Confession

On the night of October 12, 1979, two adolescent girls sat in the basement bedroom of a suburban home in Lawrence, Kansas. Twelve-year-old Pepper Baiij was a painfully shy girl with dishwater-blonde hair and a pronounced overbite with gaps between her top front teeth. Her family hoped that the costly braces she wore would help correct her unattractive smile.

Pepper’s companion, Ursula McNamara, was a spirited girl with a pale, freckled face and reddish-brown hair. Ursula had the slender build of a gymnast and there were several trophies on a shelf near her desk commemorating her accomplishments in ballet and gymnastics. Pepper couldn’t believe that a cool girl like Ursula would want to be friends with an ungainly clod like herself.

“I’m glad you asked me to sleep over, Ursula,” Pepper said. “I hope it won’t put you on the outs with Lulu Landon for not going to her party.”

“Why would I care about that?” Ursula sniffed, opening the bedroom window and lighting a cigarette. “Lulu Landon is a Stepford robot. I can’t stand her. I’d rather celebrate your birthday.”

“Aren’t you afraid your parents will catch us smoking?” Pepper asked as Ursula passed her the cigarette.

Ursula shrugged.

“They’ll probably think it’s Charlie,” she replied, referring to her sixteen-year-old brother whose room was down the hall. “Anyways, my folks don’t really care what we do down here in The Dungeon as long as nothing gets damaged.”

“Is Charlie okay?” Pepper inquired, handing the cigarette back to Ursula.

“Not really,” Ursula admitted. “It’s hard enough when your best friend kills himself, but Charlie has to keep Gregory’s secret all to himself ‘cause no-one will understand.”

“I will,” Pepper promised.

“You have to swear not to tell anyone.”

Pepper crossed her heart.

“Greg was gay,” Ursula revealed. “When his parents found out, they made him go to a church camp to turn him straight. Greg’s mother thought he was possessed, and his father beat him and said he was a shame to the family. Charlie said Greg had bruises from his father slamming him into the wall. Charlie told Greg he should go to the police, but Greg said they wouldn’t do anything about it ‘cause he was a fairy and cops hate fairies.”

“That’s evil,” Pepper said, taking a drag on the cigarette. “Greg wasn’t hurting anybody.”

Pepper tried to hide her fretfulness, but Ursula noticed.

“Pep, what’s going on?” she asked.

“You have to promise that you won’t think I’m crazy.”

“I do think you’re crazy, but that’s what makes you cool. You and me and Charlie are all crazy. Better than being fake like Lulu Landon and her gang of robots. So, what is it?”

“I don’t think that Greg committed suicide.”

“Why?”

Messages from Beyond

“The night that Greg died, I dreamed about him,” Pepper confessed. “I was walking over the bridge by the Bowersock dam, and he was standing there. He looked like a shadow with tears frozen on his face. He reached to me and said: ‘help me, Pepper.’ I took his hand and it was cold as ice. Then the alarm went off to get ready for church, and I about jumped out of my skin. When I heard that Greg was missing, I knew something bad had happened.”

“Okay, but why don’t you think he committed suicide?” Ursula inquired.

“Because he told me he was murdered.”

Pepper couldn’t help noticing Ursula’s astounded expression and hung her head in shame.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she murmured. “It’s probably nothing. I just have weird dreams.”

“Like dreams about stuff that’s going to happen?” Ursula asked.

“Yeah. Or about dead people.”

“That’s so cool! I wish I could do that!”

“No, you don’t,” Pepper countered grimly. “They always make it look like it’s really great in movies and stuff, and that it’s really easy to figure out what the ghosts are trying to say and all, but it isn’t. Sometimes I can tell my parents about it because my mom’s family is psychic, but sometimes I can’t. Like, they were okay with me telling them about the dream I had before Rye, the alley cat that my dad was feeding, got run over. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t know what, ‘cause I dreamed a chicken got run over. Then Dad came in and said he was going to have to take Rye to the vet to be put to sleep because he’d been hit by a car and was suffering. I knew then that my dream was about Rye, not about a chicken. I have no idea why I dreamed about a chicken instead of a cat. So, it isn’t always clear.”

