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“Listen, we don’t have to stay long,” Rhett chided. “I just wanna check it out.” A sharp autumn gust of wind blew brittle leaves across the narrow, wooded path; the Dynasty pulled over on the shoulder of the road behind them. Clouds moved across the full moon, casting their path into darkness as twigs snapped under their feet, ducking under branches and maneuvering around thorny Carolina rose bushes.
Once they beat through the dense Buies Creek backwoods, they found themselves in a clearing, stopping dead in their tracks in awe at the abandoned plantation house that had materialized in front of them. The windows were boarded over and the bright, white paint had long since flaked away; unfinished wooden siding exposed to the elements. Rhett held his hand steady as he shone the flashlight over the façade of the building.
“I dunno, dude,” Link hedged, the skin on his forearms prickling. “I don’t think we can get in there. It’s all boarded up.” Rhett threw his head back and chuckled.
“When has that ever stopped us before, buddyroll?” He headed toward the front door, with Link close at his heels. He reached up to the handle and turned, and the house groaned in response, but the door remained latched and unmoving.
“See?” Link said. “We ain’t getting in there.” Rhett’s eyes narrowed, stubborn. He slowly walked around the perimeter of the house, his flashlight guiding their way as his free hand dragged along the exterior.
“There’s gotta be a way in here,” he said, pressing in on one boarded window and then the next. Finally, a rotten board creaked and gave in under his palm, collapsing in on itself. “Yes!” He pushed harder on the cracked board, dislodging it from the corroded nails that held it in place. “We’re going in, Link.”
Rhett handed the flashlight to Link and hoisted himself over the barrier, careful not to snag his baggy jeans on the rusty spikes that protruded from the windowsill. The house was remarkably intact, much more so than most of the abandoned houses he and Link frequented, which were covered in graffiti and filled with the refuse of bored teenagers. The place looked like it had barely succumbed to time itself, virtually unchanged except for the peeling wallpaper and the thick layer of dust that covered everything.
“Woah…” Rhett breathed as he took the flashlight from Link and shone it over the features of the room. A dusty crystal chandelier. A dining set with clawed feet and a cabinet filled with fine china from days gone by; a perfect snapshot of the antebellum South. “Holy crap, Link, look at this place!” His eyes were wide with excitement but his voice was hushed. The house was so pristine it seemed a travesty to disturb it with any sound louder than a whisper. Link hung back behind Rhett, so close he could feel the heat radiating off the other boy.
“It’s creepy as hell in here, dude,” he said. Link crossed in front of Rhett, his interest piqued. His body blocked the beam of light, briefly plunging the pair into an unusually icy darkness. “C’mon,” Link whispered. “Let’s check out the living room.”
Rhett followed closely, the circle of orange light from his flashlight doing zig zags over the hardwood floor. The living room was lavish; a piano sat untouched against the wall, and the sofa and reclining chairs had ornately carved oak trimmings. A deep mahogany clock hung lifeless on the wall, hands permanently fixed at 3:15.
“It’s like this place hasn’t changed in two hundred years, man,” Link said, his fingers gently running over the back of the sofa. Rhett nodded and moved to inspect a tall set of drawers with delicate ivory knobs, tiny engravings decorating the dark wood. The top drawer opened with a muffled squeak, and Rhett shone the flashlight inside.
“Shit,” Rhett whispered, jumping a little when he saw the inanimate face of a baby porcelain doll looking back at him, her pink lips still vibrant even though her eyelashes had all but fallen out. “Holy crap, dude,” he whispered. “Look at this is thing, it’s so freaky.” But when he looked over his shoulder, Link was nowhere to be found. He slammed the drawer closed, shining his light frantically around the room. “Link!” he said, his voice full of urgency but still barely above a whisper. “Link! Where’d you go?”
Rhett backtracked to the dining room, and then back into the living room. Link sat perched on the tiny piano bench, staring down wistfully at the keys. His fingers danced feather-light over the sharps and flats, before pressing down on an ivory-white key, letting a single low, resounding note reverberate through the house.
