Brenda

Chapter One: Meeting Brenda

My first paranormal investigation... What was I doing? Oh, I know—being crazy, that's what.

I sat in the front passenger seat and carefully observed Dad, who screeched on the winding road of the countryside and drove toward Brenda's house. Someone murdered her in the Seventies, but other sources stated her death was accidental.

"Riley, could you grab my briefcase?" Dad asked, pointing at the back seat. "That's got everything we need in it."

Dad, the ace paranormal investigator in my family, turned to ghost hunting after Mom disappeared soon after I was born. She went into Brenda's forest and never returned, leaving Dad desperate to uncover the mystery. I think he watched too much Ghost Adventures, to be honest. I never wanted Dad to drag me into his shenanigans, but there I was—a home-schooled thirteen-year-old living alone in the shady Midwest.

I was a little boy; I had yet to reach my growth spurt, so perhaps not attending in-person school was for the best (not that anyone was during COVID-19).

With Dad out of work, he turned to his dumb ghost adventures to pay the bills. He had a YouTube channel and everything.

I sighed and grabbed Dad's heavy briefcase, setting it on my lap. "Dad, you realize it's 2 a.m., right?"

"Ghosts appear at 3 a.m.," he explained. "That's when the portal opens."

"Sure." I hid behind his briefcase.

"What are you doing?" Dad snapped, reaching for it. "You must keep it right-side up. It has my Cat Balls, EMFs, and Paranormal Music Box. That stuff doesn't come cheap."

"Sure." While I had heard of EMFs, I hadn't heard of Cat Balls or Paranormal Music Boxes, but I didn't ask because I wasn't interested.

Dad gestured out the window ten minutes later when we reached an overgrown driveway in the middle of an alien abduction zone. "Okay, Brenda's house is at the end of this driveway." He beamed at me. "I'm so glad you decided to join me, son!"

"Did I have a choice?" I grumbled.

Dad growled and glared, so I faked a smile and pulled black hair before my right eye.

A group of banyan trees protruded from the forest surrounding the driveway, giving the area a terrifying, beautiful appearance.

Dad rolled down his Grand Cherokee's window and said, "Keep your eyes and ears open, Ri. Brenda could be anywhere."

"But isn't she a ghost?" I inquired. "Doesn't that mean she's trapped in the house?" Gosh, why on Earth did I ask that? Was I actually interested in Dad and I's ghost adventure?

Turning away from Dad, I smacked a mosquito on my cheek and sank into my seat. Those banyan trees screamed death.

"There it is," Dad whispered after another five minutes. He leaned over the steering wheel and pointed out the windshield.

The house at the end of the driveway was tiny—only one story. It almost looked like a darn mobile home and was falling apart at every end—from broken windows to the roof that had started caving into the moss-covered chimney.

I gulped and rubbed goosebumps from my arms.

Dad parked before the house and shut off the car, sealing us in a coffin. "There she is. Isn't this exciting, son?"

"I wanna go home," I complained. "That looks like something out of Texas Chainsaw Massacre." A cold wind flew through Dad's open window, blowing his black locks.

He rubbed his goatee, stole his briefcase from me, and climbed out of the car. "Don't be a wimp, son. We are going to discover the truth behind Brenda and your mother."