Amelia

“So, the legend goes that Amelia Turner was the hottest chick in town, right?” Andrew started. He kept one hand on the wheel, his other arm casually draped over the back of the bench seat as he turned his attention to everyone in the cab. His features were muted with the blackness of the country roads on a dark night. The headlights from his old truck illuminated only a small patch of road as the truck idled along in the ruts. No need to steer towards the location of this legend. We weren’t the first to go looking for Amelia. “No joke, it was proven she had tits the size of watermelons and an ass tha–” 

Allie’s arm shot out from the passenger seat, smacking Andrew square in the chest. “That’s not part of the legend! You have to tell it the right way.” 

“That’s the way I heard it!” Mock indignation played across Andrew’s face as he rubbed the impact point of Allie’s hand. 

“Andrew should keep going with this version,” announced Noah next to me in the back seat. “I think I forgot some of the details on it.”

“Shut up, Noah.” Allie waved a dismissive hand in his direction. “But what about that whole thing about offending a ghost? I mean, is she a ghost? Didn’t she just disappear? What if she’s still alive!” Allie clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a squeal.

“Allie, this happened a hundred years ago. I’m pretty sure the sheriff arrested Amelia and she died in jail,” I reasoned from the back seat, trying to calm her down. Though, none of this venture was about being logical and level headed. 

“But what if that part of the story is wrong, Vivian?! What if she’s still out there!” The contrast of Allie’s excited high pitched voice and the silence that followed changed the atmosphere of the truck cab.

“The legend has to be told correctly.” Ryan’s statement left no room for arguments. The crunch of gravel beneath the tires was fading, the truck swaying slightly as the ruts grew undulatory from decades of neglect. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, the storyteller among us.

“Amelia was regarded as the most beautiful girl in town. Every man desired to have her as a wife, but as the daughter of one of the town’s founding families, her father would have the final say on who she would marry.” We all stayed silent, respectful of the story that had been told hundreds of times by children on the school yard playground, told to us by our teachers in junior high during the Halloween party, whispered at campouts and sleepovers when the lights went out.

“Roy Masterman, a wealthy businessman who came from old money, set out to win Amelia’s heart. It was love at first sight. He was as handsome as she was beautiful and it only made sense for the two to wed. It was a short engagement, followed by the wedding of the century – at least, in this small town. It seemed like happily ever after for Amelia and Roy.” Ryan paused, per tradition of the legend. It was the chance to end the story right here, ignore the rest that gives you nightmares as a child and drives stupid teenagers – like us – to go in search of what is left in the wake of tragedy.

“In the next few years, Amelia and Roy welcomed first a son, then soon after, a daughter. Roy thrived in his new role as a father. He seemed to have the perfect life, the perfect family. The only exception was Amelia. It started with the small things first.

“She stopped hosting parties at their home. Everyone could understand that motherhood was taking its toll on the young girl. Next, she was absent from her husband’s side at social gatherings. ‘My dear Amelia suffers from exhaustion,’ he would say with a furrowed brow and sadness in his eyes. She would always be present for church on Sundays, but eventually that came to an end as well. Roy made excuses for her, garnering sympathy from the town, as he and his children sat in the front pew with a noticeable gap where Amelia should be sitting.

“The town still wondered what was happening with Amelia, though no one was so bold as to ask Roy. Then one night, Amelia is seen crying and running barefoot through the streets. She runs straight to Jesse Alden’s front door, banging and screaming to be let in. He opens the door and pulls her close to him, shutting the door behind them as quickly as he can.

“Jesse was not a well liked man. Most people were scared of him, saying the devil had a hold on him. He had been seen walking out of the forest at dawn many times over. Some versions say he was naked and covered in human blood on some of those mornings.”

“You know, just because someone has blood on them it doesn’t make it–” Noah started.

“Shut up, Noah!” Allie barked at him as I quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. Noah shrugged and slouched back, bored with the story the rest of us couldn’t leave alone.

“As I was saying,” Ryan looked directly at Noah, who held his hands in surrender as he looked to Andrew for confirmation that the rest of us were certifiable. Andrew was only staring straight ahead now, looking for the turn off our road that scarcely could be considered a road at this point.

“Even though half a dozen people witnessed Amelia go into Jesse’s home, no one dared speak a word of it. Amelia had gone from beloved socialite to a mysterious recluse.

“What no one else knew though, was that Jesse and Amelia had been seeing each other for years. Amelia had chosen to confide in Jesse early on, since he was outside the town’s influence. Amelia told Jesse that Roy was abusive, beating her and even the children at times. Her life was not the one she imagined for herself. She was a prisoner in a gilded cage.

