The Red House

“No.”

Becca ground her foot into the broken cobbles of the walkway, the way she always did whenever she really wanted something, “Come on Robbie, we’ve been talking about this for years! It’s perfect,” she gestured to the aging mansion perched over a patchy brown lawn and withered rose bushes.

“It’s falling apart.”

“Not really, the inspector says the structure is sound, it just needs a few major repairs, like new insulation and wiring. Everything else is cosmetic”

“You’ll never be able to sell it.”

Becca’s eyes narrowed, “I’m just going to take that as you being worried, and not a comment on my skills as a real estate agent,” her expression softened, “besides you haven’t seen what the other historic houses in Rosewood are going for. The one on Pendleton sold for a million and a half last month, and it's like half the size of this one,” she smiled, “and their reno was for shit.”

“Yeah, but Beccs--”

“You’ve wanted to work on historic house restoration for how long? Hell, you’re getting a degree in--”

“Beccs, it’s the Red House.”

Becca snorted, “You’re worried it won’t sell because it’s haunted? Robbie, we’re not teenagers anymore. Just come inside and have a look.”

Before Robbie could respond, she bounded up the stairs and across the wrap-around porch. The double doors weren’t even locked, instead they were chained shut by a padlock, which Becca opened, with ease. Why did she already have a key? But, before Robbie could address the sinking feeling in his stomach, she threw open the doors to let in the morning light.

Oh damn. Robbie remembered coming in here when he was seventeen, but it had been dark, and he had been concentrating on other things. Now, fifteen years later, he couldn’t help but gawk at the acres of scuffed but still intact hard wood floor, the gingerbread arches over the windows, and the miles of hand-carved dark wood trim circling the remaining walls and doorways.

Wait, why was the drywall missing from most of the exterior walls?

“Becca…did you already buy this place?”

“The bank practically threw it into my lap! I got four hundred for the place, and another two hundred for the reno.”

“Two hundred?! That’s never going to be enough. I’d charge like twenty five grand for the re-wiring alone.”

“Well,” her foot pressed into the walnut planks, “if I can save some costs on labor…”

Robbie grumbled, “how much of a loss am I going to take here?”

“I can cover materials.”

“Becca!”

She held up her hands, “Wait! It's not as bad as it sounds. You do the wiring and help out on the other renovations, and I’ll give you twenty five percent of the profit when all is said and done.”

Holy shit, that could be a lot of money, “OK…” Robbie chewed his lip, “but if I work on the non-electrical stuff, I want thirty percent, and,” he held up a finger, “and! I want a say on some of the design stuff. There’s no point in doing this if the interior looks like every other McMansion in town.”

Becca offered a smug smile, “Done.” Robbie had the distinct impression she’d expected the additional requirements, that girl had always been a planner.

“OK,” Robbie ran a finger through his orange-red beard, it was getting a little bushy, “How long do I have to get the wiring done?”

“End of the month.”

“WHAT?”

She offered a theatrical shrug, “You know how this works, I need this place to be turn-key by spring. It’s already October. Wiring has to go in before almost everything else.”

Robbie grumbled, “Fine. I guess I can work evenings and weekends. Not gonna be a lot of time for much else besides work or school for the next couple of weeks.”

Becca stuck out her bottom lip, “Honey, after you ended things with Jose, you haven’t exactly been doing much anyway.”

“Thanks, Beccs.”

“Oh you can throw yourself a pity party in Bali next year with all the money you’re going to make when I sell this place. Now come on, the drawings are in the dining room, and I have to put the fear of god into my kitchen-guys.”

An hour later, Robbie had returned with his van and the supplies to get started. At this stage it was mostly work lights, measuring tape, and notepads for redoing the circuit layout. At more than five thousand square feet, this place was a monster.Robbie chuckled, despite his high school memories, the only thing monstrous here was the amount of dust.

The Red House, with its faded-blood paint job, was a local town legend. While everybody knew the place was haunted, nobody ever had the same story for why. Robbie grew up hearing tales of the Red House Bride, with her blood-stained dress, Headless Molly, the Saw-Tooth Man, and a dozen other supposed denizens that made this place home. You couldn’t graduate highschool without stepping inside. And the bravest kids took it a step further, they tried to spend the night in October.

Probably for the usual reasons, October was regarded as the most haunted month in the house’s haunted year. And while Halloween was important, legend had it that monsters really came out on either October 12th or 13th. Maybe it was a Columbus Day thing? Either way, when Robbie and Peter had tried back when they were seventeen, they barely lasted two hours.

But damn, it had been a fun two hours. Until...well...

While part of Robbie wanted to stroll down memory lane, it was already past noon by the time he had worked out the insanity of old aluminum wiring in the basement. As he moved onto the main floor, Robbie took out his laptop and hooked it up to his little battery generator he brought to work-sites. Unfortunately he had more work than just wiring to do.

He pulled up the readings for this week, Historic Trusts and Zoning, (ugh) and started the text-to-speech reading software. It was tough to listen to the already boring chapter delivered in a monotone computer voice, but it let him do his schoolwork and keep his hands free to work.

Despite this weeks’ exercise in boredom, Robbie was still really excited to go back to school. The first time was mostly a blur of booze and men, but this time, he really enjoyed the content. Funny how that made the classes actually worth the money, and made him want to finish this time. Even if he always felt vaguely ridiculous stuffing himself into a chair besides twenty-year olds, and even if his dad still looked at him like he had sprouted two extra heads whenever he brought up college.

“Notification. Response Due at Eleven-Fifty-Nine-P-M, Twelve October, for History Three Eight Seven: Historic Preservation Practicum.” The software announced the reminder notification in its usual off-kilter voice.

“Shit.” It wasn’t a long paper. But he needed at least two hours to pound it out. Robbie sighed, and sat down on the wooden floor. Electrical work had to wait.

It had taken almost three hours. By now, the October sun was much lower in the sky, and Robbie had brought out the work lights. So, back to work he went with the warbling computer speak-and-spell voice his only companion.

The sun had almost set when Robbie had gotten to the second floor. Once he realized that it was the twelfth, he decided to leave the work-lights on downstairs. Ten thousand lumen LED was sure to scare off stupid teenagers better than the Saw-Tooth Man ever could. He had work to do damnit!

Yet, as he hunted around the dark bedrooms with his flashlight in tow, he couldn’t help thinking back to when he’d last been here. The doors hadn’t been chained up back then. He and Peter had snuck in through a missing back window. They’d been circling each other for a while. Robbie was out by then, well at least out to Becca, and she had told him with her usual smug assuredness that Peter, with those absurdly-big brown eyes, was definitely playing for his team.

They had posted up in the main hall with a bottle of stolen whiskey, somehow the house was even dustier back then. Well and truly tipsy, at some point Peter had asked to see Robbie’s chest hair, it being that particular fiery red that was so rare. Robbie had thought it perfectly, fair for Peter to take his shirt off too. After a few awkward giggly minutes, Robbie had leaned down for his first gay kiss, and Peter’s big brown eyes were soon fluttering as Robbie made his way down his neck.

“Fuck.” Without realizing it, Robbie was hard as a rock.

He remembered, slowly, making his way to grab Peter’s cock, hands shaking the entire way. It was the first time for both of them, but Peter, with that level of horny sensitivity that only a teenage boy can have, had ground himself against Robbie’s hand with a moan.

Oof. Robbie took a long uneven breath, maybe it had been too long. He and Jose had parted pretty amicably, they had certainly discussed still keeping things casual. Maybe he should call him…

Robbie’s cock gave a twitch, and a dark spot started growing in his jeans. Or… he could jerk off right now. Yes. Now was good.

Robbie laid down on the walnut panels of the bedroom floor, and hiked up his shirt. The red hair had darkened a little, but there was a lot more of it. He quickly unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans down until he was bare-assed on the hardwood, it was cold, but it felt good.

