The Mortician's Son

(Death, dead people/children)

"So, what's the catch". I said, not looking up from the book as I mindlessly flipped through it- one of many that I had in various piles around my room. I had been sitting in this position for so long- (feet propped on old books, my head resting gently on a binbag chair)- that my legs and neck were beginning to cramp. When he didn't answer my question, I looked up at him. He stood giving the same look that he'd always given me in our many years of friendship, his usual nine-year-old college professor look. I cleared my throat and sat up, ignoring the pain that yelled at me to stop moving. He cleared his throat as if he was unsure of how to answer me. Evren shuffled the carpet under his feet. Standing at just 4'2, he had the look of a boy who rarely saw sunlight, brown curly hair that stopped just short of being called "too long" and hazel eyes that peeked from behind glasses that seemed far too big for his face. 

We stared at each other for a few seconds longer before he spoke again. 

" No catch. I just want to explore. Will you go on a walk with me?" he said meekly. 

I was dumbfounded. Evren rarely ever asked me to go anywhere with him, not that he had to. Even though I was older by a whole year and 3 months, I often followed him places-mostly to the library, church, my home, and sometimes to the junkyard. Except for when we went home during the school year, there was rarely a time that we were ever apart. 

"What's the catch", I found myself saying again. Evren looked hurt at my response. I almost felt guilty. 

He rolled his eyes when he saw I wasn't budging until he told me the whole truth. 

"I want you to visit my house, maybe spend the night," he said quickly wincing and shutting his eyes as if he expected me to explode. 

He opened his eyes slowly when he realized I was silent. 

I could imagine what he was seeing. I with my mouth wide open, eyes wider than two UFOs, and a ghost-white complexion. 

I was shocked and for good reason. In our 8 years of friendship, I had never seen Evren's Dad, let alone his house (at least not up close). Though he had seen my house plenty of times, there was even a time when Evren stayed for what seemed like an eternity, so long in fact, my grandparents gave him his own room. 

I don't remember my response; I must have said "yes" because 

I soon found myself walking towards Elsher manor - (Evren's home). 

Sitting at the top of a hill at the end of a long road, it loomed above all the houses on the street. 

It was Evren's idea to start out at night Paradis Louisiana tended to get very hot during the summer plus we didn't want the sun and the eyes of many townsfolk boring holes in the back of our necks as we made the long trek up the Elsher Estate. 

The stars had yet to fade, the sun had yet to make up its mind. Shadowy arms reached out toward us, waiting for our reluctant embrace. I glanced at Evren, his footsteps seemed heavier for some reason, and I found myself matching his steps. I looked over at my older brother Adler and Evren's sister Ariella thankful that Evren had asked them too. There was a time that we all hung out more, but when they turned eleven years old a few months back, they barely hung out mostly because they went to different schools. I was still grateful for their company even though they only looked at their phones and hadn't said much since the beginning of our walk. Ariella seemed calm, but you could tell she was excited, she and my brother had been friends for as long as me and Evren. They shared almost everything, even a birthday. She always wanted to show off her house, but for some reason, she never did. Adler walked beside her looking like I felt- a mixture of fear, nervousness, and excitement. I felt as though my legs would give out with each step. 

There had been many rumors about Elsher Estates. That the Mortician- (Evren and Ariella’s dad), was a killer who kept the souls of his many victims - (one being his wife and Evren and Ariella’s mother) trapped within the walls of his mansion. Evren rarely spoke about such rumors, he often wandered around the town in search of mysteries and conspiracies that often landed me and everyone else in trouble. As I found myself thinking about all our past adventures and mistakes. I was beginning to wonder if this “trip was one of them”. 

Suddenly I found myself crashing into Evren who stopped abruptly. My duffle bag- (which was filled with books and survival materials)- (you could never be too careful)- slammed rather painfully into my leg and I grunted in frustration. “Sorry E.J.”. Evren said distractedly. I followed his gaze to a strange figure and a puppy at the end of the alley. We watch them turn and head towards the playground in the town square. It was still very early in the morning, too early for anyone to be out. No local except us would be headed in that direction. We all gave each other knowing looks and followed the figures without hesitation, we moved skillfully and silently. We stopped behind a bush about twenty feet away from a swing set. The stranger stood looking down at another figure on the swing set. They seemed to be having a conversation that we couldn’t hear. 

We tried to lean in closer and Adler snapped a twig under his foot. The sound sounded like a firecracker in the night. The stranger quickly turned his attention in our direction, but thankfully we were quicker than his gaze. I swore and prayed as we huddled closer holding our breaths. Then, after a long wait, we dared to look again only to see that one of the strange figures was gone. All that remained was the one on the swing, gently swaying back and forth. 

It was Ariella who decided to walk up to the stranger, everyone and no one wanted to stop her, so we followed, hating each step. 

Soon we found ourselves standing where the stranger stood. Only what looked back at us wasn’t what we expected. What we saw vastly contradicted the chirping of the birds, the slow wispy kisses of the wind, the caress of the morning dew or the silhouette of the sunrise. 

What sat before us was not a three or four-year-old child at play, but one in eternal rest. 

We were silent then, quieter than before, like the child we ceased breathing. We all agreed to call the police anonymously, - (we were out an hour after our curfews and without permission)-and we were afraid of the stranger. 

So, we started our walk again, heavier than before, somehow years older. 

We walked quickly guided by something more. We walked matching the pace of a pale 9-year-old boy and being pushed by sirens in the distance, the strange summer sunrise and chilly, breathily cries of a dead child.