The Initiation
"Sundown to sunup. Them's the rules. You wanna play you gotta pay baby. You in?"
Hazel tried to swallow, but the muscles in her throat refused to comply. Her brain went into Sherlock mode trying to figure out every scenario that could happen and any loophole to get out of it. There wasn't one that would help her save face and stay part of the group, except accepting the challenge. She shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms defiantly.
"I'm in dickwad. But no Impractical Joker shit. I just lay low for one night. No pranks or interference. You swear?"
Calvin laughed and spit on his hand before thrusting it out. Hazel reluctantly spit on her own and grabbed his firmly. Afterward she quickly knelt and smeared her palm on the damp grass to rid the wad of sticky phlegm that had sealed their promise.
"Don't worry about that, princess. We wouldn't be caught alive in that cemetery overnight. We've all heard the stories." he nudged Tru in the ribs as he spoke causing her to give him an annoyed slit eyed look.
"This whole thing is stupid if you ask me." Tru said as she made criss cross indents with her fingernail in the center of a red raised mosquito bite on the side of her ankle. She raised her wide blue eyes at Hazel and with an almost pleading tone said "Take the gauntlet Hazel. The swim across the channel is easy if you time it right. And it doesn't matter that it's night, there's nothing to bump into in the water. No one has picked the cemetery in years. There's a reason for that."
Hazel licked her dry lips and stared into the fire wishing the dancing orange flames could give her a signal. She trusted Tru, more than she trusted anyone else in the group but swimming and her had never gotten along. Turns out almost drowning once is enough to give you a lifetime of fear and anxiety. Just thinking about getting into the water at night made her palms sweaty and her heart find an abnormal pace announcing its fragility. No, she wouldn't take the water.
"I'm sticking. It's about time someone proved to you pansies that the cemetery stuff is bullshit. It's not haunted. Old man Smythe probably started those rumors himself to keep out the riff raff." Hazel spoke with the confidence of a well trained academy award winning actress. She wouldn't let them see her fear. Not today, not ever. Fear meant a weak spot, and a weak spot gets used against you.
Calvin spit in the fire. Sizzles rose from the dry logs and the flames moved around as if to protest the intrusion. Hazel saw, just for an instant a picture in the flames. Nothing she could identify or make sense of, but it was there. She struggled to move the topic to anything else but her initiation.
"What's with you and spitting Calvin?"
He snapped his head towards her, smiled, and squared his meaty round shoulders. "I like spitting. Sue me"
Leon giggled. "It's disgusting man. Leaving your nasty mucous all over. You're probably spreading STD's all over town"
Calvin smirked. "What? Your momma's got an STD now? That's ok man, she's worth it!"
Leon jumped up from his makeshift seat of a piece of old birch and dove at Calvin who retaliated by punching him in the side of the head. They began rolling around among the pine cones littering the forest floor. The thumps and groans in tandem with the crackling of the dried leftover leaves.
Kayla moved from her spot next to Calvin to avoid being pummeled in the action and wiggled in next to Tru and Hazel on the rotting log. They ignored the guys who were now acting Neanderthal rolling and grunting like animals in heat.
It was always the same. Boys puffing up and displaying dominance, the girls not watching to show to prove they didn't care. This was Hazel's fifth town in five years. It was Groundhog Day. Every town, every group of teens. Just change the faces and the names and it was one big loop. Each time she told herself she wouldn't play the game, but being stuck in the loop was her part of the game and being a part of a group was as necessary for her as breathing.
When it was time, Leon shoveled dirt on the dying embers and the rest of the teens grabbed their bags and packed up. They rode in the back of Calvins pick up to the edge of town. The usual laughter stifled as each thought about what they were doing. In the truck Kayla, the quiet one of the group held Calvin's hand. His thumb making swirl patterns on the back of hers. She tightened her grip and watched his jaw bounce with the bumps in the road. A days worth of stubble poking out in patches on his freckle sprayed cheeks.
"Calvin. You shouldn't have offered her the cemetery. Not until she knew the full truth. She's a nice girl. You know she's not gonna back down."
Calvin continued his stare out the windshield. He pulled his hand from hers and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands.
"I can't take it back Kay, think about it. It was an impulse. I didn't think she'd take it. Everyone takes the gauntlet. Everyone. It's not my fault she's an idiot." As he spoke his fists tightened around the wheel, fingers turning shades of pink and white as he worked out secret emotions trying to figure a way to remove his guilt.
When the pickup stopped at the cemetery everyone stayed in place. It was Hazel who finally laughed and jumped out of the back, brushing the accumulated layer of road dust from the front of her pants and jacket. "Ok. See you guys in the morning. Don't forget to pick me up."
They all laughed then. It was the forced kind of laughter that breaks up fear and awkward moments. The harsh toned laughter that covers sins instead of absolving them. Tru jumped out next, and took her place next to Hazel draping an arm around her in a sincere moment of friendship.
"Be safe. Stay away from the mausoleum. And if you see anything weird, just close your eyes. Don't run, don't chase. Just remember it's all mind tricks ok?"
