The Bloody Ghost of Magdalena

Trigger Warnings: This story contains references to but not depictions of underage drug/alcohol abuse, inappropriate conduct of a sexual nature towards a minor, and suicide.

“There’s supposed to be a sword down there.”

“A sword? In the well?”

“Yeah. Way at the bottom.”

“Like, a choppy, stabby – ”

“Yeah. One of those.”

“ – King Arthur dealies?”

“Yeah. Like Excalibur.”

“Or Ice.”

“The Sword of Omens.”

“Oath Keeper.”

“Uh, Master Sword.”

“Needle.”

“Is that the only show with swords you’ve watched this century?”

“I’m reading the books, give me a break. So, what’s the story about this sword?”

“This well here actually goes down to an aquifer a quarter mile in from the coast.”

“So, therefore, it has a sword? Regale me.”

“Thousands of years ago, a band of warriors travelled from somewhere across the sea, and used the caverns on the coast for shelter.”

“The Norse?”

“Yes. The Norse. Of course it was the Norse.”

“You don’t know who they were.”

“I mean, the Norse have visited here before. That’s a fact.”

“That might be a fact, but you still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I mean people say – ”

“Malarkey is what I say.”

“Alright, so I don’t know anything about the warriors.”

“Ding ding ding! Ladies and gentlemen, we have malarkey successfully called by the handsome gentleman in the yellow anorak!”

“Man, shut up!”

“So, is there really a sword down there?”

“I mean, that’s what everyone says. We tried to find it back in the day.”

“Who’s we? Whose we? Your we? My we?”

“Maybe my we? Remember Jon Rhodes? The Juice?”

“Jon the Juice! I never figured out why they called him Juice.” 

“Because he took steroids. Like, notoriously.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Notoriously took steroids. Did you need the morning announcements to tell you something so obvious?”

“So let’s hear more about this sword!”

“Anyway, first day of high school we have freshman orientation, and then we’re let out early. Jon convinces me, the twins Shane – ” 

“ – Shane the Shit Stain.”

“ – and Phillip – ” 

 “ – ‘Phil’s got pills!’ Remember? That’s how he’d roll up at parties?’”

“Yeah, all classy like. And Ebba Thorner went too.”

“Ebba Thorner? Wow, that must’ve been an impressive range of blonde you guys made. I crushed on Ebba so hard in junior high school.”

“Yeah, she knew. We all knew.”

“And everyone probably knew that I knew that everyone knew.”

“Yeah. School paper headlines.”

“Really?”

“Jesus, no.”

“Anyway, so you guys got together. Did you go down the well to procure this sword of destiny?”

“No. You can see here the walls are pretty much smooth as glass. There’d be no way to climb down there.”

“So you used a ladder? Oh, you went in from the coast?”

“Right. See, back then, Jon’s grandfather – Did you ever meet him? Jon’s grandfather would tell us some gnarly stories about his freaky Indian shag spots.”

“Freaky Indian shag spots? There’s a lot to that wording.”

“Well, areas believed to be sacred to Native Americans.”

“That were then repurposed into make out spots for teenagers in the Gilded Age?”

“Apparently. So, Jon’s grandfather knew all these supposed ritualistic freak spots all over the island, the most sacred of which was known as Shishwashee.”

“Sounds exotic. Noble, even.” 

“It’s made up. Has to be. At first he said the places were sacred and mystical, and then, ‘Maybe you wanna go camping out there with ol’ Grandpa.’ Then, when we got a little older and weren’t that impressed by native mysticism, he started talking about how they were spots with strange sexual energy. But he wouldn’t say sexual energy. He said people just got weird and freaky and naked and it was all fun. And he’d be like, ‘Ya’ll wanna check this place out? I got some drinks that’ll make ya feel fun and goofy.’”

“That voice you do makes him sound like a definite serial rapist.”

“Because he probably was. We never went anywhere with him, but he seemed to take a liking to me, I think. Sophomore year he cornered me at the library and made me read to him from a book.”

