Lucy
Kat didn’t seem bad. A bit dim, maybe, and being the boss’s niece was a hit against her. In other circumstances, Lucy would be more charitable. But the way Kat looked at Tom made her blood boil. Like how all the shallow girls at school looked at him. Like a piece of meat.
She tried to let it go. Lucy knew she was too quick to judge people, and she’d hardly even met Kat. But Lucy’s good opinion, once lost, was lost forever.
“Come on now,” Daisy said, half laughing. “Sophie just said not to tell any ghost stories.”
Lucy raised her hand apologetically. “I just think it’s a good way to pass the time.”
She turned to Kat, who still seemed flustered by everything.
“A nice little icebreaker while we walk you through the evening tasks.”
Kat shrugged.
“I’m sure I have a lot to do…” she looked down at the shirt in her hands. “I haven’t even gotten changed yet.”
Lucy tutted.
“I’m sure we’ll have time. Besides, consider it a bonding experience.”
“You mean hazing,” Tom said coldly, arms folding across his chest.
“Yeah,” Lucy said, “Tom is just sour because I spooked him out for his first shift. But he’s easy, jumps at every little noise or movement.”
Lucy turned to Kat and grinned. She wasn’t trying to be mean… but it was toothy, and a bit sinister.
“You’re not scared, are you, Kat?”
Kat looked to Tom and held his gaze for an infuriatingly long moment.
“No, I’m not easily startled. But I like scary stories as much as the next girl.”
Lucy could feel a bit of annoyance welling up.
“Oh yeah, what’s your favourite?”
Kat shrugged.
“I think the scariest movie I’ve seen is Paranormal Activity. That kept me up for a week!”
Kat smiled at her earnestly. But that was it. Good opinion lost.
“That’s entry-level horror,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “Maybe a three out of ten.”
She sighed loudly. “But that’s okay, this is an urban legend, just a little ghost story.”
The new girl frowned at her.
“Okay, what’s your favorite?”
Lucy folded her arms. “I’m a lover of the classics: The Thing, Alien, Exorcist 3—”
“Oh God,” Tom said, shaking his head. “You’re one of those ‘3 is the best Exorcist’ people?”
“You’re not?” Lucy asked. “I can’t believe we’re friends.”
I From what Lucy saw, he never got to be himself at school, especially not after the… incident. But they had a fun, playful, effortless rhythm.
Lucy stole a look at Kat, hoping she could see it too. It was hard to tell though; she didn’t seem to emote much.
“Anyway,” Lucy continued, addressing Kat, “Go get ready, then we’ll do proper introductions and urban legends.”
Kat nodded, but her eyes were cast down. She was nervous – overwhelmed maybe? Either way, she exited the room, leaving Lucy alone with Tom.
“She seems nice. Simple but nice.”
Tom narrowed his eyes at her.
“You don’t have to torture all the new people day one.”
Lucy held a hand against her steady heart.
“Promise I’ll be nice. I’m just having fun. Besides, it really is team building.”
Tom ran his hand through his thick hair.
“Fine, but just so you know…You do this every time, me included. I don’t know why you want people to get a bad first impression.”
Lucy looked down at the ground. That was usually where she’d laugh it off or press harder, but she cared more about his opinion than she did most people.
“Okay, I’ll go easy on her,” she said, looking up at him again with what she hoped was her most smouldering look. “Besides, if I was really that big of a bitch, you wouldn’t have put up with me this long.”
Tom laughed and then gave her that bright, warm, brilliant smile most people missed.
“You don’t know that. You’ve met my ex. Maybe I like bitches.”
His smile faded immediately. “Shit, really trying not to say that word. Also, she isn’t, you know…”
He turned away, his jovial energy sapped. Even in that moment, when Lucy was right there waiting, all he could do was think of her.
Lucy caught Daisy’s eye. She was back at the pizza counter, but even from that distance, Lucy could see the sympathy on her face.
It didn’t matter.
Who’d pick the goth girl anyway?
Lucy busied herself with tidying; she would need to compose herself before the princess got back. She paid no mind to the flickering lights above, likely just Tom dicking around to avoid the awkwardness he’d created.
By the time Kat had returned, the mood had settled back down, and Lucy was ready to burn off what remained of her quiet indignance.
“All right, newbie, let’s start with the ghost tour,” she waved around the room. “This is the storefront, pretty self-explanatory. But you have to watch these bastards here.”
She walked Kat over to the hotdog spinner and the slushy machines, set on the counter of what looked like a cabinet on wheels.