“Link!” Rhett said, coming quickly to Link’s side to wrench his hand away from the instrument. “What are you doing, man?!” Link didn’t flinch— his eyes were glazed over and trained on the keys below him. “Link,” Rhett said, practically begging. “Dude! Snap out of it!” He shook Link’s hand again. Link took a deep breath and shook his head, blinking hard a couple times.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice hushed. “I just zoned out.”
“Well you’re freaking me out, dude,” Rhett reprimanded. “Give it up.” Link got to his feet before a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
“You scared or something?” he asked, smirking fully.
“No,” Rhett replied, his voice full of forced nonchalance. “You just disappeared and you’re acting all weird.”
“Then how come you’re still holding my hand?” Link chuckled. Rhett looked down and saw their tightly interlaced fingers and promptly let go.
“I am not,” he replied.
“My hand’s all sweaty now,” Link laughed. “You sure you’re not scared?”
Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, Rhett lead the pair into the adjoining hallway, his flashlight shining up a steep staircase. Link gingerly placed his foot on the first step, testing the old boards before shifting his entire weight upon it. The stair creaked but held firm, so he slowly ascended up into the darkness. Rhett trailed his friend closely, the toe of his shoe catching on Link’s heels, the flashlight in his hand illuminating the faded, dusty paintings on the wall. The first, an austere looking man with a navy velvet suit and a stiff-looking powdered wig. The next, a woman with ample bosoms emphasized by her corset; the bonnet on her head casting heavy shadows over her eyes. And last, a little girl with bouncy, brunette curls cascading down her shoulders. Her cheeks were red and chapped and her scowl could have soured even the pleasantest of moods. Rhett felt all three pairs of eyes shift and follow him up the stairs.
Link reached the upper story first and paused as he peered down the darkened hallway. A series of open doors lined the hall.
“C’mon,” he urged Rhett, plowing ahead.
The first room was elegant— an enormous bed sat in the corner, the faded teal bedclothes were immaculately made and pillows propped up against the headboard. The canopy above the bed had partially collapsed in on itself, obscuring the wall in a spectral white covering. A chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room, with an ornate violet gown draped over the backrest. Link paused in front of an embellished vanity, looking hard into the depths of the dusty mirror, briefly running his hand through his hair. Something about the visual of Link primping in the mirror made Rhett’s run blood cold. It was irrational, he knew it, but a part of him felt like Link— or someone just like him— had gussied up in front of the same mirror before.
“Let’s keep going,” Rhett announced nervously, flicking the beam of light toward the door. Link smoothed the sparse hair on his chin and his mustache, eyes locked on his own in the mirror.
“Why?” he asked, casually. “I like this room.” It was like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of Rhett’s flannel.
“Because,” he mumbled. “Let’s just go, okay?”
Link shrugged and followed Rhett to another room, pastel pink wallpaper hanging down in strips to reveal the stained wood beneath. A crib and a rocking chair sat abandoned in the corner, and a pair of very small, black patent leather shoes were arranged carefully next to a painted armoire. Link waved Rhett to shine his light down on an oak trunk, held together with cast iron brackets.
“Wonder what’s in here?” Link asked, fingers sliding easily around the clasp. The wooden planks groaned as Link wrenched the lid up. Rhett led out a quiet gasp as Link pulled a flat wooden board out of the empty chest. Two arched rows of letters and a row of numbers appeared burned into the wood, with a sun and a moon in the top corners, along with a simple yes, and a no.
“Wha— what’s that, man?” Rhett asked, his voice catching in his throat. Link’s fingers slid over the charred letters.
“It’s a Ouija board, dude.”
Rhett flicked his light back inside the trunk, and lo and behold, a wooden heart-shaped planchette sat all alone at the bottom. “No way,” he breathed. “There’s— there’s no way. Those things weren’t even invented yet, man!” Link turned the board over and held it still in Rhett’s quavering light.
“I dunno, Rhett,” he mused. “This thing is old. Really old.” A mischievous smile dusted across his lips. “Should we try it?”
