The Burkley Manor

The sun vanished below the horizon as the moon rose in its place, casting a pale glow over the rooftops. A cloud of fog blanketed the streets, dimming the brilliance of the moon’s light; silhouettes of ravens soared through the dreary night, basking in the white radiance. The only disturbance within the eerie silence was the occasional call of crows and the sweet chirping of crickets.

From the shadows, two teenage figures emerged. They did not speak; the only sound created being their footsteps on the pavement. One was pale in complexion, with a thin frame and willowy physique; her eyes were a brilliant blue, contrasting against her dark skin. The other had rosy cheeks and a scrawny stature. He twitched and turned, unable to sit still; his eyes radiating youth lit from inside.

Lightning flashed as the skies roared, releasing its wrath on the world below. Rain fell before their feet, casting out all of nature’s songs. Darkness shrouded the skies, leaving the crestfallen streets dreary and unlit.

“Hurry, Beau,” the girl hissed, her legs trembling in the frigid night air.

“I’m coming, Skye,” Beau responded, pausing to observe a nearby flower.

“You can smell the roses later when we’re not soaking wet,” Beau grunted, wrenching his backpack over his head in the hope to shield himself from the pouring rain. They walked in silence, attempting to ignore the wintry cold creeping through their veins.

For the past few years, since the start of middle school, Beau Rais and Skye Smith had been venturing home together after a long, excruciating day of school at the Eastern Falls Private Institute For the Young. After the finishing of fifth grade, the Rais and the Smith parents decided that it was best if the two neighbors accompanied each other on the “treacherous” journey home; without the children's input. During those eight-mile walks, both Beau and Skye tended to remain silent, preferring not to become entangled in the other’s personal matters.

Beau shivered, “I don’t know about you, but I’m finding a place to wait out the storm. No way am I gonna freeze out here for another five miles.”

“What if the storm lasts all night? My mom will kill me.” Skye grumbled, clenching her jaw in a failed attempt to keep her teeth from chattering. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the dusky night. If Beau heard her, he didn’t listen, for he was already climbing over the metal gates of Mr.Burkley’s old home. 

Now, Mr.Burkley was an ancient man, with no hair besides a few wisps of grey on his upper lip. They were told he wore tattered clothes that always smelled of rotting trash. His eyes were said to be an inky black. And they were hollow, like a swirling void of emptiness. Wrinkles lined his eyes and cheeks, and pretty much everything else. According to the rumors, he bought the manor on 31st street seventy years ago, hiding within its walls for another half a century before he died.

The Burkley manor was a dismal place. The roof was in tatters, the tiles constantly clattering to the ground. The windows were stained with dirt, and dust coated every surface there was to come across. The lawn was but bits of dry grass and hay lying on top of the barren ground. Vines slithered up the metal bars of the iron gates, the roses long dead. None had dared sell the house, nor even approach it, for their minds overflowed with absurd superstitions. Yet Beau had always seemed to take an interest in the place, spending a pointless amount of time staring through the gates.

Skye’s gaze darted from the sidewalk to the weedy boy attempting to climb a fence twice his size, then to the crying sky. She shivered, contemplating on whether she preferred to face the wrath of nature or her mother. Both were just as bad.

“Beau, wait!” She called. Skye tossed her bag over the gate, leaping down with a quiet thud only seconds later.

Beau grinned, racing up the porch steps. Biting her lip, she followed, grabbing a large stick tangled in the vines, just in case. The manor was even more demoralizing up close, a dingy aura of fear leaking from every square inch of the place.

The wood door opened with a loud creak, revealing a prehistoric living room. The house itself was gray and tenebrous. The glass chandelier swung back and forth, seeming prepared to topple to the ground any moment. The spiral staircase seemed quite unstable, and a chilling breeze raced from room to room.

“Whoa,” Beau murmured, seemingly unbothered by the foreboding impression radiating from the manor.

Skye gulped, dropping her bag by the door, “Twenty minutes, then we’re going home.” 

“Mmm,” He answered, walking further into the lion’s den.

A sonorous rumble shook the ground as a white light flashed before their eyes. Skye shrieked, stumbling back as a nearby tree toppled to the ground.

Beau turned to face her, not even the slightest bit startled, “You scared?”

She relaxed her shoulders, trying to look as comfortable as humanly possible, “No, I’m fine.” 

“C’mon, let’s check it out.” He said, racing up the spiral steps.

Sweat beaded her forehead; her breath had become rapid as her heart began to beat faster. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, placing a hand on the wood railing as she stepped onto the creaking staircase. As she climbed, Skye heard an overabundant amount of “Whoa!”s and “Cool!”s, yet it seemed to comfort her, knowing that she wasn’t by herself in this . . . place.

The chorus of Beau’s shouts came to a sudden silence, leaving an ominous silence hanging in the air. Moments later, he shouted, not one of amazement, but a blood-curdling scream.

Skye raced up the steps, following the sound of his voice. “Wha-” She paused, gripping the bookshelf with all her might. A scream mounted in her chest, but fear kept it suppressed.

Most of us have heard the phrase, “skeletons in your closet,” but when one finds a mound of bloody bones in their wardrobe, it changes their perspective on the phrase entirely. And no, it was not the cheap sort of prop you would find at the Dollar Store, but frightening, disturbing, bloody bones.

“Close it!” Skye screeched, finally finding her voice. Beau did not to be told twice; he shut the door without hesitation: his breathing ragged and hard.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” he squeaked, his eyes still fixed on the doors.

“Yeah, I think so too,” she mumbled, backing out of the room with Beau right on her heels.

