Will-O’-The-Wisp

“No farther than the rosebushes!’’

Sage Holland looked from the fluorescent green Frisbee to the cemetery in the distance. The overgrown willow trees loomed upon the hillcrest. As far as Sage’s mom was concerned, that stretch of the field was off-limits.

She’d felt differently before his father died. She’d oftentimes spoke of cemeteries as Edens for the dead. Since his father’s funeral, she feared them. He used to be able to play in the field. Now he wasn’t allowed beyond the rosebushes. Maybe his mom was overprotective. Whatever the reason, his curiosity burned as to what lurked within the cemetery.

He glanced back to the three-story, sky blue Victorian. His mom peeked through the draperies of the kitchen window. It was obvious she refused to let him out of her sight.

A low rumble echoed from the gloomy east. By the looks of the charcoal-gray clouds, a thunderstorm brewed in the heavens.

A glimmering 18-wheel rig roared across Interstate 89. The mailbox rattled at the end of the drive. Sage watched the semi fade into the horizon.

Sage’s black and tan Norwich terrier Abbey barked and poised. She drooled for her chew toy. Sage loved to watch her chase down the plastic prey as if it was an airborne dog biscuit. In fact, he loved everything about her. They were best friends since his seventh birthday, the day he received her as a gift from his father.

Sage launched the Frisbee into the air. It soared over the clothesline and brushed by Abbey's head.

A flash defined the dark clouds. Abbey dashed across the lawn after the Frisbee.

“Abbey! Stay!”

A white Winnebago caught his eye as it sped forth from the east. To Sage, it was like a bolt of lightning striking down from the impending storm.

“Stay, Abbey! Stay!”

Abbey leapt over the gravel shoulder. The Winnebago had no intentions of slowing. Abbey dove for the disk as it skidded toward the far lane. The Winnebago’s grill smashed into Abbey and catapulted her into the air. Her body bounced on the concrete drive and crashed into the garage door.

Laurel slammed open the screen door. She tore off her apron and tossed it aside. She knew Sage tossed the Frisbee against the garage door again.

“Abbey!’’

“Abbey.’’ Laurel froze as she rounded the porch. “Oh no.’’

Sage stared at Abbey’s mangled body. Her tongue dangled out of her gaping jaw. All of her legs were splayed in different directions. Her body twitched against the blood-splattered garage door. Laurel was at her son’s side in a heartbeat. She wrapped her arm around his hunched shoulders.

“Go back to the house, baby.” She kissed his tear-stained cheek. “Now. Lock the door when you get there. I’ll take care of Abbey. I promise.”

“Is she…dead?”

“Please go back to the house.”

Sage turned his back on his best friend and ran for the porch.

Abbey, he thought as he stumbled up the steps. She can’t be dead! She can’t!

The driver of the Winnebago hopped down from the cab. He was a short, stocky man clad in greasy overalls and a blue Omaha Royals cap. He studied the dented grill, then dislodged the Frisbee.

Sage watched through the screen door. His eyes smoldered as Abbey’s killer approached his mom with the Frisbee in hand.

“Lose something?’’ the driver asked. He tossed the bloody disk on Abbey's body.

Flames danced in Laurel’s eyes. She clenched her fists at her side.

“You're going to lose something if you don’t get the hell off my property!’’

“Now calm down, lady. I'm sure there's a pound up the road. I'll be more than willing to put down half for a new mutt.’’

Laurel whirled on the man and stormed off to the garage. A rusted shovel and a weed-tangled rake rested against the foundation. She snatched the shovel, cursed under her breath, and then approached her enemy.

“I’m not going to tell you again.’’ Laurel swung the shovel at the dog killer. Had he not ducked, he would’ve lost his head. “Get the hell out of here!’’

The driver stumbled back, then ran. He hopped up into the cab and fumbled for the ignition key. The shovel landed on the windshield, cracked it, and bounced off into the ditch. The driver jumped, then slammed on the gas pedal. The Winnebago screeched onto the interstate toward the fiery horizon.

Sage’s blurry gaze settled on the thunderclouds that inched along the interstate. The eye of the storm had set its sights on their tainted homestead.

***

Laurel and Sage walked up the weedy hill. Laurel cradled Abbey’s shrouded body while Sage carried the shovel and Frisbee.

Laurel paused on the hillcrest. Sage gazed at the enormous willows. They formed one large, greenish-yellow canopy that spanned the graveyard. The encircling wrought-iron fence swayed with the willows.

“C’mon,” Laurel muttered.

Sage followed his mom to the gate. He lifted the rusted latch and pushed it open. The gate shrieked resoundingly. Sage was at his mom’s heels as they entered the cemetery. Every drooping branch they drew aside like a tableau curtain revealed knee-high grass and weathered footstones. They ventured along the fence, so as to keep their bearings straight, and hopefully find a plot near the gate.

They stopped at a willow near the far fence post. The grass was short and the ground soft and damp as marshland. Sage’s tennis shoes sank to their laces with each step. The plot of land was empty, save for a mossgrown footstone beside a twisted willow.

“What do you say?” Laurel’s eyes darted to the surrounding shadows. “It’s as good a spot as any.”

“I guess so,” Sage replied.