“Both of them act up. They get cleaned regularly and maintained by the companies we lease them from. But watch out for desiccated dogs and clogged-up slushies. Remove anything that looks like it’s been spinning there for a month and help yourself to a slush from time to time to make sure everything is working right… the flavors don’t always make sense.”
Kat looked at the machine inquisitively.
“What do you mean? It seems like all these sorts of stores have the same flavors.”
Lucy shrugged. “Maybe Bradley is cheaping out on the syrups…oh shit, you haven’t met him. He’s the—”
“Oh no,” Kat interrupted. “I have met him.”
Lucy rubbed her temples.
“Of course you have. Anyway, the flavors should always be cherry and blue raspberry… but I swear, half the time they come out different. Really sour or…well, savory?”
Kat laughed. “You’re joking?”
“Wish I was. Going in for a blast of cherry only to get leftover Bolognese is not a great experience. If something like that happens, flush the whole thing into a bucket and put an out-of-order sign on it, Bradley will get it back up and running when he’s next in.”
“And the buckets are?”
“In the back,” Tom said before holding up a hand. “Sorry, not my tour.”
“Ghost tour!” Lucy corrected. “But before we proceed…Our tale begins a hundred and fifty years ago, when the island was settled for all of one generation.”
“By white people, you mean?” Kat said timidly. “Surely the Native Americans here would have a different timeline.”
Lucy scowled at her. The know-it-all schtick was bad enough, but to be wrong too…
“Not a student of history then. When settlers arrived here, it was empty. The natives knew better than to live here. Lessons hard-won long before we arrived. Maybe a lesson we’ll understand someday, too,” she said, shaking her head. “Anyway! The original settlers had hardly built any semblance of civilization this far out. It was really just scattered trading posts, and large parcels of farming land awarded to the elite.”
“Imagine that,” Toms said, smirking. “People trying to farm around here.”
“They tried,” Lucy continued, “but we’re no Greenvale, and these parts of the island proved hard to settle. The forests, difficult to clear and quick to regain lost ground. rocky soil that seems to bite back when you try to dig. Fog so thick you can get lost in your own yard. It is from that hard state that the story of Charity Miller begins.” Lucy walked away, motioning for the group to follow.
“Okay, so the buckets…”
She made her way through the ‘Employee’s Only’ sign and into the storage room in the back.
“That door does lock, but we don’t usually bother.”
She turned and pointed to the back corner.
“Buckets,” she said before making a broad sweeping motion over the entire space. “We keep all our excess stock back here. And over there,” she pointed to a familiar door centred in the back wall, “is the back entrance to the store. That one gets locked at night, but it’s a good way to sneak in during the day… say you’re running a bit late.”
She paused, emphasizing how little there was to explain.
“Any questions?”
Kat nodded.
“Yeah, how do I know what to stock and where it is?”
Lucy shook her head.
“Honestly, outside of seasonal items nothing ever changes around here. Like items are all stored together, boxes are clearly labelled. If you see a shelf looking empty, or even nearly empty, just go grab some more and place them on the shelf.”
Tom raised a hand, a goofy smile accompanying the pointless gesture.
“With perishables, make sure you have the new stock go behind the old stuff.”
Kat nodded at him, all smiles and fluttering lashes.
I’m sure he loves that shit.
“People in the biz,” Kat interjected, “call that rotating.”
Tom wasted one of those rare earnest smiles.
“Oh, you have a bit of insider knowledge, eh?”
“Well, I’ve picked up a few things from my aunt. You might know her, uber successful entrepreneur. She often says it’s an instinct thing.” Kat added, before winking at him.
The silly girl immediately blushed. It was incredibly lame. And yet, Tom was still smiling.
She was already losing him.
You can’t lose what you never had.
The darkened storeroom was exactly where she needed to be. The shadows hid the flickering emotions on her face and gave her the opportunity to regain some ground.
“Charity was married to Lord William Miller, freshly landed from England and seeking to make a fortune in the new world. The marriage was arranged, of course, and all the niceties of Lord Miller soon fell away as Charity found herself disallowed from most freedoms, lacking in all comforts.”
Kat stared at her through the pale light.
“So, he was a total bastard?”
“And more, because this was before business turned.”
Lucy wandered the floor as she spoke, pausing to examine random objects to create dramatic pauses and pull the listeners back towards the fridges.
“When his fortune began to dry up, he lashed out at her. Channelling all his frustrations into her, turning neglect into abuse. But even in that deep well of despair, Charity found solace. She found comfort in the arms of one of their servants. Many speculate who it was to this day. Story is that even Master Miller was unsure, but he professed that he knew she was having an affair. And he was quick to take action.”