“What was the book?”

“Naked Lunch, Burroughs. He got all huffy and red, then tried to take me to one of his freak spots. Told me Jon and them were gonna meet up there and he could take me. ‘Gonna take some goofy drinks,’ he said. I was like, ‘Thanks, but I’ll pass.’”

“I knew the Rhodes were dysfunctional, but not like pedophile patriarch level dysfunctional.”

“Well, after he had his stroke he was pretty harmless. Still horny, but harmless. 

“Anyway, before he got too raunchy, he told us about one of those freaky ritualistic spots with a cave that leads to the bottom of the well with the sword.”

“So, the sword in the well is just the pervy geezer’s story?”

“No, that’s a legit legend.” 

“The Native American mysticism is probably some perv’s catfishing BS, but the sword in the well is a legit local legend? How come I never knew about it?”

“You should know it.Oh, look. You can see the cove from the edge of the bluff. This way.”

“This wind sucks.”

“Yep. Storms are early. Normally October isn’t this grey.”

“Fall and winter are two things I definitely don’t miss about this island.”

“Meh. It’s not so bad further inland, you know.”

“Your father doing alright?”

“Yeah. He almost drowned a little while back, which shook him up a bit. Watch your step here. You’ll twist your ankle in these holes. Now he stays off the water, runs the fishing biz from the docks. There. Do you see that area up there?”

“That’s the mystical site of the chachachee?”

“Shishwashee. It’s not so hard to access, but still far away enough from parents or cops.”

“So, what – you guys toked up, went a few feet in the cave, scared yourselves and ran out?”

“There’s more to it than that. You know everyone crushed on Ebba pretty hard.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re telling me that people crushed on Ebba? Me?”

“It was rhetorical.”

“Well, being the only first-gen hot Swede to grace our halls didn’t exactly keep her profile low.”

“No, it did not. And you could tell Jon was trying to use this excursion to Shishwashee as an excuse to catch a feel.”

“Yeah, smooth, slow, circular feels.”

“Well, as smooth as they could be with his wrinkly mouse-hands.”

“Ugh, his mouse-hands were so wrinkly.”

“So, freshman orientation’s finished and we’re at the cove to have one last summer swim before exploring the cave. By late afternoon, Jon is making it quite apparent that he’s out for Ebba. I mean, he is working it none stop.”

“Ha ha! The Juice!”

“Shane and Phil don’t even try to get close to Ebba. Jon was that territorial.”

“I’m surprised Phil didn’t drown himself. That dude was so doped up all the time. And Shane probably just nursed a fifth of Jack and brooded on a rock?”

“Actually, yeah, the two of them spent most of the time on the sand.”

“And you?”

“I did what I always did – quietly observed.”

“Where was I during all this? Was this the summer my family was stranded in Newfoundland?” 

“I don’t know. Your family always came back late from bizarre vacations. So, yeah, maybe you hadn’t come back yet or something.

“When it got dark, we were hanging by the campfire. Jon starts telling the story about the sword, you know, to frighten – Oh, no. You don’t know. It’s like a scary folk tale.”

“What? I love scary, local, obscure folk tales! How do I not know this story?”

“Wanna head back to the truck? The gig is gonna start soon.”

“Yes! Save me from these frigid gales and for Christ’s sake finish this story!”

“Well, he tells the story, and it ends with – ”

“Bup bup bup bup! Don’t ruin the folk tale for me.”

“You were just complaining about not knowing it.”

“But I don’t know how it begins. I don’t know what’s going on. You’re gonna spoil it.”

“It’s not even that original of a story, folk tale or otherwise. If I told you just the beginning, you’d probably guess the end with, I don’t know, 85% accuracy.”

“Just, tell me a little bit of the beginning then.”

“Back in the colonial days, when settlers first colonized the island, there was a young girl named Magdalena – ”

“And to this day her bloody ghost haunts the cavern under the well! Oh, and there’s a sword sticking out of her somewhere!”

“See?”

“Yeah, okay. I get it.”