Laurel set Abbey’s body on the ground. The marsh soaked through the sheets as if they were paper towels. Sage handed his mom the shovel. She thrust it into a patch of grass near a brown fern. Before long, she was lost in a gravedigger’s routine.

Sage’s eyes wandered to Abbey’s limp body. A tear slid down his cheek. He looked away. His gaze rested on the footstone. He walked over to it as the ground squelched underfoot. The edges of the weathered footstone were covered with moss. The epitaph was surprisingly legible.

Here you passed

Here you remain

In our hearts

In our loving embrace

Avery Michael Morrow

April 5, 1876 – September 27, 1888

1876 to 1888. Sage turned the Frisbee over in his hands. That’d make him 12 years old when he died. Jeez.

A thunderclap like a double-barreled shotgun blast echoed overhead. The shadows darkened about the gravesite.

“I think that ought to be deep enough.” Laurel planted the shovel and pulled herself out of the hole. “I feel like my whole body’s in a mudpack.”

Sage looked his mom up and down. Her blue jeans were black. Her arms and face were likewise caked. She walked over to Abbey and picked her up. She looked to her son. He met her gaze, then nodded.

“Sorry, girl,” Laurel muttered. “You meant the world to us.”

She dropped Abbey’s body into the pit. Sage sobbed. Laurel turned her back on the grave and embraced her son. After a few moments, she lifted his chin and kissed him on the forehead.

“Do you want to leave her the Frisbee?” Laurel asked. “You could keep it, you know?”

“It’s hers.” Sage handed over the bloodstained memento. “It stays here.”

Laurel nodded and returned to the pit. She let the Frisbee slide off her fingertips. A rumble of thunder reminded her of the approaching storm.

“Last chance for goodbyes, sweetie.”

“Goodbye, Abbey.” Sage said. “I love you.”

“Me, too.”

Ten grueling minutes later, Laurel packed the dirt with the shovel and smoothed it over. She glanced at the canopy. They sky was dark as dusk. She looked back to the grave and sighed.

“Now all we need is…” Her voice trailed off as Sage approached with a black rock the size of a lunchbox. “A tombstone.”

Sage crouched down and set the marker at the foot of the grave. As he stood erect, thunder cracked and the clouds unleashed the downpour.

“C’mon!” Laurel seized Sage by the hand.

They ran through the copse. The dense canopy was like an umbrella and a gentle rain drizzled down. Laurel was certain that would change once they emerged from the cemetery.

They soon arrived at the gate. They paused, caught their breath, and stared out at the downpour. Even though the house was a furlong away, it looked like miles.

“Ready to run for it?” Laurel asked. Sage nodded as a lightning bolt pierced the sky. “On the count of two. One…two!”

They sprinted into the storm. Laurel knocked the gate backward with the handle of the shovel. The latch banged into the gatepost. The door shrieked open, but Sage and Laurel were at the bottom of the hill, braving the storm.

***

“Mom? Do you think Abbey’s in Heaven?”

“I know she is, sweetie. I’m sure your father’s loving her company. Now hop into bed. It’s been a long day.”

Sage pulled the Batman comforter up to his chest. Laurel crouched beside him.

“I’m sorry this happened.”

“I wish I could see her again,” Sage said.

“In your dreams, sugar.’’ She kissed him on his forehead. “Always in your dreams.’’

“But can I still go see her? In the cemetery?”

“Sage, I know how much she meant to you and I know how badly you want to be near her, but I don’t want you going back there alone. On the weekends, we can visit her as long as you like.”

“But it’s practically the backyard!”

“You won’t go there without me. Understand?”

Sage nodded as he stared at the footboard. Laurel embraced him.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

Laurel flipped the switch and shut the door. Sage shrank into his pillow. As the darkness closed in, he strove to conjure Kodak moments of Abbey in his mind’s eye. No matter how hard he thought, the memory of the accident loomed in his subconscious.

He was so used to Abbey sleeping at his bedside that he had to stop himself from reaching down to pat her head. He cried until the pillowcase was damp, then sat erect. He dried his eyes on the sleeve of his pajamas. He looked to the window across the room. He needed a breath of fresh air.

He kicked the comforter to the footboard, slid out of bed, and then tiptoed across the hardwood floor. He unlocked the window and opened it. The night chill wafted into the room. He took a deep breath. He felt a great weight lift from his temples and his mind cleared. He rested his elbows on the windowsill.

His eyes drifted across the misty backyard. The clothesline shivered in the breeze. He gazed toward the field, then followed the hill to the cemetery. He stared at the far right fence post. Tomorrow was Monday. He had to wait until the weekend to visit Abbey. The thought was heartrending.

His heart skipped a beat as a faint light burned near Abbey’s gravesite. It looked like a rising lantern that grew brighter by the second. The full moon caught his eye as it peered through the slate clouds.

A bright, orange flash illuminated the cemetery. Sage stepped back from the window.

The light vanished.

What the heck was that? Sage’s mind raced as he stared at the cemetery. Somebody’s in there, that’s for sure. Or maybe...Maybe it’s haunted! Sage struggled to clear his head, but it was too late. The thought had settled. There’s no such thing as ghosts. If there were, I would’ve seen Dad by now.

He gazed at the cemetery awhile longer, but the strange light never returned.

