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lb_leeHouse of Resilient Children, Chapter 1: Dani (Saturday)
Series: House of Resilient Children
Word Count: 3600
Summary: "There's nought so miraculous as the resilience of children." Premise post here.
Notes: the Patreon poll winner for this month! This is a horror story, so bad things happen! Content warnings (and stupid architectural trivia) in the comments below.
“—And when the anti-Rapture comes, the people will realize!”
Dani tried to keep her face blank and show no emotion, focusing on the torsion wrench in her left hand, the pick in her right, the lock in-between, all presents from her brother Chester and hidden from view in her sweater’s kangaroo pocket.
Chester was the one trying to calm things down. He was smiling, trying to be reassuring, but she could tell he was uncomfortable. Not as much as everyone else on the ferry, though.
“Pops, come on, it’s okay…”
But Papa Mike was on a roll. “You see, the false prophets have convinced you that angels steal away the blessed, but that’s a blasphemous lie! It is the fallen that take the flawed, leaving a sterile, empty world in their wake!”
Chester was looking increasingly miserable, but Dani had long since given up trying to act like a normie, so she got up and left the ferry cabin, even though it was pelting down snow outside. There, that’d give Chester an excuse to play the reasonable big brother and follow her out, which he did. They pulled up their hoods and Chester tucked his hands in his armpits.
“I don’t know why you act all disappointed,” she said. “It always goes this way.”
He sighed, sending up a cloud of steam. “Maybe this time’ll be different.”
Dani didn’t have the heart to tell him no, it wouldn’t. Chester wasn’t like her. He cared about making friends, even with normie kids.
“How’s the lock going?” He asked.
Dani shrugged, fingers clicking away. “Bet I’ll crack it before we hit St. Raphael’s Island.”
He smiled. “Yeah, probably.”
They watched the snow melt into the ferry’s wake. Though it had a cabin and sometimes shuffled tourists around in summer, at this time of year the ferry mostly held supplies for the little islands off the coast of Mountjoy, Maine: mail, toilet paper, whatever people needed. There was only one car aboard, a hybrid van with disabled plates and a funny door.
Chester saw her looking at it. “I think it’s a wheelchair van.”
Weird. None of the desperately-leaning-away normies in the ferry had had a wheelchair. Dani cocked her head, but before she could investigate, their father came out, looking shamefaced.
“I got going again,” he said.
“It’s okay, Pop,” Chester said.
“I just couldn’t help myself.”
“We know, Pop,” Dani said.
Papa Mike leaned against the rail, pulling out rolling papers and tobacco from his pocket. Despite the cold, he started putting together a cigarette. There was a tension around his eyes.
“I’m sorry you’re going here,” he said. “It was this or juvie.”
Dani winced. The last time she and Chester had gone “exploring” old buildings around town, someone had called the cops and she’d gotten caught on the fence trying to escape. The cops were still willing to write her off as a fourteen-year-old nuisance, but Chester was seventeen now and getting big. So this whole thing felt like her fault.
“A leadership camp?” she said. “I don’t see what difference it’s going to make.”
“Just play along as best you can,” Papa Mike said. “That’s what I did, when I got sent.”
“You’ve been?” Chester asked. “You never said.”
Papa Mike shook his head. “It’s from one of those years I don’t remember.” There were a handful of those. “You’ll see, none of it will matter in the end. Those exploring skills will serve you way better than any mindless obedience.” He licked the cigarette, closed it, and lit up. “And don’t change too much! You’re good kids. You do me proud.”
He patted Chester’s back and ruffled Dani’s frizzy curls. She smiled a little. Papa Mike had trouble sometimes, but he was kind, and he’d taught her and Chester independence: how to cook, to clean, to make, mend, and repair. He’d never said no to anything they were interested in. At least he knew this normie camp was nonsense.
St. Raphael’s Island loomed out of the mist. A building was just barely visible. Papa Mike’s brow furrowed deeper.
“Take care now,” he said. “Wish I could afford to come.”
The snow started coming down harder.
By the time they made it onto St. Raphael’s Island, the road had turned to mud. By the time they trudged up to the building (Dani was grateful for her good boots and light backpack), her hair was full of snow and on its way to freezing.
The building was solid stone, two stories high, with one wing off to either side, covered in frosted vines. Long lines of narrow windows peered at them like eyes.
“School?” she asked Chester. Buildings were his obsession.
“Hospital, I think,” he replied.
He looked like he wanted to hold back and wait for the rest of the kids, dragging behind with their luggage and their van, but Dani didn’t want to stay out in this weather. She yanked open the door, headed in, and as she slapped the snow off her clothes, she saw a fancy “Mountjoy Registry of Historic Places” plaque on the wall:
The St. Raphael House of Poxed Children, est. 1743
“There’s nought so miraculous as the resilience of children.”
