his teeth. Amanda didn’t look at him, her face was slack and her eyes tracking something still behind him.

“HEY! Look at me when I’m threatening you!” Lance bellowed. Amanda blinked at the loud voice and then pulled her eyes back to his face. Moments later, she cut them back over his shoulder.

“Nice try, kid, but there ain’t nobody there to save you.” As he reached down to cut off her shirt, there was a moment when it felt as if all of the oxygen had been removed from the lonely barn before he was suddenly yanked through the air, his arms and legs pin wheeling as he flew the distance towards the far wall. His back struck the old wood, causing a few boards to crack before he crashed to the dirt floor. Dazed, Lance shook his head and then lifted it quickly, looking around for the man who had come to the child’s defense. However, there was no one there but himself and the little girl.

“What the…?” he asked. He rose shakily to his feet before advancing towards her. “How’d you do that? Are you a mutant or something from one of those comic books?” Before he could reach her, he was struck by what felt like an invisible brick wall. Stars danced before his eyes, and he staggered blindly backwards until he fell back against the same boards he had just cracked upon first impact.

“What’s going on?” he yelled loudly, his breath now visible as the temperature began to drop rapidly. He watched as Amanda sat up and crawled on her hands and knees towards the shadows of the far corner. “Come back here; I’m not done with you!” He was angry because he hadn’t even had the opportunity to start. Pushing away from the wall, Lance stalked towards the little girl, and once again, he was struck by that invisible brick wall that sent him stumbling and crashing face first into one of the barn’s wooden support posts. Before he could move away, an unseen hand grasped the back of his dirty, sweaty hair, pulling his head back and then smashing his face back into the wood beam. The sound of his nose as it crunched was loud inside of his skull, and the blood that began to gush from it was warm and sticky. His lips began to tear from the attack as splinters embedded into his cheeks when the relentless hand on his head began to smear his face into the wood.

Once Amanda had found her way to the safety of the shadows, she covered her ears as Lance began to scream in terror. She drew her knees to her body, rocking slowly back and forth as her large eyes cut over towards the apparition that shimmered into view next to her. His face was sweet and gentle, his eyes holding compassion as he reached out to touch her injured cheek. He wasn’t old, probably about the same age as her brother, who was about to turn nineteen. He also reminded her of her best friend, Yuki, who was an exchange student from Japan, but she could tell that he wasn’t full Japanese like her friend. Sitting in a patch of cool moonlight, she could see that his eyes were a pale summer blue.

“It’s okay,” the ghost spoke softly. His hair was long, and hung over his shoulder in a thick braid. “We heard your screams. You’re safe,” he soothed. He was careful not to push into the frightened child’s personal space.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Lance shrieked. He was suddenly yanked away from the post and thrown to the ground where he began to scramble backwards when the entity attacking him took form. He grew enraged when he got a good look at his assailant, thinking for a moment it was an overprotective female coming to the rescue of a child until reality sank in. He then realized it wasn’t a woman at all—and it also wasn’t alive—but a very livid ghost bearing down on him. It was incredibly tall, with waist-length hair the same color of the moonlight that poured in through the holes of the tin roof as well as through its body. The face was beautiful, but it held a maddening rage that seemed to set fires to dance in its black eyes.

“You can’t kill me!” Lance screamed as he pointed at it. “You’re not a real person anymore, so you can’t kill me!” He foolishly believed uttering those ‘magic words’ would make the ghost disappear and leave him alone.

“Come, it’s time to go,” the gentle ghost said as he rose. He reached down, offering his hand to the child to help her stand up. “Let’s get you home. You don’t need to see this.”

She gave a quick nod and then reached out, never once thinking her hand would go through his. It didn’t. Cool fingers closed around hers, and he pulled her gently to her feet. “My name’s Gregg,” he said as he led the child towards the double doors in the back. Lance was too preoccupied with the tall blond to even acknowledge their presence. Gregg knew that look in his eyes, and he was sure the man had seen it many times in the faces of his own victims. The look said he knew there was no hope, no escape. “It’s for the best,” he murmured softly, seeming to give his friend the okay as he held the door open for the child to slip through. He paused once, his face turned over his shoulder. “Billy…when you’re done, see to his victims. They’re here.”

“I feel them,” Billy snarled down to the man at his mercy. The women, children and even animals stood around the barn in silence. Waiting, ready.

“Come,” Gregg said softly, his hand on the back of Amanda’s shoulder as he urged her forward. The previous victims turned pallid faces towards them, causing the little girl to shrink against Gregg’s side. He paused and then lifted her into his arms, knowing it was taking every bit of his energy to hold her, knowing he’d feel that come morning. At least tomorrow, he could get a full day’s rest and recharge his ethereal battery.

“Let us pass,” he said softly, but with a voice of authority.

Silently, the circle parted, and Gregg floated through. The animals seemed capable of expressing more emotion than the human victims, and he stared at a small border collie as it wagged her tail at him. “Good girl,” Gregg murmured as they headed away from the barn and towards the road. It was easier to glide than to walk, and he realized that Amanda was crying softly against his shoulder. He put one hand protectively against the back of her head as she clung to him like a burr, and while they headed slowly down the country road, he uttered soothing assurances that she would be home that night.