He didn’t even try to pull up some porn on his phone. Instead he just worked his dick to a frenzy. He couldn’t remember being this horny in a long damn time. After only a few minutes, he angled his dick towards his belly and finished all over his chest. The feeling was intense, the rush of blood past his ears made the world roar and even the flashlight started to flicker. After he came, the relief was so overwhelming, Robbie yawned and the world went a little hazy.

Robby woke up in darkness. He reached over to his phone. Only forty minutes had passed. Fuck, what had gotten into him? He found the flashlight, and turned it on again. No mess, thank god. He definitely remembered coming, but there was no real sign of it. Huh.

Robby stood up, hiked up his pants, and went back to work.

Two hours later he was down on his hands and knees in a broom closet next to one of the bedrooms, when he heard a quiet voice behind him, “Robbie.”

He shot up, and almost smacked his head against a shelf, before turning around. Jose was at the end of the hallway standing in the long shadows cast by his flashlight.

“Jose? Wh-what are you doing here?”

His ex approached, he was wearing that tight white t-shirt and jeans combo that Robbie always liked. His face bore a shy smile, “I came here to see you, babe.”

Robbie blinked, “I-I don’t get it. When did I…”

Jose chuckled, “Rebecca told me. She said you were feeling sorry for yourself, and I should come cheer you up.”

When did Becca get Jose’s number? Robbie was trying to remember when he had told her about the possibility of the two of them still staying casual fuck budies after breaking up when Jose placed his hands on Robbie’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze.

A chill ran up Robbie’s spine.

“Jose, I appreciate you stopping by, but I really am pretty busy and I--”

Jose pushed himself up onto his toes to kiss him. It was not the usual questing kisses he often started with. Jose could be such a wonderful tease. Instead, he pushed his face into Robbie’s and smashed their lips together. Before Robbie could push away, Jose had his hands against Robbie’s face, pulling him downward with need.

Unconsciously Robbie’s lips parted, and he felt Jose’s tongue, his usual skill replaced with desperate need. Jose moaned softly into Robbie’s lips, and stepped forward, pushing him into a wall. Despite his shorter stature, his ex could be pretty forceful when he wanted.

Robbie wrapped his arms around Jose, pulling him into his chest. Despite jerking off maybe three hours ago, he was already hard and precumming again. He could feel Jose’s cock pressing against his thigh. Robbie pushed his leg forward, and Jose ground against him and groaned.

As Robbie rubbed his lips against Jose’s stubbly cheek, he could feel Jose’s hand on his crotch, giving him a possessive squeeze.

“Let me, let me suck your dick,” Jose whispered into Robbie’s ear.

“Uhhuh,” Robbie’s response was nearly an unintelligible moan.

Jose wasted no time on Robbie’s chest or stomach. He didn’t even give him another kiss. Instead the smaller man fell to his knees, and began to fumble at Robbie’s belt.

Robbie chuckled, and pulled the belt open and popped the button of his jeans. Jose made a throaty noise as he yanked Robbie’s pants down to his knees, underwear and all, making his dick spring out with enough force to smack Robbie on the stomach.

Holy shit his dick was so hard it almost hurt.

Robbie took a deep breath and shut his eyes. Jose had wasted no time before jumping on his dick with abandon. He grabbed Robbie’s hips and began to push them towards his face, trying to deep throat him. Robbie tried to relax and let it all happen, but something in the back of his mind began to protest.

Since when did Jose ever just go straight for his cock? Even at his most forceful, his ex boyfriend would nibble and tease until Robbie could barely stand it. Not that he minded this. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had just thrown themselves so completely on his dick. While the attempt at deep throating felt pretty good, Jose bobbing up and down with pneumatic speed and force, was almost too intense. Didn’t Jose usually use his hands more?

“H-hey, Jose, slow down, I--” Robbie looked down to see a head of golden hair moving up and down on his cock, the shock made his body jolt, and a strange man looked up at him with ice-blue eyes.

Robbie screamed at the top of his lungs, pushed the guy over and began to run down the hall. He made it to the stairs, and almost cracked his skull as his jeans hitched his step. With a final desperate yank, he ran to the door, past the now strobing light from the work lamp, and slammed against it.

He pulled at the door but it was like yanking on a rock. In a panic he slammed his shoulder against it. Please! Something! The door didn’t budge, and then the work light flashed, before plunging into darkness.

There was a figure standing outside a ground-floor window, staring upwards. Maybe a teenager who’d come to investigate?  Robbie roared at him for help, but he stood there as if he hadn't heard. The teenager’s gaze never left the second story.

Robbie’s breath was ragged and terrible. Holy shit. What the fuck is happening? What the fuck?

“Please don’t leave.” The voice was strange, sounding quiet as if spoken from across a great distance, it sounded almost familiar.

But it definitely wasn’t Jose.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU, WHERE THE FUCK IS JOSE?” Robbie shouted into the darkness. He pulled up his pants over his hips and pulled out his cellphone. It took long seconds, as his shaking fingers flipped on the flashlight mode, barely adding to the distant streetlights coming in through the windows. All the while, the floors creaked as a dark figure slowly descended the stairs.

“If you don’t explain right the fuck now, I’m calling the cops!” Robbie bellowed.

“Jesus dude. Don’t be such a spaz!” The work lights flipped back on, but seemed muted somehow. The sudden brightness still made his eyes water.

A young man with a mop of gold hair leaned against the bannister at the end of the stairs. He was dressed in a brown and blue jacket with an orange line running across the chest and a pair of bell-bottom jeans. There was a sour expression on his face.

“W-who the fuck are you? And where’s Jose?” Robbie’s voice was quiet.

“He was never here man.” The young man took a step forward and despite being half Robbie’s size, he retreated until his back was against the door.

“What does that mean… he was… and then you were…”

“Yeah…” there was a shy smile on his face, “I can continue if you want… you know.”

“What?” Robbie sputtered, “No. That is not OK.”

The young man shrugged, “you didn’t seem to mind,” he smiled again, “Looks like you still don’t.”

Robbie realized that in the all the commotion, he hadn’t had a chance to buckle his pants up. He was still very much out, and still uncomfortably hard. He cleared his throat, and put himself away, “Listen, I’m sure you didn’t think you were doing anything bad. You’re young, and… well you did ask, sort of. But, I think there was a mistake,” Robbie pulled himself up, “I think you need to leave.”

The young man gave a rueful laugh, “I wish I could.”

Robbie blinked a moment before black dread spread through his chest, “Shit. Are you... in high school? Are you here on a bet?”

The young man stuck out his chin, “No man. I’m not in high school. I’m not here on a bet.”

Robbie felt a flood of relief, for some reason, more than few barely legal guys had hit him on Grindr, and the thought felt… ew.

“I don’t understand... then why can’t you leave?”

The young man blinked a few times, before sighing, “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

The young man smirked, before vanishing from the middle of foyer, an instant later he appeared inches from Robbie’s face. The young man gave a lazy smile and looked up with ice-blue eyes, “Boo.”

Robbie barely felt the knock on his head from the door as he hit the floor.

“You gonna get up any time soon man?”

Robbie moaned and opened his eyes, had he… fainted? As the world began to snap back into focus, he could see the young man standing over him, an exasperated expression on his face.  There was a slight ringing in his ears.

“Wha-what? How long was I out?”

The young man shrugged, “hard to tell, I’m not so great with time. Maybe a minute?”

“How did you…” No. That’s impossible. This had to be a trick, “Do it again.”

The young man rolled his eyes before vanishing and reappearing sitting on the stairs. He kept a practiced look of boredom on his face, but Robbie could see how the young man stared at him.

“Holy fuck. Are you a ghost?”

“And circle gets the square!”

“Huh?”

“Bingo. You’re right. Yes.” He stood up and walked across the room, his steps sounded solid, “So...uh… now that you know… did you still want to?” He looked away as he spoke.

“What? No! Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with you? You… you looked like my ex, and I thought...”

He raised his head, and looked up, his eyes seemed an even paler shade of blue, “I could… look like that again if it would help…”

There was that same need he felt before, “Why are you so desperate to have sex?”

