The House on Cemetery Road
Alice Edgley was receiving letters. Unexplainable letters. Alice wasn't sure where they were coming from. She never had to retrieve them from the mail box, and they never appeared in the same place. Alice would find letters in her school bag, her wardrobe, or on her desk. She'd even find letters in the refrigerator and the microwave. She was the only one in her family who would come across these mysterious letters. Her parents never said a word about them; Alice was sure they didn't even know she was getting them.
The letters weren't bad, they weren't threats or hate letters, they were encouraging. They would push her to succeed, or give her comfort when she was troubled. The sender had to be someone in Alice's everyday life, but the name signed at the bottom of all the letters couldn't possibly be the real sender. It had to be some sort of cover, or maybe a joke, because there was no way Alice was receiving letters from her dead sister, Stephanie Edgley.
Alice was only three years old when her nineteen-year-old sister died in a freak car accident. Her sister's body had been smashed between two large vehicles. Her frame was so damaged that there was nothing left but bloodied limbs to bury
Alice was now twelve years old, she was too smart to be fooled into thinking her sister was the true sender. It went against all she had ever learned in school; when something died, it could not return. Yet a small part of Alice wanted to believe that the sender was indeed her big sister from beyond the grave.
She had so many questions for her older sister. Her parents didn't like to talk about Stephanie, and Alice could never figure out why.
One day Alice trudged into her room, and slammed her door behind her. It had been a long day and her parents weren't home, so she had no one to confide in. She sat at her desk, folded her trembling arms, and buried her head. This was normally the time she'd stumble upon a letter, telling her it will be okay or that she will learn from the experience. But she didn't see one, she never had to search, they just appeared when she needed one.
She really needed a letter today. School had always been a battle ground for her, and things have only gotten worse. The girls her age found all sorts of reasons to poke and prod at her already failing self image. She didn't know how much longer she could take their shots and jabs, and she didn't feel strong enough to fight back. She didn't even have friends to stand by her side. She was so lonely.
Suddenly Alice heard the sound of scratching against her desk. She sat up and looked around. Nothing. The scratching continued. She moved the clutter around on her desk, looking for what could be making the noise. Then she smelled something burning and the scratching got louder. That's when she saw it, at the end of her desk a journal lay open and words appeared onto the page.
She stumbled to her feet and watched as the words etched themselves into the piece of paper. Alice didn't know what to do; she'd never seen one of the letters being written before. Soon it stopped and Alice approached the journal timidly. She read the new letter.
Dear Alice Edgley,
Their words don't define you. You are more precious and more powerful than they, or even you, will ever know. You may not see it, but what you have is worth more than all the currency in the world. Don't let them hurt you.
Alice blinked and rubbed her eyes. This had never happed in the past. She flipped the journal around, looking it over. "Who are you?" Alice asked. Instantly the scratching sound and the burning smell returned, and more writing appeared on the page.
Stephanie Edgley.
Alice squeaked and dropped the journal, she didn't expect an answer. She stared at the journal on the floor, she wondered if she should call the police, her parents, or an exorcist. The scratching and burning came again and when they stopped Alice hesitated to see what was written.
Do you need a friend?
Alice gulped. She definitely needed to call an exorcist. She debated whether or not to respond to the letter, it never wanted an answer before. However, friends seemed to be what Alice was lacking and she could sure use one. The letters had given her a sense of having a companion, but the letters were never this creepy. She sat on the floor and scooted over to the demonic journal. She traced a finger over the smoky words, finding that they were carefully burned into the page. Burned. That explained the smell.
She seized the journal with a vise grip and held it out at arms length. She took a deep breath, she was going to answer Stephanie Edgley's question.
"Yes," she barked, and watched in amazement as words appeared once again.
Go to the house on the top of the hill of Cemetery Road.
Cemetery Road? Alice was sure she had heard of that path before, she just couldn't remember were.
"Should I go now?" Alice asked the journal.
Yes, I'll guide you.
Alice was about to ask how, but she could feel a breeze steering her toward her bedroom door. There were no windows open, and the airflow didn't affect anything else in the room, this had to be her sister's spirit, her ghost.
She ripped the slighted page free from the journal and left the journal behind. The air lead Alice through the hall, down the stairs, and out the door. Soon she was walking swiftly along the pavement.
There is a man I want you to meet. He was my partner and mentor. He can answer all the questions you have about me.
Alice nodded at the page. The wind around her picked up and the leaves whirled. It gave her a direction to hike toward. Alice was on her first adventure.