“Okay, but I still think it could be useful,” Ursula suggested. “Cause the cops are saying that Greg committed suicide, but if he didn’t…”

“Do you think anyone’s going to listen to me?” Pepper demanded, tears springing to her eyes. “I tried to tell my mom about it, but this is one of the times that she didn’t want to listen. She said I have too much imagination and it was just a dream. My dad said I needed to keep this to myself because Greg’s family is already suffering enough.”

“Do you think that Greg’s dad killed him because he was queer?” Ursula inquired.

A tear rolled down Pepper’s face. She sniffled and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“I do, but I don’t think there’s any way we can prove it. Please, Ursula, don’t say anything to Charlie. I don’t want to upset him. Let’s just keep this between you and me for now.”

“Okay,” Ursula agreed, patting her friend’s shoulder. “Hey, I have a Ouija board in my closet. Do you want to try and talk to ghosts?”

“I guess we could,” Pepper agreed. “I have a Ouija board too. My parents got it for me, which is really weird, since they think casting spells and stuff is unholy.”

“Charlie bought this one at a garage sale,” Ursula said, bringing the Ouija board out of her closet. “He’s always been a weirdo. I don’t think my parents even paid attention to what he was buying.”

“I like Charlie,” Pepper said. “He’s really nice to me.”

“Well, I like him too, but he is a weirdo. In a good way. Hey, read me the letter he gave you with your present. Unless it’s a love letter or something.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Pepper snorted. “Of course it isn’t a love letter. It says ‘Pep, happy birthday to my other little sister. You are a real cool chick and I hope you like your present from your other brother Charlie.’ I hope he knows I really love this. He photocopied all those articles about Mainline for me and he made me this tape and everything. I wish I could say something that would help him feel better.”

“I know. I’m worried about him. Hey, let’s put out some food and stuff as an offering for the ghosts. What do ghosts like?”

“Probably the same stuff they liked when they were alive. So, like, if we wanted to bring a dog ghost to us, we should put out some dog food.”

“Would you be able to understand what a dog ghost was saying?” Ursula asked.

“Yeah. It would say ‘woof, woof.’” Pepper chuckled.

“You’re dumb,” Ursula snorted, throwing a plush duck at Pepper. “Hey, let’s go to the kitchen and find some stuff for the ghosts to eat.”

Ghost Party

“Okay, since we want people ghosts and not dog ghosts, let’s get food that people like,” Ursula suggested. “Do we want ghosts our own age, or, like, ghosts from long ago? Cause Lawrence was founded in 1854, so maybe if we can get an old-time ghost, they can tell us what really happened back then.”

“I think we can just bring whatever we want,” Pepper said. “I think the old-time ghosts would be interested in trying new things and they’ll want to come and talk to us if we’re nice to them.”

“Well, I’ve got a pack of gum in my room,” Ursula said. “So, we can offer them that.”

“Let’s get a bowl of ice cream,” Pepper suggested. “Everyone likes ice cream.”

“Okay, and some licorice. My grandma sent me this old-fashioned licorice from Central City, Colorado. I think it’s really good. Lulu Landon said it was old people candy. I said fine, more for me, then. Lulu is stupid.”

“How about a handful of nuts?” Pepper suggested. “Everyone likes nuts.”

“Especially squirrels,” Ursula giggled.

“Yeah, except you have to feed them the ones without salt. Let’s get some Rice Krispies too.”

“Okay, and I’m also going to put a cigarette out for the ghosts. Old-time ghosts probably like to smoke. Oh, and bring one of your birthday cupcakes too, so the ghosts can celebrate with us!”