The ghost glared at him, “If you were stuck in a house watching teenagers fucking for years on end, with nobody willing to throw one your way, you’d be pretty fucking horny too. Besides, I’m not the one who jerked off in a strangers’ house. Again.”

Robbie’s mouth went dry, fifteen years ago, he and Peter had been making out and were about to go further, when suddenly Peter had shaken his head like he was waking up from a bad dream. After a stammering apology, he’d fled, leaving Robbie alone and still very horny. He had decided to finish off, when he heard someone on the stairs, and a voice, ‘Please don’t leave.’ Scared the ever loving shit out of him, and he ran like his life depended on it.

“That was you on the stairs fifteen years ago?”

“Who else would it have been?”

“How--how do you know it was me?”

The ghost screwed up his face for a moment, “Its hard to explain, people each shine a certain way. They shine brighter when… ya know. I mean, even though you definitely look a lot older, you still shine the same way,” he looked out the window for a moment, “that was fifteen years ago?”

“Yeah… I’m thirty two now,” Robbie paused, “Wait, what do you mean definitely look a lot older.”

The ghost laughed, “Don’t worry you look…” he blushed, “I don’t get to see a lot of guys who are so… grown.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

“Err thanks. I think.” Robbie shifted, “So… uh if you don’t mind, I’m going to get going.”

The ghost looked up, his eyes were wide, “Please don’t leave again.”

Robbie shivered, trying his best not to think about what it means when dead men say ‘never leave again.’ He swallowed, his throat dry, “Why can’t I leave?”

“I need your help.”

“With what?” Oh god, he was going to end up a new urban legend. The tale of the messily murdered gay electrician.

“I’m supposed to meet someone. Tonight.”

Another deep breath, trying to maintain his calm, if he wasn’t so terrified, the ghost really did look like every other teenager, sullen and mildly confused, “Who, are you supposed to meet?”

The ghost opened his mouth, paused, and tried to speak again. He bit his lip, “I can’t remember. But I know it’s very important I meet them tonight.”

    “Why can’t you remember?”

    “I don’t know,” frustration crept into his voice, “everything seems a little… fuzzy, you know?”

“Do you remember how you…”

He shook his head, his eyes wide. The ghost’s breathing grew heavy, “I--I can’t remember.” He scrunched up his face, and ran his fingers through long golden hair, “I can’t remember, anything,” he shuddered, “I can’t…” he looked up, eyes wet with tears. The lights began to flicker.

“Hey, hey hey now. Take it easy,” Robbie put a hand on the ghost’s shoulder which made the young man jolt, “You clearly remember stuff. I mean you remember me, thats not bad after how many teenagers right?” the ghost silently nodded, and Robbie continued, his voice quiet, and he hoped to god soothing, “Let’s start with some basic things, OK? What’s your name?”

The ghost stared off into space for a moment, before looking back at Robbie, silent tears began to roll down his face.

“It’s ok man. You remember you were supposed to meet someone today. Do you know what day it is?”

The ghost sniffled, “Saturday, October twelfth.”

“That’s good. You’re right,” he needed to continue, and he definitely definitely didn’t want to ask him what year it was, “Alright, so do you know where you’re supposed to meet this person?”

“Out there,” the ghost’s voice was quiet.

“OK. Well let’s go outside and see if we can find the person you’re looking for.”

“No. I can’t leave. Not without you.”

“You won’t be, I’ll be right next to you.”

The ghost shook his head, “No, the only way I can leave is with you. In you.”

“In me… like… possession?” OH GOD, right back into horror territory.

“Eh… kinda?” the ghost shrugged, “I can ride with someone, and maybe nudge them. Particularly if they’re ya know…”

“Horny?”

The ghost gave an awkward grimace, but nodded, “when guys are into someone, I can feel it, and it kind of… feeds back, you know?”

Well that certainly explains a few things. Robbie was usually not in the habit of just randomly masturbating on a jobsite. “OK, do you need someone to feel that way, to uh… ride them?”

The ghost gave a little snicker, his mood was improving, “Nah. I just seem to respond to it. I can’t explain it, but I know the only way I can get beyond the front door is with someone.”

Robbie took a deep breath, this was incredibly, ultimately, epically stupid, “If you promise not to hurt me, or uh… control me. We can try.”

“Wow. Nobody’s ever let me…” he smiled, “OK, I tried this once with a guy before… before I first saw you. He got skeeved out, and pushed me out. Close your eyes.”

Robbie said a silent prayer to whatever god was listening and shut his eyes.

Bitter cold washed over him, but after a moment, it was gone. He felt a wave of emotions, excitement, fear, loneliness, a deep level of arousal, and a distant feeling of longing.

“Christ, are you always this horny?”

<> the ghost’s voice seemed to echo in his head.

“Ok you’re not wrong. But, Jesus, this is going to start to hurt after a while.” Robbie suddenly felt a deep urge to grab his crotch. And didn’t realize he was doing it until, he was fiddling with his zipper.

“HEY! Stop that!”

<> the feeling subsided. But new feelings blossomed, Robbie felt his hand move again, this time to run his fingers over his bearded chin. Then his other hand was squeezing his bicep.

Robbie lowered his hands to his side abruptly, despite the feeling to examine his body continue. In a way it was a comfort that, despite the urges, he still seemed to have control. “Ahem.”

<> there was a sheepish giggle in his mind, <> Robbie felt his biceps flex. <>

“Yeah, I wasn’t able to really bulk up until my twenties,” losing touch with almost all of your friends after you drop out of college really gives you plenty of time to work out. Robbie paused for a moment, “Hey, is that the first time you remember back when you were--”

<> Robbie could feel a surge of excitement flow through him. Before he realized it, a tide of urges to leave the house nearly overcame him.

“Hey, I get that you’re excited and all, but remember, I’m driving.”

<>

Robbie took another deep breath, “OK, let’s go outside shall we?” He turned and put his hand on the knob, for a brief moment it was stuck, but then the door opened, and he stepped outside onto the porch.

It was like a bad static shock, “OW! You promised not to hurt me!” Robbie was flexing his fingers to push away the sudden numbness.

<> despite the protestations, Robbie could sense an underlying excitement at feeling new sensations.

With more hesitation, Robbie walked down the stairs, past the dead roses, and out into the yard. No new feelings of pain, or really anything seemed to hit him. Just the cool air of a mid-October night. With one last hesitant step, Robbie walked off the property, and nothing.

Still nothing.

“You still in there?”

<>

“Slow down there. I don’t suppose now that you’re passed the threshold, you can leave.”

Robbie felt pressure on his skin, but then nothing. <>

“OK, do you remember where you were supposed to meet someone?”

Confusion. Sadness.  <> Eagerness. Robbie felt movement in his legs, <>

Robbie firmly planted his feet, “No, that’s not how this works. Let’s try something else. Do you remember your name?”

Confusion. Annoyance. Fear. <>

“OK. I have an idea, I need to check something on my laptop.”

A rush of fear made Robbie’s legs leaden, <>

Robbie sighed, “Its going to be OK. But I have tools I can use to figure out who you are. But I need my computer to do it.”

<>

Robbie sighed, “OK, so you see how cars have changed. Lets just say that’s nothing compared to other technology,” he reached into his pocket, and pulled out his phone. He held it up in front of him, “This is my phone.”

<>  

“I really don’t have time to explain that. Also, you definitely saw me use the phone for a light earlier. And god knows how many kids have made videos inside the house.”

Confusion. Searching. <>

“OK, well since I’m pretty clearly helping you out here, how about letting me get back to my computer, so I can look some stuff up.”

<>

Looking up the sale records for the Red House on the county website shouldn’t have been too hard. But, having a voice in his head constantly asking ‘what’s that?’ like an over-curious two year old was definitely a distraction. The list of sales ended with Becca, who bought the house in, mid September? Jesus! She really had planned this all out. But before her, the house had been passed through a series of banks for more than thirty years, all the way back to 1976. There it showed a sale from Arthur Talridge EST to First National Bank. Before that, some of the records were blank.

“Does the name Arthur Talridge ring a bell to you?”

