You Called?

We were just a pair of silly kids, off to the cemetery to fulfill a right of passage. We were only thirteen, well, Bonnie was thirteen, I was a few months shy, trying to hang out with the cool kids. The fourteens and fifteens, and the lucky thirteens who were chosen. That was when it all started, during that damn initiation. I’ll never forget their faces as they huddled together to decided an appropriate test, the scheming glances and vicious smiles. And then the blonde with the pixie bob, she walked over looking so proud of herself, said, “Spend the night in the cemetery.”

We should have said no and moved on, but Bonnie didn’t always think things through. When she wanted something she got it, and I was always dragged along, not allowed to say otherwise. Whatever she did, I followed, that’s how it was. That’s the sort of friendship we had, but looking back, it wasn’t much of a friendship, was it? Well, those cool kids followed us all the way there, sleeping bags, tent and flashlights in tow. They watched, mocking us with their triumphant grins, as we stood just one step away from crossing the threshold.

“Go on”, the blonde called to us. “Or are you scared?” She laughed and her posse joined in. 

“Please”, Bonnie retorted. She moved to make her first step but I quickly grabbed her.

 “What’s your deal?!” 

“Before entering, you have to let the dead know who you are and why you are here.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes and crossed over anyway. “C’mon Maddie, hurry up. Or stay behind.” 

How I wish I had stayed, just turned around and gone home. But I was a follower and a slave to Bonnie, so after I introduced myself to the dead, I stepped in. 

“Have a good niiiiight.” I turned around and saw the blonde waving.

“And don’t wake the dead”, someone else joked. 

Bonnie had trudged on without me, crossing over graves and cutting in between tombstones. I ran after her, calling for her to stop but she kept going. She really had no manners, it’s a shame, because things might have turned out better if she had been more considerate. We went about half way in, stopping in a spacious area near an open grave that hadn’t been filled yet. 

“We should camp somewhere else”, I warned her. 

Bonnie threw her sleeping bag on the ground. “What for? This is the most spacious spot.”

“The open grave?” I pointed to it and she scoffed.

“So be careful and don’t fall in, stupid. Help me set up this tent.”

I obeyed. We pitched tent in the dark, perching our flashlights against some rocks for light. When everything was set we unrolled our bags and got comfortable. The night was chilly, but very quiet. I can’t recall if we heard any of the usual night sounds, like crows or crickets, I just remember it being very still. Even thought it was dark, it was still fairly early, just approaching nine. We were bored and Bonnie had started to whistle.

“Don’t!” 

“God, what’s your deal? I’m just whistling.”

“It’s bad luck to whistle in a cemetery.”

Bonnie laughed and whistled some more.

“I mean it, stop it!”

“Aww, whas da matta”, she mocked in a baby tone. “Afwaid I’m gonna wake da dead?” She leaned back on her hands and puckered her lips, threatening to whistle again.

“You’ll call the Devil”, I whispered, my palms getting clammy. 

“The Devil.” She raised her eyebrow at me skeptically. “My whistling…is gonna call…the Devil? Where the hell are you gettin’ this quack shit from?”

“It’s not quack shit”, I retorted. “My granny warned me to never whistle in a graveyard. She also taught me to respect the dead, to not trample their graves and to enter the cemetery with respect.”

“And you believe that?” 

“Don’t you? Don’t you believe in the Devil?”

Bonnie looked at me hard, biting her lip. With an exasperated exhale, she leaned back on her elbow, holding her head in her hand. I waited for her answer but she seemed to have disappeared into some far away thought. 

“Bon?”

“What”, she snapped.

“Do you?” 

Bonnie didn’t answer, just perked her lips and whistled loudly, strongly. I reached to clamp my hand over her mouth but she dodged and continued to whistle. I pleaded for her to stop, my eyes practically tearing and she laughed, pointing at me and holding her stomach.

“Shit, Maddie, you should see your face! Really, I can’t believe you fall for that stuff, it’s a load of bull. As if my whistling could call the Devil, if he’s even real. Shit, if he is then let the bastard come.” She laughed again, tucking herself into her sleeping bag. 

“Why are you so mean?”

“You’re just sensitive. But you can go home if you want.” 

I should have gone home, just left her there. But despite how horrible she was and how much I hated her in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to get up and go. We didn’t say anymore, only pulled up our sleeping bags, shut off our flashlights, and waited in the darkness of sleep to come for us.

I don’t know how long we slept. The night crept on slowly. Even though I was snug in my sleeping bag I felt chills all over that made it difficult to get comfortable, but eventually sleep came. I don’t think I had been asleep for too long, maybe just a few hours before Bonnie shook me awake. 

“Maddie”, she whispered, her voice shaken. “Maddie, wake up, please! Wake up!” She shook me harder and I wiped my eyes, peering into the darkness to see her face. I had reached for my flashlight but she stopped me, shaking her head.

