Sandra Graves

“Sandra Graves,” I said in a loud, clear voice. “Are you here?”

The only response I got from the empty room was a soft whimpering, though I knew better than to mistake the mewling of my friend Kevin for a ghost. The big baby was standing so close behind me that I could feel his nervous breath on the back of my neck, and his shaking hand was hovering over my shoulder.

“Sandra Graves,” I repeated, trying to put Kevin’s shenanigans out of my mind. “If you’re in the room with us, please respond.”

Something moved out of the corner of my eye. Kevin let out a yelp of terror and threw the flashlight he was holding in the direction of the movement, eliciting a heavy thump and an inhuman squeal followed by the scurrying of tiny feet against wood in the sudden darkness.

“Kevin, you absolute buffoon,” I snarled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“There’s—there’s something there!” He tittered, his voice an octave higher than normal.

“It’s an abandoned building, Kevin. There are rats everywhere! Will you do me a favor and get a fucking grip? And don’t throw my mom’s flashlight! I can’t see!”

“Sorry,” Kevin whimpered. “Look, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be here. You heard what Coach Murphy said about the last time someone tried to… you know.”

“Talk to the ghost of Sandra Graves?” I finished for him. I crossed the room and picked up the flashlight, making sure it still worked properly by shining it in Kevin’s stupid face. “You don’t seriously think that what he said was true, do you?”

“You don’t?”

“Hell no,” I exclaimed with a laugh. “Ghosts aren’t real. More likely than not, the kid that Coach Murphy was talking about ate a batch of bad mushrooms and tripped so hard he ended up in the hospital.”

“So what are we even doing here, man?”

“To prove it. If there really is some ghoul hanging out here preying on kids, then she won’t be able to resist us.” I sneered at Kevin. “Well. She won’t be able to resist you.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

I pointed the flashlight up under my chin. “Sandra’s here, and she’s coming for you, Kevin, woo!”

“Stop it!”

I relented with another laugh before tossing the flashlight back to Kevin, who juggled it between his hands before finally catching it. “Alright. Now hold that steady while I make contact.”

Kevin muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but did as I said, shining the light so I could see directly ahead of me.

“Sandra Graves,” I said a third time, barely able to keep the mirth from my face. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

The smile slid from my lips as an icy chill settled over the room. Kevin’s tittering breath stopped entirely, plunging the room into dead silence. It was so quiet, I could almost forget that someone had indeed answered my call. Almost.

“Who said that?” I asked the air, praying that no response would come.

“Me.”

I turned, expecting to see Molly, or Katie, or any of a half dozen other girls from school who could’ve followed us to the legendary haunted house to play a prank. But there was no sign of anyone else in the room besides Kevin and I.

“Okay, you had your fun,” I snarled, taking a step back. “Come on out.”

“Vic, I don’t like this,” Kevin whimpered.

“Shut up, Kevin,” I snapped. “I told you, ghosts aren’t real.”

The flashlight in Kevin’s hand flickered, and the room was briefly plunged into darkness. Kevin screamed in terror and grabbed my arm so tight I was certain I would have bruises.

“That’s not what I meant by ‘get a grip’,” I scolded him as the light turned back on, shaking off his hand.  

“Be… be… be…” Kevin muttered, eyes as wide as saucers staring just over my shoulder.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Behind you!” Kevin screamed.

I turned back around, coming face to face with a bare wall illuminated by the flashlight. I sighed, and had half a mind to smack Kevin upside the head for his blatant cowardice when the light went out a second time.

A silvery gray apparition was suddenly visible in the gloom, floating in the air in front of me. It was in the shape of a woman in some old timey dress that was torn and tattered. Her eyes were empty black holes, and her smile twisted with manic glee.

I leapt back a step, flinching away from the image as the flashlight reignited. She was no longer visible in the light; I was again staring at an empty wall.

“Okay,” I panted, heart thundering in my ears. “Someone’s putting a little too much effort into this prank.”

“Vic we gotta go,” Kevin said. “Please, let’s just go.”

“No,” I growled. “Not until we find the bitch that’s pranking us. Do you want to be a laughingstock at school tomorrow?”

“I’d rather still be alive,” Kevin moaned.

“Go then,” I said. “Leave the flashlight.”

“No way! If I put down the light she’s going to get me!”

“Well, I’m not leaving,” I replied stubbornly. “So you can either leave me the flashlight or stay.”

There was an obvious third option, one that I hoped Kevin was too chickenshit to notice. If he ran off with the flashlight, leaving me behind in the dark, I’d be in trouble. I told myself that was because I needed the light to find whoever was in the house with us. I refused to acknowledge the primal fear in my heart that was screaming that I was only safe so long as the light was on.

“Fine!” Kevin huffed after a moment. “Fine.”

“Good,” I said with a small amount of relief. “Let’s get moving.”

With Kevin providing a shaky beam of light from behind, I led the way deeper into the house. My own shadow preceded me into each room, but it was a comforting sight. It meant that the flashlight was working. We inspected the adjoining hallway and found no sign of any pranksters.

“Are you still there?” I asked our tormentor.

“Yes.”

Kevin whined softly from behind me.

“Where are you?”

“Upstairs.”

“Let’s go,” I told Kevin, pointing at the stairs at the end of the hall.

We made our way to the second landing. There were three doors presumably leading to multiple bedrooms; only one of the doors was open, though, so we went that way first. The room within had yellow painted walls, a dust-coated four-poster, and a dresser covered in miniature horse toys and a tall vase without any flowers. Like the rooms downstairs, however, it was entirely devoid of any girls, living or dead. I motioned for Kevin to exit so we could try the next room.

“Wait.”

I whirled around at the sound of the voice. It sounded closer than it had before. Maybe the person we were looking for was in here after all.

“Where are you?” I asked again.

“Close.”

I wandered back into the room, Kevin lighting the way for me. I approached the bed first and looked under it.

“Colder.”

I rose and went to the dresser. The horse toys seemed to be ancient; they were made from wood rather than plastic.

“Warmer.”

My gaze fell on the vase. It was a simple, unadorned pot made of pale yellow ceramic to match the walls of the room. Looking at it more closely, there was a small lid on top where the flowers would go. I reached out and grabbed the lid and lifted it off the vase.

The vase, or rather urn, was filled to the brim with ashes.

The light flickered once, twice, and then went out completely. Kevin released a horrified screech from behind me, but then the sound was cut off suddenly. I spun around, and the last thing I saw before the darkness took me was her smiling visage, inches from my face, her empty eyes all consuming as they met mine.

When I woke up in the hospital nearly a week later, they told me that Kevin hadn’t made it. They wanted to know what happened to us. Had we fought? Had we been attacked? I didn’t know what to say, nor did I know what possible explanation I could give. They’d never believe me if I told them the truth.

Everyone knew that ghosts weren’t real, after all.