He shut the window and locked it. He could stand at the sill until the wee small hours and watch, but his eyelids were heavy and his brain reeled. He yearned to sleep off the day’s craziness and awake with everything the way it was that morning: bright, happy, and promising.

***

The breeze rustled the withies and their tendril-like branches. A brown fern near Abbey’s grave had surpassed the early stages of decomposition that afternoon. By nightfall, the phenomenon manifested.

A greenish-yellow, phosphorescent orb rose from the ground. It spiraled into the air toward the canopy. In the overcast sky, the clouds parted for the full moon. The moonlight shined down on the will-o’-the-wisp like a spotlight. A spontaneous reaction ensued, like a burning match on a puddle of kerosene. The glowing orb ruptured and unleashed a reddish-orange expanse of light across the cemetery.

The fiery remnants of the will-o’-the-wisp showered on Abbey’s grave. The plot quaked as a centralized tremor rocked the ground. A minute passed and all was still.

The gravesite caved in and a muffled whine rose from the depths. Abbey’s muzzle poked through the soil and sniffed at the moonlight.

***

A monotonous scratching awoke Sage. It sounded as if a muffled chainsaw bore down on a petrified tree. The sound was like fingernails on Styrofoam. Sage gritted his teeth as his skin crawled. He had to stop the god-awful sound.

He hopped out of bed and tiptoed to the door. He looked down the hall. The door to the master bedroom was wide open and his mom snored loudly.

He walked down the hall. The clawing grew louder with each step. When he reached the stairs, it stopped.

He peered down at the living room. The moonlight reflected through the front door window and cast a honeycomb pattern on the floor. All else was shadowy and silent. Sage descended the stairs.

The scratching recommenced.

Sage’s heart leapt and butterflies flooded his stomach. He stared at the rattling front door. Something waited outside. A wolf maybe? A lost dog to replace Abbey?

He cast off the latter thought. Abbey was irreplaceable. Whatever was outside wasn’t going to leave without a push. Sage mustered his courage and unlocked the deadbolt. He inched the door open, peeking through the widening crack of darkness. He was greeted by the full moon and mist. His sigh kissed the crisp air in a plume.

A glimmer on the porch caught Sage’s eye. He stepped outside. His jaw dropped. It was Abbey’s bloodstained Frisbee drenched in foamy drool. Sage doubled over against the doorjamb, then sank to the floor. He stared at the disc.

It can’t be! he thought. He shut his eyes tight, then snapped them open. It can’t be the same Frisbee! We buried it! We buried it with Abbey! This must be a joke! Someone must be playing a joke!

Then another thought occurred to him: The light in the cemetery!

It had to be the same prankster. Someone was trying to scare him for a cheap laugh. But who would do such a thing?

Sage looked at the door. It was gouged with claw marks. Had he not opened it, the culprit would have tunneled through.

He picked up the Frisbee and eyed the porch. The moonlight was like a highlighter, for once again something glimmered on the porch steps. At first glance, it appeared to be a trail of blood. Then he noticed the pattern. They were paw prints. Bloody paw prints with a crimson glow.

A guttural growl derailed his train of thought. He looked up. There was no mistaking the four-legged fiend at the steps. He knew it was Abbey. Her black and tan coat was miraculously shiny and unscathed. She pricked her ears. Her dark eyes burned crimson. She snatched the Frisbee from Sage’s hand. As she turned to flee, Sage saw that her underbelly surged reddish-orange. It looked as if she’d swallowed a torch.

Sage ran after her. She was back and he didn’t want to let go. He’d never let go of his father for the same hope, that one day he might return and everything would be happy again.

He stopped as she sprinted into the mist. She soon faded and the fire in her belly extinguished.

***

Sage awoke to a sunbeam shining on his face. He’d dozed off for a few hours. The whole outing seemed like a nightmare. He hopped down onto the cold floor. The balls of his feet ached, as if he’d walked a mile on a gravel road, and his toes were…encrusted with mud!

So I didn’t dream it, he thought. I really did see Abbey!

He tiptoed to the door and poked his head out. The coast was clear. He hurried into the adjacent room and shut the door. He grabbed a damp washrag from the bathtub and cleaned his feet. He then tossed the rag into the hamper.

He headed down the hall, paused at the stairs, and then listened. He didn’t see or hear any movement. There wasn’t even the faintest aroma of coffee in the air.

As he descended the stairs, the clawing tormented his conscience. He envisioned Abbey bursting through the door the moment he reached the foyer. He shook his head. He didn’t think Abbey meant him any harm.

He plopped down at the table. His mom would never believe that he saw Abbey. If only he could prove to her that she existed. She wouldn’t buy his story for a second unless he had physical evidence, like the Frisbee or her dog collar.

The cemetery, he thought. I have to go to there. It’s the only place I can find proof.

***

Sage laced up his tennis shoes, then scarfed down a glazed donut as he left the house. He paused on the porch. It was a cloudless day. The sun blazed and a cool breeze greeted him as he descended the steps. He walked through the field of knee-high goldenrod. His bloodshot eyes locked on the cemetery. To him, it didn’t look any less eerie in daylight. It loomed in the shadows and whispered warnings in the wind.

The goldenrod thinned out as the ground sloped through patches of dandelions. He stopped in his tracks on the hillcrest.