Hazel hugged Tru tightly relishing for a brief instant the feel of a warm body against her own. A fluttering heartbeat and connection. It was enough. Just that. Enough to get her through. Enough to prove she was doing the right thing. Connection was one of the only things that mattered no matter where you moved you to.
She didn't turn around after that. Her feet shuffled toward the gate until Calvin put up the ladder and she steadied her gaze focused forward as she climbed. When she got to the top she stopped. No one had thought about her getting down the other side. They hadn't brought two ladders. It was a perfect moment to think about quitting. Even if she didn't believe in haunted cemeteries they all did, it would be easy to back out at this moment before her feet ever touched the soil. Instead, she jumped. Seven feet of fencing wasn't her stopping point today. She sailed over the fence and rolled as she thumped against the grassy land beneath her feet.
The group whooped and cheered clapping for her swan dive. Hazel bowed and smiled, her eyes sparkling with the ecstasy of the moment. She kept her smile pasted in place as they got back into the truck. Each teen confident she would make it. A girl who can jump like that is a sure bet.
Hazel had just a few minutes of light left. She weaved in and out of tombstone rows. Tight patterns of rigid lines each representing a life's end. When she was younger her father used to take her to the cemetery to 'visit' her mother. Together they would lay flowers on her grave and he would tell her stories that now Hazel wasn't sure if she remembered from living them, or from the stories heard so often. She had loved walking around and imagining stories for each and every stone around her mother's. Her belief was always one that neighbors should be friendly, so she gave them all happy stories and introduced them to her mother as if at a high tea event. It comforted her when she left, knowing that her mother was surrounded by friends.
She tried to feel her inner voice telling her where to go and hide out for the night. Weaving this way and that looking for a nudge from her gut. Nothing spoke, poked, or called to her so she just kept walking. Until she hit the mausoleum. She remembered Tru's words, and yet it seemed so perfect. Shelter, a long unoccupied bench that she could settle on and even a gate to keep out animals.
Entering the mausoleum she felt protected, a sense of calmness deep within her bones for the first time since leaving the bonfire She took off her jacket and swept the spider webs from the corners and brushed the debris from the bench where she would sleep. Using her hands she scooped the dead dry leaves because she didn't want to imagine them hiding rodents in the night.
The sun sank below the horizon as she walked the perimeter, stretching her legs for the last time before hunkering down. She made sure to go to the bathroom, wiping with a single stray tissue that had been in her jacket since Tuesday when she woke up sniffling with allergies.
Her mind wandered through images of past lives and past friends. People and places that spelled the fabric of who she was. Each place making her prove her worth, her ability to fit in, and her spot in the hierarchy.
The dark came suddenly, covering like a blanket of coolness. For a brief moment she could see her breath in puffs of smoke before blackness covered it all. She closed her eyes then, and willed herself to sleep.
Hazel woke in the darkness with a sense of tingling upon her skin. She scurried to standing position and rubbed herself down with her palms sure a rodent had invaded her fortress and climbed up her during her sleep. She chastised herself for Being dramatic and sat back upon the bench wondering if morning was soon to arrive. She wished at least they would have let her keep her phone.
The wind picked up and changed its whistle and Hazel would swear she heard her name sail across her eardrums. She cocked her head and listened more intently until the sing song whisper of her name stretched across her ears again.
HhhhhhAaaaZzzzeelll. Rrrrrruuuuunnnn.
She let her mind swirl, scenarios of the teens breaking their promise and pranking her leading the rational explanations. But the prickle across her skin was proof she was affected. Something deep within her knew she was in trouble.
She felt a warmth in the wind for just a moment and immediately it dropped in temperature. A groan surfaced and she felt a squeeze upon her ankle and a tug at her hair causing her to scream, searching frantically for the bench. She hit her shin climbing on it but ignored the throbbing pain while making herself small in a corner. She waited for just a moment to control herself and remember Tru's words, "...it's all mind games". She repeated it like a mantra, trying to force it into belief.
Clenching her jaw she forced herself to remember her purpose while fighting her instinct to run and hide. A feeling of panic swept into the very fibers of her soul and her breath refused to slow or steady.
She saw it then, swirling gas like lights pixelated and swimming slowly into focus. A woman, running with a look of tortured horror upon her face. Hazel felt her panic, her own heart pounding and thumping as the chill was forgotten and beads of sweat appeared and danced across her skin.
The man appeared next. His anger filling the air making it thick and smothering and Hazel felt her hair stand on end like she was touching the energy ball at the museum. He resonated a palpable hate and Hazel understood the word evil at that moment. Nothing but bursts of anger and hate pulsating as evident as the thrum of music full blast through speakers.
Hazel watched as he grabbed the woman, his hands clutching her throat, her mouth open in a silent picture scream as fluorescent tears ran down her face. Hazel could see her clawing and kicking, grasping at anything to release the grip. When the woman stopped moving, the form of the man smashed her against the bench, the audible thud resounding upon the marble walls. A splatter of light flew out in slow motion making patterns of dripping splashes across the mausoleum and across Hazel's shirt. It was lifeforce. Not blood although she could easily make the connection.
