The Radley Place

TRIGGER WARNING: injury detail, arson, suicide, murder.

‘The sign’s down at the Radley place.’ Lucy picked up the spoon the waitress had brought and dug into her tropical sundae.

‘Really? Is that why your aura is so muddy? Disappointed?’ Helen followed suit, attacking her banana split in its creamy middle.

‘I’d do anything for my parents to buy that place. But that For Sale sign is down. The timing couldn’t be worse. They were going to put in an offer tomorrow, the price has finally dropped low enough. We could have moved out of The Dump once and for all and into my dream house. Nice orange and blue tinges by the way, the creative type, they clash with your red ribbon though.’

‘I did a few sketches this morning that turned out pretty well.’ Helen fiddled with her ribbon, she wore it every day and wasn’t going to take it out because of a temporary aura clash. ‘It’s a good job your parents missed out. I keep telling you that house probably is haunted. I’m sure I’ve seen movement in the windows and one day last week the front door was open. No car in the driveway, can’t have been a viewing.’

The waitress came back.

‘Everything ok for you ladies?’

‘Great thanks. Yes.’

‘Might be better if her aura was a little less the wrong shade of red.’ Lucy whispered as the waitress walked away. Both girls giggled.

At least the waitress’ aura wasn’t the vivid lime green of the couple on the table to their left. Surely, if there was that much tension in a relationship it would be better to have ice cream at home rather than let the whole neighbourhood see.

‘Do you think anyone’s moved in yet?’ asked Helen.

‘Nah, no indication of life. Just the sign gone. Let’s go over there tonight, one last look before it’s occupied.’

The sun hung low in the sky as the girls’ bikes skidded over the tiny bridge on the outskirts of town. Helen carefully leaned hers up against a slanted fence post opposite the house while Lucy carelessly slung hers on to the verge.

‘The door’s open. Creepy.’ Helen’s voice wavered.

‘Yeah, but no cars, can’t be anyone around. Your aura is very pale pink, feeling a bit lost?’

‘I am actually, I’m not sure this is the best idea. Yours is a pretty dangerous white, I thought we’d just hang about outside, but you’re thinking of going in aren’t you?’

‘Well, we’ve come this far, I’m not biking all the way back again without getting a good look around. Let’s at least check out the garden.’ Lucy grabbed Helen’s hand and pulled her towards the high wrought iron gate, two fierce stone lions guarding the posts. ‘I bet it’s not even locked.’

Lucy lifted the latch and the right hand side creaked open.

‘Well, if anyone is here they’ve heard us now.’ Said Helen.

‘So we might as well hang around.’ Lucy tightened her grip on Helen’s hand and took a confident stride onto the drive.

The gravel crunched underfoot but the wind howling through the oaks along the driveway was loud enough to drown it out. As the sky greyed over the two girls crept towards the enormous house. The doorway and windows were in darkness.

A few feet away, Lucy dragging Helen along by the arm, they stopped still in the shadows as a mysterious figure appeared in the doorway. The light was low and there was no illumination from inside the house, but it looked like a man, dressed in black. The girls were sure he would see their tell-tale auras, but he seemed to look past them, not noticing the glow. He stood still for a few moments then withdrew into the hallway pulling the tall, arched door closed behind him.

‘Did you see that? No aura. That man had no aura.’ Lucy tugged at Helen’s arm.

‘Maybe it’s just dim. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough excitement for one night.’

The girls ran back to their bikes, not stopping to shut the gate, jumped on them and pedalled back over the bridge.

After school the following day Lucy walked Helen home.

‘Let’s go back there and watch for him, but from a distance. I want to see his aura, I want to know who stole my dream house out from under me.’

‘He was creepy, just like that house. I’m not sure I need to know who he is, I’m not sure he even had an aura.’

‘Oh, come with me. It’ll be an adventure.’

‘Is that ambition I’m seeing or anger?’

‘I’m not angry, but I really do want to go tonight, to the house.’

‘OK, I’ll come, I’m intrigued, and it’s kind of exciting. But you do all the talking if we get caught and remember this was all your idea.’

‘I get it, your muddy green is loud and clear, conflicting emotions on this one.’

They decided to go in day light this time in the hope of getting a clearer look. This meant leaving their bikes a few yards on the other side of the bridge and walking up to the house, hearts pounding, palms too sweaty to hold hands. The garden had a high stone wall that they couldn’t see over without jumping, so the iron gate was the only place they could observe from.

Lucy stuck her head out from behind the wall and took a glance between the stone lions. The door was closed, the lion head knocker daring her to approach. She signalled her friend to join her and Helen’s head appeared at the gate too.

Lucy clanged the bolt and the gates creaked open.

‘Shhhh!’

‘I can’t do it any quieter. Just keep to the edge of the drive.’