The gate was wide open.

Sage shrugged it off and entered the cemetery. He turned right and headed for Abbey’s grave. The drooping branches clung to his shoulders. He batted them away like incensed bees.

He tripped when his shoe sank into a patch of soft ground. He yanked it free with a squelch and looked up. The plot of marshland before him was a still-life eruption. It looked as if Old Macdonald had been harrow happy.

Someone had been digging in Abbey’s grave. He eyed the broken-up soil. The black marker was undisturbed. A patch of brown ferns to the right had been trampled.

Digging, Sage thought. Abbey must’ve dug her way out!

He glanced around the gravesite, searching for physical evidence. A dog collar, the Frisbee, anything.

“What are you doing here?”

Sage whirled, startled. A boy his age with wavy, black hair, sapphirine eyes, and dimpled cheeks stared at him near the footstone.

“You’re not supposed to come back here,” the boy said. “Never past the rosebushes.”

Twenty questions surrounded Sage’s head like a halo. Who was this boy? Where did he live? And what was he doing by Abbey’s grave of all places?

Sage was speechless. The boy’s words reeled in his mind.

Never past the rosebushes.

Sage felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. How the heck did this kid know he wasn’t supposed to venture past the rosebushes? And where did he dig up those clothes? The boy was dressed as if he had stepped off the set of Little House on the Prairie. He wore navy blue trousers with red suspenders and a white ruffled shirt. A black fedora with a white band trembled on his head.

“I know why you’re here,” the boy said. “You want her back. But you can’t have her back!”

He knows, Sage thought. He knows where Abbey is. And he doesn’t want me to find her.

“I…I want to see her. Where is she?”

“I’m not telling. I’m not supposed to talk to lifers.”

The boy turned his back on Sage “Hey!” The boy stopped short. “What’s your name?”

“You knew it before we met,” he replied over his shoulder, then disappeared into the shadows. “It’s on my tombstone!”

Sage stared at the plot near the gnarled tree trunk.

His tombstone? he thought. He can’t possibly mean…he’s dead? Avery! Avery…Michael Morrow!

“Avery! Avery, come back! Please! I need to talk to you!”

He ran to where the boy had walked off. He scanned the shadows. Avery Morrow had vanished into thin air.

***

Sage headed back to the gate, empty-handed. He’d lost all ambition for combing Abbey’s gravesite. It gave him the willies to think that Avery watched him in the willows.

Avery Morrow.

The boy was pulling his chain. He didn’t look the slightest bit dead. A little pale, but not ghostly.

I’m not supposed to talk to lifers.

Lifers, Sage thought as he approached the gate. He must mean the living. He must mean…he’s not supposed to talk to the living.

He sighed as he left the copse. The cemetery was swallowing him whole. He passed through the gate, turned to shut it, then thought otherwise.

If I close it, Abbey might not return. I can’t risk that.

Sage turned his back on the cemetery and headed down the hill as the gate yawned in the breeze.

***

Laurel returned about 5:30 P.M. Sage hurried into his bedroom and pretended to read his Ghost Rider comic book.

“Sage!”

“Up here, Mom!”

Laurel sighed as she entered Sage’s bedroom. Her eyes were baggy and her smile was weak. She slouched against the doorframe.

“How was work?”

“A bore. I had five customers and two of them bought plungers. It doesn’t get more exciting than that. How was…vacation?”

“Fine,” Sage’s eyes were glued to the comic.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, was ‘nothing’ fun?”

“I guess so. I shot some hoops and rode my bike.”

“Fun.” Laurel straightened up as she brushed back her hair. “What do you want for dinner? I’m having pork chops.”

The thought of pork chops gave Sage an idea. “I’ll have the same,” he blurted. He glanced uneasily from the comic.

“I said pork chops, not corn dogs,” Laurel said, furrowing her brow.

“I know. I like pork chops.”

“Since when?”

“Since…I tried them with mustard last time.” Sage buried his face in the magazine. “Why? Isn’t there enough?”

“Plenty. I just…Never mind. I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, did you see the front door?”

“No. Why?”

“It’s scraped up pretty bad. You don’t know what happened, do you? You weren’t raking it out of boredom or anything?”

Sage raised his brow. “That sounds like too much fun, Mom.”

“Just checking. I had to ask.”

She rolled her eyes, then left Sage to Ghost Rider’s adventures. Relieved, he closed the comic and tossed it under his bed. He walked over to the window.

He couldn’t wait to put his plan into action. Avery had said that he couldn’t have Abbey back. Over his dead body.

***

Dinner was an ordeal for Sage. Not only did he have to force down forkfuls of gristle and fat, he had to stuff as many portions as possible down his pants. This worked well until he absentmindedly stashed a bone.

“You cleaned your plate,” his mom said. Sage nodded, then realized his blunder. “Even the bone?”

“Can I have seconds, please?”

“No. I think you’ve had enough.”

Sage excused himself from the table and headed into the living room. The loveseat caught his eye. It was covered with his mom’s needlework. She’d been knitting an afghan and the materials were laid out before him.

A flash of ingeniousness flooded his mind. There were balls of yellow, green, and white yarn strewn across the cushions. He grabbed the yellow one.

