The Other Side: A Short Story

1

The Cooper House

Exeter, RI.

11:55 P.M.

We live in a world where everything we see, hear, and feel should have some type of natural explanation. But, there are instances when the normal can't give us all the answers we need.

That's why there's the paranormal.

It's my house in South County.

In my house, I've heard things that I can't necessarily explain, like the watchful eyes in the hall and taunting taps that come from my attic.

The taps.

I can say it's just the house settling. Warped wood popping after dark. But, when you notice a pattern to it, how do you explain it then?

Field mice? Maybe.

I'm Thomas Cooper. I'm a high school senior, living in the middle of absolute scenic nowhere, and I've had this obsession with the other side for as long as I can remember. I want to be a ghost hunter, to explore new places, find answers, and test my emotions to be more than a talker. I want to feel it. I want to live it. All I need is a drop of mental courage to get out there and do it. And I'm not alone.

I have my friends with me. Just...not right now.

Thomas: Wish u could come over.

C.J.: Too late, Tommy. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow??

The one rare night when my parents are out on the town.

Caden-James "C.J." Sawyer, that blonde idiot with the stupid smirk on his face in the contact photo. He's my best friend because he's also been my boyfriend for the past four months. I don't think it's shocking, except to my parents when...if they ever find out.

Does it matter?

Exactly.

I wish C.J. was here. C.J.'s into the paranormal, too. He's been the devil on my shoulder, pushing me to start this ghost-hunting team.

Andrew Burchard, the big bear. Andrew believes he's the bravest one. He's intimidating, but he's also one of the nicest people I've met.

Adam Blackwell, that brown-haired toothpick. He's our group geek. A gaming/editing master with "Sonic fingers." Whatever that means. He said it. I don't care about games. I've got a life.

Collin Blackwell is Adam's younger brother, and the youngest out of all of us. He's a freshman, private and a little grumpy, but I love it.

Together, we're a bunch of ghost hunters...even though we've never done a damn thing yet. One day, we'll get out and do. I know we will.

That's then, though. This is now.

It's a Saturday night in September. Well, more like Sunday morning. I'm kicked back on my bed, listening to Muse, trying to sketch out what's supposed to be a cheesy cat that I'll end up hating later.

Thomas: 2 minutes til tomorrow.

C.J.: Omg. You know what I mean!

Idiot. But, he's my idiot.

I stare down the pad in my lap. I usually feel annoyed with everything I make. The finished products never turn out like how I picture them in my head. It's a hard truth to swallow. My pencil taps against the paper. I feel potential building in...eh.

Fuck it.

I'm getting nowhere with this...not-a-cat.

"I'm done."

Annoyed, I toss my pad and pencil to the side and pick up my phone. The music dies. I send one more text to C.J.

Thomas: Gonna head for bed.

Thomas: Night.

Then, like cliché clockwork, it happens.

"...The heck?"

This? It's a first. I've never had a breeze or a breath in my face before, so excuse me while I internally freak out for a second.

"...Seriously?"

What just happened? I don't know how to react. My hands wander in front of me. They pick up on a coolness that...might be normal?

I have to try to debunk this.

I lean over to check a vent. It was blowing earlier, but not anymore. My door. It's shut, preventing any hallway drafts from coming through. It couldn't have been my windows. I know they're drafty. I can feel it whenever I'm sitting at my desk, but not from my bed.

Me?

The pencil. It's a possible culprit, but it's been sitting in my lap.

"Uh, if that was you, thank you?" I mouth.

"You're welcome," is a reply I wish I could hear.

I'll have to tell C.J. tomorrow. He'll tell me...

Tch.

Hear it?

Tchk...tchk...

There. That's what I've been talking about. How can I think it's just my pencil or my head or nerves when I hear those?

Boomph!

That tapping crescendos with a rattling thud.

"Mice can't move shit up there like that."

Do it.

It can't be normal.

Just do it, Thomas.

It has to be...

Your parents aren't home. Go explore before they are and catch you. Think about it. Thomas Cooper, ghost hunter!

I...I have my chance.

My parents are gone. I'm feeling wicked edgy. Warm chills skitter up and down my neck like playful nudges. It's not the house or a mouse. It's not me. It's not the edginess hijacking my brain this time. It's more. So, why push against the pressure? Why not just go and see?

I'm not a talker.

I'm a doer.

To prove it, I pick up my phone and sock-skate on tiptoes to the door. The knob is freezing. I take a deep breath, then I give it a twist and pull.

What a difference!

The rest of my house is a whole other world as the pitch-blackness of the hallway consumes me.