Who They Are

Who They Are

The house sits atop a barren hill at the end of a cul de sac called Kepner Court. For trick-or-treaters, it’s the Halloween highlight. Every year, Kepner Court goes all out, the houses in fierce competition with one another for the most lurid, creepy décor. The seductive pull of eerie lights, gore, vampires, and realistic graveyards draws kids into the block until they are squeezed into the cul de sac like unwitting sardines. Their last stop is a creaky metal gate that says No Trespassing. Every year, a neighbor ignores the sign and hauls floodlights up the gravel drive along with a tangle of extension cords to illuminate the gabled, abandoned house. Children take turns peering through the gate wondering what it’s like inside, pretending to feel the evil that emanates from its forbidden doors. Then they get bored and move on to houses that provide the usual expectation of the night—candy. 

No one lives in that house on the hill. In my memory, no one ever has. 

We’re not usually here on Halloween. We visit my parents every October, but Fall Break is late this year. Jake and Lizzy are ecstatic about trick-or-treating in my hometown, a place with a creep-factor to rival Sleepy Hollow. 

Trick-or-treating, I’d rather not. But Connor, my husband, has no intention of missing the fourth game of the World Series. And my parents live to welcome the hordes of costumed children who grace their doorstep. That leaves me in charge of the kids. Jake and Lizzy are 10 and 12 now. They beg me to let them venture out alone. Mom’s eyes judge me, questioning my overparenting. She tells me the neighborhood is safe, the streetlamps bright, the families wholesome, just like when I was a kid. 

On his second beer, Connor says from the TV room, “Just let them, Annalise. 

“Please, please, please, Mom!” Jake and Lizzy plead.

Hell no.

Begrudgingly, they allow me to follow them—Jake as a zombie and Lizzy as Taylor Swift—at a distance. 

Giggling, running, tripping over curbs, dropping feathers, wings, and sequins in their wake, kids fill the night. Their adults, in woolen caps with hands stuffed into coat pockets, trudge along, snapping photos for Instagram, fending off thoughts of future dental bills.  My mind is burdened with something Mom said to me as she tugged on my jacket before I left the house.

“Annalise, you should stop in and see Paisley.” 

Her eyes are judging me again. I’ve not seen Paisley in over a decade. 

“She always says to tell you hi when I run into her at the market. You know where her house is? Right next to—”

“I know where Paisley lives, Mom.”

My kids waste no time plundering each house for their stash. In a rush to leave no faux gravestone unturned, they’re highly efficient. Done with the bougie, cookie cutter houses, Jake and Lizzy head straight for Kepner Court, the oldest street in the neighborhood. 

The folks of Kepner Court put on a show nothing short of phenomenal. Witches in flight, skeletons draped over balconies, ghoulish corpses poking up from the ground surrounded by manufactured fog and ghostly lighting. For me, it’s a reminder of why I left this town—its glorification of this weird, unsettling holiday. Perhaps I could find a way to feel light-hearted about the occasion if it hadn’t been for that one Halloween, the one that changed everything.

It was senior year of high school. That was always the night the football team, cheerleaders, and drill team held a Halloween Carnival. Those weren’t my people, so I didn’t usually go. But Paisley was staying at my house while her parents were in Europe. We’d been elementary school friends but had drifted apart as kids do. She probably wasn’t thrilled to be spending a week with me either. I endured the carnival because Mom insisted I go. Paisley wore her Falconettes uniform and spent the evening selling raffle tickets with her drill team crew while I lurked in the back of the gym. 

The carnival ended at 11 pm, but I didn’t feel like going home. It wasn’t the Halloween I’d envisioned.  

“I’m going to Julian’s,” I told her. “Wanna come?”

Her mascara caked eyes were bright. “What? That stoner guy?”

I stifled a laugh as I drove through the empty neighborhood streets. All the trick-or-treaters were now tucked safely inside cozy homes. 

I figured Paisley would want to be dropped off at my house, but she surprised me.

“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

Midway down Kepner Court, Julian and the others sat outside on his front lawn, their breath visible under the porch lights.

I popped out of the car. “Aren’t you guys freezing?”

Julian stood up. “Just waiting on you.”

“Guys, do you know Paisley?” I asked.

She wore a puffy white coat over her Falconette uniform which made her look like a marshmallow with a skirt. 

“Your costume is great,” Ed said. “Isn’t that what those bitches wear at pep rallies?”

“Not a costume, Ed,” I said. “We were at the fundraiser at school.”

“Oh, because the athletic department needs more money,” hissed Jess.

“You’d be surprised how small the budget really is,” Paisley said. “We have to raise funds to travel for play-off season.” 

“Right,” Julian said. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Paisley asked.

Julian pointed up. To the house on the hill. 

“Not that place,” she said. “Are you kidding?”

“We’ve been up there lots of times,” I said. “It’s fine.”

“On Halloween night?”

I shared a smirk with Julian. “No, but that only makes it more fun.”

 He looped his arm through mine. “But we can’t get through the gate so we’re going through the woods.”

