It was nobody's business to be snooping around the ruins of East Litchfield High. Not because there was any real threat present there, but the state of the building was just too dangerous to explore anymore. The place had been condemned twenty years ago, after a failed series of charity drives dashed all hope for prospective classes going forward. Not that any alumni wanted to talk about it. You could scarcely find anyone sharing rose-tinted memories from their youth at Litchfield; it seems the sting had never cooled. So, the once noble institution was now rotting away in the woods off of Newberry Road, untouched since 1972, and for some odd reason never claimed by any developers. No one wanted to go near that school, but the promise of ghosts and specters was just all too enticing to the Bartley brothers.
Hopping the rusted fence, trekking down the cracked road through the woods, and then marching through the thick, unmanicured lawn up the hill, Simon, Lucas, and Micah Bartley finally arrived at the orange, paint-chipped doors of East Litchfield. They were locked, of course, with chains around the handles, but that didn't stop Lucas from busting open the adjacent office window and climbing in, much to Simon's prudence.
"This is a bad idea, Lucas," Simon warned, watching with arms crossed as his younger brother vaulted his legs one-by-one over the window sill. Lucas scoffed, turning around and looking back out the window at Simon.
"Quit being the doog, Si, you're spoiling the fun," Lucas retorted. He then disappeared back into the dark office and Simon begrudgingly climbed in after him, with Micah not far behind.
"Don't call me the doog," Simon called after his brother as he stepped into the room. "I'm the only legal adult here and I have a vested interest in making sure you don't die before mom kills you herself," He looked back at Micah, his eight year-old brother wandering behind him.
"And why did you even bother coming, Mike?"
"I was bored," He replied glibly, battling away space pirates on his gameboy copy of Metroid II. Simon sighed; after some maneuvering around the broken door in what used to be the old admin office, they finally made their way out to the main hallway and caught up with Lucas. Turning on their flashlights, Simon wrinkled his nose as they made their way down past the rusted out lockers, the air perfugated with a rotting, moldy stench. His foot splashed into a puddle of god-knew-what, causing his shoes to squeak against the tile. Meanwhile, Lucas was popping his head in and out of the old classrooms, hunting for the reportedly paranormal location he'd been ranting about for the past week. He came out of one of the classrooms with a smug grin on his face and shined his flashlight right in Simon's eyes.
"You're just mad because you didn't get to go out with Mila Parker tonight," Lucas teased.
"She has strep throat, I wasn't gonna force her to do that," Simon argued. "And I'm not looking to get sick, though honestly we couldn't have picked a worse place."
"You sure it's not mono?" Micah quipped sarcastically from behind.
"Mike!"
"Ah ha! Here we are! This is it!" Lucas exclaimed, pushing his brothers aside. He ran down a particularly disgusting hallway to a pair of crusty orange doors. At last, the auditorium. Even though Lucas tended to ignore his brother's advice, he did have the foresight to put on some gloves before aggressively pushing on the rickety doors, which screeched open with a horrible shreik. One door proceeded to fall off entirely, echoing with a loud CLANG throughout the vast room. Simon gave his brother a look, but Lucas was completely unbothered as he waltzed into the ruined theater, tracing his hands along the warped audience seats down towards the stage. Micah decided to park himself in the middle of the rows and fiddle away on his gameboy some more.
"Ugh, gag me. Luke, this place is toxic," Simon remarked, recoiling his nose. Lucas then proceeded to leap onto the stage and run over to a torn banner hanging from the rafters, ripping it down with childish delight.
"This place is amazing! Look! Class of '72!" He replied giddily, holding up the banner. "This was from the last class to graduate before they shut down this place." Simon arrived at the bottom of the stage scrutinizing his spoils.
"Yeah, I think it was for a good reason. Why are we even here? Some demon or something?"
"Ghosts, my brother, a real ghost," Lucas replied, digging through his backpack for his tools. Simon came closer and inspected the various ghost-hunting gadgets that Lucas had jerryrigged over the years.
"Where the hell did you hear about this?" Simon asked.
"From Dave Scarborough. Before he graduated, he and a couple of the physics club guys would come here every year to see it."
"See what?"
Lucas then sat down on the stage and crossed his legs, splaying out his hands in true campfire-storytelling fashion.
