The Other Side: A Short Story

3

12:35 A.M.

The light from my room is still on. I jump off the final attic step and shut the door behind me, then I take a second to dust myself off before continuing on.

"Okay. That was..." My eyes shoot down the hall. I can't shake this watchful itch. "...The hell?"

And that's not all.

I look around for the source of this rustling noise. Meddling mouse? No. It's just my cat on the move.

"Debunked," I say as I pet my furry friend at my feet.

My scruffy gray tabby. I love my Boo. Lives up to her name nightly. A few pets later, I return to my room and find safety in the bright light. It still doesn't explain that watchful feeling, though. What's doing that? What's watching me? Or...

My pencil. It's missing in action.

"Really?"

I find my pencil on the floor to the side of my bed, and the only natural reasons I have are that it either dropped when I was moving around, or Boo did it. Crazy cat. It wouldn't surprise me if she were the answer. The pencil? Sure. The taps? No. She's not allowed in the attic.

Just into the kitchen alcove when her sick, bag-licking fetish kicks in.

I sit on my bed. Relief runs down my arms. I did it. I did what I wished I could do. I explored the attic and...

What keeps staring?!

Meow!

I jump, but it's only Boo running into my room.

Cats are sensitive to the paranormal, but—

"Boo!"

The bag with the box under my bed has...I forgot about my camera.

I remember when I wanted a camera for two years, mostly for ghosts. I needed it. I begged for it. I got it for my birthday back in December. Then, I met C.J. in May, and our outside adventures felt fun to film, too. I haven't really touched the camera since my parents' birthday surprise. Boo's reminder stings. Dad has been asking me how I've liked using it. I cry homework and studying, but I think he's growing suspicious.

I pop the box open and pull it out. The gray handheld has weight to it. It can record audio via a mic near the front and has a pull-out viewscreen with an IR light setting so I can see in the dark.

"You..."

I've held cameras in class. But, this? This is mine, and it feels...right. I'm a fast learner. My camera and I get acclimated. Seeing my room and door through the viewscreen pulls me up to my tiptoes.

"You can do this..."

***

1:10 A.M.

The only thing making me edgier than my hunt?

"Hey. It's Thomas, and...I'm about to look for a ghost that's...in my house...supposedly."

My camera recording my voice.

Ooh! So easy, isn't it?

I skate down the hall, but it's hard to take anything seriously with Boo. "Go. Get." My foot nudges her away. "Stop licking everything."

I follow her as she trots into the living room. It feels darker in here than the upstairs, even through the viewscreen. My only guiding light. They didn't cheap out. That's how much they believed me, and in me. The IR light makes the room muted shades of green. There's the lamp. The couch is by the window. And there's the end table—

"Fuck!"

...I stub my toe on.

"He-hello? ...Ow. ...Why are you watching me?"

I limp to the center of the room and look around through my camera, waiting for some type of response.

"Why don't you show yourself, huh?"

I enter the dining room. It's calmer, not as thick to walk through.

"The kitchen..."

And the basement door right in front of me.

The basement. It scares me. It's wicked disturbing. A filthy maze with an atmosphere worse than the rest of the house. I think that it's a portal to Hell. The door alone makes me feel like a bloodthirsty Demogorgon is going to burst out and kill me.

That reference was for Adam.

"Recorder..."

Dad keeps a recorder in one of the kitchen junk drawers. I rummage through each until I find what I'm looking for, so...thanks?

"Come on. You've got this."

This is what I thought would happen, but I didn't want to mention it. Watching/reading isn't doing, but it shouldn't be this bumpy. I take a filmmaking elective. Yet, here I am, pacing around my kitchen like a young, dumb wannabe YouTuber, dragging out the time it should take to open a door for that ten-minute video sponsor cash.

It's funny if you think about it. I can tell you all about the Jersey Devil. I can tell you how I'd love to take a vacation to the Pine Barrens and cross him off my paranormal bucket list. Or, how C.J. and I would love to do a prison. I can also explain what an EVP is, but I flunk confidence when the little red dot blinks on.

"You can..."

You should see me in class.

Let's just say that it helps having C.J. and Adam around.

"You can do it..."

I guess this is my personal baptism by fire to buck the trend.

I've been down in the basement before, and it still makes me feel like I want to cry more than when I stub my toe. Has it always been nerves and the creepy factor? Or, are there other forces at work?

Time to find out because...I'm Thomas Cooper, ghost hunter, and don't forget to "Like" and subscribe for future content just like this!

Fuck me...