Ed and Jess traipsed through the only vacant lot on the street with Paisley, Julian, and me behind. Before we plunged into the darkness of thick pines, Paisley looked back at the car like she was ready to bail. I’d already endured her crowd, so I felt no sympathy. She pointed to Jess ahead of us.

“Is that a guy or a girl?” 

“Was a girl,” Julian said. “Now a guy.”

“Oh.”

Julian and Ed lit our way with flashlights as we followed the well-used woodland path that bordered Kepner Court. Paisley almost tripped a couple of times over tree roots. I silently tsk-tsked her white Falconette sneakers. 

We ducked under an opening in a barbed-wire fence. I kept waiting for Paisley to back out, to decide this was too weird for her. But maybe she had plans to tell a good story on Monday morning at the lockers. How she hung out with the dweeby druggies and survived.

Fighting an uphill of tangled brambles and stabbing bushes, we eventually emerged into an open yard where the night sky was suddenly visible, and the house loomed over us in a garish way. 

At the rear of the house, Julian wrestled with a rusty doorknob till it gave in.

“Grab some wood,” he told Ed and Jess. “It’ll be cold in here.”

Stacked haphazardly a few feet from the house was an old wood pile. They grabbed a few logs while Paisley and I stepped inside. Our disturbance of the musty air unleashed scents of old sneakers, dampness, and unbathed crones. We stuck close to Julian who led us through the stark kitchen where appliances had long since been removed and mouse droppings littered the yellow tiled countertops. We stopped in the living room with its cathedral ceiling and large stone fireplace. 

“Wow!” Paisley exclaimed. “This must have been beautiful way back when.”

“Hold this.” Julian handed me the flashlight while he used the fire poker to scoot burnt wood and ashes behind the grate. He tucked his hand underneath to check the flue was open. “All good.”

The other two tossed in logs, and Ed struck three long matches. The wood was dry enough to catch quickly. With no furniture except a cobwebbed rocker in the corner, Jess found a nubby old blanket and threw it over the worn wood floor. Paisley thought twice about sitting on the blanket, but finally joined the rest of us.

“So, this is where you guys go for fun?” Her voice exposed a hint of sarcasm.

As the fire began to crackle, Julian wasted no time pulling out his Ziploc bag of weed. He rolled two joints then handed one to Ed and one to me. He held out the lighter as we inhaled. Settling back, I waited for the initial buzz. Next to me, Paisley hugged her knees and watched the morphing shadows of the fire.

I offered her the joint.

“Mm, no.”

Julian sneered. The pulsing firelight made his expression a little sinister. “Fine, just don’t be a narco.”

She was annoyed. “I wouldn’t.”

Jess leaned into Ed’s shoulder. “We’ll let you abstain. But there’s a price to pay. How about you do us a cheer.”

“I’m not a cheerleader. I’m a Falconette. We dance, we don’t do cheers.”

“Oh yeah, the drill team,” Julian said. “You know. They let the football players drill them whenever they need to slough off some aggression.”

Paisley folded her arms. “That’s rude, Julian.”

He laughed. “Sorry, little bird of prey. Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

The others kept smoking and staring at Paisley like she was some sort of ancient museum relic. Ed pulled a flask from his coat pocket and handed it to her. Her eyes were skeptical.

“It’s whiskey,” he said.

She unscrewed the top. “I know what you’re all thinking. That I’m just some goody-goody who takes AP classes and never imbibes in anything contraband.” She took a deep swig and wiped her mouth. “Well, here we are in a haunted house, and I bet you didn’t know that I can do spells.”

The sassy turn of her voice was almost cartoonish.

Jess elbowed Ed. “Oh wow, she’s a witch.”

Ed looked at his watch. “And it’s the witching hour.”

Julian eyed me. He seemed pleased with my offering of entertainment for the night. 

Paisley sat cross-legged, her bare legs showing and sneakers caked in dust. “You think I’m kidding. I can conjure a spirit.”

“Do it then!” Jess said. “Come out, come out wherever you are, ghosties!”

Paisley raised her eyebrows. “Don’t insult the spirits. Especially not on Halloween.”

Suddenly, I didn’t like where this night was heading. I stood up. “Let’s not. Paisley, you and I should get home. School tomorrow and everything.” 

But Paisley didn’t move. “No, Annalise. Your friends want what they came for.”

Julian shrugged. Let her. 

In front of us, the fire popped and flickered. Before, when we’d come to the house to smoke dope, we’d never heard so much as a squeaking floorboard. The house didn’t seem haunted. Just deserted. 

Paisley closed her eyes and held her palms open on top of her knees like a yogi. For a few moments, she breathed in and out slowly. The others watched her, exchanging amused glances. I figured Paisley would say something stupid and benign like kids do at a slumber party with a Ouija board. But what came out of her mouth shocked me.

At first, she emitted a garbled sound as a tiny bit of spittle dripped from her lips onto her chin. Then she started speaking in a low, measured tone a strange nonsensical language with sharp consonants. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. I scooted toward Julian. 

“She’s just messing with us,” he whispered. 