“Nuh-uh, man,” Rhett said, shaking his head authoritatively. “We should put that thing back and forget we ever saw it.”
“C’mon, dude,” Link replied, his eyes glazing over. “This stuff is all hoo-doo, anyway. But it might be fun.”
Link stepped gracefully toward a faded throw rug in the center of the room, its intricate geometric pattern dizzying. He crossed his ankles and lowered himself onto the ground softly, placing the board in front of him. Link squinted into the beam of light radiating from the flashlight in Rhett’s hand and cocked his head sideways.
“What?” he asked. “Are ya chicken?” Rhett scoffed and looked around the room quickly looking for something— anything— to distract Link from the spirit board.
“No,” he replied. “I just— I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“Chill out, dude,” Link scoffed. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Rhett sighed and sat next to Link, their knees pressed together in a hot point of contact. He laid the flashlight down next to them, casting a jarring glow across the board and causing shadows to creep up the walls.
“Alright, alright,” he sighed. “How is this supposed to work, anyway?” Link placed two fingers on each hand lightly on the planchette and nodded for Rhett to do the same.
“I guess we just introduce ourselves and start asking questions,” Link said with a shrug. Rhett exhaled loudly and tried to hide the faint tremor in his hands as he laid his fingers next to Link’s.
“Like what?”
Link took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. Rhett felt the fine hair at the nape of his neck stand on end and a shiver travelled down his spine.
“Hello to any otherworldly spirits that might be present here tonight,” Link spoke steadily and confidently. “It’s the ninth of October, in the year of our Lord, 1995. My name is Charles Lincoln Neal the Third, and this is my best friend, Rhett McLaughlin. We would like to make contact with some departed souls tonight.”
“Have you done this before?” Rhett asked, frankly impressed and taken aback at the ease with which Link was able to rattle off such an official sounding speech.
“No, man,” Link replied. “I’m just winging it.” He motioned back to the board and cleared his throat. “Are there any spirits present?”
Rhett could feel the electricity coursing through his fingertips as he stared at the board, simultaneously excited and terrified that the planchette might move beneath his fingers. They waited one breath; two; three. Nothing happened. Rhett’s eyes flashed to meet Link’s in disappointment, when the wooden planchette began to slide up the board as if someone— or something— was pulling it by an invisible thread.
“Are you moving it?!” Rhett asked in alarm. But the surprise on Link’s face was as plain as day, and he knew Link was just as shocked as he was.
“No,” Link whispered, his eyes trained on the slowly shifting planchette. It circled in a figure-eight three times before sliding to the top left corner. Yes.
“Holy shit, dude,” Rhett said, pulling his fingers off the planchette and rubbing his hands across the goosebumps that had risen across his forearms. “I don’t like this.”
“Put your fingers back on it.”
“I don’t like this, man.”
“Do it, Rhett.”
Reluctantly, Rhett placed his fingers back on the planchette. He could see something shimmering behind Link’s eyes that made him feel like he’d swallowed a rock.
“If— if there’s someone here, could you give us a sign? Show us that you’re here?” Link asked, eyes flicking wildly from one corner of the room to the next. Rhett held his breath as he waited for the ghostly answer, staring intently at the board at his fingertips. No movement. Nothing.
“I don’t think—” Rhett cut himself off as the lightbulb in his flashlight dimmed slightly and began to flicker. “Oh God, Link,” he moaned, heart threatening to claw its way out of his chest. He snatched the flashlight up off the ground and gave it a jerk, shaking the double D batteries inside back into place. The light steadied and he let out a sigh of relief. “Was— was that it? The sign?” Link gave a solemn nod and brought his index finger to his upper lip.
“I think so.” Link gestured to the board and both placed their fingers on the planchette again. “We see your sign, spirit. May we ask— what is your name?” The planchette seemed to move with more purpose, circling in a figure-eight just once before sliding and locking into place, one letter after another. Z-O-Z-O.
“Zozo?” Rhett asked. “What kind of a name is Zozo?”