“This is Gothic Revival style, from the 1800s,” Chester complained, stomping the snow off his boots. “They must’ve rebuilt.” He made it sound as though he’d been lied to.
The doors banged open and a sodden group of kids rushed in, herded by two women—wait, no, one woman and a taller, younger copy of her: a gawky black girl with glasses and braces who looked three bad days from a breakdown. There were four other kids, none of whom were listening to her; the rainbow-haired kid was arguing vociferously with a bored-looking boy in designer clothes, while a tiny boy egged them on with an obnoxious smile. (“Quote Nietzsche! Quote Nietzsche!”)
The final girl had wispy eyebrows, an ingratiating smile, and was approaching with an out-thrust hand. Dani didn’t shake it; Chester did.
“Hi! I’m Talia, Talia Hsu? Are you guys from another school?”
“We’re homeschooled,” Chester replied.
Dani couldn’t help herself. “Our pops teaches us,” she said.
Chester sent her a dirty look.
“Oh.” Talia looked uncomfortable, like this wasn’t in her script, but she went on doggedly, “we’re with the Honors Society, with Mountjoy High? Are you guys here for the leadership camp?”
“Yeah,” Dani said. “It was this or juvie.”
Talia wilted further. Chester tried to salvage the situation. “I’m Chester,” he said, nudging Dani with his elbow. “She’s my sister, Dani.” Be nice, his look said.
Dani grunted. Talia was suspiciously friendly, and she didn’t like it when girls went goo-goo over Chester.
It was just as well that the front door banged open again, this time admitting four adults, a dog, a bedraggled girl in a wheelchair, and a ton of medical-looking luggage, all covered in snow. Of the four adults, two looked to be the wheelchair girl’s parents. The mother was brushing snow off the girl, and the father was getting into it with the other two adults (a disreputable looking man and a brightly smiling woman), who looked to be staff. With the rest of the noise, Dani couldn’t make out what exactly they were arguing about, but it seemed to involve the dog; the innkeeper kept gesturing at it. The girl in the chair looked alarmed and kept opening her mouth as though to talk, but she didn’t need to; her mother was patting her arm and her father was getting loud and red in the face. Dani made out “service dog” and “legally obligated” and “not a pet” before the dog itself distracted her. It was a stocky mutt in a harness, supremely unbothered by the humans around it.
“It’s a service dog,” Chester said. “You can’t pet it.”
Dani turned pink. “I know that, goofus! I wasn’t going to.” Though she wanted to. Oh, she wanted to.
The wheelchair girl’s mother wrung her hands over the pile of luggage. “Oh, our things!”
The adult with the Honors Society (who seemed unimpressed with everyone) rolled her eyes, snapped her fingers, barked an order, and the tall girl rushed to help with the suitcases. Talia went to help out too, to Dani’s relief.
The brightly smiling woman (who seemed eager to get away from the wheelchair girl’s family) darted to the front of the crowd. “Welcome, welcome, everyone!” she declared, clapping her hands to get people’s attention. “Welcome to the St. Raphael House of Children!”
“Poxed resilient children,” Dani whispered, making Chester snort.
“We’re sorry about the storm, but it should clear up by morning.”
With perfect timing, the power went out. The boys in the Honors Society obligingly let out theatrical shrieks of faux terror, and Dani took the opportunity to grab Chester’s hand and yank him away down the hall. Whatever the smiling lady had planned (ice-breaker questions? historical speeches?), exploring a rambling old building with Chester would surely be way more fun.
“We’ll get in trouble,” Chester protested as the voices faded behind them.
“With that girl’s parents fussing and the power out? They won’t even notice we’re gone.”
The lights flickered, then came back on, though only half as bright. From the entrance hall, they heard, “who’d like to hear about our founder?”
Dani gave Chester a pleading look. Chester, who tried very hard to be nice to normies, said, “that could be interesting?”
“No way. Your speech would be way better. Please, Chester? Don’t make me sit through Mayflower Mountjoy stuff! Tell me about the building instead.”
Chester’s grades were worse than hers, but he couldn’t resist talking about anything with walls and a roof. He caved, and soon enough, they’d snuck up to the second floor eastern wing, where hopefully the fancy lady wouldn’t follow.
Downstairs had looked okay, but upstairs, leaks were everywhere. Buckets caught drips, and Chester, aghast, pontificated on poor building maintenance. Still, though, he admitted the neglected building was beautiful. Stained glass windows depicted doves, lambs, and the sun, though the storm and poor lighting made them dim and muddy. The seething snow meant there wasn’t much to see outside, but Dani made out some kind of yard and a strangely-shaped outbuilding. Chester told her it was a chapel—since the ferry only came on Saturdays, maybe the people needed their own church in the olden days.
Further down the hall, Chester pointed out an intriguing staircase, blocked with a velvet rope. The sign depicted a red X over a tumbling stick figure. The steps themselves were steep, narrow, and twisty—as close to a spiral as the square space allowed.