“Some weeks later, Roy and his children were absent from the Sunday morning service. While it was odd, no one thought to be alarmed. However the following day, there was still no sign of Roy. The county sheriff, a close friend of Roy’s, decided to go visit him at his home that evening.”

A long pause in the story as we collectively held our breath. Even Noah sat quietly as we all looked at each other.

“What lay before the sheriff when he opened the door caused him to stop dead in his tracks. On the floor knelt Amelia, wearing a white dress, covered in blood from head to toe. Beyond her, the living room furniture had been pushed out of the way for Roy – or what was left of him. In front of a still smoldering hearth, his naked body lay in the center of a pentacle drawn in his own blood, his limbs and head aligning with the points. He had been stabbed fifty-seven times with a kitchen knife.

“‘You’re late, Sheriff,’ were Amelia’s last known words as she held out her hands to be taken away. The sheriff placed handcuffs on Amelia. Noticing the silence of the house, he begged of her, ‘Where are your children?’

“She only looked at him with icy blue eyes and a smug smile on her lips. The sheriff began frantically searching through the house. It took very little time to find the next body – Jesse Alden – throat slit,  laying in Amelia and Roy’s bed. It was almost dark by the time the sheriff had located Amelia and Roy’s children. They were tucked beneath the old oak tree behind the house, two small lifeless bodies bound and wrapped in their own bed sheets. 

“Some say, the sheriff carried out justice at that very moment. He shot Amelia and no one questioned why, seeing the horrific nature of her crimes. Others say that he brought her back to the town jail, locked her up for the night. But when he returned the next morning she was gone. No one can say for certain what happened to Amelia, but over the years many people have claimed to see her ghost walking through these woods, searching for another victim.”

Noah clapped his hands loudly, causing most of us to jump at the sudden sound. “Okay, so how much of this legend do we assume is even true?”

Allie turned around, kneeling on the seat to face Noah. “Why don’t you think it’s true? It’s been told this way since forever! How could someone make up something so awful?!” Allie’s hands flew about as she talked.

“I don’t buy it.” Noah shrugged. “Seems like this shit is just made up to scare people like you, Allie.” Allie made a move as if to cuff Noah upside the head, but he easily dodged her halfhearted attempt.

“The point isn’t about if it’s all true,” I countered to Noah. “A legend starts off with some bit of truth, and sure, it evolves into something different with each retelling. I think the point of this one is there was something incredibly evil in the story. Amelia wasn’t a good person.”

“Don’t you remember what Mark said about when he came out here last summer?” Andrew asked Noah.

“Aw, you can’t really believe Mark? He’s full of shit. He also spent most of last summer drunk.” Noah argued.

Andrew shrugged, half a smile playing on his face as he looked at Allie. He wasn’t going to admit how little he believed in the legend while she was around.

“I see the house up ahead.” Ryan pointed over Andrew’s shoulder. We all moved to get a better glimpse of the dark silhouette. The trees seemed to close in around us as we pulled into the forgotten drive. A house that was long ago undoubtedly grand had succumbed to the effects of abandonment. The porch roof dangerously sagging at one end, the broken support beams jutting out at harsh angles. Windows were forgotten memories, not a bit of glass to be seen anywhere, leaving gaping holes like unhealed wounds. The front door hung on the bottom hinge, twisted and warped to where the door lay down on its side. Leaves blanketed the roof and porch, entombing the somber structure as if to bury its secrets.

Andrew put the truck in park. We all peered out the windows, each of us silently steeling our nerves to set foot in this menacing place. Noah was unsurprisingly the first to jump out of the truck, flinging the door wide open on protesting hinges, nervous energy making his movements more exaggerated than normal.

“Oh, Amelia!” Noah bellowed, hands cupped around his mouth. “Come out, come out wherever you are!” He stopped a little ways in front of the truck, still in the safety of the headlights’ glow.

“If the dead weren’t awake already…” Ryan muttered as he stepped out of the truck.

I slid out after him, the chilly fall air giving me goosebumps immediately. “Noah, do you have a death wish?!” I hissed at him, crossing my arms in a vain effort to hold onto some of the lingering warmth from the truck.

“Nah, it’s all just fun and games, right?” Noah’s easy smile fell short of being genuine as he sauntered back towards us. 

Andrew shut the truck off, everything becoming an indistinct shadow in the absence of the headlights. He and Allie stepped out of the truck, each armed with a large camping flashlight.

“Ready?” Andrew asked. Allie passed her flashlight to Noah then grabbed Andrew’s arm in a deathgrip.

“Ready,” I said at the same time Ryan said, “Let’s go.”