Lucy clapped her hand hard, startling both Kat and Tom.
“Shit,” Tom said, “I don’t know how you keep getting me like that.”
“Because you’re a puss,” Lucy said, sticking her tongue out at him. “Anyway, back to the tour. Over here, at the fridges, we keep milk, cheese, and pizza shells in here. The ingredients are stored in smaller fridges in the Shack itself.”
“The Shack?” Kat asked.
“Pizza Shack, you know the pizza place in the store. It’s a chain, the franchise is owned by a local businesswoman… You might have heard of her?”
“Right, right,” Kat said, sighing.
“Like you said earlier, rotating stock is the most important part of maintaining the cold items. Don’t take expired items out on the floor, you don’t want customers coming back to the store post-food poisoning…”
“Eugene was a real mess,” Tom added, before letting Lucy continue.
“I’m sure Daisy will give you all the details about the pizza crusts and whatnot, so I won’t go stepping on her toes.”
“Why do I need to know about the pizza place?” Kat asked.
Lucy knocked on the glass window of the closest fridge.
“Because we cover Daisy’s breaks and her rare day off. You just close the front till and check people out on this side of the store.”
Lucy waved for them to follow and stepped through a pair of saloon doors and back into the pale light of the storefront.
She entered the side of Pizza Stack and saw Daisy waiting there for them. She nodded to Lucy.
“Going easy on them, I hope.”
“Of course,” Lucy answered. “Wait, what do you mean them?”
“Be nice to Kat. Also, you know Tom can’t handle this stuff.”
“Hey!” Tom said, stepping behind the counter. “I heard that.”
Lucy leaned towards him, hands pressed against her hips.
“Well, we all know you can’t.”
She quickly slammed one of her open palms down on the counter. The loud noise made Tom flinch again. He shook his head and held up his hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay. I get the point.”
Daisy laughed.
“Do you kids mind watching the phone for a second? I’m just going to run out to my car for something.”
“Of course,” Tom said.
Daisy stepped around them and lifted a short section of the counter up. It was hinged, and once she was through, she lowered it back into place.
“Handy,” Kat said, looking at the counter.
Lucy tried to think of something snarky to say, but nothing good coalesced.
“Here ends your tour, and the life of poor Charity.”
She spun around and pointed rapidly around the space.
“Fridges under the back counter for ingredients, tools and implements hung on the wall there, large convection oven kept at four hundred and fifty degrees, the most ancient corded phone I’ve ever seen, little slips to write orders on.”
She finished her quick summary of the space and turned back to the group.
“When Lord Miller discovered Charity’s indiscretions, he fell into a state of hateful jealousy, an angry pit which led him to an equally dark place. The black stone.”
“Wait, is Blackstone named after an actual place?” Kat asked, eyebrow raised.
Lucy couldn’t tell if she was actually interested or if she just liked interrupting.
“No,” Tom said quickly, “It’s just an urban legend.”
Lucy chuckled.
“It’s a real place and a real stone. A great pointed boulder, black as sin, embedded in the ground somewhere in the woods behind us. It’s a place of meditation, worship, and even sacrifice. It’s also a lost place known to only a few, one of whom was Miller. He knew that place would keep his secrets…and it would happily accept the blood.”
Lucy leaned towards them again and tilted her face down. She knew her makeup would exaggerate the shadows under and within her eyes.
“He took her there under the pretence of a romantic picnic. He saw the fear on her face turn into confusion, then excitement. Was this the kindness she’d once been promised? It was only when she beheld the stone that the fear returned. That glistening stone, which seemed to hum to the moon above. She could feel it in the air, thick and earthy, the smell of bloodlust. But before she could turn and run, the knife came down into her back.”
Lucy mimed a horrible, anguished pain before performing the backstabbing again and again…
“And again, and again he stabbed her. Every strike spilling blood on that sacred ground, every stab aiming for her heart, every slice coming straight from his. Even the cruellest heart can feel betrayal, no matter how twisted, no matter how unjustified. And in those moments, he hated and loved his poor wife in equal measure.”
Lucy inhaled deeply and let the breath out in one slow, deliberate motion.
“His dark deed completed, Lord Miller left her there, burbling, bleeding, and dying there in the dark. Alone. It was the last time he would see her.”
“But?” Kat said before catching herself.
“But what?” Lucy asked.
“He got away with it?”