He bounded the stairs to his bedroom and shut the door. He hastily emptied his bulging pockets, like a child who’d stolen a wad of candy from the corner store. He then sat down and unraveled the yarn. He knotted the yarn around the half-eaten pork chop.

There, he thought. Now I wait ‘til bedtime.

***

While his mom washed the dishes, Sage stashed the pork chop and yarn in his Windbreaker, which hung in the foyer. His hopes were high. As long as the cemetery gate was open, his plan was foolproof. Abbey was sure to sniff the meat.

“Alright, sweetie, time for bed,” Laurel said from the doorway. “Tomorrow’s Tuesday. You know what that means.”

“Sale day,” Sage replied as he climbed into bed.

Every Tuesday his mom marked down all the prices in their store and started work earlier in the morning.

“Wait!” Sage kicked back his comforter. “I think I left my comic downstairs.”

“Go on,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes. “Make it snappy.”

Sage hopped out of bed and dashed down the hall. He tramped the stairs to the foyer and removed the pork chop and yarn from the Windbreaker. A thought occurred to him at the door.

If I go outside, Mom’s liable to hear me.

“Mom!”

“What?” she replied.

“I think I left it on the porch! Can I go look?”

“Quickly!”

Sage unlocked the front door and stepped onto the porch. He tied the yarn around the doorknob and set the pork chop on the porch. He then hurried inside and shut the door. He prayed he’d hear Abbey snatch the bait as he had heard her scratching on the door.

He rushed back upstairs. His mom tapped her slippered foot as he crawled into bed.

“Wasn’t it out there?” Laurel asked.

“Uh…Uh-uh. It’s probably in the garage.”

“You were reading your comic in the garage?”

Sage shrugged his shoulders. “It’s shady in there.”

“Not to mention messy.” Laurel kissed him on the cheek. “Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Laurel shut off the light and left the door ajar. Soon, Sage’s eyes closed and he was whisked off to dreamland.

***

A thud woke Sage. He sat erect, wide-eyed and alert as a guard dog, and looked at the clock across the room. It was 4:30 a.m.

Another thud.

“Abbey.”

Sage slid out of bed, walked to the dresser, and opened the top drawer. He snatched up the black leash, then tiptoed out into the hall.

Thud!

His eyes fixed on the front door as he descended the stairs. He knew that’s where the sound originated. He’d set the bait and Abbey had bitten.

He clutched the leash, white-knuckled, as he crossed the foyer. He slipped on his tennis shoes.

Thud, thud!

The door rattled in its frame. Sage knew he had to open before it stirred his mom. He grasped the knob with his free hand, then jerked the door open. Abbey glared and snarled with the pork chop and tangled yarn in her gleaming canines. Her belly blazed bright. Her skin was transparent and her skeleton defined.

“Easy, girl,” Sage quavered as he squeezed past the screen door. He held out the leash at arm’s length. “It’s okay. It’s me. You know me.”

Abbey snorted. Wisps of black smoke snaked from her nostrils. Sage trembled from head to toe. Nevertheless, he inched the leash closer to her muzzle.

Abbey lurched back and the yarn fell. She turned on her heels and leapt off the porch. The yarn trailed her glowing paw prints. It soon stretched to its full length and the door slammed at Sage’s back. He gritted his teeth, certain it had woken his mom.

The yarn slackened, then jerked and snapped free from the knob. It slithered toward the field with Sage in hot pursuit.

***

By the time Sage reached the field, he’d lost sight of the yarn. Yet he was still hot on Abbey’s trail. Her paw prints glowed in the fading moonlight.

He sprinted up the hillcrest. The paw prints glowed brighter, reddish-orange like embers. They burned beyond the cemetery gates, like a trail of flares.

Sage caught his breath as he noted the brightening sky. Dawn was near. He prayed Abbey would be an easy find. He had to return to the house before his mom awoke. Otherwise he’d be in for it.

He dashed through the open gate down the glowing trail. He soon found himself on the outskirts of a small clearing. The canopy receded and formed a skylight. In the center was a six-foot tall granite tombstone. Perched atop was a kneeling angel, bowed in prayer, wings limp on its shoulders.

Sage was awestruck. It was the first tombstone he’d encountered in the cemetery. His eyes strayed to the surging paw prints. They stopped at the foot of the tombstone, then wound around behind it.

Sage followed the trail. He stopped and gasped. At first glance, he thought the hole in the ground was a disinterred grave. Then he realized it was more than that. A burrow maybe, or a lair. The paw prints disappeared below.

Numerous small bones littered the ground. Carcasses of squirrels and decapitated crows blanketed the downgrade of the dark maw, from which scuttled black centipedes. Amidst the carnage was the frayed yellow yarn.

Sage grimaced. He despised insects, but he was certain Abbey was down below. He shook his head. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. His heart would go to lengths to regain his best friend, living or living dead.

He dropped to all fours and charged down the hole like a raging bull. Nausea swirled in his gut as his hands pressed against matted fur. The torsos of crows snapped like twigs. He vomited when the centipedes scurried over him. He crawled frantically, wishing more than ever that he’d stayed in bed.

The short tunnel opened up into a five-foot high cavern. Sage stood erect. His head nearly touched the ceiling. He brushed himself off, then squinted at his surroundings. The lair was blanketed with bones and bloodstained willow branches. The yarn disappeared into the thick shadows.