"On November 25th, they say that every year, at 8:03pm, it appears. A dark shadow in the shape of a human being, rising up from the floor and disappearing into the ceiling. The exact same day, the exact same hour, the exact same minute," Lucas reported excitedly. "And these guys, they went crazy trying to figure it out! They brought all their equipment, tests, but no dice! He said it was my mission this year as club president to figure it out." Simon crossed his arms and looked up at him skeptically.
"November 25th is next month, Luke. Where's the beef?" He asked. Lucas stood up and waved his makeshift gadgetry around at the perimeter of the stage.
"We have to do diagnostics, thermal readings, magnetic signatures," He explained. "I always do a preliminary survey before any actual ghost-hunting. It's an annual haunting, Si, I want absolute certainty that this is prime ghost real-estate."
"An annual haunting? Dear god, shave off the corners of your head, square," Simon quipped as he slumped down in one of the seats. Lucas frowned at him, resting his hands on his hips.
"Well, the least you could do is take some pictures," He said. "You know how to work that camera better than I do. I need my references." Simon let out a sigh, standing back up.
"Fine, but you're paying for developing the film." He said, pointing his finger. Lucas handdwaved him and wandered off towards the back of the stage, his EMF reader letting out a series of weak beeps. Simon shook his head and rummaged through his backpack for his camera. His brothers never failed to exasperate him. Being latchkey kids, he was always the one tasked with keeping them in line when traipsing on little adventures like these. Micah was at least the easier of the two to deal with, being laser-focused on the latest technology. However, it was disconcerting that now at this age he was taking after Lucas, his irreverent, hyper-nerd brother who always got into trouble and sneaked into places he wasn't supposed to be.
Though on the other hand, Simon could at least appreciate some of the beauty in this place as he walked around the room and snapped photos. Big panneled windows near the left of the balcony bathed the room in natural light, with swarms of dust particles glittering in a strangely beautiful way. A hole in the roof let in a draft, which whistled as the wind blew outside. There were long frames of warped, large-format pictures on the walls from past performances at East Litchfield: Kiss Me Kate, Oklahoma, Carousel, and surprisingly a production of Company, which Simon didn't understand how they even got away with. He made his way towards the back of the theater to get a wideview shot of all the rusty orange seats in the room, but paused for a moment to let everything sink in. It was humbling to be in a place that so many found joy and laughter in, the warm and happy memories made here, now standing cold, abandoned, and desecrated.
Desecrated. Simon looked up from his camera, taking a better survey at his surroundings. It dawned on him that the place was much more thoroughly damaged than the other rooms in the building, most of which were left alone. This place looked like it had been the scene of a riot. He noticed the door that Lucas had so casually knocked to the ground had actually broken off its hinges, with a large crack down the middle and scratches that had already been there. Some of the seats near the exit had physically broken out of their stalls, and chillingly Simon noticed the hundreds of dirty footprints crowded near the door, with scratches and dents on the drywall around the frame. There was a stain that looked like blood on the carpet. His heart sank into his stomach.
"Hey guys," Simon called out, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice. "I hate to break it to you, but we have to get back."
"Oh come on! I was just getting my radiation readings!" Lucas whined, throwing up his hands in a dramatic pose on the stage. Micah complied and rose from his seat, beginning to make his way back to Simon when he stopped in the middle of the aisle and looked down one of the rows.
"Hey guys, look at this!" Micah called out. "There's like, a bunch of papers all over the ground!"
"Guys come on, mom's probably got dinner on the table and you two have homework. And dad won't appreciate you messing with his geiger counter, Lucas," Simon ordered. Lucas ignored him and ran over to Micah to investigate. He bent down to pick through the contents while his little brother looked over his shoulder.
"What is it, Lukie?" Micah asked.
"It's evidence!" He exclaimed, scooping up the papers on the floor and dumping them out into the aisle. He picked up one and carefully examined its contents.
"These are playbills," Lucas observed. "Playbills from, let me see, 'The East Litchfield High School 1972 Thanksgiving Fundraiser Variety Show,'–– god that's a mouthful–– and let's see... 'performances by students and staff to raise funds for restoration...' wait a minute!"
"What is it now, Luke?" Simon asked begrudgingly.
"November 25th, 1972! November 25th! That's the same day that the ghost appears!" Lucas exclaimed. "And wait hold on, hold on... wait, Simon. Do you know this guy? He looks familiar."
"Lucas..."
