Markham

I can't seem to stop asking myself why the fuck I agreed to this.

Sitting propped against someone's mausoleum feels a little bit disrespectful for some reason, but I'd much rather have something tall and sturdy at my back than sit in the center of the cemetery, wide open where anyone can see me.

I put my phone down for a second, curling my half-gloved fingers into a fist and blowing hot air into it before rubbing my hands together, anything for a little warmth and comfort during this stupid dare.

It'd seemed like a good idea at the time, of course, with the sun out, not a cloud in the sky, as the three of us walked to our next class, crunching the autumn leaves in our wake when Robbie had decided to pitch it. As a broke college student, grousing about my lack of funds is commonplace, so I hadn't expected an offer to drop right into my lap.

"You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" he'd baited.

"Who does?" I'd countered, not seeing where this was going or what it had to do with not being able to afford a latte and a croissant before my next paycheck.

"Uh, me," Jocelyn had piped up, eyes wide with concern. "You don't wanna fuck with spirits."

"Ya can't fuck with something that ain't real," Robbie snickered, Jocelyn responding with a roll of her eyes in lieu of a verbal argument before Robbie turned to me. "And on that note, how about this? You stay up at Markham from 1AM to 3AM, I'll give you a hundred bucks."

"Bullshit," came my reply, my eyes narrowed. Even as a rich kid, Robbie wasn't prone to throwing money around for shits and giggles.

"I'm dead serious," he said, smirking smugly, "unless you actually do believe in ghosts and secretly moonlight as a chicken."

"Hey, she wouldn't be a chicken for not doing that," Jocelyn said indignantly, "because even if it weren't the most notoriously haunted spot on campus, it's still dangerous for a woman to be alone in the dark at night during the wee hours."

"No one ever goes there even in daylight," Robbie had remarked. "Besides, it's just for two hours on one night. And...tell ya what, I'll sweeten the deal: If you catch something on camera that none of us can debunk, I'll double the prize. Sound good?"

And, stupid and dangerous though it was, it certainly had sounded good at the time. An easy hundred bucks goes a long way when you're a student, and despite Jocelyn's protests, Robbie and I shook on it then and there.

Now, though, I'm starting to regret accepting his offer during the daytime, which had cushioned my nervous system against any creeping fears I might have had. Robbie, much like myself, is a huge skeptic when it comes to paranormal activity, whereas Jocelyn is scared of her own shadow, so he probably knew I'd agree to this easily. I made him promise not to pull any shit, and reluctantly, he'd agreed not to jump out from behind a headstone or out of a tree.

I chuckle to myself as I pick up my phone again to shoot him a text: "This must be killing you, not being able to fuck with me."

Three telltale dots pop up before his answer: "It's only been 26 minutes. Give it time. 😈"

My brow furrows, chilly thumbs flying across the touch screen: "You jackass, you said you wouldn't!"

Robbie's next message comes through almost immediately: "Oh, I don't have to do anything personally. Your mind is gonna get the better of you sooner or later."

I roll my eyes and groan inwardly, typing out an answer: "Why do you hate me."

"I don't offer money to people I hate. Just people I mess with. 😇 Btw, next 15-min pic pls."

Right. Pics for proof.

Reluctant though I am to face my creepy environment again, I lift my phone to snap a photo of the cemetery in front of me, the orange glow of the streetlamp casting elongated shadows of old, decrepit headstones.

"There, happy?" I text, sending him the photo as I pull the hood of my parka more snugly around my face, hoping to block out the strange shadows and keep them from playing tricks on my eyes.

Robbie doesn't open the message immediately. Which is fair, since he games well into the early hours. I tell myself he's probably caught up in another match, blowing into my cold fingers once again, glancing around as I try to keep the instinctual fear at bay.

Without anyone else up at this hour, the silence finally begins to sink in.

Markham is deathly quiet during the day, but at night, the hush feels much too eerie to be any sort of peaceful. The stillness of the trees surrounding the cemetery is particularly uncanny. I try not to pay much attention to the voice in my head that tells me there should at least be a breeze disturbing the leaves, or a car passing in the distance, or even a small animal rustling in the nearby grove.

And instead, there's nothing.

The street light flickers for a moment, my breath hitching in response as my eyes fixate on the bulb.

It flickers again.

And then steadies.

My heart pounds against my ribcage. A stupid spooky streetlamp shouldn't be so terrifying, but try as I might to tell myself it's just an electrical light source that probably needs a little maintenance, my hindbrain begins to think I should have listened to Jocelyn on this one.

There's no such thing as ghosts.

Bzzzz.

I nearly jump out of my skin as my phone vibrates with a reply from Robbie. Grateful for the immediate distraction from this stupid challenge, I fumble to open my messages, reading his response to my photo from 1:30:

"What is that in the corner??"

My heart accelerates again, aggravation rising with its beats as I answer: "Robbie, don't fuck with me rn."

My eyes fix themselves to the screen as the three dots appear, and then the words: "I'm not. Zoom in on the headstone at the top right. Doesn't that look like a person hunched behind it?"

Not even daring to look at my picture of that headstone, I type out a swift answer: "It looks like a shadow. There are lots of those under street lamps at night, you jackass."

Knowing Robbie, he's chuckling to himself and definitely screwing with me. Ghosts aren't real, and this cemetery isn't even haunted.

Robbie replies: "Get another photo"

Bristling at being told what to do instead of having it confirmed that he's messing with me, I lift my phone again, opening the camera to snap another shot of the cemetery. I don't bother looking too closely at it, knowing my head will play tricks on me if I do, and I send it right away with a message containing more bravery than I feel: "See? Told you it was nothing."

The three dots appear, and as the irrational fear continues to rise, I can feel my mouth go dry at Robbie's next message: "Look between the two photos - It's standing now."

Instinct wins out, and, heart hammering and fingers trembling, I turn my eyes to the headstone at the far right corner.

There at the foot of it is a shadow that no tree or lamppost or any object can make, and in spite of the stillness and deadly hush pervading the area, the shadow itself...it almost looks as if it's breathing.

Terror turns my blood to ice in my veins, and from far, far away, I feel my phone buzzing, pulse pounding in my ears as I slowly lift it in front of my face, splitting my gaze between the headstone and my messages.

"Jackie??"

"Hello???"

"Stay still, I'm coming to get you."

I divert my gaze only for a second, one word managing to make it from my quivering thumbs: "Hurry."

I return my eyes to the headstone...only to find it completely vacant, as if no shadow were there to begin with.

I'm barely breathing, not daring to make even the slightest sound, muscles cramping in their seated position but finding no relief as my gaze darts around the headstones in my immediate field of vision. Nothing else seems to have changed, except--

There.

The neighboring headstone.

What I can only describe as a hunched-over lump of darkness seems to be peeking out where no shadow should exist. Unwilling to even blink or take in a full breath, I keep my gaze fixed on it.

A distant part of my brain screams at me how bizarre this is, that there's no such thing as ghosts, that any of the experiences Jocelyn got wigged out about could still be debunked, and easily.

My hindbrain begs to differ, fixated on the nameless threat in front of me. Instinct wars inside me: Run? No, running would mean passing the thing, whatever it is.

Robbie's dorm is a 20-minute walk away. A hysterical thought enters that at least I might make fifty bucks for reaching the one-hour mark, my eyes glued to the unnatural shadow-thing a little distance away.

Like before, it seems to be breathing. Slowly, almost intentionally.

And then, it begins to sway just a little.

One way, then the other.

And then back.

And every hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I see no eyes in the shadow itself, but somehow, it feels as thought whatever this creature is is watching me just as intently as I'm watching it.

Robbie better get here soon.