Robbie was rocked by a wave of intense emotion, and his laptop screen began flicker for a moment before just blinking out,  <> the ghost’s voice was unreadable.

“Hey!” it took a solid thirty seconds to log back on. Nothing seemed too badly damaged, but for some reason the laptops cell modem was no longer connected.

Robbie took a very deep breath, his nerves were already a little fried, “Listen, I get that you are having a lot of feelings right now. But, you need to keep a better hold of yourself. Whatever you did took my modem--er made it so I can’t look up things on my computer. I’m going to have to go to the library and see if I can look up more stuff about your dad.”

<> the ghost’s voice was sullen and quiet.

The drive to the library was almost entirely silent. Despite the ghost’s reserved demeanor, Robbie could feel strange surges of excitement every time he turned a corner through the historic neighborhoods in Rosewood. By the time he got to the library it was 8:50. Shit. He was going to feel more than a little like an asshole for showing up ten minutes before close.

But, it wasn’t like he had a lot of choices right? Robbie darted in and made his way to the back towards a bank of computers. The log in took forever. Damnit go faster!

“Sir, we’re going to be closing in a few minutes.”

Robbie turned to look up towards the librarian, well…

Robbie wasn’t sure if the ghost was affecting his--uh--priorities but he couldn’t help staring at the librarian. He looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties, tall, lean, a face of fine angles, and a pair of dark-framed glasses sliding a bit down his nose.

<>

“Can I… help you with something?”

Shit he must have caught him staring. Robbie bit his lip, trying to think of what to say, “Uh… I’m kind of working on a school project, and I need a little help finding an obituary.”

“A school project?” there was a slight raise to his eyebrow.

“Yes,” Robbie’s voice lowered, he’d seen that face a lot, particularly when he was wearing work clothes like he was tonight, “I’m a college student. And I’m doing research for a school project.”

“That’s cool,” the librarian offered a warm smile, “What’s your project on?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. “Do you know the old house on the corner of Cypress and Rosemary?”

“The big red victorian one? I think I’ve driven by there a few times, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard some teens mention it.”

“Yeah, it is kind of a local rite of passage. They call it the Red House. It’s supposed to be haunted.”

<>

“OK.”

“Well, the thing is, none of the urban legends about the place actually match up, I’m trying to figure out the house’s history to maybe shed some light on it.”

<>

“Oh that’s really cool.” he grinned, “If I’d known there was a haunted house in town, I definitely would have checked it out. I’m a big fan of horror and spooky stuff.”

<>

Robbie smacked his knee under the table, and hoped that horny spectral bastard could feel it, “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “So I’m looking for the house’s last owner. Arthur Talridge. I… uh think there might be an old story connected to his son.”

The librarian chewed his cheek for a moment, “OK, well we have links to historical newspapers, which we can use to link up with the census records.” He crouched down beside Robbie, “Do you mind?”

“Uh, sure you don’t just want the chair?” Robbie started to rise.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I could use a good stretch.”

<>

Robbie blinked and tried to pay attention the librarian’s instructions, “yeah so if you go through our county archive portal, you get a list of the local newspapers.” the librarian’s long fingers danced gracefully over the keyboard, “Obits are kind of a big search request so they have their own field. OK, here we go. You said Arthur Talridge?”

“Yeah.”

“Well at least it’s not a common name, you have no idea how many people come in looking for J. Smith. Oh, here we are! Arthur Talrdige, 1975 Centre Gazette.”

Wait, 1975? But that, didn’t make-- “Oh I’m an idiot!”

The librarian gave him a quizzical look, and Robbie was suddenly aware of how close the man’s face was to his own, “Sorry!” Robbie offered a smile, “the county records, said Arthur Talrdige EST. I should have realized that meant estate. Looks like the last owner died before he could sell.”

“Huh,” the librarian nodded, before quickly scanning the article, “so the last owner died… it appears no listed circumstances. That could be some good urban legend fodder. You said you were looking for his son?”

Robbie looked at the article, it was a pretty bland affair, died at the age of fifty two, no cause of death was provided, but the obituary did list out, “Survived by his wife Elizabeth Talridge nee Essex, and his sister Sarah Brown nee Talrdige. Predeceased by his parents David and Mary Talridge, and his son Franklin.”

<> Robbie practically doubled over from the surge of feelings. Fortunately, the librarian didn’t seem to notice, and the computers didn’t short out.

Without prompting, the librarian ran another search for Franklin Talrdige. There was no result, “Huh, that’s strange. Let me try this…” the Librarian ran a general newspaper search for Franklin Talridge. Nothing. “Hmmm.”

<<...I--I don’t understand what you’re seeing.>>

“Hassan, the last folks have left. Are you--” an older woman in a purple cardigan appeared from behind a set of shelves. With hands on her hips, the glare she gave Robbie was enough to make even the ghost shudder, “I’m sorry sir, we closed five minutes ago, you need to--”

“It’s OK Janice I was helping…” the librarian turned back towards Robbie, who cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh… Robbie.”

“I was helping Robbie here with a research project. Go on without me, I’ll do the final lock up and set the alarms.”

Janice rolled her eyes, before disappearing back around the corner, mumbling something about needing more gin.

“Thanks...uh… Hassan was it? When we get out of here, drinks are on me.”

Hassan grinned, “We aim to please here at the Rosewood Branch, but I don’t really drink,” there was a an amused glint in his eye, “how about dinner instead?”

Robbie chuckled and nodded, his face grew warm.

<> How can a disembodied voice sound so damn smug?

“OK, so what’s the next move?”

Robbie watched Hassan chew his cheek again, he had dimples, “Well, if Franklin died young, like an infant or toddler, there’s a chance it wouldn’t be reported. But he might show up in county records but that might take a while, like a couple of days for the requests to go through.”

Robbie felt a brief flash of panic, he took a deep breath, hoping it might soothe his passenger, “Well, according to...my uh research, I think Frank died a little older, maybe end of high school? But, definitely in the 70’s.” Those bell-bottoms were pretty unmistakable.  

“OK. Then he might be in one of the digital yearbooks we have a subscription to,” Hassan paused, “Frank?”

Robbie shrugged and offered a sheepish smile, “Well I don’t go by Robert… I guess it seemed natural.”

Hassan rolled his eyes, “Sure. Maybe we should break out the Ouija board and just ask.”

<>

Hassan went through a series of menus with practiced speed, it was a little hard for Robbie to follow. After a few searches, finely adjusting the query terms each time, he lit up, “Hah! Here we go! Mason High. We actually have the yearbooks here in our special collections room. Want me to get them?”

“Thanks. That would be awesome.”

<>

“Shush,” Robbie whispered.

<>

“Don’t you have a meeting to go to?”

<>

“Gay?”

<>

“Yeah things are definitely better now, but far from perfect.  We only got the right to marry a few years ago.”

<>

“Still haven’t found the right person yet.”

There was a welling of emotion, fear, uncertainty, and most of all loneliness and longing, that was so strong it brought tears to Robbie’s eyes.

“Everything OK?” Hassan had returned with a trio of books, Robbie nodded, but didn’t yet have the ability to speak, “Uh… we don’t have 1973, but I think he was listed for ‘74 and ‘75, and I brought ‘72, just in case.”

“Thanks,” Robbie’s voice was hoarse, “Sorry, I’ve spent all day on a jobsite, and it was really dusty.”

Hassan set the books down on a nearby table, “What do you do?”

“I’m an electrician. Though I do some contracting work on the side.”

“You must be pretty damn handy around the house. I have trouble replacing any thing beyond a lightbulb.” Hassan responded while looking at his shoes, “When did you go back to school?”

“Year and a half ago. I’m studying public history and preservation.”

“At the university?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well… I actually teach HIST P432 and 437, document preservation and archival work. I have a part-time fellowship with the University library,” he grinned, “You’re almost certainly going to have me next year.”

<>

“OH. Wow. Well um…” Robbie’s face felt warm, “I usually don’t wait until the last minute to do research, I swear.”