They sprinted down the steps, tripping over themselves to get to the door. Except it wouldn’t budge.

“What the heck?” Beau asked, rattling the knob.

“It’s locked,” Skye said, attempting to slow her racing heart.

“Yes, I can see that. Were there even locks back then?”

“I think so?”

Beau rubbed his palms together, bolting towards the door.

“Ow!” He whined, clutching his foot, “Just break already!”

Skye shoved the wood; it didn’t budge. “It’s barricaded. How is it barricaded?!”

He stumbled to his feet, “Windows, the windows.” They pushed and pulled, yet it didn’t seem to budge.

“I have an idea,” Beau mumbled, raising his hand.

“Wait, don-”

“Ow!” He cried, “Why is this glass so strong?” For a house that seemed to be falling apart, it was remarkably tough. No matter what they tried, how hard they hit, they couldn’t get out.

Beau sank to the floor, his chest heaving, “It’s no use, we’re stuck.”

“Shh, do you hear that?” Skye responded, apparently ignoring him.

“Hear what?”

“Shh!” They fell silent, just as they always were on their walks. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but it seemed to get louder.

Skye put a finger to her lips, grabbing the stick from beside her bag. Beau glanced around for something he could use, eventually settling for his math textbook. It was about time someone found a practical use for that thing. They approached the second level, poking their heads out from behind the corner before continuing to climb.

By the time they reached the fifth story, the noise had become obnoxiously loud. Beau gulped, blood pounding in his ears. Much to his comfort, Skye stepped out into the hallway first: her knuckles going white from gripping the stick. The step below him creaked as he stepped onto it.

“Shhh!” she hissed, turning to face him. He held his breath, moving as lightly as he possibly could. Then the floor gave away.

The pieces of wood and textbook clattered to the ground with a raucous thump. Thankfully, Beau didn’t. Skye managed to grab his arm just in time. Only problem? He was dangling five stories above ground. No biggie.

He whimpered, “Don’t let go. Please, don’t let go.”

She gritted her teeth, adjusting her grip, “I won’t, I promise.”  But, though he hated to think about it, he could feel his hand slipping from her grasp. 

She dropped the stick as if she hadn’t known she had been holding it until now. “Grab my other hand.” She reached out, laying on her belly in an attempt to reach his hand. Beau squeezed her wrist tighter, mustering up all the strength  I could get. He swung his arm, his fingers barely skimming her own.

“You could do it,” Skye murmured, her voice tight. He clenched his jaw, adjusting his grip once again. This time, he caught her hand, only by the fingers. But it was enough; she managed to drag him up, sending them both tumbling onto the grimy ground.

Exasperated and slightly shocked about what had just occurred, they burst into laughter. Perhaps to help themselves mentally heal from the trauma. Skye choked back a sob, her emotions taking over. She encased him in a hug, which he hesitantly returned. Upon releasing each other, they collapsed, the queer noise seemingly forgotten for the time being.

Skye must have dozed off sometime that hour, for she was awoken by Beau fiercely shaking her shoulders.

“What?” She asked groggily, getting to her feet.

“Uh, Skye?” Beau mumbled, motioning towards the end of the hall. To her astonishment, a figure roamed around, the floor creaking with each step he took. He was old, older than any other she had ever seen. With eyes emptier, lonelier, than the deepest pit. Skye groped for the stick, her eyes glued on the elderly man.

“Ow!” He howled, as she relentlessly whacked him, “Please, please, show mercy on old Burkley.”

“Burkley?” Beau asked, “That’s impossible, you’re dead.”

“No, no, no.” The man whined, as Skye knocked him onto the ground.

“Did you lock us in here?” She asked, driving any sign of fear from her voice.

“Umm . . .”

“I said, did you lock us in here?” He nodded, his eyes widening.

“Did you put the bones in the closet?”

Getting the idea that the girl wasn’t joking, Burkley nodded again, whimpering like a wounded puppy as he did so.

“Why?” Beau questioned, a frown forming on his face.

“Because Burkley . . . because Burkley . . . wanted to have fun?”

“Where’s the exit?” Skye growled, poking him again.

“Exit?” Beau asked.

“The door was barricaded from the outside, given that he’s in here, there must be another entrance.” She explained, returning her attention to Burkley, “Where’s the exit?”

He whimpered, “Follow.” Skye motioning for him to get up. He led them to a rope ladder leading outside.

“Is it safe?” Beau asked, preferring not to experience nearly falling to his death again.

“Yes, yes.”

Skye turned to her neighbor, “Take the stick, I’ll go first.”

“Wait-” But she had already started down.

After minutes of waiting, Skye called up to him, “It’s alright, you can come down!”

                  Beau glared at Burkley, “Move an inch and you’ll rot in jail for the rest of your years.”

  He demanded himself not to shake as he climbed down the ladder. Skye smiled, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Then they vanished into the shadows.

***

10 years later

Skye and Beau stood hand in hand, watching as the Burkley manor was torn down. Mr. Burkley had died a month earlier, for real this time.

“Nice to see that thing is finally gone,” Beau stated, nudging her with his elbow.

“Definitely,” Skye answered, kicking a weathered rope ladder.

“You ever wonder what would happen if we had never gone in?” To this day, they both remembered the night as if it were yesterday.

She paused, “We would be soaking wet, for one. We would never have been grounded for a month.” The beginnings of a smile formed on her lips, “But . . . I would never have met my best friend.”

“Friend? I’m hurt.” Beau teased, only to be met with a playful punch. They grinned, starting down the moonlit pathways once belonging to the Burkley manor.