Chapter Thirty-Six: Lost and Found

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Darla, with the help of her grandmother bought a one-way-ticket to Connecticut the very night that she had seen her mother. They both knew that if her mother was telling her to go, then she had no choice but to follow through. With the hope that they wouldn't be apart for long, Darla said her goodbyes, but a voice deep inside told her that this would be the last time she would see her grandmother. She didn't tell her of course, otherwise her grandmother would have never let her go.

The flight only lasted four or so hours, but that wasn't what bothered her the most about the trip. Throughout the entire plane ride, she could feel the spirits watching her. Waiting for her to notice them, to talk to them and help with whatever it is that they wanted. Unfortunately, even after she got off the plane and out of the airport, she found that there was no escaping the ghosts. The streets were littered with them. It had never been this bad in New Mexico, not even in November.

"Just breathe my darling daughter." The words come to her like a whisper in the wind. Darla couldn't help but smile as they resonated with her. She wasn't alone. She had her mother with her like she had never before. The ghosts weren't there to harm or hinder her in anyway, they were merely there to help aid her in a new journey. She didn't have to pretend to be something that she wasn't anymore. There was no one around who knew her or her grandmother. She was free.


They had been searching for hours with no sign of their missing friend. Paul had tried to tell them that it was useless, but they didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear it either, let alone be the one who said it. Still, he couldn't help but remember his dream. He knew when he came here that only a handful would survive, if that. He even knew he wasn't going to be among them. Still he had to come here. He had to try and prevent the tragedy that had been plaguing his every waking and sleeping moment.

There was much to be done and looking for Sophie, as sad as her death would be, was not ranked very high on his to do list.


The house sat quietly on the hill as it waited for the next arrival. It could feel her. She was close, so very close. Soon it would wrap its arms around her, and she would belong to it forever more.


Joe woke up on what was probably the most uncomfortable couch that he had ever had the misfortune to be on. Bobby was quick to jump to his friend's side. Joe could see the questions that were so clearly displayed on his face, but he could not answer them, not now. Not when he was still trying to sort through all the information that his father had given him. The house takes you after you die. That was what he had been told. There is no way to escape it. His father had warned him to stay away for as long as he could, but how could he do that? How could he willingly leave those kids, that girl, in the house?

He had wanted to ask his father more, but he had disappeared after telling him that he and the kids were basically doomed for the rest of eternity. Joe didn't remember his father being so cryptic when he was alive. Perhaps that's what happens to you after you die. You become a cryptic self-serving bastard. Joe cursed himself for thinking like that, but he couldn't help it. How else would one describe leaving children alone to die so that you could live longer?

"What happened to you?" Joe looked at Bobby, pondering the very question that he didn't want to answer. The quiet had been so obtrusive that Bobby couldn't help but finally voice one of his many concerns.

"I'm not really sure." Joe tried to say as little as possible, but he knew that his answer wasn't good enough for his friend. Not after all of the crazy that they had been through the past couple of days.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" He could tell that his friend was frustrated, but still, he couldn't help but smile at his predictability.

"I mean, one second I am looking a picture and the next I am on this couch." Joe rubbed his head. He could feel a migraine starting.

"What picture?" The two friends jumped at the sound of John's voice. They had been so wrapped up with their own thoughts that they had forgotten that they were not alone.

"The one in front of the house that we came here to ask you about." Bobby said without thinking.

"What house?" John didn't want to admit it, but he already knew why they had come to see him. He had been told that this day would arrive by his father.

"The house with the seven people standing in front of it. One of which is my father." Joe didn't overthink his answer, or really think about it at all. He was angry. He had been getting the run around ever since he started his investigation. He'd had it with all the lies and the secrets. He just wanted the truth now.

"Right. I suppose that it's time then that someone knew."

"Knew what exactly?"

"It wasn't supposed to be this way. It was just a house once, or so we thought. You see when my grandfather was a young boy he lived in that town; you know the one just over the border. I don't remember what it was that they used to call it. I think it had something to do with the first settlers favorite flower or something like that. Anyhow, the people that used to live there were very prosperous. That is until the incident. Nobody really knows what happened, but there were all of these rumors. They said that the owner of the boarding house, built by himself and his late wife, had killed his daughter because she was sleeping the one of his employee's sons." Joe felt like he had just swallowed a huge weight that was ripping through his entire body.

"So, what does that have to do with anything?" Bobby couldn't see the connection to what was happening in the present, and honestly, neither could Joe.

"After he killed his daughter, a lot of strange things kept happening around the town. Kids would go missing and the town slowly slipped into what can only be called a drought of luck. I personally don't really know if any of it is true, but there was a lot of strange reports coming from the town until finally they reported a major gas leak and evacuation. The town has been abandoned ever since." John folded his hands behind his back. His story was finished.

"That doesn't make any sense. Things like that don't happen in the real world. I mean yes, people do get murdered, sometimes by their parents, but a whole town doesn't just evacuate and flee because of some missing children and a run of bad luck. If that were true, then New York would be a ghost town." Joe knew that there was no sense in trying to apply real world logic to this type of situation, but he was grateful that Bobby was still the same old rational Bobby that he knew and loved.

"I never said that any of it was true. This is all mainly things that I've heard. Gossip told by a bunch of old ladies through the years during book club." John looked hurt that Bobby didn't believe him. Part of Joe wanted to tell him that it wasn't at all personal, Bobby was simply a realist. Always had been and always would be.

"Wait, did you say that the town was still abandoned?" Joe couldn't believe how stupid he was being. He had gotten wrapped up by the current conversation and completely overlooked the most important part of the story.

"Yes. No one has lived there in a very long time." It was John's turn to be confused.

"But we've been dropping kids there over the last few days. How can it be abandoned?" With the new information now in the air, John felt like his heart was going to explode.

"That's not possible. That town has been fenced off for years. No one could be living there."

"How come? People buy things all the time, couldn't someone have bought the town or even just a house inside the fence?" Bobby was trying to be rational again, but this time Joe was on the same page. Why was it such an absurd idea for someone to have bought the town or even just the house?

"Because- Because I own it."


*PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE, COMMENT, AND SHARE IF YOU LIKE THIS. ALSO STAY TUNED TO MEET THE NEXT GUEST IN CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: JASON. YOU WON'T WANT TO MISS THIS.*

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