“Shit, I procrastinate on almost everything. It's why they gave me the codes to close up here. Besides, I think you’re doing a really cool project. You may want to publish it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there are a number of historical groups that eat that stuff up.”

Robbie couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt, as he watched his lie spin a little out of control, “So uh the yearbooks…”

“Right! Let’s have a look.”

The pair sat together, Hassan taking the 1974, and Robbie the ‘75. It didn’t take long for him to find Frank among the graduating seniors. Robbie’s skin began to itch, “found him.”

“Oh let me see! Aww he’s cute. He’s got kind of a surfer boy thing going.”

Robbie swallowed, feeling butterflies in his stomach he wasn’t sure were his own, “I mean he kind of looks like every club-twink circa 2005.”

“Oh yeah, with that floppy blonde hair? Definitely remember that look from my clubbing days..” Hassan gave an awkward giggle, “Not gonna lie, he’s kind of got a case of gay-face too.”

<>

Robbie bit his lip to keep from laughing, “You’re not wrong,”  he failed, and both of them burst into laughter, “But seriously, we probably shouldn’t laugh at a dead guy.”

Hassan nodded, “Yeah that is kind of morbid.”

“So if he was alive in 1975 he probably died not long before his father?”

“Maybe, though with a yearbook, this was probably taken early fall 1974. Maybe there’ll be an in memoriam page or something.” Hassan started flipping through pages of smiling teenagers, when something caught Robbie’s eye.

“Wait, who’s that?” a young man with a square jaw and well sloped shoulders was staring off into the distance. With his short-cut hair and letterman’s jacket, he looked like the quintessential all-american highschool guy.

He also looked familiar. Goosebumps rose across Robbie’s arms. It was the guy standing outside the window. Same age and everything.

Hassan adjusted his glasses which continued to slip down his nose, “Uh, varsity running back, looks like his name is Dale Renfroe.”

<>

The goosebumps blossomed into a full shiver, a wave of cold ran through him.

<> Frank’s voice was distant, and echoed like he was speaking from an empty church’s pulpit.

The yearbook flew out of Hassan’s hands, and shot across the table. The pages began to flutter back and forth in a wind that wasn’t there. Another third of the book through, the wind subsided and the book stopped, sitting open. The library lights flickered, but thankfully didn’t go out.

“Fuck!” Hassan pushed back from the table in surprise, grabbing ahold of Robbie’s shoulder. After a second he realized, and withdrew his fingers giving an awkward laugh, “that was creepy as hell.”

Robbie wasn’t sure what to say, so just got up and walked over to the yearbook. It was a full page spread of the Mason High Bobcats walking out onto the field for the homecoming game. While most of the players were looking forward, Dale had his eyes angled up to the stands. The young man’s gaze was locked on Frank hanging awkwardly over the railing, gazing down beatifically. “Huh.” He could no longer feel Frank.

Hassan stood up and joined Robbie, “Oh… oh wow. That’s…” he looked up at Robbie, “You aren’t playing a trick on me right? This isn’t something Dr. Karroway put you up to for extra credit.”

Robbie shook his head.

“OK. Because this all just got seriously fucking weird.”

“Well… maybe it was just… a weird coincidence, or something. Probably just happened to fall under a vent or something.”

Hassan’s expression was flat, “Mhmm, the yearbook with the dead guy who lived in a haunted house just flew out of my hands, slid across the table, and then went shuffling through the pages until it found a picture of said dead guy, getting eye-banged by the football player I just mentioned.”  He was practically shouting by the end, and began to shiver, “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Robbie wrapped Hassan in a hug, and gave him a squeeze, “Hey, its ok. You’re not going crazy. I saw it too.”

Hassan took a deep breath, and awkwardly extricated himself from Robbie’s arms and sat back down at the table. He adjusted his glasses, “OK. Assuming this isn’t an elaborate joke, which if its, please stop, what exactly are we looking at here?”

Hesitantly Robbie grabbed the yearbook, pulled it over and gave it one last flip through, before returning to the page with Frank and Dale, “there’s no ‘in memoriam’ page. No obituary. No news articles. Basically he was here one day, and gone the next.”

“The deaths of seventeen and eighteen year olds don’t usually go unremarked upon. Could he have shipped off to Vietnam or something?”

Robbie shook his head, “I think the timing for that doesn’t work.” He pulled out his phone for a quick search, “the last draftees called into service was end of 1972. And…” the Google gods favored him, “he’s not listed on the war memorial list either.”

“Maybe he died in a way that nobody wanted to talk about, like a drug overdose or suicide? I mean, that tracks with the whole haunted house thing right? Tragic death,” Hassan looked back down at the picture, “Tragic love?” he blinked and adjusted his glasses, “Just before all this… happened, you said you recognized the other guy, Dale.”

Frank didn’t stir this time at his name, “Well… this is going to sound crazy…”

“I think we left crazy a few minutes back.”

“OK… I think I saw that guy, Dale, through a window at the Red House.”

“You mean like a ghost? An actual ghost in the house?”

“No, he was standing outside, I was inside. I was working on the house when everything started flashing, and I saw him through the window.”

“And you recognized him? He’s gotta be in his sixties now.”

“No, that’s the thing, he looked like he did in the pictures.”

Hassan took off his glasses and ran a hand through his curly black hair, “OK, so this Renfroe guy, he’s the ghost?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” Maybe that’s why Frank had such a strong reaction? “But what about Frank?”

“True, that still doesn’t explain why Franklin just disappeared from the record,” hold on, I have an idea. Hassan went back over to the computers, and began clicking at speed, “OK no obit for Renfroe either,” he went back to chewing his lip, “Nothing in the news except some old football team stories in the local papers. And… he’s not showing up in the White Pages for Rosewood, or the rest of the surrounding county. But, there is a Beverly Renfroe, formerly Beverly Laurentz,” Hassan pulled up a separate window, “Well she’s a little younger, Mason High class of 1979, maybe a sister or sister in law? Maybe she can tell us what happened to Franklin and Dale?”

“She’s local?”

“Yeah still lives in Rosewood.”

“Wanna go?”

“Now? Like right now? It’s getting close to ten.”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Hassan rolled his eyes, “Yes, hello Ms. Renfoe, we’re just two strange men, knocking on your door in the middle of the night, we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t call the police or shoot us.

Robbie bit his lip, “I mean it can’t be that bad. It’s not even ten on a Saturday night.”

“You clearly get out more than I do,” he stuck out a tongue,  “if I wasn’t working tonight, I’d be home on the couch drinking tea and reading a book next to Maxwell.”

“Oh, is he your--”

“Cat.” Hassan interrupted with a grin, “Big orange tabby. He’s kind of dumb, but I love his adorable ginger…” Hassan blinked, and cleared his throat, “anyway. Yes-uh-I doubt Beverly Renfroe would be willing to see us.”

The feeling of Frank returned, he was silent, but Robbie could feel his rising desperation, “All the same. I think its worth a try.”

Hassan pulled up his glasses, and his eyes narrowed, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Well…”

“Listen, I’ve already accepted the premise that you’ve seen a ghost. And I definitely believe something weird is going on, so you might as well fess up.”

“So… in most of the stories, tonight, October twelfth, is supposed to be important, and I may have seen another ghost tonight....”

“May have?”

“OK, I swear I’m not crazy. Also, if nothing happens, I’m going to look like a colossal idiot,” Robbie took a deep breath, “OK Frank, I get the feeling you’re supposed to meet Dale tonight. If you can uh… do something… we may be able to convince the cute librarian I haven’t lost my mind, and we can try to figure out where.”

At the mention of meeting Dale tonight, Robbie felt a swirl of energy in his chest, then his entire body shook like he’d grabbed a live wire.

“Oh my god, what’s happening to your eyes?”

The lights began to flicker wildly in their area of the library, the computer screens began to flash, the two closed yearbooks popped open and all three began to flutter in the wind that wasn’t there, turning to various pages. After a few seconds it all subsided, and Robbie gasped, like he’d just emerged from a lake in December. He stood there huffing and puffing for a while before he was able to speak again.