Inside the barn was a living nightmare to Lance. The creature before him, though it looked to be one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen, seemed to be wrath incarnate. The face was twisted in blackened rage, and it was pulling energy from the area with such voracity that it created its own wind. The long hair was blown out and away from itself as it loomed over Lance, seeming to contemplate what to do next.

His ego, once again, got the best of him. Lance smiled up to the apparition, his countenance smug as he spoke. “You can’t kill me, can you?” he said. “You’re not able to, are you? Huh? Some kind of weak little coward who can only fight a man from the back.” The hypocrisy of his words was lost on him. “You can’t kill me, so go on back to whatever closet you were hiding in and leave me alone! You can’t kill me!” Lance began to chant as he pointed at the apparition. “You can’t kill me! You CAN’T KILL MEEEEEEE…” his voice rose to a shrill scream of agony as his body began to twist and writhe. Something deep within him seemed to be very wrong. Down to his very core, cells began to implode and rupture, working their way up through his flesh. Where he was knitted in his mother’s womb, he began to become undone, and blood began to ooze from his pores. He shrieked and clamped his hands over his eyes as they suddenly popped in their sockets. It was a futile effort to try to push them back in. His beard began to fall out in greasy clumps as his skin started to slough away in chunks. Lance shrieked again, short harsh barks as he felt pain that he had never imagined was humanly survivable. His fingernails peeled slowly away from their beds, and his teeth began to crumble within their sockets. He urinated on himself before his penis shriveled and twisted from his body. Moments later, there was a dull thud and the only thing left of Lance was a powder-like cloud of blood and body fluids as they began to drift like dust towards the ground.

“And now, your suffering really begins,” Billy said softly as he floated up through the ceiling of the barn.

By the time Gregg had reached the state highway, Amanda had cried herself to sleep against his shoulder. Billy was coming; he could feel his friend as he made his way with great speed down the old country road. With great determination, Gregg pulled what energy he had in reserve and solidified himself further as he lowered himself the few inches to the ground and began to walk. “It’s time to wake up,” he said softly as he patted Amanda’s back. “We’re going to do what we can to get you home.”

She lifted her bruised and swollen face up to him, so she could rub sleep from her good eye. “Where’s Mama?”

“We’ll get her here soon. I promise,” Gregg said. “Can you stand?” When she nodded, he leaned down so she could put her feet on the ground and then took her hand as Billy appeared behind a stand of trees. He was nothing more than a ball of energy until he took form close to them, but as soon as he materialized, he stalked angrily towards the little girl. Amanda shrank back against Gregg, fearful he would do to her whatever he had done to that bad man.

“I can’t begin to tell you how stupid it was to get in his car!” Billy snarled. “You never, NEVER trust a stranger, look what happened! What could have happened to you!”

“Billy…go easy on her. She’s been through enough trauma as it is.”

“She’s lucky I don’t twist her head right off her shoulders!” he bellowed, but relented. His dark eyes danced with anger. “You could have been killed! And then what? I have to babysit you! I don’t babysit little snot-nosed knuckleheads!” He turned and headed along the shoulder of the road, waving his arms to draw attention to passing motorists as Gregg went down on one knee.

“Honey, it’s all right, don’t cry,” he said softly as he took her arm gently above the elbow. “He’s just scared, that’s all. You could have been killed, and we didn’t want that to happen.”

Amanda hitched in her cries as she wiped her face again, and it broke Gregg’s heart over how lost she looked. He pushed her bangs back from her face and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a kerchief so he could wipe away her tears. “Don’t let him upset you; he’s just not good with any emotion other than cranky. He didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Got one!” Billy’s voice wafted back. No one was stopping voluntarily, so he let one of the passing vehicles glide through his spectral body in order to short circuit the car. When they rolled over to the shoulder, he walked towards the newly stranded motorists as Gregg rose.

“We’ll stay with you until the police come, but can you make us a very big, very special promise?” he took to his knee again to look her in the eye. When Amanda nodded, he smiled softly. “Can you promise not to tell anyone what we are?”

Amanda sniffled and then nodded again. “Okay, but why?”

“Well, we’re ghosts, and some people think it’s fun to come hunt us or provoke us into proving we exist. We just want to be in peace, like everyone else, and it makes us very unhappy when people come into our homes and try to hunt us down like animals.” He lowered his head and cut his eyes up to her, giving her a soft smile. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Amanda said. Already, her tears were drying up. She put her arms around Gregg’s neck and hugged him tightly, and he, in return, hugged her back.

*****

Amanda had been on the news since her mother had discovered she was missing when she went to pick her up after school. The realization that she had missed her child being abducted by mere minutes had sent her into a panicked frenzy. When she got the call that her daughter had been found by the side of the road, she had sped frantically to the location while the police on the scene tried to locate the two men who been with her. The broken down driver had described them as young males, both in their late teens to early twenties, who had claimed to have found the girl walking down Aldana road. Amanda had agreed with that. She said that a bad man had taken her to a barn and had beaten her, but before he could do anything more, she had managed to get away. She said the young men walked her down the road and to the highway to get her help but provided no further information. She knew she was a lucky little girl. She was safe at home with her mother; she had survived a very scary situation; and she also was fortunate enough to keep a secret with a ghost. She even had Gregg’s kerchief as a reminder.