Authors: Sara V. Zook
My eyes scanned the menu for a few moments, but it was as if I couldn’t truly concentrate. Should I
say something to the waitress about the Banesberry name? She didn’t look that friendly to me. I reread
the same words that I had just looked over in the menu, trying to focus once again. I just wanted a
sandwich. Where was the sandwich section?
“Here you go.” The waitress set down my drink.
That was fast
, I thought.
“Have you decided?”
I frowned, my eyes finally finding the right section I was looking for. “I’ll take the turkey club.”
“With fries?”
I nodded.
“Coming right up.”
“Oh, hey,” I said, wondering how the words were going to sound coming out of my mouth.
The waitress turned her head to look at me again, a curious expression on her face.
“I was wondering if you knew anything about anybody named Banesberry in town?”
“Waynesberry?”
“Banesberry,” I corrected her, saying it more slowly and more pronounced this time.
She put her finger to her lips as if thinking for a moment. “No, sorry. I actually have only lived here
for a few months though.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks,” I mumbled through my obvious disappointment.
“My boss said that the Banesberrys have a place at the end of Birch Street. Just keep going straight
on this road,” she instructed me, pointing out of the window. “Pass the courthouse in the middle of
town, and then you should run right into Birch. Turn right and he says it’s the last place.”
“Thanks,” I said to her, a little more cheerfully. I stared down at my plate of food and quickly
reached for the ketchup bottle to dump all over my fries. I sat there and thought while I ate. What was
I going to say exactly when I knocked on the front door of their house?
Hi, nice to meet you. I’m
looking for someone to tell me how Lucas Banesberry died.
It sounded rude, even though he had
been gone for a long time now. I decided maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to overanalyze and think
about what I was going to say exactly. I should just see what happens and wing it. Dwelling on it only
made the nerves in my stomach increase, making it difficult to eat, even though I felt almost sick from
hunger. I tried to pay attention to the words coming out of the speakers on the wall of the diner. I was
getting better at distracting myself when need be.
I threw money on the table to cover my bill and the tip and put my coat on. I felt better on a full
stomach, a little less agitated. I got back in my car and headed back down the road, destination Birch
Street.
I had to turn around once as I missed the road. It had crept up on me too quickly, and I hadn’t turned
on my GPS for it. When I got on Birch, it was a short road with only a few houses. The fourth house
was the final one, right where the road turned into a dead end. It sat right next to the road, a faded
green color that looked abandoned. I parked the car and stood in front of the house. Brown dead
weeds that had grown above my head were waving fiercely in the winter breeze as they carried
themselves halfway up the beams that held up the porch roof. I climbed a few steps up to the porch.
The wood underneath me creaked in agony as if it had been a long time since someone had put weight
onto the beam. I stepped back and looked up at the second story windows. Nobody had lived here in
years, maybe even decades.
I felt that freaked out feeling, very much like the one I had had inside Lainey Tritt’s starting to
overwhelm me again. This place felt like a gigantic tomb just waiting for me to go inside before
crashing down and burying me underneath its heavy, rotted roof. I ran my hand along the peeling paint
of the banister attached to the steps. A few flakes of paint flew into the air as I released them. I
sighed.
I had to go in. I knew it felt wrong and everything within me screamed not to, but I couldn’t just
stand here hesitating all day. Maybe there would be clues inside, who knew, but I had driven all this
way and would find
something
out even if it meant going in alone.
I ran back to my car and grabbed the flashlight. The house looked dark and gloomy. Dust filled my
lungs as I stirred it just by opening the front door and taking one step in. I fought back the sudden urge
to sneeze. I turned on the flashlight as thick drapes covered all the windows. Cobwebs hovered all
over the ceiling like nets bending down toward my head, the spiders waiting for their prey. There was
a set of steps directly off the front door and beside those steps, an old piano, the white keys now dirty
and covered in dust. There were a few pictures sitting on top of the piano. I walked over and shined
the light on the picture frames. The first picture had a young couple in it, a woman dressed all in white
holding up a daisy and the man in a Navy uniform, his arm around her waist. It looked like it might be
a wedding photo. Another one just as large sat beside that one. It had the same young couple in it
along with a little girl who sported blonde curls and a little boy about the same height with dark
brown hair and a large grin. A smaller photo was on the other end of the piano. It was a headshot of
the little blonde girl smiling, one of her front teeth missing as it looked like she might be in second or
third grade. I picked up this one and attempted to blow the dust off. I studied the little girl’s face. She
was beautiful. I put it back and rounded the corner to a living area. There were two red velvet
couches in there and an overstuffed green chair. There was a small coffee table with some magazines
sitting on top of it. Someone had moved out of here in a hurry and hadn’t bothered to take much of
anything with them. There was a large mirror on one of the walls in this room, and it made my heart
flutter as I kept staring up at it, half expecting someone to be there in the mirror, staring back at me.
A small book sat under the coffee table on a shelf. I sat down on the edge of the dusty sofa and
picked up the book. I blew the dust off of it, and this time I did sneeze. I opened the front cover. It was
a photo album. There were tons of pictures of the little girl and boy together, the same ones that
belonged to the photo on the piano. They were smiling, swimming and some pictures showed them
riding in the back of an old truck down the road, the kids smiling from ear to ear at whoever was
taking the picture as they drove off. I picked up one of the pictures out of the book and turned it over.
