Written July 11, 2020
By: Jay B.
Crisp leaves crunch beneath Ett’s feet as he makes his way through the forest with his boyfriend, Henry. Both of their flashlight beams cut through the darkness like knives through butter. Owls lazily hoot in the distance and the cool breeze shakes the tops of the branches.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ett asks. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“It’s no big deal,” Henry chuckles. “How much longer to the graveyard? My feet are starting to ache… Your ghosts better be worth it.”
“They are. I got lots of activity the other night, heard a lot of talking and whispering out in the trees,” He pauses thoughtfully, biting the inside of his cheek. Henry’s gloved hand takes Ett’s, he finds the soft warmness of it comforting.
“Next time we can go on an actual date, I swear,” Ett says. And even though he can’t see him clearly, he knows Henry’s smiling. He would’ve kept that promise if he could.
The duo reaches the wrought iron fence, it’s rusted and dead plants wrap around the base of it, choking it out. Ett’s stomach is filled with butterflies. This is his chance to prove that ghosts exist to Henry, this is the night for action. Ett steps through the fence, his foot sinking slightly into a pile of leaves.
With certainty, Ett leads Henry into the middle of the graveyard, passing long-forgotten angels who stare disdainfully down at them, past crooked gravestones that seem to lean away from them in disgust, and around stone crosses that stick up in the ground like they want to trip them.
“Huh, that’s weird,” Ett says, shining his light onto a rusty colored piece of cloth laying on the ground. “That wasn’t here yesterday.”
“Did you leave it there?” Henry asks, bending down to inspect it. Around the fabric, the leaves stick together by some thick substance. Ett soundlessly shakes his head. He doesn’t even own anything that looks like that.
“Maybe someone found your super-secret spot and is marking their territory,” Henry remarks.
“Ah yes. It’s well known that humans mark their territory with cloth items to scare off the other humans.”
“What, you’ve never heard of flags?” Henry laughs. Ett gently kicks him in the leg, grinning.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Ett says as he places his flashlight on a nearby headstone. He roots around in his light jacket for his tape recorder.
Something massive moves in the treeline. Henry whips around his flashlight and shines it into the woods, finding nothing but a swaying branch.
“Maybe a spirit is already here with us!” Ett says excitedly, his eyes glittering.
“Or it’s a curious animal,” Henry replies, still peering out into the woods.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ett’s heart stops at the sound of his own voice. It certainly sounds like him, though, it’s crackly and warbles like an old record. Henry pales. Ett presses record on his tape.
“What was that?” Henry whispers. Ett is too stunned to reply. He strains his ears for other noises, but the forest has turned deathly still and silent. It too was listening.
“That couldn’t have been one of your ghosts… right?”
“It’s never that clear…” Ett trails off.
“We should go. I have a nasty feeling about this.” His breath comes out in puffs. The cold sinks into Ett’s bones and freezes his skin. He leans into Henry, whose shaking.
The weird voice rings back out again.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ett would think that it’s a kid that followed them from school, trying to scare him, perhaps even a raven. But that was Ett’s voice clear as a bell. It could be a recording. He settles on that, even though the implications aren’t much better.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice taunts. The boys book it out the graveyard and as they run Ett’s foot catches on a cross. The sharp stone cuts into his shin as he tumbles down. Swearing colorfully he picks himself up, though there’s no sign of Henry. No bouncing light, no footsteps, nothing.
Terror stuns Ett, he’s a little boy lost in the mall without his mother, searching desperately for a sign of his loved one. Warm liquid oozes down his leg and cools on his ankle.
“Henry!” He yells, his voice breaking. Only echos answer his call. He contemplates carrying on — Henry might’ve not heard him fall. Ett stumbles towards the fence and the wretched stench of rotting meat fills his nose making him gag.
“ETT!” Henry’s hoarse voice screams from the trees his voice brimming with terror. Without second thought Ett leaps into the forest.
The next morning, headlines break:
LOCAL BOYS MISSING STRANGE RECORDING FOUND
J. V. Montague 