They hugged the treeline, low to the ground and close together. Their dark clothes would have helped if Lucy hadn’t felt so independent, so good about breaking the rules. Her aura glowed magenta against the night and they felt more than a little conspicuous, but pressed on anyway.

Lucy drew level with the corner of the house and peered in through the large ground floor window. There was the mysterious man who must have bought the house. He was facing the wall to the right, crouched down, lighting the fire. 

‘There he is! No aura!’

Helen sneaked up beside Lucy and glared into the room. Sure enough the man had no glow of any colour, just a dull body, in black clothes. He was tall with neat brown hair. As they watched he turned his head towards the window and they both ducked down out of sight. 

‘What’s he doing?’ asked Helen.

‘Lighting a fire in an empty room. Not even a chair to sit on. Let’s check out the next window.’

They shuffled along the ground to the next window and peered into that room as well. It was empty too and coated in dust. They checked all around the ground floor of the house and were met at each window by empty, dirty rooms, no furniture except for the kitchen which had old style fixtures and fittings but nothing more. After every room had been inspected from the relative safety of the garden, they circled back to where they had started.

‘Let’s take another look at him.’ Lucy said, keeping low under the window. ‘He’s probably still in there.’

‘He might see us.’

‘Then get ready to run!’

Helen tried to keep Lucy out of sight by pulling on her arm, but she yanked herself free and bobbed her head up above the window ledge. There was the man, dressed all in black, sitting crossed legged in the centre of the room, directly facing Lucy’s window.

Lucy inhaled sharply.

‘What is it?’

‘He’s facing this way but I don’t think he can see me. Come and look.’

Helen popped her head up, fiddling with her red ribbon. The man did not react. It seemed he hadn’t noticed them. His eyes were closed. His mouth was moving. He had thin red lips and a bushy moustache, but his defining feature, that made both girls gasp, was a deep, red wound running across his throat, all the way across, dripping with blood that soaked into his black, woollen jumper. 

Their eyes searched the rest of the figure for clues. Gripped in his right hand, resting on his knee, was a long, bloody, kitchen knife.

‘He’s cut himself! What’s he saying?’

‘He really has. Looks like he’s chanting something.’

‘Should we call an ambulance? Or at least knock on the door?’ asked Helen.

‘Shhhh! Look!’ Lucy pointed at the fireplace.

The flames were growing higher, licking out into the room, not just up the chimney. Between the red and orange fronds of fire were jet black ribbons of smoke, but they didn’t dissipate. They held their shape, curling and winding around the room like snakes in the air. There were two, then three, then four of them.

Each of the ribbons of smoke slowly transformed, their shapes shifting, subtly at first but as the girls watched they morphed into thin, elongated bodies, each with its own unique face. They carried tortured expressions, mouths wide, eyes narrow. They weren’t people. They were ghosts.

‘What if they see us? Let’s go.’ Helen, nodded towards the gate.

‘I want to know who this guy is. This man with no aura, summoning ghosts.’

‘Well we’re not going to find out by hanging around here. Not unless you plan to ask him?’

‘You’re turning grey! You don’t trust me!’

‘I don’t trust this bleeding, auraless man and his ghosts. I certainly don’t like that knife in his hand. Let’s go!’

Lucy finally caved and the two girls crept back between the trees to the gate, then ran to their bikes.

‘I want to know who he is. And whos’ ghosts they are. Maybe you’re right and that house IS haunted. Perhaps the low price is deserved after all.’

‘Let’s look up who really died there, let’s go to the library.’

They left their bikes in racks outside the Finch Library on Scout street and tried as hard as they could to feel confident walking up to the enquiry desk.

‘You girls look like you’ve had a scare judging by those colours around you! Is everything alright?’ asked the librarian.

‘Fine thanks, just worried we won't get our homework done in time.’ Helen said.

‘It’s a local history project.’ Said Lucy. ‘We want to know the story of the Radley House.’

‘Well, it’s easy enough to help you with that.’ She clicked away on her keyboard for a few moments. ‘There are lots of newspaper articles and even a short book about it. It probably makes grizzly reading though, I seem to remember several deaths in that place, are you sure you want to use it as your topic?’

‘Yes, it sounds really interesting, and no one else will choose it so we’ll get extra marks.’

‘Fair enough, come with me.’

Half an hour later Helen and Lucy were set up at a microform reader with several rolls of newspaper film and a small book on the history of the Radley family.

‘It says here that the only surviving member of the family after the devastating house fire ten years ago was Jean, Arthur’s wife. She used most of the family fortune to repair the house and get it ready for sale before she moved to Maycomb by herself to get away from the memories. It took two years to finish the work.’ Helen put the book down.

‘There were four ghosts. How many people died in the fire?’

‘Five.’

‘Where was the last one? Maybe we didn’t wait long enough to see it?’

‘I’m not going back there. That man had a knife. I still think we should have called an ambulance.’