“He did, but that isn’t where the story ends. You see, he left her alive. Dying, but alive. And nothing can keep the body running like hate. She pulled herself back along the path. Miles back, a trail of fresh blood in her wake. There are limits to the human body, though, and while she did make it back to the road, her injuries were too severe, and she died out there, in the middle of what is now Highway 525.”
Lucy moved around the counter and towards the long windows of the storefront.
“And now she walks these roads. Hoping for a ride, hoping for some human connection…” She looked back at Tom and Kat and smiled in a way she hoped was sinister. “And when people pick her up, she shares her story before exacting her revenge on them.”
“Why them?” Kat asked.
“Because she’s angry, lost, and in endless pain.”
She turned back to the window, to the darkening sky, and the dark roads that crossed in front of her.
“The human body has limits, but its spirit does not. She’ll keep wandering this highway until she finds her way home and gets her revenge true.”
“But he’s long dead,” Kat said quietly.
“Yes, and I feel sorry for whoever lives in his house now. There is a karmic time bomb heading inexorably in their direction.”
Lucy spun around quickly and shrieked at them, but this time, no one jumped.
“You overdid it,” Tom said, “Too many jump scares in a row.”
“Hey, I had to try. Besides, it worked for Paranormal Activity.”
She shot Kat a sarcastic glance. But when she looked at Kat, she didn’t seem scared. In fact, she wasn’t even paying attention to Lucy.
Kat seemed confused.
“I don’t get it,” the new girl said. “Yeah, I know it’s just a ghost story, but it doesn’t work if the ghost is constantly killing people. We’d notice that.”
Lucy laughed.
“Bit sheltered, are we? I guess the cove is a little different. Full of olds and yuppy millionaires. People who don’t like to notice trends that inconvenience them or their world views.”
“Wait, how did you know I’m from Hermit’s Rest?” Kat asked.
“You come from money. Also, you never went to school with us. Sure, you’re older than me, but I’d still remember you. Our whole high school has like two hundred kids in it.”
“Fair,” Kat said with an awkward shrug. “But what trends haven’t I noticed?”
Tom sighed. He seemed reluctant to speak, but he pushed through the awkward silence all the same.
“People do go missing all the time. It’s pretty obvious to people like us – poor, young… but older people seem to just go with the flow. It’s like you eventually just get used to it, grow accustomed to it.”
“They are conditioned to ignore it, because who wants to live in fear?” Lucy said, a pang of actual sympathy in her voice. Would it have been better if Kat had never noticed?
“Birch Island is weird…fucked, really,” Lucy continued. “Four times the normal number of disappearances, which is already higher than most people expect, and we see even more unexplained deaths. But it’s normalized, hardly even reported on outside fringe outlets like the Birch Island Observer.”
“The horror rag?” Kat asked, skepticism ringing in her tone.
Lucy clicked her tongue.
“Yeah, that rag is the only place where you can see the trends that we all feel but don’t acknowledge. They don’t know why it’s happening, and most of their stories are bullshit, but at least they have accepted it’s true.”
“But it can’t all be ghosts and goblins,” Tom said, looking towards Kat. “We have a lot of forests here; people go missing hiking and whatnot. You don’t need to worry, people just like scary stories.”
Lucy shook her head.
“One of the former writers at the Observer used to enjoy trying to figure out why certain stories were told. Why trends and touchstones exist in urban legends. The psychological need to see certain patterns. But the easy answer he often missed is what if there is a kernel of truth to it? What if the easiest explanation is true, and this many people going missing isn’t normal, no matter how hard we try to make it?”
“I’m not sure which is better,” Kat said. “One side of it is horrifying, and the other…acceptance, that’s just sad.”
“Is it really?” Lucy asked. “I don’t see it that way. I almost hope I grow ignorant with age.”
“Why?” Kat asked, her face screwed up like she was analyzing a particularly disgusting puzzle.
“It’s almost a relief. If one of us went missing for whatever reason, no one would miss us. Our families would mourn, but then, like everyone else, they would move on. Most people wouldn’t even notice. Your disappearance wouldn’t be reported on. It might enter a long string of stats, but no one would care. But hey, at least it hurts less.”
Lucy flicked her hair to the side.
“It’s easier…especially given the chances that…”
“That what?” Kat asked.
“That we’re next. That our ghost story has already begun, and we didn’t even notice. That soon, we’re going to be gone. Just an empty space, a puddle of blood, or a lingering shadow…”
Lucy smiled again. There was real fear in Kat’s eyes, which meant…
“And that’s it for my shift,” Lucy said, checking her empty wrist for an unknown time. “Enjoy the night, you two.”
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Jacob Marsh 