He turned then to Hazel, completely statue still, her hand covering her mouth and nose in a cowering crouch on the bench. His face came closer, a halloween worthy mask of terror, and at its center, his mouth, a black hole of emptiness screaming for an eternity. Hazel felt the crushing waves of panic surging through her core. And the anger, so much anger. She opened her own mouth and released a primal scream that she was unable to stifle.
In the darkness she clawed for the door, breaking away her nails as she used her fingers to find the crack in the darkness. There was no change in light as she felt it open but her feet flew into the night, the cold ignored, her only instinct to create distance between them. From behind she could feel him giving chase, the illumination of his being casting shadows upon her view. The feelings he radiated now a mix of joy and pleasure combining with the anger. She tripped in the darkness, her foot catching on a branch or root and splaying her in a pile upon a mounded grave as her head hit the corner of a tombstone. She relived the images of the woman, clawing and kicking and felt a trickle of blood run from the back of her neck down into the collar of her shirt.
The voice deep within her kept trying to remind her to close her eyes, mind games, mind games, mind games. But Hazel's pounding heart and bleeding head told her it would not be that simple. Closing your eyes did not make the terrors of the night leave you alone. Closing her eyes would just leave her open to being killed without watching it, without seeing the face.
He floated above her, his luminous glow highlighting the ugliness of his very being. His hands stretched out toward her, fingers curled like claws. Hazle felt her throat tighten, blood rushed to her head as she gasped and sputtered for air. A blue light appeared, before her vision, swirling like a vortex above the angry man, dancing back and forth like a rocket, before settling over Hazel and covering her body. She wondered if people saw this when they died, if the blue light was the one people always told you to go to at the end.
Somehow, instinctively, she felt it then, the encompassing arms of a mother long passed but never forgotten. She felt herself focusing on the light, her entire being standing at attention, a desire so strong to embrace it, absorb it, become one with that wave of blue that felt like love. The evil screeched, it screamed, flickered, and writhed throwing out pulses of light and anger until bursting into tiny specs of darkly lit matter like grey like ashes escaping from flames.
Hazel breathed gulps of cool summer air, her head pounding, she reached out to the orb of blue, her body craving it's light and warmth still wanting to encompass it within her. Unable to find the difference now between hope or fear. All Hazel could feel was longing.
When dawn arrived she found herself huddled at the gate. Her fingers swollen, her nails broken and caked in dried blood, and her muscles cramped and sore. She didn't remember getting to the gate, and immediately turned her head back towards the tombstones searching for the blue light that she was sure had been her mother.
Instead she saw shaped in the early morning fog, each one dark and she could feel the pull of them calling, willing her to go back.
She turned toward the gate and steadied her breathing, mind games, she repeated it until she finally saw the plume of dust rising as a familiar truck sped toward the gate.
Calvin got out and placed the ladder on her side of the wrought iron gates. He stood rigid, waiting as if she were a rare bird about to take flight.
"Hazel, your hair. It's white. What happened in there? Are you ok? Is that blood? Can you climb the ladder? Should I come to your side and get you over?" He spoke as if talking to a child, tentative, careful.
She reached up and smoothed her coarse hair, ignoring the crunchy parts with bits of dirt and hardened clumps of blood. She was alive, and would mend, but would never be able to share the story of her night, she would protect the secret of her mother's unstoppable love, and shove down the rest to keep her from looking crazy.
"Of course not, dickwad. I didn't forget how to climb a ladder."
He spit then, a wad of mucous landing on the pale dry grass beside her.
She grabbed the ladder with one last look over her shoulder, and the knowledge that her mother wasn't confined to tombstones in rigid rows, but would always be watching over her. She climbed to the top and despite the fear of how much the landing would pain her, jumped down, only to be caught by Calvin.
He kicked dust with his boots as he spoke, his sight never leaving her hair."They wanted to come, they're all waiting but we weren't sure what to expect, I mean, you're the first to actually...well, you know"
She glanced backwards toward the mausoleum, toward the place she knew it ended for those without a beacon on the other side. With the sun rising it looked serene, almost peaceful if you didn't know the truth.
"Too bad for them, they're stuck with me now!" She forced a smile as she watched him put the ladder back into the truck. Her body ached as she climbed into the warm cab ignoring the stark reflection of white hair in the mirror that was proof of her brush with death and intense fear.
"What happened in there?" He asked as he pulled away and head toward town.
"Initiation" she said. "And I nailed it!"
She lay her head against the cool window, closing her eyes and forcing her muscles to relax for the first time in hours. Somewhere between the hum of the tires and the whisper of the wind she heard a whisper.
Hhhhhaaaazzzeeellll. Rrrrruuuunnn.
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This story was taken from an old urban legend I heard when I was ten and still remember every time I go to a cemetery at night. In the version I heard a young woman gets locked in by her sister overnight and when the sister goes to pick her up her hair is pure white and she never speaks again. It never says what happened, but this is what I imagined.
Word count 3330.
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Originally written by me for the tenebris_somnia halloween anthology. If you haven't checked that out you should! It's featured and full of amazing stories by your favorite Wattpad people!!
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