As Pepper and Ursula were bringing their bounty back to Ursula’s room, they were startled by the appearance of a shadowy figure in the hallway. Both girls shrieked, nearly dropping the food.

“What are you chicks screaming about?” a rangy teenage boy with shaggy dark red hair demanded in a sleepy voice. “Can’t a guy take a piss without people yelling at him? Do you want Mom and Dad to come down here?”

“Charlie, you scared the hell out of us!” Ursula hissed.

“Yeah, sorry about that. What the hell are you girls doing, making some kind of really gross soup?”

Charlie sounded either stoned or drunk. Pepper felt bad for the young man that she’d come to regard as an older and wiser friend.

“Well, if you must know, we’re going to have a séance, and we’re bringing some food for the ghosts,” Ursula revealed.

“Cool. Can I join you?”

“Okay, but you have to bring something to offer to the spirits,” Ursula declared.

“Well, they’re going to need something to drink, right? I’ll grab a beer.”

The Séance

The three teenagers gathered in Ursula’s dimly lit bedroom. Charlie informed the girls that in order to give the ritual a professional touch, they should have an altar for the offerings and play some music.

“Check this out,” Charlie said. “Greg had his cousin in Tokyo make this for me. It’s a tape of some of his favorite Japanese bands. I think maybe the ghosts would like it.”

Pepper felt a lump in her throat as she listened to the haunting instrumentals and vocals of a group called Hachimitsu Pie. She wondered if Charlie was secretly hoping to summon his dead friend and feared that she wouldn’t be up to the task. She had no control over her dreams or the spirits that might try to communicate via the Ouija board.

Charlie was about to light a cigarette but put it down and excused himself from the room. He returned with an incense burner and some cones.

“I think the ghosts might like this,” he said. “Anyways, I need my hands free so I can put my fingers on the little talking table.”

“I think it’s called a plantet,” Ursula said.

“Whatever. It looks like a table. Oh, wait, we ought to have some candles.”

Charlie returned with candles and his cross necklace.

“I totally don’t believe in vampires or anything, but I’m not taking any chances,” he smirked.

Charlie lit the candles. He set the silver cross on the altar. He opened a beer and took a sip, passing the beer to Ursula, who passed it to Pepper. When Pepper passed the beer back to Charlie, he raised it in a toast.

“Okay, Ghosts, come party with us!” he invited.

The teens put their fingers on the planchette and closed their eyes. After a minute, the planchette began to move.

Scholastica

“Oh my gosh, one of you guys needs to write this down so we can remember it,” Pepper suggested.

“I’ll do it so we don’t have to struggle to read Charlie’s chicken scratch,” Ursula said. “Tell me what the ghost is saying!”

The planchette moved, then paused.

“Well, what does it say, Urs?” Charlie asked as Ursula interpreted the letters.

“Scholastica Achterberg? What kind of a name is that?” Ursula inquired. “Is that a person’s name or a town or something?”

“Sounds like a building,” Charlie speculated.

“Yeah, like a school in a town called Achterberg,” Pepper suggested.

“Ghost, when did you die?” Ursula asked.

“21,” came the reply.

“How did you die?” Charlie asked.

“Egg.”

“You were killed by an egg?”

“Ill.”

“She probably died from food poisoning,” Ursula realized.

“Poison,” the spirit confirmed.

“What year?” Pepper asked.

“56.”

“Where?”

“Wicha.”

“Okay, so I’m guessing 1956, ‘cause there really was no Wichita before 1860,” Ursula surmised.

“Yeah, but Urs, there were Wichita Indians,” Charlie interjected. “I don’t think anyone born after 1900 would be named Scholastica. People named their kids stuff like Patience and Charity back then, so I guess Scholastica isn’t too much of a stretch. Do you think it would be rude if I asked her about another ghost?”

“Ask,” the planchette revealed.

“Okay, here goes. This is a long shot, but it’s worth a try. My friend Greg drowned ten days ago. He was a Japanese guy, my age. Is there any chance that you’ve met him?”