“The builder must’ve run out of space, but that’s not the part you’ll like. See this?” The staircase went straight up to the eaves, leaving an awkward little triangular door in the spare space. Chester would’ve had to stoop to fit in it. “Where do you think this goes?”
“Supply closet?” Dani guessed.
With a flourish, Chester opened the door. Inside was a toilet. No sink, no bath, just a toilet.
Dani started laughing.
Chester shut the door again with an air of satisfaction. “They added the indoor plumbing later,” he said.
…
The storm raged all night, sliding between thundering rain, sleet, and snow, and the power kept flicking in and out. The smiling innkeeper lady clearly knew they had snuck off, but the wheelchair girl’s parents kept her so busy that Dani and Chester got off without punishment or even a scolding. Their room was on the east wing first floor, far from the neck-break stairs, with a proper bathroom next door and the rooms for the Honors Society next door to that.
As Chester unlocked their door, the woman in charge of the schoolkids approached. Despite the weather, she remained elegantly dressed, her hair perfect, and she gave them an icy look that said clearly how little she thought of them.
“My name is Ms. Powers, and I’m a light sleeper,” she said in a steel voice. “I don’t want any nonsense.”
Chester and Dani exchanged looks. “No, ma’am,” Chester said.
She didn’t seem to believe him but turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
“Brr,” Chester said, opening their own door.
“No wonder they put her in charge of that group,” Dani said. “Who’d cross her?”
Their room was small, holding nothing but a little closet and twin beds against opposite walls, with a nightstand in-between. They each claimed a bed and Dani returned to fiddling with her lock, torsion wrench, and pick.
“They said the storm should be gone in the morning,” Chester said. He was staring up at the ceiling, maybe checking for leaks. “Tomorrow, we can maybe explore the chapel.”
“Do you think they’ll just let us in there?”
“Probably not.” And they exchanged grins in the dark. Dani didn’t know much about buildings, but when it came to doors and windows—
Click. She held up the lock, open, and tossed it to Chester. “Got it.”
“You’re getting better,” he said, examining it and tossing it back. “Soon I’ll have to start buying you the fancy ones.”
“What do you think that chapel’s like?” she asked. “Super creepy, right?”
“Maybe they’ll have crypts!”
“And dead people!”
With the cheering thought that maybe this place would have something worth exploring, she and Chester managed to chatter themselves to sleep.
Dani woke a few hours later to a crash of thunder. She desperately needed the bathroom.
Earlier that night, Dani had discovered that flushing the toilet next door sounded like Niagara Falls. She wanted to deal with Ms. Powers about as much as she wanted to wet her pants. Maybe she could hold it…?
Lightning streaked, highlighting the rain gushing down. The noise was inescapable. Dani squirmed, then threw back the blankets. No, no, forget it. She’d just have to risk getting Ms. Powers’s attention.
Then she remembered that ridiculous triangular door at the top of the stairs. The orphan toilet! Saved!
Chester was snoring away; he could sleep through anything. And she wouldn’t be gone long. She grabbed the key from the nightstand and slipped out.
She never would’ve admitted it, not under torture, but the house was pretty creepy when it was dark and empty. The power was out again; Dani wished she had her exploration head lamp. At least all the snow and lightning gave her a little light to see by, though she still almost used the neck-break stairs by mistake. Only the velvet rope against her body stopped her. Grumbling, she orbited around to find better stairs, finally making it to the bathroom under the eaves.
Only to find it locked.
Dani growled. She banged on the door. Someone inside squeaked.
“Hello?” Dani squirmed. “Can you hurry up?”
“Dani? Is that you?” The door opened a crack. It was Talia. “Is it gone?”
“Is what gone? Look, I really, really need to go—”
Talia grabbed Dani’s nightshirt. “You can’t leave me out there! Something’s out there!”
“Are you seriously scared of the dark?” But then lightning flashed, giving her a look at Talia’s round face, white with terror, and the words withered. Being mean to Talia felt like kicking a puppy. “You can’t watch me pee. That’s weird.” She squinted into the tiny room. “Is… is there any light in there?”
“No,” Talia said miserably. “But there’s nothing else either.”
Dani shifted from foot to foot. Whatever this was, it’d have to wait. “Look, I’ll leave the door open a crack, I’ll be right there, just please. I need to go.”
Emotions warred on Talia’s face, but apparently whatever had spooked her wasn’t as bad as the social discomfort of making Dani wet herself. Gulping, she let go of Dani and edged out, trying to look everywhere at once.
“Keep talking?” she asked as Dani went in. “So I know you’re okay?”
“Sure, fine, okay, yeah.” This would be the weirdest pee she’d ever taken.
Dani got into the orphan bathroom. It was tiny, a closet with a toilet, and never would’ve fit her bulk and Talia’s chub at the same time. When Dani mostly shut the door, the room plunged into total blackness, and she almost toppled into the toilet.