“So, Jon tells the story. Ebba, having never heard it before, gets a little frightened. Just a little. And Shane and Phil, who are at this point wa-hay-sted, want to charge into the cave, kick the shit out of Magdalena, and take her sword because – ”

“The legend promises a treasure to anyone who can remove the sword!”

“See, you’re getting it. So, they want to explore the cave, but – ”

“But the bloody ghost of Magdalena!”

“ – Is exactly what Ebba said and refused to go. Jon suggested he and Ebba hold back, and me and the twins should go into the cavern.”

“The Juice! Man, I could’ve used a page or two from his book.”

“You? You could’ve used a week-long seminar from that guy.”

“Shut your face. And what, pray tell, did you decide to do?”

“Releasing the Sword of Danq - that’s the sword’s name – from Magdalena’s remains might’ve scared the bejesus out of me, but it was definitely more appealing than watching anymore of Jon’s macking. So, I followed the twins to make sure they didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Which was pretty inevitable with those two.”

“Right.”

“Were they actually twins?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought people just called them twins because they both had crippling addictions to depressants and opiates.”

“Nope. Flesh and blood, those two.”

“Huh.”

“Shane’s dead, by the way.”

“I’m not surprised. Motocross stunt race accident?”

“Suicide.”

“No, now I am surprised. I heard he’d cleaned up and got his shit together.”

“Yeah, me too. Anyway, we make it through the mouth of the cave, which is like the size of a warehouse garage or something, and then it dips down and gets narrower. And hardly any light gets in.”

“Did you guys have flashlights or anything?”

“Phil and Shane were Eagle Scouts, so … ”

“An Eagle Scout with a drug addiction is probably the most prepared person in the world.”

“Phil had the flashlight, but he was so high he kept dropping it or shining it in different directions and we kept tripping over shit. So I took it from him.”

“Good call.”

“We’re just about to enter an inner chamber when we hear a girl’s voice say something like, ‘Help! Help me.’ And Phil screamed that something had grabbed his shoulder.”

“Magdalena’s ghost!”

“ – Is exactly what the twins screamed and then bolted past me deeper into the cave. You gave back my keys, right? I’m driving.”

“Here. Was it the bloody ghost of Magdalena? Did the rusty sword glimmer mysteriously in the light?”

“It was Ebba. She had run away from Jon to catch up with us.”

“He apparently was pretty aggressive, barely coherent, and visibly aroused.”

“He didn’t, like, do anything to her, did he?”

“I was worried that too, but when she caught her breath and told me the story she started to laugh.”

“Good. Sexual assault is fun. We all have a good time. Hey, unlock my door!”

“She said he wasted no time siding up to her by the fire and trying some proclamation of his love, but he was bombing it. He started talking about how pretty she was, but then he went on about intercultural relationships being the seed to brighter nations, because, as he said, he’s a man, a man’s man, probably a Swedish man’s man. Not that he wants a Swedish man, because he ‘ain’t like that.’ He likes girls. Swedish girls. Girls with the hair. This is how he’s talking. And then, Ebba says, he trips so badly over his words that he just gives up, stands right over her and points at his hard-on tenting his trunks and shouts ‘This, Ebba! This is how you make me feel, Ebba!’”

“Oh, Christ! I want my money back on that one-week seminar. You’re okay? You’re all over the road.”

“I can’t drive! Hold on! I gotta, I gotta pull over and wipe the tears from my eyes! I haven’t thought of this story in forever! 

“So, Ebba is freaked out and just runs off to the cave and leaves him on the beach. 

“Oh, God. And here’s the wind down.”

“And then Magdalena’s bloody ghost shows up? Or you find the sword in the cave?”

“Okay, I’m good. I’m good to drive. 

“Well, I calmed her down, saying, you know, that’s just how boys are. They’ll write cringe poetry that blatantly plagiarizes Morrissey – ”

“Come on! The poems I wrote for her did not bite Morrissey!”

“ – Or they might think showing their junk is the key to initiating romance.”