A growl echoed throughout the cavern. Sage quivered.

“Abbey? Come here, girl.”

The darkness lightened and Abbey emerged. She approached with her ears pricked. Her fiery eyes faded to a cornflower blue that radiated throughout the lair. It set Sage’s mind at ease.

He eyed Abbey. The yarn dangled from her jaws. The fireball in her belly looked like a flickering candle. Her skin had lost its transparency and was deteriorating. The flesh was riddled with black cavities and pussy lesions. She was decomposing!

Abbey’s eyes blazed. The cavern looked like an icebox, cold blue from wall to wall, and the temperature dropped chillingly.

“Easy, girl.” Sage approached Abbey with the leash at arm’s length. If she stayed still he could attach it to her collar. “It’s only me. It’s just me.”

A ray of sunlight beamed beyond the lair’s threshold. The frigid fire in Abbey’s eyes darkened to navy blue. Her nostrils flared and she raised her defenses. Black smoke poured from her nostrils. Her eyes extinguished and the darkness swallowed the cavern.

Sage stumbled toward the sunlight. The black cloud enveloped him when he reached the entrance and billowed out of the hole. He scrambled up the incline and collapsed beside the tombstone. He coughed and spat, then rolled onto his back. The angel perched above looked glorious against the rising sun.

It’s sunrise! Sage thought. Crap!

He stood to his feet with a groan, then dashed across the clearing. After batting through numerous branches, he ran smack-dab into the boundary marker. He looked to the right and spotted the fence post. He ran full speed ahead. He soon arrived at the entrance, made his exit, and shut the gate. He didn’t want to lose track of Abbey now that he knew where to find her. Refusing the urge to glance back, he sprinted down the hill.

***

Sage shut the door behind him with a click. He held his breath. The house was dark and the floorboards were silent.

He slipped off his tennis shoes and tiptoed up the staircase. His mom’s door was wide open. He walked down the hall as if he was on a tightrope. He then hurried into his bedroom, tossed his soiled clothes into the closet, and clambered into bed.

***

“Sage. Sage.”

Sage opened his eyes. He wondered how long he’d dozed.

“Hey, sweetie.” Laurel smiled. “You haven’t seen my yellow yarn, have you?”

“Uh-uh,” Sage replied. “It’s not on the couch?”

“No, but the others are. Huh.” Laurel thought for a moment, then kissed Sage on his cheek. “Oh well. I’ll go to Crafty’s on my lunch break. I got to run. Have a good day.”

Sage was grateful twenty questions hadn’t ensued. His lids were heavy and his legs ached. He soon drifted off as daylight crept across the room.

***

Sage opened his eyes. The bedroom was dark. A sliver of moonlight beamed through the billowing curtains.

Sage sat erect, then jumped back against the headboard. Abbey stood before him. She snarled as drivel slid off her chin. She barked hoarsely. Her crimson eyes swirled like eddies in Hell’s tributary. Sage melted into the headboard. He attempted to slide off the bedside, but his sudden movement worsened his situation. Abbey pounced.

Sage awoke with a shriek. His heart hammered. He glanced about the room. The far corners were cast in shadows. He guessed it was afternoon. He slid out of bed and walked to the window. He drew the curtains aside.

“Avery.”

The boy’s words rang in his ears: ‘You want her back. But you can’t have her back! You can’t!’

He’d said that he knew Abbey’s whereabouts. The more Sage reflected, the more he realized that Avery knew an awful lot. And why shouldn’t he? He lived in the cemetery and was aware of the goings-on. He probably knew the reason behind Abbey’s resurrection and beastly behavior.

Avery had to have the answers. He knew Abbey too well. Sage needed a plan. There had to be a way to reclaim Abbey and restrict her from the cemetery. He felt an overwhelming urge to speak to Avery.

He dressed in record time and dashed out of the bedroom. He was down the stairs and sliding across the foyer in ten seconds flat. He didn’t pause to catch his breath until he’d reached the hillcrest.

He opened the gate. The loud creak announced his arrival like a doorbell. He paused in consideration.

Something tells me Avery won’t be by his grave. He’ll want to be by Abbey. He’s probably by her hole, wherever that is.

For the life of him, he couldn’t recall the exact location. He wished it were nightfall. Then he could see the glowing paw prints.

The paw prints!

He studied the ground. There had to be a trail. If luck was on his side…

“Bingo,” he muttered as he spotted a faint path to the left.

There were patches of paw prints and bent grass. Sage charged into the copse. The path zigzagged through ferns and rocks, but failed to mislead its follower. Soon the willows branched out to the clearing.

The angelic tombstone shimmered in the sun. He rounded the grave marker. The hole looked the same as it had in the moonlight, only bloodier.

“Why don’t you leave us alone?”

Sage whirled. Avery stood with his back against the tombstone. His black fedora cast his face in shadow. He crossed his arms.

“I need to talk to you,” Sage said.

“Me? Isn’t it Abbey you follow at night?”

“Yeah, at night. It’s daytime. I want to ask you some questions. I want to be friends.”

Avery considered the latter statement. He removed his fedora and tossed it. It landed on the angel and spun, then dangled on its new hat stand.