As if in response to Rhett’s question, the planchette began to twitch under their fingers. It began to swirl wildly around the board, before setting into a steady, repetitive pattern. Z-O-Z-O-Z-O-Z-O.
“What the…” Link began to ask before trailing off, his attention caught by the faint scratching sound of a match being dragged over a striking surface, emanating from the armoire.
“What’s that?” Rhett whispered, his blown pupils straining to focus in the low lighting. He heard the sound again, this time louder and more clear. Shhtkk. Shhtkk. The flashlight began to flicker again, plunging the pair in and out of darkness. Rhett shook the heavy metal body of the flashlight to no avail. The periods of darkness lengthened and Link reached out to wrap a shaking hand around Rhett’s wrist. Rhett gave the flashlight a hearty smack against his palm, finally— finally— setting the flickering beam back into a steady ray. Just when Rhett let out a quiet sigh of relief, a loud creak of rusty hinges pierced the room as the armoire doors swung open wide.
It was enough to send both boys into a frenzy, long limbs knocking as they scrambled to exit the room. Rhett gripped onto the flashlight for dear life, the light flickering with each step that he took. The pair bounded down the hallway and rushed down the stairs.
The floorboards creaked above them. Rhett froze in his tracks, his hand wrapped hard around Link’s wrist. Another creak, and another, like thudding footsteps walking toward the staircase. Rhett’s heart beat faster, faster, panic mounting in him like he was being suffocated.
“It’s coming,” Link whispered, his eyebrows raised and nostrils flared. “We’ve gotta hide, Rhett. C’mon, in here.” He pulled open a small closet door that both had to duck to fit into. It was musty, the air thick with the faint smell of dust and decaying wood. They slid down the wall, both of Rhett’s hands clasped tight around Link’s forearm. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the small space, and both tried their best to hush their gasping breaths, but the creaking had started to move down the stairs, one agonizing thud at a time. “You’ve gotta turn off the flashlight,” Link warned. “It’ll find us.” Rhett reluctantly pressed the button on his flashlight, plunging the pair into complete blackness. Another footstep.
“I’m scared,” Rhett mumbled, turning to bury his face into the crook of Link’s neck. A gentle hand reached out to cup his cheek, and Link let out a soft hush.
“I’m scared too,” he whispered back. The hand hooked Rhett gently beneath the chin, and tilted his head back. Rhett could feel Link’s hot breath on his face, and his heart skipped into a furious gallop. Another footstep, this time towards the bottom of the staircase. When the next creak came, Rhett felt Link’s lips brush up against his own.
“Wha— what’re you doing?” Rhett asked, panic and confusion and a new flame burning deep in his stomach all threatening to consume him on the spot.
“Shh,” Link hushed, a trembling hand pressed against Rhett’s chest. “If— if something happens, I just— I just don’t wanna die without doing this first.” His lips crashed into Rhett’s again, soft and hard all at once. Another heavy footstep, no longer on the steps, but onto the hardwood of the main floor. The sound of the steps pierced the deafening silence, but Link’s lips on his own felt like a safe haven; a sanctuary. Link’s tongue slipped into his mouth and Rhett held back a gasp, his eyes pressed closed in spite of the dark. As the steps came closer to the closet, Link’s kiss became more frantic, his tongue plunging deeper, his fingernails biting through Rhett’s shirt. When they broke apart, chests heaving, they pressed their foreheads against one another, waiting patiently for the arrival of the spirit that had made its way in front of the closet door. Rhett closed his eyes, feeling Link’s breath waft over his face as his lips moved in silent prayer. Quiet. Silence. Just as quickly as the steps had started, they had stopped, the only sounds coming from their hard breaths and the faint sound of the wind whistling outside.
Link was the first to break their embrace, nudging Rhett to turn on the flashlight again.
“Think it’s safe?” he asked. Rhett gulped and strained his ears again, but didn’t hear anything.