But she kept it up. With her eyes still closed, mysterious words and spit flew from her mouth. It was eerie and spooky and frankly, gross. Her face contorted and I was starting to wonder if she was possessed. If she was acting, she was quite good. 

Ed and Jess had lost the humor in their faces and were looking alarmed. At the same time, I noticed the fire. It was accelerating as if a gust of wind had animated the logs. Flames began to shoot out of the hearth towards us. A big spark landed on Julian’s sleeve.

“Watch out!” I screamed.

The flames were growing and jumping now, up toward the mantle and the old dusty chandelier. We all stood up except Paisley who was still in her strange trance. Before I knew what was happening, the mantle was alight and the old drapes hanging from the tall windows were smoking.

“Get off the blanket!” Julian hollered. “Let’s use it to douse the fire.”

We all jumped up except for Paisley. I tried to shove her, to pull her, to scream into her ear, but she was like a boulder, dead weight that wouldn’t budge. It was inexplicable. I kept batting flying sparks from my pants and coat. 

“Make her stop, Annalise!” Julian shouted.

“I can’t! I don’t know what’s happening!”

The room was hotter than we could stand and the beams on the cathedral ceiling were now burning. All of us grabbed the blanket and tried to pull it out of the room with Paisley on it, but it almost seemed nailed to the floor. She kept her pose with eyes closed, mouth moving, unaware of the chaos around us. By now, we were all coughing from the smoke. We needed air. I tried the windows, but they were sealed shut. 

“I’m getting out of here!” Ed said with Jess right on his tail. 

Julian tried to pull me toward the kitchen and the back door exit.

“I can’t leave her. Help me!” I begged.

“If she won’t come, let her alone! That ceiling’s gonna cave in, Annalise! We can’t stay! Do you want to die?”

I couldn’t breathe. I knew he was right but why wouldn’t Paisley snap out of it?

A beam partially cratered, hanging precariously over our heads.

Julian forced me out of the room through the smoky kitchen and outside into the fresh night air. We coughed and choked for a moment as flames danced on the rooftop lighting up the night. Sirens sounded in the distance.

“We can’t stay, Annalise!” Julian said. “We’ll get caught and charged with arson.”

Jess and Ed had already vacated the premises. Julian dragged me away but as I looked back one last time, I knew there was no way Paisley could still be alive in that blazing house.

At Julian’s, we quickly split up. Firetrucks passed my car as I drove steadily home. I snuck into my house, got into bed, and shivered under the covers. What in the hell! What was I going to do? Poor Paisley!

All night, I racked my brain. I figured out what I would say. Paisley went home with some other kids after the carnival, Mom. She never showed up. Her bed wasn’t slept in. Something must have happened. A car accident? A wild party at someone’s house?

In my traumatized state, I didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep. 

But then I woke. It was not quite dawn. Voices in the kitchen. My mind jumped to conclusions. The police? The fire department? Come to tell us Paisley was dead. But something else. Laughing.

Before I left the room, I glanced at the other twin bed. In the faint light, the covers were rumpled and the pillow smushed to one side. Like someone slept there.

I tiptoed into the den and peeked into the kitchen. Mom was pouring a cup of coffee and…Paisley. She was there! At the breakfast table with a bowl of cereal.

Mom was still stirring cream into her coffee when I approached the table and stared at Paisley. She wasn’t burned or singed or even possessed. She was just Paisley in her pastel flannel jammies eating breakfast.

She looked up and smiled at me. Mom turned around. 

I found my voice. “What were you laughing about?” 

“Oh sorry, were we being loud?” Paisley cupped her hand over her mouth. “I was just telling your mom about last year when the football team played a game in Salem on Halloween. Some of us drill team girls snuck out of the hotel room and went to a witches’ coven meet-up in the woods. It was so weird! But, I mean, what else do you do in Salem on Halloween? Learn some spells, right?”

It wasn’t till we were in the car on our way to school when Paisley spoke up.

“What do you think your mother would have said if I ‘d told her you guys LEFT ME?” 

A tense chill parked itself under my jugular vein. 

“I WALKED all the way to your house. In the dark. By myself!” 

In a snap moment, I turned the car around and headed for Kepner Court. 

“School’s the other way,” Paisley said. “Are you picking up that jerk Julian?” 

I half expected to see fire trucks in the cul de sac still cleaning up the fire, but it was quiet. I craned my neck to look through the windshield. The house on the hill was untouched. No evidence of fire. 

During lunch, the guys and I couldn’t keep our eyes off Paisley and her Falconettes at their usual table. Her parents came home from their trip that afternoon. 

She and I never spoke again. 

Now, here I am, in Kepner Court’s cul de sac with Jake and Lizzy straining to get a look at that same stubborn house on the hill. 

Through the grapevine, I heard Paisley bought the house next door when it came on the market. She’s a realtor now. And a medium, apparently. 

Behind me, two women jostle the crowd to give their kids access to the view. One voice is familiar. I pull down my cap and turn away.

“One time I went up there on Halloween with some potheads,” the woman tells her friend.  “I gave them a thrill they’ll never forget. Sometimes you just have to show people who they are.”