‘I don’t know, he looked a bit pale, but he didn’t seem to be struggling with his chanting or whatever he was doing. I’m sure he was capable of getting help if he wanted it. Besides, we were trespassing, we could hardly tell anyone how we came to see him.’

‘What’s today’s date?’

‘19^th of June.’

‘I thought so, that’s so spooky. It’s the anniversary of the fire. Ten years ago today.’

‘That is spooky.’ Lucy shuddered, her aura getting darker and darker.

‘I knew you were as scared as me. It’s freaky stuff going on, I don’t like it.’

‘Look at this!’ Lucy pointed at the screen of the microform reader as a new page of the Herald clicked into view.

‘No way!’

It was a photograph of a man with thin lips and a bushy moustache, with the headline: 5 Die in Tragic Fire at Radley House.

‘That’s him! The man in the house. He's the fifth ghost!’

‘Arthur Radley, 42, set light to the living room sofa while the family were asleep in bed following his birthday party on the evening of June 19^th. He then cut his own throat with a kitchen knife…’ Lucy’s voice trailed off.

‘Let me see that.’ Helen shuffled her chair up close to the screen. ‘… killing himself while his children burned. His wife, Jean Radley, 39, was the only survivor…’

‘That house is not selling because of the ghosts, and that man hasn’t bought it, he’s one of them, he’s Arthur Radley. But what’s he doing back?’

‘He was calling the ghosts somehow, gathering them, maybe he’s going to lead them away so that Jean can sell the house and get her money back after all.’

‘Yeah, no ghosts means no discount.’

They biked back to the house and were soon pressing their noses up against the living room window. Arthur was still sitting on the floor and the four smoke-ribbon spirits were whirling around him, but now he had a large glass jar in front of him and in his hand was the lid. He was chanting and waving his hands over the open jar.

As they watched, the smoky, ethereal, beings drew closer and closer to him, passing over the open neck of the jar and then moving away again. Arthur’s voice got louder and louder and eventually they could just make out the words.

‘It’s time to stop. It’s time to leave. It’s time to let your mother grieve.’

‘That is creepy. Looks like he’s trying to trap the ghosts.’

‘Yeah, he’ll take them away and the price will go back up.’

‘Is that all you’re bothered about? Honestly with an aura that green I can see just how jealous you are over the new owner.’

‘I don’t think there is a new owner. I think it’s just Arthur coming back to take the children away. Maybe he took the sign down himself.’

‘It’s time to stop. It’s time to leave. It’s time to let your mother grieve.’

His voice was even louder and the ghost ribbons were getting closer and closer to him. Then, with a flourish of his arms, Arthur guided the four ghosts into the jar and secured the lid. The four childlike faces could be seen pressed against the glass, vying for a way out, but trapped fast.

Arthur stood and walked to the door. Lucy and Helen ducked around the corner of the house and watched as Arthur emerged onto the driveway carrying the jar in both hands. His feet made no noise on the gravel.

The two girls fought to keep their breathing shallow and dared not move a muscle for fear of being caught by the ghost, but he walked past them as if they were not there. He continued down the driveway toward the gate they had left open, but he didn’t seem to notice that either. With every stride Arthur took he became less and less substantial, seeming to grow thinner and hazier as he got further from the house. By the time he reached the gate he was no longer touching the ground, his feet and lower legs had become like a mist and his torso hovered above the driveway. As he passed between the lions he simply disappeared.

‘That was weird!’

‘Yes, and it means my parents need to get their offer accepted ASAP.’

‘Is that really your only reaction to this situation?’

Lucy’s parents did put an offer in on the house the very next day, but it was rejected.

‘How can it be rejected? It’s the asking price.’ Lucy’s Dad swigged his coffee. ‘Not anymore? Well what’s the current price?’ he rapped his fingertips on the breakfast table. ‘How much?!’

‘Dad, Dad, ask them for another viewing. This weekend.’

Lucy, and her parents, and brother Sam, arrived at Radley House at 10am on Saturday. The Estate Agent, a man named Brian, with a distinctly beige aura, pulled up seconds behind them.

‘I don’t know why we’re doing this Mr Ewell, the price has gone back up due to an unexpected change of er, situation, and we both know you can’t afford the place now.’

‘Just one last look before we make a final decision.’ Mr Ewell winked at his daughter.

Brian unlocked the front door of Radley House and ushered the family into the hallway.

‘Where should we start?’

‘How about the kitchen?’ asked Lucy.

‘If you say so young lady.’

Brian led the way into the generous kitchen, pointing out the period features and giving his well-practised spiel. Then he stopped dead. Silent and still in the centre of the room. The family approached him, following his gaze to the Rayburn. Standing next to it was a teenaged girl with no aura, just a red ribbon in her hair, and a deep slit across the full width of her throat, looking through them all as if they were not really there.

‘I suppose there may be some wiggle room on the price after all?’ asked Mr Ewell.