“I dunno, Link,” he whispered. “But we can’t stay in here forever.” Link nodded, taking a deep breath before bringing himself to his feet. He offered Rhett a hand and pulled the other boy up. They stood hunched in the closet, building up the courage to push the door open. Link laid a hand on the wooden door and paused, holding his breath. Rhett placed his next to Link’s, the sides of their hands pressed up against one another.
“Together?” Rhett asked. Link flashed him a grateful smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “Together.” They counted down in unison.
“Three, two, one,” and pushed the door open. Rhett shone the light frantically down both ends of the hallway, but it was as empty as it had been when they had arrived.
“You heard that too, right?” Rhett asked Link. “I’m not going crazy, am I?” Link’s eyes were wide and shining.
“No man,” Link breathed. “I heard it.” Rhett’s eye followed the line of Link’s neck, down his shoulder, to see the Ouija board and planchette tucked under his arm. A flash of anger surged across Rhett’s features even though he could still taste Link’s lips on his. He reached out a hand to give Link a hard shove in the middle of his chest.
“Why’d you bring that thing?!” he roared. “Why didn’t you leave that stupid board up there?! That thing is dangerous, man. We don’t know what we’re messing around with!” Link staggered back a few steps, but held onto the board tighter.
“I— I wanna talk to it, Rhett,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I wanna know who it is.” Immediately Rhett felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He’d pushed Link, and the other boy was only curious. He reached out to put a hand on Link’s shoulder, his heart aching when Link flinched as if he thought Rhett meant to push him again.
“Okay,” Rhett said, his voice much softer with regret. “Okay. We’ll do it.” He snatched up Link’s free hand in his own and gave it a squeeze, hoping the gesture would communicate his apologies better than his twisted tongue. He lead Link by the hand; his flashlight held up at his shoulder lighting the way.
An archway lead them into a massive dining area. A solid oak table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by what must have been more than a dozen dining chairs with finely woven upholstery. A candelabra adorned the table and ruched curtains framed the boarded-over windows. Delicate gas lamp sconces lined the walls, their thin glass bodies trembling with the subtle vibration of the boys’ footsteps. Link pulled out two chairs from the table and he and Rhett slid into them. The tablecloth was made of finely woven cotton, the weave so delicate and old that the fibers threatened to crumble into dust with just the gentlest of touches. Link softly laid the Ouija board onto the table and placed the planchette atop it. As Rhett tucked himself into the table, his eyes flashed pointedly at Link.
“Are you— are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked. The corners of Link’s lips turned downwards and he gave him a solemn nod.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I mean— I just… I wanna know about this Zozo.”
“Alright,” Rhett replied, sighing in resignation. “Alright. Go ahead.” He placed his fingers on the planchette once more and Link followed suit.
“Okay, Zozo,” Link said, looking up into the ether once again. “Did you live in this house?” The planchette twitched under their fingers and slid easily to the top right. No. Link knit his eyebrows together in contemplation.
“Do you have any connection to this house at all?” Rhett followed. The planchette swirled around the board once more and settled in the same spot. No.
“Well then, what are you doing here?” Link asked. The planchette started moving so quickly that Rhett thought it might fly clear off the board if he were to remove his fingers. It slid quickly from one side of the board to the other, locking into place over the letters. D-E-M-O-N.
“Jesus, Link,” Rhett said, pushing his chair back a few feet. He stood up and paced in a small circle. “This is scary, man. I don’t wanna talk to a freaking demon.” Link sat with his left hand covering his mouth as he stared toward a boarded-over window, only to be broken out of his spell by a soft fwoosh sound. The sound of gas catching aflame. “Link!” Rhett gestured at one of the gas lamps on the wall. A faint orange glow radiated around it. “Link, look!” he yelled, pulling the other boy to his feet by a hard wrench to the wrist. The planchette on the board twitched, even though neither boy was anywhere near it. It began to glide furiously from side to side. Z-O-Z-O-Z-O-Z-O.