There was writing on the back. It said:
Lucas and Cassie, 1955.
They looked like partners in crime,
brother and sister perhaps, very happy being with one another.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I screamed, startled, the photo album sliding off my lap and crashing onto the floor. I looked up at
the face of a young girl who was a little on the heavy side, her light brown hair pulled back into a
messy ponytail, her hands on her hips as if she were pleasantly irritated to find me here like this.
I jumped to my feet and stared at her, my heart pounding in my chest. “You scared me.”
She didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there with an annoyed look on her face.
“Are you a ghost?”
“Yes,” she said quickly.
I frowned. “Well, I don’t believe in ghosts.” I thought about my last comment. No, not ghosts, just
other worlds and beautiful men with supernatural powers and witches who can convince respectful
townspeople that they need to chant around a bonfire in the middle of the night. I almost laughed, but
instead I walked over to the child and I poked her shoulder with my finger. “It looks like you’re just
as human as I am.”
She glared at me, upset I had revealed her secret so quickly.
“Who are you?” she asked in a demanding tone.
“I’m Anna. And you are?”
She remained silent again, pressing her lips together as if forcing herself not to speak.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “Don’t ghosts have names, too?” I raised my eyebrows.
She was not amused with my games. She let out a huffy sigh. “Lucy.”
I held out my hand to shake hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Lucy.”
She cautiously reached out and shook my hand, her eyes never leaving my face.
She smiled. “I’m the groundskeeper.”
“Huh,” I mumbled. “Of this house?”
She nodded her head proudly.
“Surely you don’t live here. I bet it gets awfully cold at night.”
“Can I ask you another question, Lucy?”
She turned around to face me and nodded.
“Does the name Lucas Banesberry mean anything to you?”
She put her finger to her chin as if in deep concentration for a moment. Then she looked up. “No.”
“So your last name isn’t Banesberry?”
She shook her head this time.
“Lucy, wait!”
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to look at me.
“My car is over there. Let’s just take that.”
“But it’s right through this path,” she argued.
I shut my mouth and followed her again. There was a narrow path in the woods behind the
abandoned Banesberry house. It wasn’t long before we came to another clearing where another house
was. It was more kept up, a stream of smoke lifting into the sky from a thin chimney sitting on top of
the roof.
Lucy nodded and sprinted toward the front door. I hesitated for a minute before starting to jog
myself. Lucy had already gone inside once I reached the front door. She reappeared with a middleaged woman who was also heavyset, her hair pulled back into a bun piled loosely on the top of her
head. She looked exactly like an older version of Lucy.
“This is who you wanted to show me?” the lady asked.
Lucy nodded her head in excitement.
“Hi. I’m Anna James.”
“We’re not interested in buying anything today,” the lady snapped.
I smiled awkwardly. “I’m not a solicitor.”
“Then what do you want?”
I bit my lip for a moment. “I came to find out about Lucas Banesberry.”
“Lucas?”
“Did you know him?”
“Don’t be impolite, Lucy. Take the lady’s coat.”
Lucy held out her arms as I handed it over to her.
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
The woman turned and went into another room. I followed her. It was a small living room but
neatly kept. There was another lady in there who seemed pretty old who looked like she was sleeping
as her head bent backwards leaning against the back of her wheelchair.
“Take a seat,” she instructed me.
I sat down on the couch, my eyes fixated on the elderly woman’s face.
I nodded as if I understood. Lucy came over and sat right beside me, her curious eyes burning into
my face. I tried to force a smile at her. At least I wasn’t freaked out by this house or these people. It
was a nice change.
She nodded. “That’s Pearl Banesberry.” She motioned toward the lady sleeping in the wheelchair,
soft snores escaping her throat. “Her and her husband used to live in a big house just through those
woods outside. They owned this house too, and used to rent this place out, but they decided to move
back in here after the incident happened.”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Her husband’s been dead now for almost ten
years, and now just me and Lucy take care of her. Poor thing. She belongs in a nursing home. I just
don’t have the heart to leave her.”
Lucy jumped up from her position on the couch and walked over to be beside her great-aunt. She
stroked her wrinkled cheek lovingly.
“Anyway, the incident was the day their little girl went missing.”
“Cassie,” she said. That had been the name on the back of the photo. It must’ve been the little
blonde-haired girl with the curls. “She was their only child. One day she came home with another
child, Lucas. He had been hanging around the old store the Banesberrys used to own in town. They
had caught him sleeping there. He was a runaway orphan. Anyway, Cassie took to the boy right away.
My uncle had shooed him away from the store a couple times, but Cassie just kept bringing him right
back. Finally she brought him to their house and said that she always wanted a brother. Lucas stayed
with them then, ate dinner, had his own room and everything. They even went to the courthouse and
got the adoption of him in writing so he’d be a true Banesberry. They were happy for a long time.
Then one day, Lucas and Cassie decided to follow the train tracks to the lake.”