“Are you okay?” Talia bleated.
“Yeah, yeah, I just tripped.” She got situated. Feeling weird (what did you say to a normie while you peed?) she asked, “what were you even doing up here, anyway?”
“I needed the bathroom,” Talia said miserably, “and I didn’t want to wake Ms. Powers.”
“Me either. She seems pretty intense.”
“She’s just strict. Liz is nice, though—Ms. Powers is her mom.”
So Liz was the frazzled black girl. “You’re friends?”
“Sort of? My family only just moved here. They hoped the camp would help me make friends. And I already met you and Chester, so…”
“You remember both our names?” It came out meaner than she intended.
Pause. Then, in a sad little voice: “my dad always taught me to remember everyone’s name and three things about them. That way you always have something to talk about.”
Dani felt guilty. She fumbled for toilet paper and tried to think of three things. “Well, we’re no Honors Society. He likes buildings. We both like… uh, exploring them. We check out old abandoned stuff around town.”
“Really?” Talia sounded a little calmer. “That sounds neat—”
Then a weird flash of light showed through the crack in the door, too fuzzy to be lightning. Talia gasped, then whimpered.
“Dani…”
Dani yanked her underpants up and pushed on the door, but Talia was pressed to it, gibbering, “it’s back it’s back oh no…”
“Talia! Move!” She shoved hard and Talia got out of the way.
Outside was a raccoon-eyed child, glowing white. It looked only a couple years younger than Talia or Dani. Asides from the glowing, it looked pretty ordinary.
“It’s okay,” Dani said, as much to herself as to Talia, who was clinging to her arm. “It’s a—” ghost? “it’s okay…”
The ghost looked at them beseechingly. It opened its mouth, and a flood of blood and bile came out. A ghastly mess poured between its legs.
Talia screamed, but Dani just took off running. Something hit her chest; she mindlessly smashed past it, feeling a drag, then something giving way. The velvet rope…
Dani didn’t think. She didn’t plan. Years of exploring ruined, unstable buildings took over, and she took the stairs at a dead sprint, two, three at a time, swinging around the hairpin turns, down, down—stumbled—caught herself just barely—and crashed down to the ground floor on all fours. She turned. Had the ghost followed her?
No. But Talia had. And her reflexes weren’t as good…
Dani could do nothing but watch as Talia’s pale legs dashed down, tripped on the first turn, bounced off the wall, hit the banister—
—went over—
She went down headfirst. She hit the stone floor. Her neck bent. There was a horrible sound.
She stared at Dani, eyes wide and confused. The light behind them went out.
Dani crouched frozen. Her breathing wheezed in her chest. She realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out.
The ghost started coming down the stairs, clutching the banister like it had to be careful. It saw what had been Talia, down there on the floor, and clawed at its face.
Then Talia moved.
Dani started scuttling back on all fours. A whine came out of her throat.
The light in Talia’s eyes was still out, but her limbs jerked convulsively, getting carefully under her, like it required conscious thought. Her hands went to her head, her neck, patting, like she was trying to find out what’d gone wrong. There was a horrible click as she pulled things straight.
Talia smiled.
Then Dani was on her feet, sprinting for her room, gibbering, and she didn’t care who heard her because she needed Chester, who was boring and obsessed with buildings, and everyone knew that the horrors disappeared once you got someone boring. Chester would make things normal, have an explanation, make it all better—
She bounced off the door, found it locked, and clawed at it.
“Chester! Chester!” she screamed.
No answer. Of course he’d sleep through this!
Pawing through her pockets, frantically looking to see if the ghost was following her (it wasn’t, but Talia was, at a careful, staggering pace), Dani somehow found the key, got the door open, burst in, slammed it shut, and locked it again.
“Chester!”
Then she saw him. He hadn’t slept through it.
He was getting silently harangued by another ghost—this one older, his age—and he was cowering in a corner.
The fear in Dani ignited into anger. She shouted, “get out! Go away!” and threw the key at it.
The key went right through, of course, but seemed to nonplus the ghost. It looked up, startled, and Dani caught a glimpse of something around its neck before it faded out.
Dani and Chester stared at each other, wheezing, covered in sweat.
“There’s something wrong with this house,” he said.
“There’s something wrong in this house!” she whisper-shrieked.
They spent the rest of the night clinging to each other, gibbering and crying. Nobody, not Talia, not ghosts, not Ms. Powers or the Honors Society, bothered them.
Series: House of Resilient Children
Word Count: 3600
Summary: "There's nought so miraculous as the resilience of children." Premise post here.
Notes: the Patreon poll winner for this month! This is a horror story, so bad things happen! Content warnings (and stupid architectural trivia) in the comments below.
“—And when the anti-Rapture comes, the people will realize!”
Dani tried to keep her face blank and show no emotion, focusing on the torsion wrench in her left hand, the pick in her right, the lock in-between, all presents from her brother Chester and hidden from view in her sweater’s kangaroo pocket.
