Jackie Lee Is The Only One That Comes Knocking

I should have known when I saw the blackbird at the window. I should have known what

kind of day it was going to be when Jackie Lee came knocking. I should have known that he

doesn’t know all the things… but hey, I’m just a kid.

Jackie Lee told me blackbirds at your window are just like the luck of heads-up pennies,

or light switches going in the same direction. Jackie Lee insists it’s all in my head. He calls me

Meathead Milo. I pretend not to care. Jackie Lee is the only one that comes knocking.

He tells everyone that he was named after JFK. Each time, I envision myself scratching

my head in perplexion. His name is Jackie LEE… where in the world is the Fitzgerald part? I

never say anything though… because Jackie Lee thinks he knows all the things. He tells

everyone that I am named after an ancient Japanese Jester… what the heck? I never say

anything though, Jackie Lee is the only one that comes knocking.

Today Jackie Lee tells me that we are going to make a bike trip out to the old Hawthorne

Estate. “It’s that it’s that time of year,” he says.... “ When the sun goes down early and the trees

cast spooky shadows.” That’s the problem, I try to explain. The sun goes down early… there’s

no way we will make it there and back before dark. I tell him there are No Trespassing signs up

everywhere surrounding the place, but Jackie Lee doesn’t care. He tells me to grab my Ninja

garb and my nunchucks. Our nunchucks came from the dollar store… and Jackie Lee calls me

the Meathead.

The November wind bites at my cheeks as we pedal. My legs burn as the gravel crunches

beneath our tires. Jackie Lee passes the time singing Kung Fu Fighting and I Shot the Sheriff. In

my head, the only song that keeps spinning is Billy, Don’t Be A Hero. I think of my mom and

how she would have warned against this trip. She would have reminded me that I don’t like

scary stuff and that it would be dark soon. “Just another quarter mile,” Jackie Lee yells back as

I notice the crows circling overhead. I point that out to Jackie Lee and he reminds me there are

no such things as omens, just as I knew he would. I remind myself that Jackie Lee is the only

one that ever comes knocking.

The sky is orange with streaks of pink when we pull up. I notice how the roof on the

mansion is sagging. The burden of all the folklore exhausting its once strong beams. The

windows on the front of the house are boarded up and painted black, making the structure look

like a dingy yellowed sheeted ghost from Halloweens past.

The gate is unlatched and is standing about a foot open. We leave our bikes and slip

through, trying not to make a sound. Jackie Lee tells me to slip on my Ninja mask and reminds

me to have my nunchucks handy. We tiptoe around the side of the house, trying to silence the

crackling leaves underfoot. For Ninjas, we haven’t perfected our stealth-like moves. Jackie Lee

is in front of me and suddenly stops in his tracks. I immediately notice it too. Candlelight

coming from one of the side windows. The windows on the side of the house have not been

boarded up. The glass is broken and old, heavy velvet drapes sway ever so lightly in the breeze.

The stench from the house coming through the window penetrates my senses. I see mold on the

drapes and slowly back away. I see the boney hand, slowly peeling the drapery back as I gasp.

Jackie Lee asks me what in God’s name has me spooked now? I tell him I saw the hand and he

laughs, like he always does and tells me it’s just my imagination. He calls me a crybaby and

grabs my hand and leads me to the backdoor.

This time there’s no knocking for Jackie Lee. He turns the door handle, but it doesn’t

budge. I hear a scratch on the door from the other side. Jackie Lee’s expression is unchanged.

He tries again, and again, and again. The scratching noise continues. I’m surprised I can hear it,

my racing heart is pounding in my ears. Still no expression from Jackie Lee. He grabs my hand

and we continue to the kitchen window to peek in. By now, the sun has almost set and I can see

one small stream of candlelight laying across the floor. The carpet looks to be a deep

burgundy… almost the color of blood. The air is still with no breeze, but I feel a cloud of cold

air washing out the kitchen window, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Shutters

on the back windows start beating against the house and still, no expression on Jackie Lee’s face.

He tells me he is going to crawl through the window and will open the door for me. My teeth

chattering in frightening desperation keep me from saying NO, so I just shake my head from side

to side. Jackie Lee winks at me before diving in, head first. All I hear is the loud thump of his

body smacking the floor before I hear a horrendous slurping noise coming from within. An eye

peers around the curtain and winks at me, knowing. But it isn’t Jackie Lee’s eye. This eye is

black with a gold pupil.

I hear my friend scream to run! He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Somehow I’ve

acquired stealth like moves to make it to the gate. This time, the gate is closed and locked. I

hear leaves crunching behind me and turn to see that it is Jackie Lee making a run for it. This

time there is expression on his face, only total fear like I’ve never seen before. He continues to

scream, “RUN!” I shake the gate, trying to free the lock. “RUN, RUN, RUN!” I’m small and

slender and barely squeeze through the slats in the gate. By this time the mansion is moaning

and screaming, a loud horrifying scream that is overshadowing Jackie Lee’s. I stand on the

outside of the gate as Jackie Lee reaches it. I scream for him to hurry. He’s bigger than me, try

as he might, he can’t squeeze through. I grab him, trying with all my strength to get him

through, but it is no use. Jackie Lee continues to shake on the gate and as I pedal away I can

hear his screams still pleading for me to “RUN, RUN, RUN!”

A quarter mile down the road I see headlights coming my way. I pull over and start

waving my hands. I have to get help to my friend. The familiar old pickup slides up next to me.

I see the worried faces of my parents who have come looking for me. I sob and plead for them to

go and save Jackie Lee. Throwing my bike in the back of the truck, I catch them making the

all-too-familiar sideway glances toward each other. They get me in the front seat, between them

and begin driving. My hysteria subsides somewhat as I try to make the words come. I gulp and

gulp and gulp, trying to get them to come out. We pull up in front of the old Hawthorne

Mansion. It is pitch black. There’s no candlelight coming out of the side of the house, spraying

across the lawn. Dad shines his flashlight up to the gates and my eyes search frantically for

Jackie Lee. I try to tell them what happened and they try to reassure me that every last window

of the house is boarded up. There is no candlelight. There are no open windows or molded

draperies. There are no boney hands or single eyeballs peering out. And when I tell them I’ve

lost Jackie Lee, the concern on their faces are genuine. They inform me I don’t have a friend

named Jackie Lee.

I continue to ride my bike out to the Hawthorne Estate. Searching for Jackie Lee is my

purpose in life. Each time the gate is locked. I’m growing and can no longer fit through the

slats. I continue to see the blackbird outside my window. I continue to search. Jackie Lee is the

only one that comes knocking.