A cold sweat broke across Rhett’s forehead, his eyes snapping wildly between the Ouija board and the flame that flickered uncontrollably. Without warning, the crystal that encased the flame shattered into a million pieces, sending shards of glass flying in a huge arc across the room. Both boys braced for the impact; Link leaning into Rhett’s chest and Rhett shielding the back of Link’s head and his own face with his forearm. A shower of glass slivers rained down on them, prickling on every inch of exposed skin. When Rhett looked up, the curtains on either side of the lamp had caught flame; the dry linen crackled and billows of black smoke began to fill the room. Rhett pulled on Link’s hand urgently. “Link! We gotta get outta here! Now!”
They sprinted back to the hallway, turning left and right as panic clouded their memory. Which way to the window they’d broken into? The orange glow of the flames in the room behind them grew brighter and brighter and began to spill into the hall.
“Where do we go, Rhett?!” Link asked, a spike of panic cracking in his voice. Rhett first made a false start toward the left and then backtracked and pulled Link right. He wasn’t certain that either way was the correct one, but he just knew that they needed to move if they wanted to escape the rapidly expanding inferno behind them.
They entered a new room, maybe a library, or a den. Bookshelves lined the walls, and Rhett was sure that in any other situation he could have spent hours pouring over the dusty tomes. It was a dead end— the end of a hallway with no door in sight. He shoved a reclining chair out of the way, freeing up a path toward a boarded up window.
“We’ve gotta break through here, Link,” he said, balled fists pummeling the thick plywood. Wooden splinters stuck into the fleshy part of his hands but he pounded away anyway. The sizzling hiss of fire creeping toward them got louder, and the temperature in the room began to climb. Rhett’s heart beat faster than he thought it ever had in his life, the blood pumping in his ears almost unbearable. Link stood still behind him, chest heaving but otherwise paralyzed. “Link!” Rhett yelled again. “You gotta help me, come on!” Using one arm, Rhett pushed the contents of a small desk onto the ground; books and busts and a globe tumbling into a heap. Link helped Rhett lift the desk— its cast iron legs solid and heavy. “Alright,” Rhett shouted, hot flames creeping down the hall and licking at the entrance to the room. “Three! Two! One!” The boys thrust the iron legs of the desk against the plywood barrier and screamed in triumph when the board made a deafening crack. “Again! Three! Two! One!”
The final push sent one leg straight through the board, cracking it enough that they could smell the crisp, cool air from the outside and see the bluish glow from the full moon spilling down into the trees and shrubs around the house. Rhett pried his hands into the split in the wood, lifting his foot against the wall for leverage as he pulled the plywood towards him, and off the nails that held it in place. When he’d pulled off a piece of board big enough, he pulled Link’s hand and thrust him toward the window.
“You gotta climb out, Link! Go!”
Link sputtered and coughed on the thick smoke that had poured into the room, the bookshelves behind them beginning to catch fire. Rhett held out his hands as a brace for Link’s foot, which Link stepped onto and manoeuvred his slight frame through the opening, making a thump when he’d reached the cold, hard ground. Rhett took one look back at the room before making his exit— flames licked up the wall behind him, books crackling and hissing as the blaze consumed their leather coverings. Link’s hand thrust through the window, grasping Rhett around the wrist and he hurled himself through the opening, his jeans snagging on a rusted spike and leaving a huge tear along his inseam.
He stumbled as he landed in the grass, held up only by Link’s hands wrapped around the forearm. The pair took off at light speed, their legs pumping harder than either had run before, putting as much distance between themselves and the old plantation house, Zozo and anything else that might have inhabited the abandoned building. They sprinted through the forest, eyes peeled wide in the pale moonlight, Rhett’s flashlight left behind on the dining room table along with the Ouija board. They ran so hard their veins pumped battery acid and yet they pushed on— running at absolutely full tilt until they reached the road and the Dynasty.