Chester was the one trying to calm things down. He was smiling, trying to be reassuring, but she could tell he was uncomfortable. Not as much as everyone else on the ferry, though.
“Pops, come on, it’s okay…”
But Papa Mike was on a roll. “You see, the false prophets have convinced you that angels steal away the blessed, but that’s a blasphemous lie! It is the fallen that take the flawed, leaving a sterile, empty world in their wake!”
Chester was looking increasingly miserable, but Dani had long since given up trying to act like a normie, so she got up and left the ferry cabin, even though it was pelting down snow outside. There, that’d give Chester an excuse to play the reasonable big brother and follow her out, which he did. They pulled up their hoods and Chester tucked his hands in his armpits.
“I don’t know why you act all disappointed,” she said. “It always goes this way.”
He sighed, sending up a cloud of steam. “Maybe this time’ll be different.”
Dani didn’t have the heart to tell him no, it wouldn’t. Chester wasn’t like her. He cared about making friends, even with normie kids.
“How’s the lock going?” He asked.
Dani shrugged, fingers clicking away. “Bet I’ll crack it before we hit St. Raphael’s Island.”
He smiled. “Yeah, probably.”
They watched the snow melt into the ferry’s wake. Though it had a cabin and sometimes shuffled tourists around in summer, at this time of year the ferry mostly held supplies for the little islands off the coast of Mountjoy, Maine: mail, toilet paper, whatever people needed. There was only one car aboard, a hybrid van with disabled plates and a funny door.
Chester saw her looking at it. “I think it’s a wheelchair van.”
Weird. None of the desperately-leaning-away normies in the ferry had had a wheelchair. Dani cocked her head, but before she could investigate, their father came out, looking shamefaced.
“I got going again,” he said.
“It’s okay, Pop,” Chester said.
“I just couldn’t help myself.”
“We know, Pop,” Dani said.
Papa Mike leaned against the rail, pulling out rolling papers and tobacco from his pocket. Despite the cold, he started putting together a cigarette. There was a tension around his eyes.
“I’m sorry you’re going here,” he said. “It was this or juvie.”
Dani winced. The last time she and Chester had gone “exploring” old buildings around town, someone had called the cops and she’d gotten caught on the fence trying to escape. The cops were still willing to write her off as a fourteen-year-old nuisance, but Chester was seventeen now and getting big. So this whole thing felt like her fault.
“A leadership camp?” she said. “I don’t see what difference it’s going to make.”
“Just play along as best you can,” Papa Mike said. “That’s what I did, when I got sent.”
“You’ve been?” Chester asked. “You never said.”
Papa Mike shook his head. “It’s from one of those years I don’t remember.” There were a handful of those. “You’ll see, none of it will matter in the end. Those exploring skills will serve you way better than any mindless obedience.” He licked the cigarette, closed it, and lit up. “And don’t change too much! You’re good kids. You do me proud.”
He patted Chester’s back and ruffled Dani’s frizzy curls. She smiled a little. Papa Mike had trouble sometimes, but he was kind, and he’d taught her and Chester independence: how to cook, to clean, to make, mend, and repair. He’d never said no to anything they were interested in. At least he knew this normie camp was nonsense.
St. Raphael’s Island loomed out of the mist. A building was just barely visible. Papa Mike’s brow furrowed deeper.
“Take care now,” he said. “Wish I could afford to come.”
The snow started coming down harder.
By the time they made it onto St. Raphael’s Island, the road had turned to mud. By the time they trudged up to the building (Dani was grateful for her good boots and light backpack), her hair was full of snow and on its way to freezing.
The building was solid stone, two stories high, with one wing off to either side, covered in frosted vines. Long lines of narrow windows peered at them like eyes.
“School?” she asked Chester. Buildings were his obsession.
“Hospital, I think,” he replied.
He looked like he wanted to hold back and wait for the rest of the kids, dragging behind with their luggage and their van, but Dani didn’t want to stay out in this weather. She yanked open the door, headed in, and as she slapped the snow off her clothes, she saw a fancy “Mountjoy Registry of Historic Places” plaque on the wall:
The St. Raphael House of Poxed Children, est. 1743
“There’s nought so miraculous as the resilience of children.”
“This is Gothic Revival style, from the 1800s,” Chester complained, stomping the snow off his boots. “They must’ve rebuilt.” He made it sound as though he’d been lied to.
The doors banged open and a sodden group of kids rushed in, herded by two women—wait, no, one woman and a taller, younger copy of her: a gawky black girl with glasses and braces who looked three bad days from a breakdown. There were four other kids, none of whom were listening to her; the rainbow-haired kid was arguing vociferously with a bored-looking boy in designer clothes, while a tiny boy egged them on with an obnoxious smile. (“Quote Nietzsche! Quote Nietzsche!”)
