Must Stay

Must Stay 

Jules: “Hey loser, check this out. [Link attached]

Drew: “Not again, Jules our bikes are fucked.”

Jules: “I have a perfectly functional set of legs, don't you?’

Drew: “three miles?”

Jules: “three-ish miles”

Drew: “You are being fr, aren't you”

Jules: “I want to go, my mom just left for a 12 at the hospital”

Drew: “Whatever, I'm hungry tho” 

Drew was lying across Jules' bed, not fifteen minutes later. This was standard protocol, had been since they were ten. Most modern latch-key kids sit glued to an Xbox, iPhone, or some other device to suck away their lonely hours. Jules had Drew, and vice versa. They had been neighbors their entire lives, not exactly a cul-de-sac in suburbia, but the trailer park in Appalachia was all they had ever known. In the early days, one of their parents would be around to fix the occasional spaghetti-os or patch up a scraped knee, but when they hit double digits, more and more often, they were left responsible for one another.

Now, Jules was fifteen, and the summer before they became high schoolers felt precious, sacred even. The town had few surprises to offer them at this point; they had climbed the tallest trees, pilfered from the vicinity's convenience stores, and climbed through a lot of broken windows. And so, three-ish miles it was, for a new adventure. 

Unfortunately, Drew was right about one thing: their bikes were fucked. Last weekend's excursion had seriously maimed the already subpar mode of transportation. Therefore, the preparation for a long walk began, as it often did at the general store. 

The walk to what was generously referred to as “town” was short, and snacks were necessary provisions for any adolescent journey. Drew wandered between refrigerators, deciding between energy drinks of various neon colors and almost unreadable fonts, while Jules removed the two hot dogs with the least amount of wrinkles from their endless spiral and wrapped them in foil. They ate almost silently on the curb in front of the convenience store. Drew was fixated on throwing gravel into a puddle while Jules began mapping out their journey. Cell service was spotty at best, and Google Maps was untrustworthy up here in the mountains. She screenshotted a few maps from various search engines and tapped important street names into her notes app.

“Let's go, I want to be back before it gets dark.” Jules stood up and leapt aggressively into the puddle. 

“Hey! Why would you do that?” Drew complained, wiping the grey spray from his forehead aggressively. 

Jules rolled her eyes and started walking up the road. It was in Drew's nature to act upset over trivial inconveniences. He reminded her of a grumpy old man; his greatest joy seemed to be found in complaining or being proven right. 

It wasn't a particularly hot day; the walk was almost exclusively gravel roads, chalky dust rising with each step. They passed a few dilapidated buildings, but most of the scenery was eastern Kentucky's lush forest. Drew continued to mope about the walk, dragging his feet slightly behind Jules, who marched forward eagerly.  

The three-ish miles took them about an hour and a half to complete. At last, they walked up to the weather-worn porch of a barely intact farmhouse. Jules surveyed what was once allegedly a home with scrutiny. The windows were covered with plywood, which was decorated with an array of spray-painted tags varying from borderline artistic to outright crude. The door was still intact, with a black spray-painted circle and the word “meeting” scrawled above. 

“Ha, see Drew, The Meeting Spot!” Drew looked up with a big fake smile and a sarcastic Oh, wow! Before picking his way up the splintered steps to join her. 

Drew sighed, “Well, if we aren’t literally stabbed to death, we will definitely be contracting tetanus today.” He used the hem of his T-shirt to grab the rusty handle, and to both of their surprise, it unlatched immediately and swung open. 

They shared a quick glance before Jules pulled Drew in by his sleeve and anchored herself to his arm. Jules was not one for roller coasters or heights, but she loved the adrenaline of being spooked. Something about the darkness pulled her like a magnet, or maybe it was the outside air being gently sucked into the open door. 

“You look possessed already, Jules. Stop smiling like that!” Drew whispered, shoving her gently, but he was grinning too. He would never openly admit to enjoying something, but the two had been up to this kind of mischief for years, and he knew deep down his life would be dismal without Jules; it was decidedly worth the occasional trouble he found himself in. 

The room seemed to grow as the door shut behind them; the small click of the latch sounded far off, though they had only made it a few steps inside. Jules pointed wordlessly to the faint outline of an arched doorway that descended into increasing darkness. With the windows all boarded up, only a few shards of light peeked through what was once a roof, providing more concern than visual assistance. 

“I literally can’t see anything; maybe we should prop the door open?” Jules whispered. Drew turned around to reopen it, only to find the wall behind him had no door. He felt around for a handle for a few seconds before giving up. 

“Let's just find a door at the back; we are already too far in.” Jules shrugged and pressed forward. Drew felt something under his shoe, and a sharp hiss sliced through the air. The two erupted into nervous laughter and a string of shrieking expletives as they rushed forward into the blackness.

Once they had their bearings again, Jules lifted her hands to the walls. “Ha! There is a room here.” She was still whispering as she guided Drew by the arm through the doorway. Her eyes had finally somewhat adjusted to the darkness, and she began to inspect the room. 

