The Earthbound Misfit

Dad used to tell me ghost stories when I was a young girl, but he always made sure I knew that ghosts are only powerful when people believe in them. He told me that sometimes evil spirits will hide in the shadows, wait to consume your light. But the good ones, they will sometimes linger in the world to watch over the ones they’ve left behind.

Mother drove us to the new place, it was at the edge of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by aged but sturdy homes. David, my brother, sat in the front seat and was fast asleep- his head hanging, bobbing with every movement my mother made in her 2000 Dodge Intrepid.  “We’re here.” She halted in front of the brick-red home.

It seemed modest enough- oil stains on the driveway, overgrown hedges, lopped over fence- yup this was home. “What do you think Marie?” Mom called out to me, “It’s fine, I guess.” “You guess?” “What do you want me to say?” She looked over at me, clearly exasperated. She sighed a heavy breath, “David, David wake up, we’re here.” David gurgled and jolted awake, “Huh, wha?” “We’re here David, look at the house, isn’t it nice?” “Eh, sure, yeah, it’s cool.” My eyes scanned around, bracing myself to move all the boxes we had packed up. I noticed a frail man sitting outside next door from our would-be new house, he was unassuming- smoking a thin cigarette, pensive. His head tilted up and he was looking right at us. Half his face looked lumpy, like it had been burned. His eyes were lasered right at us, they looked faded but focused. He looked angry, like we had done something wrong, like our presence was intrusive. “Marie don’t stare.” My mother scolded.

We got down, mother opened the trunk of our car for us to get the boxes in the back. I couldn’t help but keep an eye out on the old man sitting outside, staring. Why was he staring at us like that? What did he want? Just as I was moving one of the boxes out of the trunk of the car, I looked up and he was gone. “Mom, do you know that man?” Mother looked over to me, sweat dripping from her heavily drawn in brow, “That’s Mr. Herrera, I met him when I came to look at the house. Seems like a nice man. He’s also a widow, pobrecito.” “Does he always stare like that?” “Oh honey, I’m sure he was just making sure we didn’t need any help, now hurry up and get those boxes inside, I want to start cooking dinner soon- David’s got his hungry face on.” My mother is too naïve to notice, I’m sure that Mr. Herrera was up to something else. I could sense it.

Mom started cooking David’s favorite, enchiladas with rice and beans. The smells were making my mouth water with anticipation- I decided to go outside to avoid getting too antsy to eat. The sky was painted pink and orange, just as it always did right before the sun goes down for the night. I decided I would explore a bit, but not too far, mother would freak. I’d stay close enough so that she could still see me. On the right side of our house was Mr. Herrera’s home, he wasn’t outside, luckily. There were wind chimes and tons of potted plants. The plants were big and healthy, except for one. A rotted one, with fat flies. Flies make me gag. I looked to the left side of our house, it was empty except for what appeared to be an old shed. From where I was standing I could see blue paint peeling from the barely held up walls, the roof was gaping, and I could see bees hovering about. I didn’t think anything of it. I decided to watch the sun set from the drive way, sat down and looked up at the sky. It didn’t matter where we lived, so long as I got to see the sun set. As I was entranced by the shades of orange and pink a light shined at the corner of my eye. I looked but there was nothing. Just as I was beginning to focus back on the sun, the light called to me again, shining in my eyes. I could see it more clearly now, it was coming from the house with the blue peeling paint. There, in the distance I could see the light, almost like a mirror when it catches daylight. Except, no there was something moving. There wasn’t any harm in checking, right?

            It was only a few feet away, I’d only be gone for a few minutes. I just wanted to check to see what was moving in there. It was probably just an animal, maybe it needed help. “Don’t go that way.” I jumped, it was Mr. Herrera. “Why not?” I asked, “It’s condemned, probably infested with mold. You shouldn’t go there.” I was frustrated. Who was Mr. Herrera to boss me around, “Okay, I won’t.” “I’m serious little girl, you do not need to be going over there, you’ll get sick, you hear me?” “Okay, sir.” When did this old man pop out anyway? He’s like an aging Houdini.

            “Marie, enchiladas are ready!” My mom called out. “I better go inside” I said to Mr. Herrera. “That’s probably a good idea” he grumbled.