The final girl had wispy eyebrows, an ingratiating smile, and was approaching with an out-thrust hand. Dani didn’t shake it; Chester did.
“Hi! I’m Talia, Talia Hsu? Are you guys from another school?”
“We’re homeschooled,” Chester replied.
Dani couldn’t help herself. “Our pops teaches us,” she said.
Chester sent her a dirty look.
“Oh.” Talia looked uncomfortable, like this wasn’t in her script, but she went on doggedly, “we’re with the Honors Society, with Mountjoy High? Are you guys here for the leadership camp?”
“Yeah,” Dani said. “It was this or juvie.”
Talia wilted further. Chester tried to salvage the situation. “I’m Chester,” he said, nudging Dani with his elbow. “She’s my sister, Dani.” Be nice, his look said.
Dani grunted. Talia was suspiciously friendly, and she didn’t like it when girls went goo-goo over Chester.
It was just as well that the front door banged open again, this time admitting four adults, a dog, a bedraggled girl in a wheelchair, and a ton of medical-looking luggage, all covered in snow. Of the four adults, two looked to be the wheelchair girl’s parents. The mother was brushing snow off the girl, and the father was getting into it with the other two adults (a disreputable looking man and a brightly smiling woman), who looked to be staff. With the rest of the noise, Dani couldn’t make out what exactly they were arguing about, but it seemed to involve the dog; the innkeeper kept gesturing at it. The girl in the chair looked alarmed and kept opening her mouth as though to talk, but she didn’t need to; her mother was patting her arm and her father was getting loud and red in the face. Dani made out “service dog” and “legally obligated” and “not a pet” before the dog itself distracted her. It was a stocky mutt in a harness, supremely unbothered by the humans around it.
“It’s a service dog,” Chester said. “You can’t pet it.”
Dani turned pink. “I know that, goofus! I wasn’t going to.” Though she wanted to. Oh, she wanted to.
The wheelchair girl’s mother wrung her hands over the pile of luggage. “Oh, our things!”
The adult with the Honors Society (who seemed unimpressed with everyone) rolled her eyes, snapped her fingers, barked an order, and the tall girl rushed to help with the suitcases. Talia went to help out too, to Dani’s relief.
The brightly smiling woman (who seemed eager to get away from the wheelchair girl’s family) darted to the front of the crowd. “Welcome, welcome, everyone!” she declared, clapping her hands to get people’s attention. “Welcome to the St. Raphael House of Children!”
“Poxed resilient children,” Dani whispered, making Chester snort.
“We’re sorry about the storm, but it should clear up by morning.”
With perfect timing, the power went out. The boys in the Honors Society obligingly let out theatrical shrieks of faux terror, and Dani took the opportunity to grab Chester’s hand and yank him away down the hall. Whatever the smiling lady had planned (ice-breaker questions? historical speeches?), exploring a rambling old building with Chester would surely be way more fun.
“We’ll get in trouble,” Chester protested as the voices faded behind them.
“With that girl’s parents fussing and the power out? They won’t even notice we’re gone.”
The lights flickered, then came back on, though only half as bright. From the entrance hall, they heard, “who’d like to hear about our founder?”
Dani gave Chester a pleading look. Chester, who tried very hard to be nice to normies, said, “that could be interesting?”
“No way. Your speech would be way better. Please, Chester? Don’t make me sit through Mayflower Mountjoy stuff! Tell me about the building instead.”
Chester’s grades were worse than hers, but he couldn’t resist talking about anything with walls and a roof. He caved, and soon enough, they’d snuck up to the second floor eastern wing, where hopefully the fancy lady wouldn’t follow.
Downstairs had looked okay, but upstairs, leaks were everywhere. Buckets caught drips, and Chester, aghast, pontificated on poor building maintenance. Still, though, he admitted the neglected building was beautiful. Stained glass windows depicted doves, lambs, and the sun, though the storm and poor lighting made them dim and muddy. The seething snow meant there wasn’t much to see outside, but Dani made out some kind of yard and a strangely-shaped outbuilding. Chester told her it was a chapel—since the ferry only came on Saturdays, maybe the people needed their own church in the olden days.
Further down the hall, Chester pointed out an intriguing staircase, blocked with a velvet rope. The sign depicted a red X over a tumbling stick figure. The steps themselves were steep, narrow, and twisty—as close to a spiral as the square space allowed.
“The builder must’ve run out of space, but that’s not the part you’ll like. See this?” The staircase went straight up to the eaves, leaving an awkward little triangular door in the spare space. Chester would’ve had to stoop to fit in it. “Where do you think this goes?”
“Supply closet?” Dani guessed.
With a flourish, Chester opened the door. Inside was a toilet. No sink, no bath, just a toilet.
Dani started laughing.
Chester shut the door again with an air of satisfaction. “They added the indoor plumbing later,” he said.