It looked like squatters had been there; the usual collection of trash, discarded clothes, and an assortment of alcohol containers littered the floor. Jules poked at Drew. “I can see a little bit now, you?” 

“Yeah, it looks like every other trash hole. And it smells like ass, good find!” She could see the whites of his teeth, radiating with pride at his own wit.

“Okay, whatever, we have been in one room, let's keep going a little bit further, and then we can go throw rocks in a puddle or whatever you want to do.” She let go of his arm now and shuffled across the floor to avoid tripping. 

“These places are just predictable, Jules!” Drew whined, I bet the next room is where all the melty candles and weird satanic cult shit is. These are just places where teenagers and homeless people get high.” He picked up an empty beer bottle and tossed it into a pile of shards for effect as he stumbled back towards the doorway. 

Jules listened to Drew murmur and whine as she edged further down the hallway, and the next room came into view. “Well, you were wrong. This is actually the weird doll room, so HA!” She shouted, picking up a dirty porcelain doll that had clearly been placed there intentionally to freak people out. 

Drew crept up behind Jules and grabbed her by the shoulders, making her shriek and drop the doll. Pieces of its face flew across the floor. “Well, now you are cursed for sure!” Drew joked, and Jules swatted at him with what remained of the doll's limp body. “That is creepy, though,” Drew said, pointing to the corner of the ceiling. “Think it's like a theatre prop, or a puppet or something?”

Jules squinted up at the strange object. It had a white bulb at the top nearest the ceiling and four long limbs that hung down. “Yeah, it looks like a half-assed puppet or something.” 

“Okay, have we seen enough? Can we go now?” Drew mumbled, kicking the bits of the doll's face. 

A loud thump interrupted Jules as she started to answer, and the two looked over to find the puppet-thing, now slumped on the floor. The air seemed to evacuate the room, and the quiet was excruciating. “That scared the SHIT out of me.” Jules finally croaked, “Let's go.” 

Drew stood frozen, staring at the mound. Jules wished she could see his expression; she was having a hard time focusing and could barely think over her heart thumping against her ribs. “Drew, please, I get it, let's go.” She gestured frantically, trying to grab his sleeve without moving any deeper into the room. The air in the room was frigid; her hand on the doorway felt the warm summer air passing her by while the parts of her that leaned into the room were seeped in a chill that crept up her spine and rippled out. 

“It's still moving…” Drew whispered softly, barely loud enough for Jules to hear, then all at once, Drew bashed into her, grabbing her arms and pressing her forward down the hallway. She felt them grow closer to the door. When she squinted, she could see its frame coming into view, bobbing in front of her as they ran in chaotic unison. She reached out for the handle, but the floor stretched out in front of them again. It felt like running in a dream, never fast enough. The handle bounced just out of reach as each took turns clawing at the air, desperate attempts at catching it. Finally, Drew felt the metal against his palm. That's when the scraping began, a horrible dragging noise coming from behind them. Something was being pulled, pulling, through the littered floor. 

“Open it, Drew, now, now, now. “ Jules yelped 

“I am trying! It won’t, it oh shit, ohhh shit, what the fuck?!” Finally, it gave, and the two swung the door open and fell over one another onto the porch. 

Jules began hyperventilating and reciting something she had read somewhere. Drew sat dazed for a minute. “Whatever is here must stay, whatever is here must stay, whatever is here…” She was panting out the words

“Must stay,” they said together, and Drew scrambled up, reaching back inside to pull the door closed. His hand felt around desperately for the handle once again, reaching in felt like paddling through water, the air itself resisted. Jules got up and scampered to the road, watching Drew fight with the empty doorway until it slammed shut, so violently that Drew fell back onto the porch. 

“Drew, oh my god, that was not right; we need to GO,” Jules said, rushing over and pulling him up from where he sat frozen on the porch.

He got up, and they started their way down the road in silence. Drew pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Dead. A chill crept up his spine, and goosebumps lifted from his arm. Had they lost track of time? “Jules, what time is it?” She reached into her pocket and looked back at him, shaking her head slightly 

“Mine's dead.”

They had arrived in the early afternoon; that soft, warm light was long gone. Crickets sang loudly, and the moon occasionally peeked behind a haze of cloud cover. They were making much better time on their walk back, spurred on further by a lone house light that had comforted them as soon as they spotted it. A man appeared under the light as they got closer. He had a cigarette in hand and appeared to be just getting home as they approached. He was slamming the door shut on a rusted Chevy 

“What the fuck you doin out?” he shouted as they walked past. 

Jules stammered over her words, “..We..uh just lost track of time, sir.” The guy shook his head and waved her off. 

“Not talking to you, get home.” 

Jules looked over at Drew, whispering under her breath, “Not talking to us? Drew, I am seriously…” Then she saw it. It did not walk, it slid across the road, a flash of black and bright white. The sickness she felt confirmed what she had seen. Now choking back sobs, she reached over for Drew's arm. “Dre-”

He was gone.