Within minutes the breeze subsided, trusting Alice to keep to the given path. And she did. Every step she took she felt like she was closer to learning more about her sister. What was she like? What did she wear? What kind of person was her sister? But then there was another person she had questions about, her sisters mentor. Was he tall or short? Old or young? Was he Wise? Were they lovers?
She mused as she walked, and she walked for quite some time. Then she saw it, she saw the sign. It read Cemetery Road. She looked down the way. There were two competing funeral homes half way down the path. One across from the other. The road curved slightly and traveled up a modest hill covered in trees. At the top of said hill stood a tiny home, watching over the two funeral homes. Despite the road's name there was no cemetery in sight.
Alice started down Cemetery Road, and the closer she got the more nervous she felt. What if everything she though her sister was -kind, responsible, witty, and honest- was all wrong? Maybe that was why her parent's never talked about her, her sister may have been an absolute train wreck.
She grew closer to the home's rotting, crooked picket fence. The yard held a car in prime condition; Alice guessed the car was from the fifties. The car was obviously well kept, so it must have been worth a lot to someone. She walked through the gate and approached the porch steps. She hesitated, wondering if she was ready to know who, or what her sister really was. She heard scratching and smelled burning. She looked at the page.
Be brave.
Alice nodded again, and climbed the steps. She gulped, and raised her fist. She rapped on the door three times. She waited, but there was no answer. She went to rap on the door again, but then the door opened to reveal a tall man. A tall, thin man dressed in a pinstriped suit, a wide brimmed fedora sat crooked on his head, big, dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and a scarf covered the lower half of his face. None of his skin could be seen.
Neither of them said a word to the other. Alice stared, and the man stared back, motionless. His statue façade was broken when he cocked his head.
Take off his scarf.
Alice obeyed. With trembling hands she reached up to his face. He didn't even flinch. She pulled the scarf away from his head. She gasped as she saw his face… or lack there of. All the man had was a skull for a head.
Alice's legs felt week, she thought she might faint or get sick.
That's when the skeleton man grabbed her wrist and guided her into his house. She was so petrified that she couldn't even protest.
He closed the door and faced her. His jaw moved up and down, "You were never supposed to find me."
Alice covered her mouth, shaking her head as tears started forming.
"Ah, now! Don't cry," the skeleton tried to comfort the girl, but then realized he was only scaring her. He backed away, "See, I'm harmless."
"What happen to your face?" She shouted, only taking a hand away from her own to point at him.
"It's a really long story," the skeleton said, his voice like velvet. "Would you like to sit down? You are looking a bit ill." He held out a boney, gloved hand.
"D-don't touch me!"
"I'm not touching you."
She backed away from the skeleton man until she hit a wall. That's when the hiccupping sobs broke free. She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Her gaze never left his eye sockets. She didn't want him to see her wet face, but she didn't want to take her eyes away from him. She had no idea what he could do to her.
He retracted his hand, and, he too, backed away. He slid down the door and sat like she did, except less blubbering and more staring. He sat perfectly still and it appeared he could stay that way for hours. He didn't give the impression of being as intimidating when he was on the floor like that. In fact, he looked rather sad. Well, as sad as a skeleton was capable of looking.
Alice sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "I-I don't understand!"
"That makes two of us."
"Please!" she sobbed, "Please tell me I'm dreaming."
"I'm sorry, Alice," the skeleton cocked his head, "but this isn't a dream."
"How do you know my name?" Alice asked, taken aback more than she already was.
"I've known you since you were very small, Alice," the skeleton nodded.
"Did you know my sister?" She pressed, her voice squeaking. "Stephanie Edgley?"
"Yes, I knew your sister," the skeleton man answered solemnly.
Alice didn't know what else to say, in fact, she'd rather get up and run home than stay any longer. Her eyes started to burn, and she didn't know what to do. She whipped out the sheet of paper that she had been using to communicate with her sister. She held it out to the skeleton and buried her face in her huddled knees.
He stood up slowly and approached her. She didn't peer back up until she felt him touch the paper with the tips of his gloved, boney fingers. He wistfully pulled it out of her hands. He looked it over. It was hard for Alice to read him, he didn't have a face to interoperate emotion. But he seemed frustrated when he scoffed and slumped over after examining the paper.
"I suppose you want to know about your late sister," the skeleton man deducted, "Her story is long as well, but not as near as long as mine." He held out his hand once again. "Come, let us talk. I'll make you some tea."