…
The storm raged all night, sliding between thundering rain, sleet, and snow, and the power kept flicking in and out. The smiling innkeeper lady clearly knew they had snuck off, but the wheelchair girl’s parents kept her so busy that Dani and Chester got off without punishment or even a scolding. Their room was on the east wing first floor, far from the neck-break stairs, with a proper bathroom next door and the rooms for the Honors Society next door to that.
As Chester unlocked their door, the woman in charge of the schoolkids approached. Despite the weather, she remained elegantly dressed, her hair perfect, and she gave them an icy look that said clearly how little she thought of them.
“My name is Ms. Powers, and I’m a light sleeper,” she said in a steel voice. “I don’t want any nonsense.”
Chester and Dani exchanged looks. “No, ma’am,” Chester said.
She didn’t seem to believe him but turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
“Brr,” Chester said, opening their own door.
“No wonder they put her in charge of that group,” Dani said. “Who’d cross her?”
Their room was small, holding nothing but a little closet and twin beds against opposite walls, with a nightstand in-between. They each claimed a bed and Dani returned to fiddling with her lock, torsion wrench, and pick.
“They said the storm should be gone in the morning,” Chester said. He was staring up at the ceiling, maybe checking for leaks. “Tomorrow, we can maybe explore the chapel.”
“Do you think they’ll just let us in there?”
“Probably not.” And they exchanged grins in the dark. Dani didn’t know much about buildings, but when it came to doors and windows—
Click. She held up the lock, open, and tossed it to Chester. “Got it.”
“You’re getting better,” he said, examining it and tossing it back. “Soon I’ll have to start buying you the fancy ones.”
“What do you think that chapel’s like?” she asked. “Super creepy, right?”
“Maybe they’ll have crypts!”
“And dead people!”
With the cheering thought that maybe this place would have something worth exploring, she and Chester managed to chatter themselves to sleep.
Dani woke a few hours later to a crash of thunder. She desperately needed the bathroom.
Earlier that night, Dani had discovered that flushing the toilet next door sounded like Niagara Falls. She wanted to deal with Ms. Powers about as much as she wanted to wet her pants. Maybe she could hold it…?
Lightning streaked, highlighting the rain gushing down. The noise was inescapable. Dani squirmed, then threw back the blankets. No, no, forget it. She’d just have to risk getting Ms. Powers’s attention.
Then she remembered that ridiculous triangular door at the top of the stairs. The orphan toilet! Saved!
Chester was snoring away; he could sleep through anything. And she wouldn’t be gone long. She grabbed the key from the nightstand and slipped out.
She never would’ve admitted it, not under torture, but the house was pretty creepy when it was dark and empty. The power was out again; Dani wished she had her exploration head lamp. At least all the snow and lightning gave her a little light to see by, though she still almost used the neck-break stairs by mistake. Only the velvet rope against her body stopped her. Grumbling, she orbited around to find better stairs, finally making it to the bathroom under the eaves.
Only to find it locked.
Dani growled. She banged on the door. Someone inside squeaked.
“Hello?” Dani squirmed. “Can you hurry up?”
“Dani? Is that you?” The door opened a crack. It was Talia. “Is it gone?”
“Is what gone? Look, I really, really need to go—”
Talia grabbed Dani’s nightshirt. “You can’t leave me out there! Something’s out there!”
“Are you seriously scared of the dark?” But then lightning flashed, giving her a look at Talia’s round face, white with terror, and the words withered. Being mean to Talia felt like kicking a puppy. “You can’t watch me pee. That’s weird.” She squinted into the tiny room. “Is… is there any light in there?”
“No,” Talia said miserably. “But there’s nothing else either.”
Dani shifted from foot to foot. Whatever this was, it’d have to wait. “Look, I’ll leave the door open a crack, I’ll be right there, just please. I need to go.”
Emotions warred on Talia’s face, but apparently whatever had spooked her wasn’t as bad as the social discomfort of making Dani wet herself. Gulping, she let go of Dani and edged out, trying to look everywhere at once.
“Keep talking?” she asked as Dani went in. “So I know you’re okay?”
“Sure, fine, okay, yeah.” This would be the weirdest pee she’d ever taken.
Dani got into the orphan bathroom. It was tiny, a closet with a toilet, and never would’ve fit her bulk and Talia’s chub at the same time. When Dani mostly shut the door, the room plunged into total blackness, and she almost toppled into the toilet.
“Are you okay?” Talia bleated.
“Yeah, yeah, I just tripped.” She got situated. Feeling weird (what did you say to a normie while you peed?) she asked, “what were you even doing up here, anyway?”
“I needed the bathroom,” Talia said miserably, “and I didn’t want to wake Ms. Powers.”
“Me either. She seems pretty intense.”
“She’s just strict. Liz is nice, though—Ms. Powers is her mom.”
So Liz was the frazzled black girl. “You’re friends?”