"Please just take a look," He begged, handing it over to him. Simon narrowed his eyes carefully at the picture. It was extremely faded, but he could make out a lanky, dark-haired guy with blowed-out Beegees hair and sharp features rocking a telecaster guitar.
"Yeah I recognize him. That's the guy who fixed Dad's car last month," Simon observed, tracing his finger over the name under the picture. "Scott Larsen, yeah, he works at the Jiffy Lube on Fairfield Avenue."
"Maybe he knows what happened?" Micah proposed. Lucas's eyes lit up and he pointed at his brother with a knowing look.
"Smart thinkin' little Lincoln, interviewing the witnesses. This'll build an excellent case." He commended, patting him on the shoulder.
"No Lucas, we're not gonna go bother this guy," Simon scolded. Lucas whined and gripped his hands in frustration.
"Come on, Si, he was there! November 25th, 1972! Come on, man, we've gotta ask him some questions," He begged.
"Luke, you're getting out of your head again. Get back in there," Simon insisted. Lucas then put his hands on Simon's shoulders.
"Come on, man-to-man, you've got to have some spirit of inquiry in you about this."
"You're fourteen, and no, I'd rather not come back here," Simon said dismissively.
"Okay one: you're barely eighteen, and two: this could be one of the greatest mysteries ever uncovered, Simon, one of the biggest breaks I've ever got and I don't want to let the guys down. I have to do this," Lucas pleaded.
"You haven't even seen the ghost yet."
"I want to see it,'' he implored. "I want to find out what happened and be there when it happens. Please." Simon let out a sigh, scratching his forehead. He knew Lucas would wear him down eventually, but it wasn't entirely his fault. As frustrated as Simon got with Lucas, as much as he groaned and complained, he knew that he couldn't deny his passion. Lucas had always needed special attention, and Simon loved his brother even if he was a little overenthusiatic. He was just getting his footing in a club with people who actually liked him, where he finally fit in. So once again, Simon let his guard cautiously cave in.
"Okay, after school tomorrow, we'll go visit," He conceded, holding out his hand. "But we have to pick up Micah after that and you have to behave. If it turns out to be nothing, we're never coming back here again. Capisce?"
"Deal. Okay, deal," Lucas condceeded, grabbing Simon's hand and shaking it, though Simon knew that that would probably blow up in his face immediately. Simon then pointed at Micah, still not paying attention to either of them, eyes affixed to his space-faring adventure.
"And you too, Micah. Don't let this guy turn you into a punk."
"I will make no such promises," Micah retorted. Simon chuckled half-heartedly.
"Ah... Christ. Alright, autobots, roll out," Simon commanded, and with that the boys followed behind like soldiers as they made their way back down the hall. Walking out of the building and back into the woods, there was still an amount of unsteadiness Simon had about being in that room, how violently torn up it was. He felt it in his bones that something unspeakable had happened, and he was worried about how he was letting Lucas pull at this thread without knowing what it was attached to. When they made it back to the main street and up the sidewalk back home, something told him to look more closely at the evidence they had collected. Something he had noticed in there had caught his eye.
"Lucas," Simon said, looking back at his brother. "Can you hand me that playbill you showed me? I wanna check something out."
"Sure," He replied, fishing it out of his backpack. Simon took it from him and gave it a read as they were walking, scanning through the photos. It was a typical catalogue of 70s variety show acts that they had put on for this school fundraiser, with photos of the performers and parent testimonials to graduating seniors each with their own fabulous haircut. But then his eyes stopped at one photo in particular. Near the last page, there was a picture of a girl, kind of like Marcia Brady, smiling in a bright orange and white cheerleader uniform.
"This girl went missing," He announced to his brothers. They stopped in their tracks and stood to attention as Simon stared at her photograph.
"Who went missing, Si?" Micah asked. Simon gathered them near so they could inspect it more closely.
"This girl, Susan Schuester. We were going over missing persons cases in my crimonology class and I read her old case file on the computer. And Lucas?"
"Yeah, Simon?"
"She went missing on November 25th, 1972," He replied, giving Lucas a serious look. Lucas grabbed the playbill and hurriedly flipped through the pages back to the event line-up.
"And she was a part of the cheerleading squad, they were the last act of the night," He deduced. "Something happened to her." A knot twisted in Simon's gut, and suddenly that spirit of inquiry that Lucas had mentioned beckoned his mind to know more. Not just for the sake of his own curiosity, but something in him called for justice.
"And maybe she's the ghost."