On her testimony the boys were hanged in the town square, and before the noose was placed around his neck, Caleb swore revenge against future generations of the Caton family…
… My hair stood up on end when Carmen finished her story.
“So there IS a ghost haunting your house?” I asked in a tight whisper. “The ghost of Caleb Harrison is still out there, strangling anyone it can get its ghost hands on!”
“Maybe,” Carmen said quietly. “I just know that evil seems to follow that house and even anyone who crosses its path.” She looked at me strangely, eyes zeroing in on the gash above my eye.
“The ghost, or ghosts, are following you, she continued.
I stood up, hands shaking. I felt like I was freezing even though I’d turned the heat up full blast this morning.
“But why?!” I exclaimed. “What does killing random passer-by have to do with a hanging from over a hundred years ago? And why am *I* still being haunted?”
I started pacing around my living room, trying to shake the feeling of doom and unease that was falling over me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carmen lurching behind me; a heavy lead pipe raised over her head.
“Carmen!” I exclaimed, jumping back against the fireplace. The pipe missed my skull but glanced off my arm, sending to the ground in pain.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I cried, ducking out of the way as Carmen brought the pipe down again. I scrambled backwards, my grasping until they closed around a thick, heavy fire poker. I swung blindly towards Carmen, scrambling to my feet.
“All that rage,” Carmine hissed in a flat, strange voice. “All that anger. Boiling for nearly two hundred years!” Her eyes, normally a calm sell gray, were pitch black.
“You know the funny thing about hauntings?” Carmen asked, advancing towards me. “Sometimes, you can just jump right to a person and go walking around. Your friend Carmen’s been living in that house long that I could walk right into her head.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed. “Caleb Harrison?!”
Not waiting for an answer, I swung the poker, intending to at least scare Canton/Carmen. But she (or he?) grabbed it in mid-air and wrenched it out of my arms. The possessed form of my friend raised her hands towards my neck, growling like an insane, wild animals.
“Oh hell to the no!” the town’s resident drunk, Billy Saint Patten, burst into my living room in a whirl wind of wet leaves, rain, and incoherent swearing.
“This has gone on long enough, Caleb!” He shouted, running towards us with a large black flashlight.
Caleb/Carmen hissed, shoved me to the floor and jumped through my (brand-new) living room windows.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I snapped as Billy helped me to my feet. I just put those windows in!”
“You’ve got bigger problems,” Billy said solemnly. “The ghost of Ferny Creek’s angriest murderer” is after you.”
“But why?!” I exclaimed. “All I did was spend the night in a gross old house because my stupid car got stuck in the stupid mud in stupid Ferny Creek! Why does from jerk from the Outhouse and moonshine days want to kill me?”
Billy’s shoulders slumped. That’s what I’m here to find out.” …