            After we finished with dinner, I shuffled to my room, avoiding all the boxes stacked up on the walls. I found my bed, right across from David’s. I can’t believe that I still have to share a room with my brother. Why couldn’t he just sleep outside with the rest of the animals? The only bright side to him being here was that he had all his cd’s laying around. I grabbed my CD player and popped in Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. David’s taste in music was so weird, but I loved it. I’ll never admit it to him, but he’s the reason I like a lot of the stuff I do. I was drifting off, the song finished, and I heard a knock outside my window. I wasn’t sure if it was the song or if I really heard a knock. I paused the next song and waited. Knock, knock. They were deliberate. No, it had to have been something moving outside- it’s windy, right? Knock, knock. I could feel my blood run cold, my heart beating like a thumping metronome. I’ll just peek. I opened the corner of the curtain, waiting to see something jump out at me. Nothing. Of course, it was nothing, it was just the wind.

            “David, did you hear anything weird last night?” I couldn’t stop thinking about the knocking, maybe David could help me figure out what it was. “Nah, just you going through my stuff. Did you put my CD back?” “I’m serious, I heard knocking. You didn’t hear it.” “Nah Marie, I didn’t.” Great. It was just me then?

            My mom was rushing us to get ready for school. School was the least of my worries. First the peeling blue house, now the knocking.

            Today was my first day at Lincoln High School, and I was already done with it. I spotted the cliques right away and knew that I was likely going to sit alone. I was a freshman and my brother was a junior, he always found friends no matter where we ended up. We’ve moved around a few times and he always seemed to find a group of friends.

I walked into my first class, biology. I was the first one there and spotted some comfy seats in the back, I dashed quickly to them. As people started filing in one by one, I practiced writing my name in cursive. My mom taught me cursive when I was young, and I wanted to be sure that I didn’t forget.

            “Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” I look up and it’s a tall brunette.

“Sorry?”

 “You’re in my seat, could you get up?”

“I was here first.”

 The class Ooooo’d just like they would if shit’s about to go down. “Well, you’re in my spot. And if you don’t move at the count of ten I’ll make you move. One, two, three, four”

“Geez, fine. Here. Take your seat.”

Her smug face made me want to run my fist through it. I found a few rows over.

 A mousy girl with big curly hair turned around, “Don’t mind Amber, she’s threatened by you. I’m Jasmine.”

            “Hi Jasmine, I’m Marie Cisneros.”

“I’ve heard about you, is it true that you moved because you got kicked out of your last school?”

“No, my mom found a job here.”

 “Oh, sorry. Sometimes you hear things and you just gotta know if they’re true. So, where’d you move to?”

I wasn’t sure whether or not to trust Jasmine. She seemed nice enough, but I felt like I was better off without friends. But, then again, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have one ally against Amber.

“On Windrow, that area.”

 “Wait Windrow? The one with the condemned building?”

 It was as if I’d said the word of the day on Pee-Wee’s playhouse, her eyes widened, and her voice went up an octave.

 I decided to reassure her, “Um, yeah. I don’t live in the condemned building though. The one next to it.”

She seemed so concerned, her face worried me.

 “What is it Jasmine, why are you looking at me like that?”

She looked down, it seemed she was debating whether or not to tell me whatever it was that she knew, “Come on Jasmine, it can’t be that bad.” She lowered her voice, “That house you’re living in was rebuilt not too long ago. The original one burned down years ago. Some kids died there.” I didn’t know what to say.  I was in disbelief. I guess my expression changed enough to concern Jasmine, “Hey, look don’t worry I’m sure it’s fine. You don’t believe in that ghost stuff anyway, do you?” “No.” “See, then you’re okay. And that happened a long time ago. Way before you were born, way before your mom was probably born.” I laughed, I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted to seem like I didn’t care about what Jasmine had just told me. But if it was true, then what did that mean for us living there now?

            My mom picked David and I up from school, she seemed very tired. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was frizzy. We got home, David jumped out of the car first. As my mom was getting ready to get out I stopped her, “Mom, is it true that some kids died in this house?” She looked over to me, stunned, it was clear that she had known. “Honey, it wasn’t this house. That house was torn down. This house was built over that property some years after that incident. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but, to be honest, I didn’t want you to worry. It doesn’t mean anything for us. We’re fine.” “Mom are you sure?” “Yes honey, I’m sure” She held me close, “Trust me, we’re fine.” She was reaching to grab the keys, but something compelled me to stop her, “I heard knocking at my window, mom.” She looked over to me, smiled, “I’m sure it was just the wind.”

            The next day I decided I would get up early to eat some breakfast and watch tv. I wanted to distract myself from all the stuff that Jasmine told me about. I didn’t want to think about it. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a little bit disturbed. I turned on some Saturday morning cartoons, like the ones I would watch as a kid. They were silly now but comforting. They reminded me of when my dad was still with us, when he’d wake us up for waffles and sit in front of the T.V. with us. He’d always goof around and mimic the voices on the show, I missed him.

