The long hallway

When I was 15 we moved around a lot. My dad had a job that constantly sent him to different places every few years. It was fun at first, new houses, new schools, new friends. It became really hard as I got older because becoming a teenager is hard. I needed friends, consistent friends who KNEW me, not just on the surface but who really knew me. My mother worked a job in whatever town we ended up in. Waitress, assistant, cashier, whatever helped pay the bills for the time being. I kind of envied her. She was free to work at whatever job she wanted and could basically quit whenever she wanted because we’d be moving not long after our arrival anyway. She got to experience many different things and met incredible people along the way. 

We moved to a small town in Connecticut just a few hours from the bustling city. Though my dad worked down town, we preferred the slow country life to the multitude of people and vehicles that we would be forced to navigate on a daily basis. It was a quiet, cute little town. The neighborhoods were filled with children, laughing and playing in the streets while parents gathered on various front lawns, porches and sidewalks to talk about the days, the weekends ahead and upcoming end of summer holidays. It was the perfect family town. I couldn't wait to make some good friends this time. Everyone seemed so nice and I couldn’t wait to go out and meet them. 

Stephanie was playing tic-tac-toe with her sister on their driveway with chalk so I mustered up the courage and walked next door to introduce myself.

 “Ok, don’t say anything dumb.” I thought to myself. 

I walked straight up to them and when I opened my mouth to say “hi I’m Rebecca”, the words I heard ACTUALLY coming out of my mouth were “hi becky, I’m your sister, want to play”? WHAT?! Whose words were those, where did mine go and oh my god...they’re going to hate me. Stephanie peered up from the game and burst into laughter.

 “I’m sorry what?” she managed to say between chuckles.

 Feeling my face turn beet red, I tried again,

 “Hi, I’m Rebecca, we just moved in next door, would it be okay if I hung out with you guys?”

 “YAY! A new friend”, Stephanie's sister Jaime squealed. 

“Sure, that would be fine, where are you from?” Stephanie inquired.

 We had just moved here from Los Angeles. I hated that place and quite frankly, never wanted to speak of it again. 

“Oh here and there, my dad moves us around a lot for work”. 

“Wow, that’s so cool, I bet you’ve seen all sorts of cool places!” Jaime exclaims. 

Kids, they’re so easy to entertain sometimes. 

I joined their game and we took turns. We talked for a while about school and how nervous we were that it would be starting so soon and summer would be over. We had a couple of the same classes together which was nice because I was starting grade 10 and having a friend already would be way easier than starting alone. We spent the rest of the summer playing at one another’s houses and outside as warm sunny days would soon be a thing of the past. 

  Stephanie came for a few sleepovers and I had a couple at her house. Most nights when she came over we would be in the living room on the main floor watching a movie, eating popcorn and gossiping about all the boys we thought were cute in school, but obviously would never talk to. A couple strange things had happened over the summer but we never really paid attention to them and I don’t think Stephanie really noticed. A couple of things out of place, sounds that were unfamiliar. My mom had told me not to worry about it when I brought it up to her but something was nagging me. 

My dad had one hobby. His 1969 baby blue t-bird. It was his prized possession. He had been working on this car for so many years I’d lost count. He spent every Saturday out there, tinkering with parts, washing her by hand. There was never a speck of dust to be found. In our home, down the long hallway to the bedrooms, the wall was lined with photos of my dad with the car in various poses. Sitting in the driver's seat with a smile as big as could be. Standing next to her after he’d won first place at a show and shine. He was proud of it. 

One weekend Stephanie came over for a sleepover while my parents went out to enjoy dinner and show. We played games, did each other's hair, watched movies and ate so much candy and popcorn we thought we might burst. As the evening wore on, we started telling ghost stories. It was fun to scare each other a little but during one particularly scary point in Stephanie's story, we heard a loud bang. 

“Did you hear that”? I whispered as I peered around the room. 

Stephanie, clearly startled by the sound, blinked slowly and nodded yes. We got to our feet and started making our way down the hallway towards the kitchen. Then it came again, BANG! 

We stopped. 

“I think someone’s here”. Stephanie said with a shaky voice. 

My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it’s going to bust out of my body. As we pass the pictures in the hall, I glance over and take a look at the one of him sitting in the front seat, proud as can be. Except now, the car in the picture is totaled and my dad is in a crumpled heap on the front seat. I gasp and turn away. Stephanie comes over to see what the commotion is about. 

“Look at the photo on the wall, it’s, it’s, awful!” 

Stephanie tip toes toward the picture, she's white as a ghost as she turns back towards me. 

“Run!!” I say, as I take off back down the hall from where we came from. When we reach my room, I slam the door shut, lock it and place a chair under the doorknob, because if I learned anything from watching scary movies, that should keep anyone out. I scramble to the nightstand and reach for my phone. I start dialing, it starts ringing, the call drops. 

“Huh, we must have bad reception here”. I move closer to the window. 

Frantically I try to call my parents again. It rings and rings and rings, my heart beats faster, louder. I hear footsteps coming down the hall. Stephanie and I huddle in the corner, gripping each others’ arms as we prepare for the worst. The door knob jiggles. And again. We’ve both noticed by this point that we’ve not taken a breath for a solid 30 seconds. A loud knock pierces the silence. We stay put. Another knock, this time louder, with more intention. A few minutes go past without any knocks. I rise slowly to my feet, realizing my legs have decided they’re scared too, I can hardly stand. I walk along the wall to steady myself before reaching the door. I close my eyes and as I reach my hand to grasp the knob, the door swings open, sending the chair flying across the room with a crash. The sound is so loud I can’t think. When I open my eyes, my mother is standing in the doorway. 

“Oh girls, you know you shouldn’t have that much candy before bed, you’ll have nightmares”. 

“MOOOOM!!!! You scared us half to death!” my mind thinks back to the picture down the hall. I rush past her in the doorway and make my way down the hall to the photo. I’m afraid to look, I peek one eye open as I turn my gaze upward, there it is, the 1969 t-bird in perfect condition, my dad’s smile as big as always. 

“This doesn’t make any sense.” I search my mind for a logical reason. 

Stephanie comes trailing behind to check the picture as well. Her eyes squint, 

“It’s, it’s back to normal?” she says hesitantly.

“Yea, I guess we must have been imagining things, let’s go back to my room.” Stephanie agrees and we go back to my room for the night. We never spoke of the photo again, we moved 2 years later and I still think about that night.