"But you saw something last week?"
"Yeah, a tall moving shadow along that ramp up there at the top of the stairs. Saw it with my own eyes."
Landon looked over his shoulder up into the gloom as Hunter held out his phone toward him, gesturing at the screen. "Look, here's a famous picture of a spectre—called The Brown Lady of Raynham Hall."
Taking the proffered phone, Landon examined the black and white photo on the screen featuring a misty veiled figure moving down a staircase. He laughed. "That's so obviously fake."
"It's not! I'm telling you, 'double-exposure' is always the excuse made by those who don't believe—and I'm not buying it. It's real." He looked around, oblivious to Garrin, who was careful to remain in the slant of shadows. "One of these days I'm going to prove it with a photo of my own."
Handing back the phone, Landon stood up from the stair and moved next to his friend. Together they peered up the barely discernible staircase as Hunter once again used his phone as a flashlight. The beam enabled them to see only a short distance ahead, but the metal stairs looked sturdy and intact enough; at least from this vantage point.
"What's up there?" Landon asked.
"Offices and stuff. Hey—don't you Christians believe in angels?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess. Why?"
Hunter let out a loud laugh but said nothing more. Landon rubbed the back of his neck in a self-conscious manner, as though embarrassed by the implication.
Garrin scanned the upper floor where several derelict offices stood hidden in the pitch beyond a palely suffused ramp some thirty feet above ground level. Hunter began mounting the stairs, while Landon switched on his own flashlight app and followed suit with steps much more tentative than his friend's.
Hunter's voice dropped to a whisper. "We need to keep quiet from now on if we expect to see anything."
"But where,"—Landon lowered his voice to a hush—"where are we going?"
"There's an office up here, I saw it in the daylight and know which one it is. It's where the spectre is said to dwell."
"Why would a ghost 'dwell' in an office?"
"They say he worked here and died in a freak accident a couple weeks before the factory closed down. Now shut up and keep quiet."
This end of the factory was so shrouded, the boys looked like floating flashlight beams moving upward. With a sudden instinct, Garrin glanced back toward the distant entry door where moonlit contours were much more visible.
A murky figure moved along the wall toward him like a mist and vanished behind some machinery.
Seconds later it reappeared, moving right past Garrin, who remained crouched and hidden, before it disappeared into the pitch beneath the raised offices.
YOU ARE READING
Mother's Angel, and other short storiesShort Story
A collection of short stories. Various genres. Paranormal, Speculative, Fantasy, Historical, Coming-of-Age. Read one or read em' all. ;) Special Interests: The Jaguar is an LGBTQ fable. Howard Reed's Brain is a vegan tale about factory farms.