I was finishing up my cereal, mom walked in through the hallway. “You’re awake, I thought you’d still be asleep.” “No, mom, I’m not a caveman like David.” She laughed, “Honey, Mr. Herrera was wondering if you could help him with some of his gardening?” “What, why?” “He can’t move too much, he’s very weak.” I looked up to her pleading face. I wasn’t going to be happy about this, but I really didn’t want to hear it from my mom later about how I don’t help, “Fine. I’ll go.” “Great, he said to be there around one.” “Okay, I’ll be there.”

Mr. Herrera was waiting for me outside, he was standing on a cane hunched over. He motioned me over. “Hola, Marie.” “Hello Mr. Herrera. What can I do for you?” He pointed over to the pots on the front of his porch then motioned over to some half dug up holes in the lawn. “I see, well I’ll go ahead and take care of that for you.” “Thank you, little girl.” I wanted to correct him and tell him I was at least considered a woman in some cultures, but I really didn’t want to be here for much longer than I needed to be. I grabbed a shovel and started digging. The sun was very bright, I could feel it searing my skin- why did he have to pick the hottest part of the day to do garden work? I grabbed each pot one by one, placed it in the hole and smoothed the dirt over. One by one. Mr. Herrera was sitting on his porch, smoking his thin cigarette. I was almost done. Then I remembered the rotting potted plant, the one with the fat flies. I walked over to it, the stench was atrocious. It was like rotting eggs. I walked over, scrunching my face, “No, not that one.” I halted, “What was that Mr. Herrera?” “You can leave that one there,” “How come? It could probably really use some dirt and sun.” “Not that one, I said.” He sounded angry. I stopped. “Alright. Well is there anything else you need?” “No, that will be all. Thank you, tell your mom I said thank you.” He made his way inside. I wiped my face, I could feel the dirt and sweat concoction seeping into my pores. Why didn’t Mr. Herrera want me to move that rotting plant? I had to know. I walked over to the plant, the stench was pungent. I looked down, nothing seemed out of the ordinary- except for the flies buzzing about. I looked closer, I saw what looked like bones- like a hand.

I knew that man was not to be trusted, what the hell was he doing with hand bones? Why was he keeping them in a flower pot? I wanted to tell my mom, but I was afraid that she wouldn’t believe me. Of course, she wouldn’t believe me, would she? I didn’t want to take my chances. I had to be sure of it first. I had to get pictures. No one would will believe me unless I get proof. And I would. Tonight. While everyone was sleeping I’d go over to Mr. Herrera’s house and takes pictures of the flower pot.

I was fighting to stay awake, David was snoring, and my mother’s door was closed. I’d snuck out at my old house before, but I’d never attempted it in this one. Tonight, would be the first time- and I had to be successful. I decided I would go through the kitchen window. I slid out of my covers, put on my boots and tip-toed across the room. I grabbed my brother’s phone, he was the only one with a phone because for some reason mom didn’t trust me enough to have my own yet, nice going mother. Just as I was making my way out knock, knock. There it was again, knock, knock. I looked over to David to see if he had heard, but he continued to snore. Knock, knock, knock, knock. The knocking was more rapid now, I carefully made my way to the bedside window and looked outside- there was nothing. I scanned around, I saw the light again, the one in the peeling blue house. It was beaming. The knocking and light had to be connected.

I somehow managed to sneak outside, I peeked to see if there was anything outside my window. Sure enough the light was still beaming, it was capturing the reflection of the moon. I was torn between walking towards the peeling blue house or waiting to see if Mr. Herrera was knocking outside my window. Those burn marks on his face, he had to have been involved in the fire. If Mr. Herrera was the reason behind the fire, if those bones belonged to one of the children- he can’t get away with this, I won’t let him.

Even in the dim lighting of the night sky, I could see the flies swarming around the pot. The wind chimes were bellowing, they knew what I was up to. Camera in hand, I had to be sure to get the bones in frame, I maneuvered around to try and catch the light. There they were, the bones of this hand- a small hand. It looked as if it were trying to grasp onto something, trying to break free from this dirt prison. I captured the image, I had what I needed. Looking at the hand I knew I couldn’t leave it there, if Mr. Herrera was trying to dispose of it then it’d be gone forever. No, I needed to move the pot somewhere else, he wasn’t going to get away with this. A light gleamed behind me. The peeling blue house.