Revelation

A series of words followed.

Rope, bound, edge, over, in, under.

Pepper trembled and her eyes filled with tears. Ursula touched her friend’s shoulder.

“Tell Charlie about your dream, Pep,” she encouraged.

“I don’t have any proof. I don’t want him to hate me.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking the same thing, Pep,” Charlie said softly. He dried his eyes and lit a cigarette. “Greg’s father was a vicious bastard. He was extremely hung up on family honor and being a real man and all that kind of shit. See, Greg had every reason to kill himself, but I don’t think he did. He told me that he was going to move to England and be the Japanese Ziggy Stardust. I said, ‘not without me yer not, ya coont,’ in my worst British accent, and he laughed his ass off. Greg did not end his own fucking life. Greg’s father hated him for being gay and he killed him for it. So, what was your dream?”

Pepper recounted her dream.

“We can’t go to the cops with that, though,” she said. “They’ll just think I’m a crazy kid with too much imagination.”

“Yeah, but I can tell them how Greg told me about the beatings his father gave him. Maybe that will at least make them look at the fucker as a suspect. I bet Greg’s mother knows, or at least suspects. Maybe if the cops lean on her, she’ll give his dad up.”

Pepper still had her fingers on the planchette, which moved to spell out the word “marks.”

“Yeah, that’s fucking ace!” Charlie declared. “I’ll tell the cops to look for marks on Greg’s body. There’s probably rope marks on his wrists or something. I am out to get justice for Greg and I’m not going to quit until I do. His violent bastard father should be behind bars. Thank you so much, Scholastica. I’ve got to admit, I was totally skeptical when we started this, but now I believe, and I am going to act on this information. Greg is being blamed for killing himself, but he’s innocent. I am not going to keep quiet. I’m going to the cops with my suspicions, and if they try to write me off because I’m young, I will fucking yell until they listen. The evil will not go unpunished.”

Charlie took a sip of beer. The planchette began to move again.

“Fuck yeah,” the message read.

Tears ran down Charlie’s face.

“Scholastica, I get the feeling this ain’t you, Sister,” he laughed. “You’re a nice lady from a hundred and twenty some years ago, I don’t picture you cussing like an old miner. Greg, Man, I miss you so fucking much. Everybody at the record store misses you. We are going to get justice for you, Brother. You are innocent, and your father is gonna get proven guilty!”

Crusade for Justice

The planchette moved again.

“Thank you, Charlie, my ever friend. Thank you Pepper to hear me. Love. Goodbye.”

Another message followed.

“Thank you, glad to know. Be care. Goodbye.”

Charlie took a final drag on the cigarette and snuffed it out. He finished the beer in two gulps. A mixture of excitement over the events that had just transpired combined with his grief over his friend caused crying jags interspersed with manic laughter.

“Fucking Greg, he came through to me, he came through to us, and he knows we’re gonna be fucking true and make the truth known!” Charlie declared. “Fucking hell, Pepper, you have got a goddamn gift, don’t you dare let that shit go to waste! Now, when I say this shit, it’s gonna sound crazy, but I’ve been reading stuff that Greg turned me on to about reincarnation and I think you really are my little sister from another life. I’ve got my two little sisters, only you were born into a different family. But that’s okay, ‘cause now we’re all together again, and we are going to get fucking justice for our brother Greg! You chicks with me?”

“Justice for Greg,” Ursula declared, putting her hand atop Charlie’s outstretched hand.

“Justice for Greg,” Pepper proclaimed, putting her hand atop Ursula’s.

As the cold wind blew dry leaves down the street, the spirit of a modern Japanese teen boy stood beside a young woman in a long dress with a full skirt outside the house where the three determined youth resolved to solve their friend’s murder. The ghosts turned to each other and smiled, squeezing one another’s hands in solidarity.

Acknowledgements

This story was inspired in part by Neil Young’s song “Down by the River.”