“I have all the friends I need here,” Avery replied.

“It’s a cemetery,” Sage said incredulously. “Everyone’s dead. I haven’t seen anyone here but you.”

“But they see you. They’re all around us.” Sage looked over his shoulder, but merely saw the swaying willows. “You can’t see them. They’re bystanders.”

“Then why can I see you?”

“Because Abbey entered my home. The day she died she became my pet. All these years I’ve watched the two of you play fetch and chase each other around. All that time I wished she was mine. My friends here are good friends, but they’re old and boring. I wanted Abbey since the day I saw her.”

“I don’t get it. You’re a ghost! Why can I see you?”

“Because I’m part of Abbey’s life now, her afterlife. I’m her guardian angel.”

“Then why aren’t you in Heaven?”

“For the same reason Abbey isn’t. We’d rather be here.”

“In the cemetery?”

Avery nodded. He ran his pale hand through his hair. “I’m not supposed to talk to lifers, but the Elders insisted I did before this turned ugly.”

Sage fidgeted as he scanned his surroundings. His skin crawled at the thought of ghosts watching them. “How did you die?”

Avery sat down beside the tombstone. His eyes glistened.

“My mom and I were visiting my dead uncle. We were playing. She chased me into the cemetery. I tripped and hit my head on a footstone. That’s all I remember, except for the Elders. They were there for me. They accepted me.”

“What about your mom?” Sage asked. “You just left her?”

“The last thing I wanted was to return home and haunt her. The Elders said it would drive her mad. Staying here was in my best interest.”

“What about Abbey? She’s not even a ghost. Why should she stay here?”

“Abbey’s the living dead. Her soul’s alive, but her body’s dead. She belongs here. There’s no life for her beyond these gates.”

“But how did her body come back to life?”

Avery studied Sage. He turned and gazed toward the outskirts.

“The moon fire. It sank into her body while her soul walked the cemetery. When her body came out of the grave, her soul was drawn to it. Now her hunger is all she has. She may look alive at night, but in the daytime she rots away. It doesn’t matter how much she eats. She’s the living dead. That’s why she’s better off here.”

Sage still had trouble coming to terms with why Avery thought Abbey was better off in the cemetery. He was certain that Avery wanted her for himself.

I wanted Abbey since the day I saw her.

“She’s not better off here,” Sage said. “She’s better off with me. If her body’s alive and her soul’s inside, then there’s no need for her to stay here. She’s mine and keeps returning to me.”

“She can return all she wants!” Avery retorted. “She knows her home is here.” He pointed at the grisly tomb. “If she’s not back by sunrise -”

Sage stormed off toward the whipping willows. The fact of the matter remained. Abbey was his dog, his best friend, and she returned for a reason. He didn’t buy Avery’s story for a second.

“Hey!” Avery leapt up, snatched his fedora, and then ran after Sage. “Come back here! You can’t do this! She mustn’t leave the cemetery!”

Sage hurried through the copse. He was so angry that he lost his bearings. His determination eventually brought him to the gate. Avery cried at his heels.

“Listen to me!” he begged as Sage lifted the latch. “If the sunlight finds her, she’ll be gone for good! It’ll be all your fault!”

Sage stopped outside the gate and turned. “Shut up! You’re a liar! You’re just mad cause I won’t let you have her!”

He turned his back on Avery and left the gate wide-open.

“You idiot!” Avery shook the fence with clenched fists. “You stupid idiot! You’ll see! You don’t give a damn now, but you’ll see!”

***

“So,” Laurel said, breaking the silence, “you’re quiet tonight. Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Sage replied, his eyes glued to his macaroni and cheese.

“Is it about Abbey?” Sage nodded. “Listen, sweetie, I promise we’ll visit her on Saturday. I know you miss her. I miss her, too.”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Mom?” he blurted as he met her curious gaze.

“Ghosts? Only the ones in your comics.”

“Really, Mom. Do you think they’re real?”

“Sage, Abbey’s gone. You search for her all you want, but you’ll drive yourself crazy. You’ll drive me crazy.”

Sage nodded. It was useless discussing the subject. His mom wouldn’t believe him in a million years if he told her the truth. She’d probably call a psychiatrist on him. It was wiser if he kept his predicament to himself.

“Oh, in case you care,” Laurel said, “I bought more yarn at Crafty’s today. Have you seen the lost one yet?”

“Uh-uh,” Sage felt ill at the thought of Abbey’s lair of bloodshed and bones.

“Oh well. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

***

Laurel awoke with a start. Her heart pounded and her forehead dripped sweat. She couldn’t remember the dream she had, but it ended with a loud crash. Or had the crash occurred in the house?

She looked at the clock on the nightstand: 4:46 A.M. She sighed, crawled out of bed, and straightened her nightgown. She figured it couldn’t hurt to take a look-see around the house.

She rubbed her eyes as she walked into the hall. She paused at Sage’s bedroom. She poked her head in, then turned to leave. She stopped in her tracks and her eyes widened. She whirled and opened the door. The room was dark and empty as a cavern. The comforter was strewn on the floor.

Maybe he got thirsty, Laurel thought.

She headed downstairs. The house was silent. The living room was cast in shadows. A shaft of moonlight filtered through the draperies.