“Shh, shh…listen.” 

I perked my ears to listen for some sound, but all I could hear was our own breathing. She’s playing a trick on me, I thought, and proceeded to roll over and go back to sleep. Bonnie grabbed my shoulders.

“No, listen!” She clamped her hand over her mouth as if she was afraid someone might hear.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s someone here.” Her whisper was coarse. She sounded like she was about to cry. “I swear to God, Maddie, I heard someone talking when I was lying down. I kept listening and kept hearing it, and it sounded like it was getting closer.”

“But I don’t hear anything.”

 We listened again, but nothing.

 “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not, I swear!” 

“Whatever”, I sighed. “I’m going back to bed.” I laid back down, ignoring Bonnie’s whispered pleas to get my attention. Closing my eyes I tried to tune her out as she began to sob and pray. That’s funny, I thought. I thought you didn’t believe in anything. Just as I was about to doze off again I had heard it.

You called?

I pushed myself from the ground, practically screaming. It was the strangest voice I had ever heard, like a man but somehow inhuman. It was deep, almost hollow and yet it filled my head like the toll of a bell. I broke out in goosebumps all over.

“I heard it”, I said, clutching Bonnie tightly. 

Bonnie started crying, burying her face into my chest. I don’t think I had ever seen her look so pathetic, and if I hadn’t been so scared myself I might have enjoyed it. We held each other in silence, waiting, but nothing happened. It occurred me to me that I had heard it when I was lying down. Slowly, I lowered my head to the ground and listened.

You called?

“It’s coming from the ground!”

In a flurry, we evacuated our tent, kicking the sleeping bags off our legs and crawling out into the cold night, shivering from fear. 

“What if it’s just them, trying to scare us so we don’t pass”, Bonnie asked.

“From underground”, I scoffed. It was quiet. We remained rooted in our spot, staring at the tent as if waiting for some other worldly creature to crawl out. 

“Let’s just leave”, I said, and Bonnie nodded in agreement. She was shaking all over. 

You called?

The voice came again, even louder and deeper. Bonnie screamed, grabbing her head in agony. I looked all around me but saw nothing, so I dove into the tent, grabbed a flashlight and shined the light all over, looking or something, anything that could explain where the voice was coming from. 

You called?

“Oh my god, I can’t! I can’t!” 

Bonnie took off, running through the cemetery and cutting through the dark. She was going the wrong way. I chased after her, calling for her to stop and turn around but she didn’t seem to hear me. She was screaming, her hands over her ears, and the voice had started resonating around us like we were surrounded by a dome of amplifiers. My head pounded from the pressure and I collapsed, dropping the flashlight. 

You called?

There was a piercing scream. My hands dug into the earth, my nails getting dirty, as if some immense weight were pushing me down. With great effort, I lifted my head and through the beam of my flashlight, I saw a portion of Bonnie, her arms and legs, her head covered in some massive blackness that seemed to be looming over her. In my last moments of consciousness I thought I caught a glimpse of a towering figure with curved horns, and once more I heard the voice, only this time it said "I have come". There was a loud rustling, an angry red burned into the black of the night, dancing and licking viciously. Fire, I thought. I could feel the heat of the flames and I heard Bonnies screams abruptly stop. Once again, the night was still and quiet and in my exhaustion and panic I collapsed onto the cold, damp earth.

When I awoke it was morning. The sun had barely pierced the sky, but by the color I knew dawn was fast approaching. Every muscle in my body ached and getting up was extremely difficult. I looked around for Bonnie but she was no where to be seen. I managed to walk over to the last place I saw here and found a large black spot that look burnt, and not far from it two large footprints that resembled hooves, also burnt into the ground as if cauterized.

As you might have guessed, I never saw Bonnie again. She was reported missing and the search lasted three months before everyone gave up. The cool kids were questioned but none were suspected, and the mysterious burn spot in the cemetery was overlooked. As for the hoof prints, they were ignored and written off as a prank. But that didn't help explain what had happened to Bonnie.

During my questioning with the police I stupidly told them everything that had transpired. I told them about the initiation, Bonnie's whistling and even the voice coming from under ground. By the time I had gotten to the fire and curved horns the police officer held his hand up. For a long time I was a suspect, but after weeks of questioning, of lie detectors, psychiatric assessments and even electroshock treatment, my story remained pretty much the same, only I had altered it. I had grown weary of being electrocuted, of being both accused and victimized, so the last time they questioned me I told my story again, only I left out the Devil. Bonnie had simply run off in a frenzy and I tried to follow her, tripped and hit my head. No one asked about the hoof prints and the burned spot, and I wonder why. I guess they were afraid of the truth, of the possibility of the Devil actually coming for Bonnie. And now I wonder if that's what Bonnie had felt: fear. But rather than respecting that fear, she acted proud and haughty. She called the Devil and he had come.