“Does that convince you?”

Hassan nodded. He looked over to the three open yearbooks, and shivered. All three books were open to pictures of Dale.

The pair had decided to take Hassan’s car, it wasn’t big on legroom, but Robbie’s truck was a complete mess.

“So you were upstairs, and you saw the ghost of Frank Talridge, but he didn’t know his own name?”

“Yeah, he just kept talking about a need to meet someone. Well at least when he wasn’t being a moody teenager.”

“You talked to him in the library, so I’m guessing he followed you from the house,” Hassan looked toward his rearview mirror, and spoke up, “Uh, hello Frank? Are you in the back seat?”

“No, he’s with me.”

“Like on your lap?”

“No, more like inside of me.”

Hassan chewed his cheek for a moment, “Huh. Lucky ghost.”

Robbie’s face grew warm again, his cheeks were probably so flush, it’d be hard to see his freckles, what Becca called ‘going full cherry.’ “Uh, not sure how to respond to that one.”

Hassan snorted, “Oh please, if you’re going to call me the ‘cute librarian,’ then turn about is fair play. And don’t think I didn’t catch the puppy dog look you gave me when I mentioned Maxwell.”

Robbie grinned, “sorry, it's weird, but I think some of Franks… uh… teenage energy is rubbing off on me.”

“I am trying hard not to make a joke here, I swear.” Hassan’s dimples were on full display, “Can he communicate when he’s inside of you? I mean, besides the standard spectral lights show.”

“Standard?”

“I told you I was into horror fiction and what not. The flashing lights, the ethereal wind, and even the moving objects, all classic poltergeist tropes.”

“You aren’t wrong, and to answer your question, I can hear him speaking sometimes, and I can feel his emotions.”

“Well if he adheres to most of the lore, ghosts are pretty heavily tied to emotions, and unfinished business. Do you have any comment on that one Frank?”

“Uh, for some reason, after he gets really emotional, it becomes harder to feel him.”

“Hmm, I’ve definitely heard of some thing like that, but I’d have to think on what that could be. OK. Looks like we’re here.”

Here was a mid-60’s white rancher with a porch that could use some TLC. Otherwise, the house was in good repair, and the lawn freshly mowed. The lights were all on, and a silver sedan was parked in the driveway.
    “So, are you planning on telling her about seeing her brother’s ghost, or something?”

“Her brother may still be alive for all I know.” Robbie bit his lip, trying to figure out a way to make this seem less awkward, suddenly there was a heavy pressure in his chest, “I know what I’m going to say, come on.”

“May I help you?” a late middle-aged woman dressed in sweats and a slightly wary expression opened the door about three inches.

“Hey, sorry to uh stop by like this, but I’m doing some renovations for a house in town, and I found some old letters, film, and stuff in a closet, a whole box actually. They were written by a guy named Dale Renfroe. I tried Googling him, but I got this address instead, didn’t have a phone number listed though. If you were related, and could like pass ‘em on to him, I know a lot of people like old keepsakes from their high school days,” Robbies words came tumbling out his mouth.

The woman stood there for a long moment, the door opened a few inches more, “I’m sorry sir, but Dale died.”

“Oh. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“It was a more than thirty years ago. I was barely in my twenties,” she cleared her throat, “I’m his sister by the way. You said you found the letters in an old house?”

“Yeah, the big red house on the corner of Rosemary and Cypress. The letters were to a guy named Frank.”

“Frank… Talridge?”

“I think so. Couldn’t find him with Google, do you know him?”

“He and Dale hung out a lot in high school. I always thought it was a little strange, what with Dale being on the football team, and Frank being a little nerdy fellow. Poor kid died just after his eighteenth birthday.”

“Oh that sounds tragic, what happened?”

“You know, nobody really gave a straight answer on that. His family kept it pretty quiet, I’d heard it was a suicide. Threw himself off Sumner bridge, I think. God, that was what, seventy four? And Dale was absolutely torn up about it, didn’t even finish the season,” her eyes grew watery, “he left town right after highschool and moved to New York. He died in ‘83, wasn’t even thirty. Momma and Daddy didn’t even get a chance to go to his funeral, said he got ill, but never said much past that.”

Robbie caught a knowing glance from Hassan, that made his throat catch, “Uh thanks, Ms. Talridge. If you’d like the box, I can bring it by next week.”

She nodded, openly crying now, “I’d like that a lot.”

The pair bid her an awkward goodnight.

When they got in the car, Hassan gave Robbie a hard look, “What the fuck was that? If you knew about the box… or did you make that all up?”

Robbie shook his head, the box was located in a false panel behind the broom closet on the second floor. He had been less than a foot away from it when he was futzing with the wires, before, he shuddered, “No. I didn’t know about the box until I was talking about it. But, I’m sure its real. Otherwise…”

Hassan put a hand on Robbie’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, “you’re not going crazy.”

Robbie offered a weak smile, “Now if only we didn’t have to keep telling each other that.”

Despite being only a mile or so from the Red House, Sumner bridge was still on the outskirts of town. The stone bridge was barely two cars wide, and the two orange streetlights on either side, didn’t reach the darkness of the river below. Hassan pulled the car off the side of the road where a cop car sometimes sat, and the pair got out.

“So what do you think is going to happen here?”

Robbie shrugged, “Not really sure, but maybe we can get some answers at least. I think Frank deserves at least that,” he took a few steps onto the bridge, when a wave of searing cold blossomed in his chest. It spread down his spine and into his limbs, shaking his body into shivers.

Frank stepped forward, exiting Robbie like an open door. He strode across the bridge, his face red with tears, “Frank,” Robbie whispered, but the ghost paid him no heed.

The young man collapsed against the bridge’s parapet, and began to sob openly. He stood there for a few long moments, looking out into darkness, or something else Robbie couldn’t see. When the ghost went to wipe his face, Robbie noticed he clutched a letter and a white rose in his hand.

“Whatcha cryin about Frankie?” a voice dripping with malice called out from the darkness.

Frank stood ramrod straight, his eyes wide and his mouth a stern line across his face. He gazed into the darkness beyond the streetlight, “leave me alone John.”

“What’s a matter? Frank the fairy got stood up by his date?” It was a different voice, the same mocking tones.

Three boys stepped into the halogen-orange light. All three were dressed in the browns and oranges of 1970s suburbia, the largest of them wearing a varsity jacket, the red 'M' a bloody wound over his chest.

“You boys, stop this at once!” Hassan shouted. But nobody seemed to react, he and Robbie were reduced to watching it play out like theatre. Tragedy.

“Frankie-fudge-packer, lookin’ for a big strong man,” the third boy crooned.

Frank squared his shoulders and stared up at them, smaller than even the shortest of the three, “I said, leave me alone.”

“Whatcha gonna do Frankie? Try to kiss us?” the second boy, started making kissy faces at the third which, which produced a gale of laughter between them. John and Frank weren’t laughing.

“Better run home rich boy, don’t want nobody else to see you crying. What would your daddy say?” John sneered.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

Frank took a deep breath and glared up at John, his blue eyes almost glowing, “I said no. I’m waiting for someone.”

“Aww looks like he really is waiting for a date. Brought’em a rose and--” the third boy fell silent with John’s raised hand.

“Your family may think they’re hot shit living in their big red house. But to me you’ll always be a little faggot. Now, scram fag.”

“No,” Frank’s lip curled, “I might be a fag, but at least I’m not piece of shit loser, who barely made the football--”

John’s balled fist, ended Frank’s response with a wheeze. Robbie gasped, the air driven from his lungs.

“I’ll teach you to talk back to me you--” John swung wild for Frank’s chin, and sent him sprawling. Stars exploded before Robbie’s eyes, and the pain dropped him to his knees.

“Robbie?” Hassan turned away from the bridge to stare at him.

Robbie opened his mouth, and felt blood run down his chin. John landed a savage kick to Frank’s midsection, before he was joined by the other two boys who began to rain blows down on him.

Pain pounded into Robbie’s arm, his chest, his back. He collapsed, and his head began to ring.