The flies followed, along with the stench of rotting eggs. I scrunched my nose close as I held in my hands this Little Shop of Horrors pot. I searched around the peeling blue house for an entrance, the door was well hidden. It was a small entrance, like it was made for a child, I had to crouch to get in. The moonlight acted like a perfect gas lamp, it lit the inside of the peeling blue house perfectly. There were webs on every corner, I could see bees crawling about on the ceiling. Piles of perished wood lay stacked on the floor, maggots weaving in and out. I gagged. I found an undisturbed corner, oddly enough. I set Little Shop of Horrors down, “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” I said to the pot. I crouched to the entrance, as I was trying to leave the light beamed brighter, I looked behind me- past the piles of wood was a beautiful antique vanity, and an older woman sitting, she was brushing her hair. Moonlight bounced off the mirror, I couldn’t see her reflection. I wasn’t sure what to do, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here. I…I…you see Mr. Herrera, he…” I froze, the woman sitting set the brush down, she was silent. I was petrified. “Mam, I’m sorry. I’m leaving now.” I hurried to try and get out, as I was doing so the woman looked over to me. Her face was decomposed, maggots crawling in and around one of her eye sockets. She was half flesh, half something else I’d never seen before. Her skin looked like old leather that had been tossed in dirt. The garment she was wearing was torn and seemed to be melted into her flesh. Her mouth widened, she lunged at me, and took me down with a force that felt like I’d been pulled into the earth’s core. She pinned me down, maggots from her face fell on to me- I squirmed to try and get free. She began to inhale deeply, and a light from inside me was being swept into her being. Her hands, her hand…the bones in the pot, she grabbed them and reattached them to herself. I lay paralyzed on the floor, hot tears streamed down my face. I thought of my father, I prayed for him to help me. I prayed to be set free from this hell. My brain made the room feel as though the room turned into liquid, everything around me felt malleable. In the distance I could hear the grumblings of an older male voice. Mr. Herrera, how did he get here? With his cane, he knocked the ghostly woman against the crumbling walls, freeing me from her ghastly grasp. He began to chant in a language I’d never heard before, Daemonium relinquo ut infernum, ab hoc enim terra viventium, Deus abs te. He chanted and chanted, the ghostly woman shrieked. Mr. Herrera yelled to her, “You don’t belong in this world. Leave the living in peace.” He continued to chant, but he couldn’t hold her back much longer, she relinquished herself from his grasp. I was still weak, but I garnered enough strength in my body to tell the witch woman, “Fuck off! You heard him, leave the living alone. You don’t belong here, you don’t belong here!” The desperation in my voice made it crack, I ran to help Mr. Herrera pin here again. He continued to chant, I stared into this creature. You are nothing, I give you no power. She began to disintegrate, her bones turned to ashes. She was gone. I could barely keep my eyes open. The moonlight faded, I was in darkness.

            When I woke up again, I could feel the cool breeze from the fan in my room, the sunlight was beaming through the curtains. My mother was in the next room, I could hear Mr. Herrera’s voice, “She was out alone, doing god knows what. You need to be careful with your little girl. These kids think they can just sneak out.” I’m alive. I’m in my room, and I’m alive.

            “Oh, I know, she’s grounded. Probably for the rest of the year.” I heard my mother tell him. I groaned, but I accepted it. At least I’d be safe here at home. “Mom?” I heard my mother shuffling my way, “Marie! You’re awake, how do you feel are you okay? Mr. Herrera said you tried to climb into the abandoned house next door and took a hard spill down.” “I did?” I looked over to Mr. Herrera, clearly, he was trying to protect my mother. “Do you need anything? Water, some food?” “Actually, water sounds good mom, thanks.”  She ran her hands through my hair, “Don’t you ever do that to me again, you understand?” “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again I promise.” She walked out. I looked over to Mr. Herrera, “What was that?”

            “In our culture she’s sometimes called La Llorona, she tries to steal children and eats their souls. The reason I had her hand, which you so dutifully noticed, was because the only way she can enter the living world is if she is whole. I hoped that by burying the hand away from her reach I’d be able to stop her. I didn’t anticipate you coming into the picture.” He smirked at me. “Mr. Herrera, what about the children that lived here before, the ones that died in the house fire?” His expression changed, he looked pained. “The fire engulfed the house, I jumped inside, the family was asleep, and I screamed for them to wake. That witch woman was in here trying to devour their souls while the fire consumed their home. I was able to stop her from taking their souls, but it was too late for their lives.” Mr. Herrera looked so hurt, this burden must’ve ate away at him. I was grateful to him, he saved my life, “Thank you for saving me” I somberly said. He looked up at me, smiled.

            I thought of my dad, what he might think of this story. He believed in ghosts, but he also believed that ghosts don’t hold any power unless there is someone who believes in them. I wondered if he was the one knocking at my window.