She turned the corner and flipped the light switch. She squinted at the room. It was as she’d left it, spotless and orderly. Her eyes rested on the back door. It was wide open.

“Abbey!”

Laurel’s pulse quickened at the whisper. It was Sage and it sounded as if it came from outside. She braced herself for the chilling breeze, but instead a warm wind passed through her nightgown as she stepped out the back door.

She looked toward Interstate 89. There was no sign of Sage near the grassy expanse. She walked to the corner of the house. As she rounded it, something caught her eye in the grass. She crouched for a closer look. It was a dingy, yellow strand of yarn. Her yarn.

A wave of anger washed over Laurel. Sage had lied. He’d known its whereabouts the entire time. And he certainly wasn’t knitting an afghan. But what was he using it for?

She stood erect with the yarn in her fist and followed the trail.

***

Abbey was hesitant to approach Sage. She crept toward the porch steps, snarling.

“It’s alright, girl.” Sage’s hand trembled as it held the raw T-bone steak. “C’mon, Abbey. It’s all yours. Come and get it.”

He clutched the leash in his right hand. He prayed Abbey would take the bait. She crept closer. The paw prints glowed in the grass behind her. The fireball in her belly burned dimly. She driveled as her crimson eyes locked on the T-bone.

So far so good, he thought. I’ve got her right where I want her.

Abbey walked up the porch steps, then paused an arm’s-length away from Sage. She sniffed the steak. Two wisps of black smoke curled out of her nostrils. Sage shuddered at the thought of another smoke screen. Abbey snapped her jaws into the meat and savored the taste of blood as it dripped from her muzzle. Sage mustered his courage and attached the leash to her collar. A grin escaped his lips.

I did it! he thought. I leashed her! Now all I have to do is get her down in the basement before sunrise.

“Sage! What in the hell’s going on out here?”

Abbey and Sage snapped their heads in unison. Laurel stormed towards them.

Abbey yanked the T-bone from Sage’s grasp and fled. Sage clutched the leash, refusing to let her escape again. He was jerked off his feet over the porch steps and landed face first on the ground. Nevertheless, he held onto the leash.

“Sage!” Laurel cried as the crazed canine dragged her son toward the field.

She ran after them, unconcerned that she was barefooted and scantily dressed. Her beloved son was all she had left.

***

Sage clutched the leash for dear life as Abbey dragged him through the field. He was certain his arms would rip from their sockets. His limbs ached and were probably scraped and bruised. His face stung from the oncoming goldenrod and sandburs. But he refused to let go. He couldn’t let Abbey return to Avery. He leashed her. She was his now.

A ray of daylight pierced the sky. Sage gasped as he recalled Avery’s warning.

If the sunlight finds her, she’ll be gone for good! It’ll be all your fault!

Sage grunted as a rock scraped his elbow. He was uncertain how much longer he could hold on. He looked up at Abbey. She still ran at top speed and was tireless. His eyes drifted to her underbelly. The dim fireball had cooled to a cornflower blue. Then he noticed that her fur molted. He feared the worst.

Daylight broke over the field. The shadows receded. Sage held the leash with both hands as Abbey trudged up the hill. She slowed down and panted. She staggered on the hillcrest as the shadows faded. Her molting fur and exposed skin smoldered. Sage clambered to his feet with a groan. His body ached from head to toe. He planted his feet and prayed he could anchor Abbey.

It was no use. She trudged forward through the sunlight. Her body sparked ablaze and erupted into bluish flames. Clumps of fiery flesh flew off like shingles on a windswept roof. The leash sparked afire. Sage dropped it.

He gazed beyond Abbey’s flaming body. She struggled to reach the open gate. Avery cried at the threshold.

Sage stared agape. Abbey’s fur and flesh had burned off. She had been reduced to a charred skeleton with a surging blue fireball in her ribcage.

“Faster, you stupid mutt!” Avery shook the fence. “Faster!”

A yard from the threshold, the fireball ruptured. Abbey’s skeleton became a conductor. Electrical currents streaked through her bones. Then her skeleton crumbled to the ground and the electricity faded. All that remained of Abbey was a pile of ashes that smoldered before the gate.

“I told you!” Avery pointed an accusing finger. He tossed his fedora to the ground. “This is all your fault! She was mine! But you had to take her away! You just couldn’t let her go!”

At those last words, Avery faded into the willows. Sage dropped to his knees, exhausted and disheartened. Avery was right. He should’ve let Abbey go. He’d shared years of her life, but it wasn’t enough. Now neither of them had her.

“Sage!”

He looked up to see his mom running toward him. She crouched down and embraced him.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay! You’re okay, aren’t you?” Sage nodded as he dried a tear on his cheek. “I thought I’d lost you.”

The sorrow in Sage’s heart lifted. All that time he’d chased after his dead pet, he should’ve been thankful for his mom. He’d taken her love for granted. She had been there for him all along, but he neglected her like the comics under his bed.

“Mom,” he said. “I’m sorry for lying to you.”

“I know.”

Sage’s blurry eyes gazed toward the gate. Abbey’s ashes smoldered. His mom kissed him on the cheek. As he kissed her back, a gust of wind tousled his hair and blew the ashes into the cemetery, scattering them amongst the willows. The remains of his best friend were laid to rest, hopefully for eternity.