“Robbie!”

John landed a solid kick to Frank’s head, pushing his neck into a strange angle. The world started to go hazy.

“Holy fuck, I think you killed him!”

“Shit we gotta get out of here.”

Through squinting eyes, Robbie looked up to see John picking Frank’s limp body from the road. As he walked him over to the edge of the bridge, Robbie could see another figure, standing in the shadows at the other end of the bridge. Dale Renfroe looked on, his face a frozen mask of horror. As, John hoisted Frank up over the parapet, Dale ran off into the night.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Everything went dark.

“Robbie! Robbie! Come on, please wake up.”

Robbie opened his eyes, the street lamps stung like needles. “Hassan,” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Oh thank god,” tears were running down Hassan’s face, “I watched them kill him. Just fucking kill him, and then you…” somehow Robbie found the strength to reach up and pull Hassan close.

“Where’s Frank?”

Hassan shook his head into Robbie’s shoulder, “They all just disappeared when you collapsed. I saw Dale, in the shadows, he ran.”

“I know. Can you help me stand up?”

With a little wobbling, the pair stood up. The bridge was as empty as when they arrived.

“Can you take me back to the car?”

When they got to Hassan’s car, Robbie practically collapsed into the front passenger seat. Hassan was gasping. Despite his height, Robbie had at least sixty pounds of muscle on the librarian.

“I,” speaking was still difficult, “think we need to go to the Red House.”

“Are you insane? You just coughed up blood and passed out. And now you want to go confront the… thing who did it?”

“I think this is the only way to help him and end this.”

“Help him, even after--”

Robbie stared at him, “None of us deserve what happened to him. We have to do something.”

Hassan growled, “OK. But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Take off your shirt.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Take off your shirt, I want to check if you have any broken ribs. If anything that happened was permanent, then this whole ghost nonsense can fuck right off, and I’m taking you to a hospital.”

Robbie nodded, and took of his shirt, the process was slow and painful. It hurt even more as it went over his head. With gentle fingers, Hassan began pressing into Robbie’s side. At one point, Robbie gasped, “Does it hurt?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re an asshole for getting me wrapped up in this,” despite his words, Hassan had a weak smile on his face, “it doesn’t feel like anything is broken. There are some red marks which might bruise, but its difficult to tell since…”

“Since I’m pretty pink and freckley already?”

Hassan chuckled, “I was going to say because you’ve got a lot more chest hair than I expected. But that’s true too. Normally I would think that a guy whose-uh-as well defined as you would shave.”

Robbie shrugged, “I’ve heard that from guys at the gym. It always seemed like a lot of work to spend a week feeling itchy.”

Hassan put his hand on Robbie’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze, “can you feel this?”

“Uh yep.”

Hassan grabbed Robbie’s bicep and softly felt the muscles, “and this?”

“Mhmm.” Robbie, felt his pants getting a bit tight.

“Well it doesn’t seem like you’ve had any spinal damage. You can walk and you have sensation in your extremities. Though… one of the side effects of spinal damage is an erection,” Hassan pursed his lips, and there was an amused glint in his eyes, “but that usually only comes with significant damage.”

“Has anyone told you, that you have an extremely morbid method of flirting?”

“Yes, an old boyfriend, and he thought it was adorable.”

“What did he do?”

“He was a mortician.” Hassan chuckled softly.

“That...tracks.”

“Honestly I’m mostly doing it because, as much as I enjoy horror movies and books, I’m fucking terrified, and I’m trying to supress the urge to go screaming into the night.” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I get that.” Robbie shifted, and pulled his seatbelt on, he was too tired to put his shirt back on, “Come on. I don’t know if we lose our chance at midnight, but I’d rather make sure this ends.”

The work lights were still going strong when they reached the Red House. Some of the pain in Robbie’s chest was beginning to wear off, and there didn’t seem to be bruising. Maybe it would fade with the dawn?

Holding Hassan’s arm the pair managed to make it inside.

“OK, now what?”

Robbie shrugged, “I’m not sure. After the bridge I couldn’t feel Frank inside me any more.”

“Maybe he’s gone? I mean, now that we know what happened to him, it will be enough for him to move on.”

Robbie shook his head, “I don’t know, there’s something in my gut telling me this isn’t over.”

“Well, he’s a ghost, and in most stories ghosts want something, what did he ask you to do?”

“Well, he wanted to leave the house, and he wanted to meet someone.”

“OK, so that’s two checks in the finished business column. Anything else?”

“Well, he kept asking me not to leave him… and well….”

“Well what?”

“He kind of tried having sex with me.”

Hassan snorted, “You said you met him on the second floor, and he chased you downstairs, when you saw Dale in the window. I believe you failed to mention the side trip to spooky pound town.”

“Well… I mean we didn’t... he looked like my ex. I thought he was my ex, and we started to… you know… then he suddenly changed and I ran.”

    “OK.” Hassan began to chew his cheek again, “Do you think he and Dale ever?”

    “Don’t know, I mean I didn’t actually until the summer after high school.”

    “Really? If I’d known you in highschool, I would have been after you in a second.”

    Robbie arched an eyebrow, “Fool around a lot in highschool?”

    “Some.” Hassan smiled, “Had to rebel against my strict Iraqi parents somehow.”

    Robbie giggled, and the pain in his chest was almost gone, “Funny thing actually, my first kiss was actually right over there.”

“Seriously?”

“I was seventeen and tipsy. We were about to go further when we heard something and we bolted.”

“Frank?”

“Apparently. He recognized me from back then. And now-- shit.”

“What?”

“I’m an idiot.” Robbie darted up the stairs, and down the hall. The back of the broom closet was still partially removed, and it only took a little more wiggling to find a dusty wooden jewelry box. As he came down stairs, “Remember that box I mentioned, I bet if there are letters between Frank and Dale it can probably tell us more.”

“Well let’s open it up, but if there’s actually film in there try not to touch it. If the chemicals haven’t degraded, the oils in your fingers might do the trick.”  

“Is that something you teach in HIST P432?”

“437 actually.”

    “Then by all means,” he handed over the box with a smile, “do your stuff professor.”

    Hassan set the box on the floor and knelt before it. With his long careful fingers he gingerly began to open it, when the room went dark.

    “Uh. Robbie?”

    “I’m still here.”

    A cold wind came whistling through the house, jostling Robbie’s tools and gear. The lights flashed on, and off again. The began to flash at speed, casting the world into a strange strobe effect.

“They killed me,” Frank was standing beside Hassan. His body was rigid and covered in blotchy patches. His eyes were so pale, you could barely see the pupils, “They drove Dale away, and then They, Killed, Me.” Fuck, his voice was taking on that strange echo again.

“Frank?” Robbie held out a hand, hoping the ghost would take it. He didn’t respond.

“We’re going to find them. We’re going to end them.”

“Frank, please don’t do that. It was more than forty years ago, they may not even be--” he vanished.

“He can find them.”  Hassan stood up then, his mouth moved but it was Frank’s distant voice. His eyes, fuck, his eyes were completely white, “He knows the ways.” A slow trickle of blood began to fall from Hassan’s nose.

Robbie strode over to Hassan and wrapped him a tight hug, “Frank, you need to stop doing this. You’re going to hurt him.”

“I must, I must. They took me away from him.”

“Frank,” Robbie’s voice was low, and cracked as he spoke, “What they did to you was beyond horrific. You have every right to your rage. You deserve justice. But you can’t use Hassan to do it. He’s innocent. If you’re going to do this, then take me instead. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.” Robbie released Hassan from his bear hug, but only just long enough to kiss him.

His lips were frozen. The room was plunged back into darkness. Slowly his mouth began to warm, Hassan’s lips parted and his body sunk against him.

“Robbie?”

He could feel Hassan’s tears, hot on his face, “I’m here.”

“He was so alone. So scared. It wasn’t even the anger driving him, just desperation to escape.”

The pair sunk down together to the floor still in darkness. Hassan clung to him, and Robbie didn’t let go. They lay next to each other on the cool floor in the darkness for long moments, just breathing.