“Sort of? My family only just moved here. They hoped the camp would help me make friends. And I already met you and Chester, so…”
“You remember both our names?” It came out meaner than she intended.
Pause. Then, in a sad little voice: “my dad always taught me to remember everyone’s name and three things about them. That way you always have something to talk about.”
Dani felt guilty. She fumbled for toilet paper and tried to think of three things. “Well, we’re no Honors Society. He likes buildings. We both like… uh, exploring them. We check out old abandoned stuff around town.”
“Really?” Talia sounded a little calmer. “That sounds neat—”
Then a weird flash of light showed through the crack in the door, too fuzzy to be lightning. Talia gasped, then whimpered.
“Dani…”
Dani yanked her underpants up and pushed on the door, but Talia was pressed to it, gibbering, “it’s back it’s back oh no…”
“Talia! Move!” She shoved hard and Talia got out of the way.
Outside was a raccoon-eyed child, glowing white. It looked only a couple years younger than Talia or Dani. Asides from the glowing, it looked pretty ordinary.
“It’s okay,” Dani said, as much to herself as to Talia, who was clinging to her arm. “It’s a—” ghost? “it’s okay…”
The ghost looked at them beseechingly. It opened its mouth, and a flood of blood and bile came out. A ghastly mess poured between its legs.
Talia screamed, but Dani just took off running. Something hit her chest; she mindlessly smashed past it, feeling a drag, then something giving way. The velvet rope…
Dani didn’t think. She didn’t plan. Years of exploring ruined, unstable buildings took over, and she took the stairs at a dead sprint, two, three at a time, swinging around the hairpin turns, down, down—stumbled—caught herself just barely—and crashed down to the ground floor on all fours. She turned. Had the ghost followed her?
No. But Talia had. And her reflexes weren’t as good…
Dani could do nothing but watch as Talia’s pale legs dashed down, tripped on the first turn, bounced off the wall, hit the banister—
—went over—
She went down headfirst. She hit the stone floor. Her neck bent. There was a horrible sound.
She stared at Dani, eyes wide and confused. The light behind them went out.
Dani crouched frozen. Her breathing wheezed in her chest. She realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were moving, but no sound was coming out.
The ghost started coming down the stairs, clutching the banister like it had to be careful. It saw what had been Talia, down there on the floor, and clawed at its face.
Then Talia moved.
Dani started scuttling back on all fours. A whine came out of her throat.
The light in Talia’s eyes was still out, but her limbs jerked convulsively, getting carefully under her, like it required conscious thought. Her hands went to her head, her neck, patting, like she was trying to find out what’d gone wrong. There was a horrible click as she pulled things straight.
Talia smiled.
Then Dani was on her feet, sprinting for her room, gibbering, and she didn’t care who heard her because she needed Chester, who was boring and obsessed with buildings, and everyone knew that the horrors disappeared once you got someone boring. Chester would make things normal, have an explanation, make it all better—
She bounced off the door, found it locked, and clawed at it.
“Chester! Chester!” she screamed.
No answer. Of course he’d sleep through this!
Pawing through her pockets, frantically looking to see if the ghost was following her (it wasn’t, but Talia was, at a careful, staggering pace), Dani somehow found the key, got the door open, burst in, slammed it shut, and locked it again.
“Chester!”
Then she saw him. He hadn’t slept through it.
He was getting silently harangued by another ghost—this one older, his age—and he was cowering in a corner.
The fear in Dani ignited into anger. She shouted, “get out! Go away!” and threw the key at it.
The key went right through, of course, but seemed to nonplus the ghost. It looked up, startled, and Dani caught a glimpse of something around its neck before it faded out.
Dani and Chester stared at each other, wheezing, covered in sweat.
“There’s something wrong with this house,” he said.
“There’s something wrong in this house!” she whisper-shrieked.
They spent the rest of the night clinging to each other, gibbering and crying. Nobody, not Talia, not ghosts, not Ms. Powers or the Honors Society, bothered them.
Content Warnings and architectural trivia
Date: 2021-09-30 11:51 pm (UTC)A lot of the architectural stuff I mention are based off real things. The House itself is based off the abandoned smallpox hospital on Roosevelt Island (though in much better repair and devoid of feral cats). The staircase is based off the Northern Stair of the Monticello. The orphan toilet is based off one in the Loring Greenough House in Boston, and while I can find no photos, I have seen it in person and it's just as goofy as it sounds. (If I recall correctly, the legend was the old woman in charge of the house was really unhappy about having to get indoor plumbing so was as spiteful about it as possible.)
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Date: 2021-10-01 02:55 am (UTC)That 0:) angel smiley up there gives it away. Azazel says, "That ghostie there sounded like they could've been one of us! LOL"
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Date: 2021-10-01 03:10 am (UTC)(Advance warning: if you Google “Pinewood Island review,” the top result spoils the killer.)
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Date: 2021-10-01 03:40 am (UTC)