“Okay, okay. And cue bloody ghost of Magdalena!”

“And I put my hand on her elbow and tell her that’s not saying she isn’t pretty hot or doesn’t deserve the attention.”

“Wait.”

“And we just look at each other.”

“What’s going on?”

“And, I don’t know if she went first or I went first, but we leaned in, and, and we kissed.”

“You kissed Ebba Thorner?”

“Actually, we made out pretty hard. Brief, but intense. Pretty crazy, right? This was full-on, fevered face sucking.”

“That damned Shishwashee. I don’t know what to say.”

“Come to think of it, she was the first girl I kissed. After that it took several years of dick picks and manipulative man-children to realize that I was just chasing a ghost of my own – the ghost of a summer kiss.

“What’s up? You don’t like the story? I’m sorry it has nothing to do with the sword or the ghost of Magdalena, but I guess it was a pretty monumental memory for me.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s a funny story actually. Just … ” 

“What? Feeling some FOMO there? Wishing you could’ve seen me and Ebba suck face? Or, did you want to see Jon’s boner? Was that your bag then?”

“No. I mean, yeah, freshman me by then would’ve made you two the subject of many a fantasy. So, obvs, I’d want to see that.”

“Ew.”

“And by then I’d already seen Jon’s boner plenty of times.”

“Say what now?”

“Puberty might’ve wrecked Jon in junior high, but he was very proud of his boners. Probably still is. 

“It’s just, even though everyone knew I had a crush – ”

“ – Infatuation – ”

“ – On Ebba, especially in 8th grade, it felt like dude after dude after dude kept bragging, to me specifically, about kissing her here or touching her there or putting the thing in the thing.”

“First of all, as a popular target of boys’ misplaced sexual angst, I doubt any of their stories are true. But, come on. You shot your shot and she rejected you.”

“Believe me, my recollection of the events has not faded with time. But why did everyone have to brag to me about all that? And now, years after the fact, I hear your story and it just sounds like a long-winded trip back in time to rub it in my face that even my female friends got somewhere with her.”

“Well, that wasn’t my intention. But, truth be told, you were clueless about girls. We all were clueless about each other. And ourselves, come to think of it. Besides, back then, you were, like, proto-emo and Jon was, like, proto-toxic masculinity. Weigh those personalities as adults and you, uh, you don’t seem as bad as him.”

“Was there a proto-Ethan back then?”

“Anyway, you’re not like that now, right? Please tell me you’re not.”

“I have since dropped poetry.”

“You did the right thing.

“Come on. This is stuff from the way, way back. So much changed after that. You’re an upstanding adult now. Successful and all that.” 

“I heard Ebba turned into a right-wing nut. Even at the Capitol on January 6.”

“Jon got expelled from college for – say it with me – aggravated sexual assault.”

“Phil’s a father of three and owns his own landscaping business.”

“Jack’s a pastor. Sally grows her own strands of some serious, serious dank.”

“Ponytail Deborah’s a celebrity chef. Glasses Deborah’s a pediatrician.”

“Steven is a Neo-Buddhist.”

“And Stephen is an environmental terrorist.”

“Brian’s dead.”

“Courtney’s dead.”

“Michael too.”

“Baby has cancer.” 

“So does Reuben. Ugh, this is a bummer. Is this the gig? This door doesn’t open from the inside. Can you let me out?”

“Depends on who’s coming in with me. Is it the ghost of a proto-emo who’s gonna bemoan some petty childhood nonsense like they died a poor victim of a heinous war crime?”

“No. No proto-emo ghosts here.”

“Is my friend gonna come in with me?”

“Yes.” 

“My real friend? The one who’s got a pretty good life for himself and, despite occasionally forgetting how good he’s got it, really wants to live that life, right now, like that song that made us want to drink Crystal Clear Pepsi? Do you want to drink Crystal Clear Pepsi?”

“Yes! It’s me! There’s no tomorrow! I want to drink the clear Pepsi!” 

“Good. Then sit tight. I’ll open the door for you.”