“I can’t feel him any more?” Hassan’s voice quavered, “can you?”

Robbie blinked for a moment, at first he thought it had ended, but then the clouds parted, and moonlight fell in through old windows. In the silvery light, staring at Hassan’s dark eyes, he felt a warmth around his heart. It wasn’t his alone. “Yes.”

Hassan swallowed, “I have an idea,” Hassan began to slowly run a hand over Robbie’s chest. Somehow Robbie had forgotten he was still very much without a shirt, “if Frank emerged once when you were about to have sex, and again with him trying to have sex with you. Have you considered giving him what he wants?”

Robbie sighed, the tingly feeling of Hassan’s fingers making lazy circles on his chest was making his toes start to curl, “I don’t think fucking a ghost is going to make him go away.”

Hassan smiled, “sex isn’t always just fucking. When he possessed me, I felt… I felt him but I also felt a small reflection of you. I know sometimes you’ve felt just as alone and left behind as he has. And I also know that despite being scared shitless, you’ve tried your best to help out a stranger.” He leaned in again to kiss Robbie softly on the cheek, “You’re a good man, with a good heart.”

Robbie slowly removed Hassan’s glasses from his smooth angular face, he set them down gently as far away as he could, before turning to kiss Hassan full on. His lips were soft and warm, and his hands were against Robbie’s face, and running through his hair. Robbie pulled him closer, kissing him with a need that wasn’t entirely his own, breaking only for a moment, as Hassan took off his shirt.

Robbie pulled him close again, and felt the heat of his skin against his own in the cool October night air. Hassan twined his legs with Robbie’s and ground against him. Robbie could feel Hassan’s growing erection, and wasn’t surprised to discover he was also straining his jeans.

Hassan’s mouth wandered from Robbie’s lips, across his cheek, on the line of his chin, and against his neck. A small moan escaped Robbie’s lips, as Hassan’s mouth explored his neck and kissed along his shoulders. With a small push from the librarian, Robbie rolled onto his back, and Hassan pulled himself on on top of him, his lean frame situated in the middle of Robbie’s broad chest.

Hassan began to kiss his chest, there was soft sneeze, and he could feel Hassan’ grinning against him. It was pretty fucking dusty wasn’t it? While Hassan explored his chest, Robbie’s wide hands ran down the shape of Hassan’s back.

He was slender, that was true, but he was lithe. Robbie could feel the lean muscles of his shoulders and his back. His hands grazed over his round pert ass. Robbie gave it a squeeze, which produced a soft sigh from Hassan.

Hassan playful bit him on the nipple, and the feeling was like lightning through his body. Robbie didn’t know whether to giggle or moan. Instead he ran a hand through Hassan’s dark hair, before grabbing him by the waist and pulling him up to kiss him again.

    While Robbie explored Hassan’s mouth with his tongue, he had the sudden sensation of his pants being unbuckled and his zipper being pulled down. Hassan’s deft and graceful hands slid into Robbie’s briefs and gently grazed the length of his erection. His cock jumped a little at the touch, and after a moment, Robbie lifted his hips while Hassan slid off him, and pulled his pants off in one clean motion.

    Hassan used the opportunity to lean in and kiss Robbie’s abs, and then began to slowly stroke him, while he kissed lower and lower. When Hassan’s lips met his cock, Robbie was already dripping precum. He felt Hassan's warm mouth slowly engulf the head, and then slowly, agonizingly slow, he completely took him to the hilt. He pulled back with a fluid motion before gliding back down, with one hand playing across Robbie’s chest, the other holding Robbie’s balls.

    Involuntarily, Robbie’s hips lifted, and Hassan went down again completely. Robbie couldn’t help but moan and writhe as Hassan lifted and swirled him with his tongue, before going down again.

    As Hassan deftly sucked his cock and played with his balls, Robbie could feel himself getting close. He gave a soft tug on Hassan’s shoulder, pulling him back up to kiss him. Robbie could taste the tang of pre-cum on Hassan’s tongue.

    Robbie lacked Hassan’s grace as he unbuttoned his slacks and pulled them off, but he didn’t lack for enthusiasm. He watched Hassan’s cock spring free, before falling down to it, running a tongue across its length, and swallowing as best as he could.

    Hassan moaned, and twined his finger’s through Robbie’s hair. Robbie pulled way, but only long enough to kiss along Hassan’s thighs, and lick his fingers. As he went back to work on Hassan’s cock, his fingers moved with small circles below his balls, to his ass. Slick fingers, began to trace the sensitive skin and Robbie tasted a mouth full of pre-cum as Hassan shivered.

    First a tentative finger, and then when he felt Hassan relax, he continued to blow him and work him open. Hassan’s moans grew louder, “Robbie, please, I want to…” the rest of the sentence was lost in a groan.

    Robbie rolled onto his back, and Hassan pulled himself up. Robbie spat into his hand, and ran it against his already slick cock, while Hassan positioned himself on top.

    Slowly he lowered himself down, it wasn’t as much lube as he usually used, but Robbie was precumming like crazy, and in moments, Hassan had sunk down until his ass met Robbie’s hips. He was still rock hard.

    Hassan rose, and the warmth and feeling made Robbie’s toes curl. Robbie wrapped one hand over Hassan’s waist, and the other one held his cock, as Hassan began to rise and fall. Slowly picking up speed.

    Robbie lifted his hips to meet Hassan’s thrust, “Oh fuck.” his moan carried a note of sweet surprise, which set Robbie off. Robbie grabbed Hassan by the hips, and held him steady as he began to thrust upwards. Slowly at first, then faster and fast, he felt himself going deeper. It was making his head spin. But he had enough wherewithal to watch Hassan’s still very hard cock bounce and slap against his stomach. God damn, he looked so good with his eyes squeezed shut, lost in pleasure.

    As he fucked Hassan for everything he was worth, he pulled him close, first kissing his chest and then kissing his lips. He could feel his stomach growing wet from Hassan’s erection, as he built up speed.

    “Oh Robbie I’m--” Hassan words lost out to a long moan, as he came against Robbie’s chest. The feeling of Hassan’s orgasm as it moved through out his body, was too much for Robbie, who came as well, finishing with a growl.

Hassan collapsed against him, and Robbie felt a sigh from deep within. The warmth coiled around his heart suffused through out his body. Feelings of joy rolled over him, joining his own hazy afterglow.

Hassan was still exhaling heavily into Robbie’s shoulder, “Holy fuck, that was...  do you think it worked?”

Robbie nodded before turning to kiss Hassan. It was past midnight, and the moon was full.

“Robbie, honey, you didn’t respond to my texts this morning, I wanted to see if everything was… OH wow.”

Robbie’s eyes snapped open, and he went grabbing for a shirt to pull over his crotch. His leg mostly covered Hassan, who wriggled awake in his embrace. “Christ Beccs maybe knock?”

“Well I was expecting to find you hard at work, not sprawled out naked on the floor.”

“Well… too bad I’m kind of unavailable right now.”

“I can see that, and quite a bit more. Hello, I’m Becca, Robbie’s friend and the owner of this house, and you might be?”

“Oh, I’m Hassan,” he gave a little wave, “Nice to meet you Becca. Do you mind giving us a few minutes. I’d like to make a good impression on Robbie’s friends.”

Unrestrained glee reflected in Becca’s eyes, “Oh, you’ve definitely made an impression.” She turned, and strode out the door, “Robbie sweetie, give me a call later. I want to hear about your progress, and whatever happened last night. Looks like you managed to get quite a bit done yesterday.” Cackling at her own joke, she shut the door behind her.

“She seems nice,” Hassan managed before dissolving into giggles.

Robbie could feel his face burning, but gave into the laughter.

    After the pair had dressed and were going to leave, Hassan with the box of letters and film rolls in tow, he’d promised to develop the film. “Wait, I still owe you dinner.” Robbie declared.

Hassan grinned back, “How about breakfast and a shower?”

Robbie smiled, his arm in Hassan’s as the pair strolled down the porch past a rosebush in bloom.