Rhett laid into the gas before Link could even close the passenger door, glancing in his rearview mirror to see a thick, ghastly plume of black smoke rising above the trees behind them. The Dynasty roared as Rhett pushed the engine harder than he’d ever done, the four-door sedan flying over gravel roads and skidding dangerously around tight bends. They pulled into Link’s driveway, his mother having left a few hours prior for her night shift at the hospital. Without skipping a beat, the pair dashed into Link’s house, locking the door, kicking off their shoes, and flicking on every light switch in the house as they pounded up the stairs to Link’s bedroom where they both dove into the bed and pulled the covers over their heads.
Link was the first to break into a nervous laughter, covering his face with his hands as he groaned and rocked back and forth on his back.
“What the heck just
happened, dude?” he asked through his fingers.
“We could’ve died, is what happened!” Rhett exclaimed, his heart still beating from exertion, but he let out an exhilarated laugh of relief. He propped himself up on an elbow, blanket still tented over his head. He pulled Link’s wrist gently away from his face, his own heart moving up into his throat. Link smelled like smoke and the sheets were soft and he couldn’t have been more gracious to be where he was in that moment, so he leaned down and kissed Link again, their lips brushing gently before he let his tongue slip down into Link’s mouth. Link’s fingers wove their way around the back of his neck and a little moan escaped his throat.
“What’s that for?” Link asked, a smirk dancing on his lips when they broke apart for air.
“Well,” Rhett laughed, “I might get flattened by a Mack truck tomorrow. I don’t wanna die without doing this first.”
With another laugh and a quick jab of his knee into Rhett’s thigh, Link arched his neck back up to press his lips into Rhett’s. They licked into one another, braver after flirting with the occult, having danced precariously on the boundary between the sacred and the profane. Link’s palms ran over Rhett’s buzzed head, his fingertips leaving electric trails in their stead. The hair on the back of Rhett’s neck stood on end but it wasn’t from fear or panic or dread or anything of the sort. He’d never felt more safe and warm and comfortable, wrapped up in Link’s arms and in his bed.
Link’s hand slid down Rhett’s side, his fingertips tickling ever so slightly as they slipped inside his open flannel and over his thin, cotton tee. With a shuddering breath, Rhett pulled back, his lips wet and his heart thundering. Link’s bright eyes flashed for a moment, a single, horizontal crease forming across his forehead.
“I thought we were gonna burn to a crisp in there, dude,” Link said, his voice hoarse. “In that library, I— I just thought we were done for.” Rhett pressed a kiss into Link’s temple.
“We made it,” he cooed. “We’re out, we’re fine.”
“Gosh,” Link moaned, his eyelids fluttering shut as Rhett’s lips left a wet trail along his jawline, dropping down his neck. “God, that feels good, Rhett.”
They both arrived to school in Rhett’s Dynasty the following morning, shirts buttoned asymmetrically, Link’s hair askew, and a trail of little purple bruises forming at the base of Rhett’s throat. They were certain that they’d hear some sort of gossip about the plantation house that day— arson, probably. News always travelled fast at Harnett Central, but the halls echoed with trivial chatter; who’s dating who, make-ups, break-ups, assignments, lab reports and who had the best odds of winning the basketball game later that week.
After classes let out they made a bee-line for the plantation house in the woods, eager to see what remained of the antebellum home. The wooded trail seemed different in the light of day— clearer, and with less obstacles to trip up on or duck under. Even the fallen leaves that had blanketed the footpath the night before seemed like they had been swept off to the side. They walked down the trail for what seemed like ages, expecting to see the house materialize around every curve. But when they finally reached the clearing, there was no house to speak of.
The earth was scorched; charred black, but clear of debris. The sooty patch spanned the area that house once occupied, but the surrounding trees seemed untouched. Rhett held in a gasp as they walked around the circumference of the stained ground, reaching down to touch the soil. His fingers came back blackened with fine, powdered charcoal. Link’s hand shot out and clasped tight around Rhett’s wrist as he lead him to the center of the huge, black expanse. The Ouija Board, weathered with age, but completely unburnt, laid in the centre of the charcoal field. The planchette sat atop it, and as they approached, it quivered before jerking back to life.
Z-O-Z-O-Z-O-Z-O.