Andrew took the lead as the rest of us followed. Noah’s flashlight beam shifted erratically from one edge of the tree line to the other, startling unknown creatures, rustling leaves and snapping twigs signaling their escape. The eerie quiet in this dark forgotten place stole our voices as we crept towards the decrepit dwelling.

A shadow swooped overhead, eliciting a shrill ear piercing shriek from Allie, making all of us jump. Noah’s light searched the trees, illuminating glowing eyes and a flurry of feathers as the owl flew away.

“Sorry,” Allie whispered, holding her hand over her mouth, afraid to break the silence again.

We continued forward silently, up weathered steps that groaned beneath our feet, carefully avoiding the broken boards fearful of what lay beneath them. Andrew was the first to go beyond the threshold, towing Allie closely behind him.

I hesitated, wanting to turn and run, the foreboding doorway promising misfortune. Ryan stepped inside next, oblivious to the fear that gripped me on a porch belonging to a murderess. My heart hammered against my ribcage. How many times had we been warned not to go looking for Amelia? That nothing but a grave awaited those who sought her out?

“Viv,” Noah whispered close to my ear, “ghosts aren’t real.” He winked at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside the house. I clung to his words even though I knew he was dead wrong.

The entryway was barren, save for the scattered leaves and dirt, but the lack of noise was suffocating to me. An imposing fireplace stared at us from the farthest corner of the room. Noah strode over to it, stopping directly in front of the blackened stones, shining his flashlight on the floor as he searched.

“Well, whoever cleaned up the blood did a top notch job.” Noah’s sarcasm made me cringe, his voice echoing slightly in the vacant house. Don’t mock the dead, was all I could think. “Do we just wait for something to happen?” he asked us.

“We should go look around,” Allie tentatively decided.

“Upstairs first? Work our way from top to bottom?” Andrew suggested, waggling his eyebrows at Allie obnoxiously. She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile.

“No, that’s a good idea,” Ryan said, taking the lead towards the staircase. “Jesse’s part in the legend is interesting because he’s thought to be an influence in Amelia’s...” They all stopped, looking at me and then Noah.

“You guys coming?” Andrew asked.

Before I could say anything, Noah jumped in. “Nah, no point. You guys aren’t going to find anything anyway.” He was the picture of nonchalance in that moment, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, casually observing the few remaining pieces of lives long gone.

Andrew shrugged with indifference, simply replying, “Suit yourself.” The trio continued up the stairs, Ryan’s speculations on Jesse Alden rapidly fading.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know… I mean…” Even without speaking my thoughts, I knew my face said everything I couldn’t.

“It’s okay, Viv.” Noah smiled, understanding. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the floor as he chose his words carefully. “I’ve heard the stories about this place.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Yeah, I just can’t ev–”

Noah’s head snapped up. “Did you hear that?” His eyes were huge, staring at me, then looking past me to the room beyond. The icy chill of fear raced down my spine as I whirled around. I didn’t see or hear anything. Neither of us breathed. I dared a look at him and barely shook my head, then I did hear it. Thumping  and scratching, not from above us, but beneath us.

“Come on,” he announced, racing to grab the flashlight and running towards the sound.

I ran after him. “Noah, no! Please! Please don’t leave me.” It seemed childish to be terrified, but again, logic left the moment we decided to come here.

“Just come with me,” he pleaded. “I promise, Viv, you’ll be fine. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His hand grasped mine and I held onto it as if it was the only thing keeping me alive.

There was a door in the next room over – presumably the kitchen – which was ever so slightly ajar. Noah carefully opened the door, shining the flashlight into an old cellar. Dust motes floated through the air with the sudden disturbance. We slowly began to descend the rickety stairs, the powerful flashlight beam revealing nothing more than a packed dirt floor and cobwebs enshrouding ancient support beams.

“See anything?” Noah barely breathed the words as we reached the bottom.

“No.” I kept looking around us, paranoia taking over whatever sense I had left. A sudden frigid gust of air raised the hair on my arms, my free hand reaching out towards Noah in a panic.

“Fuck, Viv! That hurt!” Noah pushed me away, the beam of the flashlight going wild momentarily.

“What the fuck did I do?!” My voice was a high pitched squeal, my pounding heart all that I could hear.

Noah lifted his shirt, exposing several sets of scratch marks along his torso, blood welling up from the torn skin. “What the fuck?!”

There was a flash of light, the sharp metallic sound of a bulb bursting – our only source of light failing us. In that last moment before the darkness smothered us, I saw Noah’s expression of pure terror, and behind him, a figure with murderous icy blue eyes.

Amelia had found us.