The Runaway Dead

“Wait! Not too fast!” Cecilia yelled after Blaine who was running recklessly through the shrubbery, not caring whether or not he ruined his school uniform. So what if he did, he could easily make his mother buy him a new one. Wasn't that what loaded parents were for? Cecilia tried to keep up with him, but she was fussier about her clothing than Blaine. Not due to her being a girl who abided by the twenieth century standards of female frivolity. No, she simply didn't want to be maimed by the thorny primrose bushes growing sporadically around and over the muddy path. It was a path people seldom took. It was almost swallowed by the wilderness that grew around it, leaving nothing but a vague line that the feet of many devout Christians once burrowed into mud as they treaded their way to their sermons, week after week, centuries ago. Blaine always referred to the wilderness as the forbidden forest because it led to the most feared and neglected historical mark in the little town of Arlend, Ohio; a building dubbed as Satan's Lair. This wasn't the only name it was plagued with, of course. When it was first built and for many years after that, it was known as St. Plato's Church, when it was first built in 1712 AC. After the unthinkable debacle of 1847, the place garnered other names: The Governor's Sloth, The Bugger's End, The Viper's Nest, and The Reverend's Balls. The names rolled on of course, like a ball falling down a steep mountain gathering a new one at every bounce. However, the one that won out all these years and survived the Chinese whispers was, sadly, The Bugger's End, and that came from a town that called its only ‘skyscraper' Dickens High-Rise. As a child, Blaine never fully gathered the meaning behind the words until one of his so-called friends told him to go and ‘re-closet' himself at The Bugger's End, where it would be, as he so crassly put it, “the only place where you can get lucky in this town.”

It was the first time Blaine came out to anyone. He was only twelve years old.

Rumor had it the church was haunted by a bitter young pastor, in his early twenties, who had been killed by a group of angry men from his flock in 1847, after they discovered his torrid affair with the Governor's son, a boy of mere fourteen. No one knew what happened to the boy. Some say he escaped before his lover was killed. Others claimed he was killed silently by his own father and buried under what was currently the Mayor's mansion. In light of these events, the church was ransacked and its doors boarded, never to be opened for prayers ever again.

It was hogwash, all hogwash!

Just like any old story, the events varied from one person to the other and it got so convoluted that Blaine found it very difficult to believe any of it actually happened. When Blaine went to Arlend's own museum—The Putters League—to research the building's history, and he came out empty-handed. Not even one word, or one measly picture. It didn't matter, though, because Blaine loved that place just for its sheer beauty and age. It was a striking old relic, standing out among Midwestern suburbs, and chiseled to its gothic perfection by hands that roamed the earth three hundred years ago! What could be more exciting? Okay, maybe the pyramids of Egypt were, but in this little town, and during the banal months of high school, this was the ‘it' place, and today Blaine was going to explore its interior for the first time.

“Hurry up!” Blaine hollered excitedly over his shoulder when he reached the edge of the small forest. “We only have an hour before recess is over!”

Too impatient to wait for Cecilia, Blaine started wading his way through the moor surrounding the stone fence.

“I'm trying!” She retorted breathlessly and yelped when a thorny branch caught on her nylon stockings. “Great! Now you owe me a pair of nylons Mister!”

No answer came; Blaine was nowhere to be seen.

“Blaine?!” she called nervously. This was no place to play games. “Blaine it's not funny!”

Another beat of silence passed as her heart thudded frantically. What if that ghost was real, what if he was crawling through the woods and found her here? Could ghosts kill?

“I'm over here!” his muffled, faraway-voice called.

Cecelia looked about frantically through the trees until she saw him jumping up and down and waving with his arms like a goof. She relaxed and continued on her way, tearing a couple more holes in her nylons as her most recent fear drove her to get closer to Blaine and safety. If her friend weren't so handsome and clever, Cecilia would have abandoned the idea as soon as he had suggested it. But there was that flare, that thrill which vibrated through him, and made her want to follow him wherever he went. Not that she had the hots for him or anything. Okay, maybe she did, but unless she grew a penis overnight, the guy wasn't going to give it up. Besides, being his friend was better. No drama, just good old fun and adventure.

By the time she got out of the woods, the hem of her tartan skirt was torn at the front and hanging limply.

“Shit! What am I going to tell my mom when she sees this?” She complained with a scowl.

“That you got mauled by a bear?” Blaine supplied with an impish grin—that cute bastard and his puppy eyes.

 “Yeah, right,” Cecilia snorted as she dusted herself. “Like that's gonna fly….” She might as well be talking to herself, because Blaine started walking towards the church, his eyes glued to the ancient edifice. When they reached the doors, Blaine tried to pull away the boards, but the wooden ‘X' was hammered properly into the stone with massive nails.

“That's inconvenient,” Blaine mumbled, arms akimbo and brows furrowed. He laughed when Cecilia tried to pull the logs off. Unsuccessful at her attempt, Cecilia deflated and defiantly kicked the door with her shoe. “Stupid pieces of wood!”

“You sure told them…” Blaine rolled his eyes.

Cecilia pulled her tongue at him. “I was hoping it'd be one of those moments where I could prove that men and women are physically equal…”

Blaine barked out a laugh, “As much as I want that to be true, you,” he poked her tummy and she squirmed indignantly, “Miss Dainty would never match my physical prowess.”

“Shut up.” She shoved his shoulder in return. “And I'm not dainty. I'm just a little unpracticed in athletics...”

“Suuuuure.”

After giving up on the front entrance, the twosome took a turn around the church to find another way in. The tall windows were boarded in the same way as the front door. Blaine thought of tossing a rock and breaking one of the windows, but they were far too beautiful. As they wound their way to the back, they found a set of stairs that led to a small door that was barely two inches higher than Blaine.

“Ha! They must have known you were coming, Blaine, and fashioned a door just for you.” This time it was Blaine who shoved her shoulder. The door was old and it opened with very little resistance. Inside, the hallway was pitch-black.

“I am so not going in there. It's too dark!” Cecilia shook her head as Blaine raised his eyebrows with his apparent suggestion to venture inside.

“Come on! We didn't come all the way here to stay outside.”

“Nope!”

“Maybe this will help.” Blaine pulled out his iPhone and turned on the flashlight. As the light flooded a small hallway, they were able to discern two doors. After a moment of serious contemplation, Cecilia relented and agreed to go in, and in this case it was gentleman first, while she clung on his blazer. The first door brought them to a broomstick cupboard, slash bathroom (if you could call a piss pot and an old wooden bathtub a bathroom) and the second room was small with a naked bed frame and an empty wardrobe. At the end of the tiny hallway was a set of creaking stairs. When they reached the top, they unveiled the curtained entrance and gasped.

“Wow,” Blaine breathed.

“Oh my god,” Cecilia intoned, “somebody's been neglecting their house chores…”

True, the place looked like a train wreck, but Blaine didn't care. This was history, and Blaine couldn't blame the little part of himself that craved to become a historian, just so he could unearth the truth behind this beauty. A layer of sand covered every surface of the church, from the altar all the way to the entrance and rubble was piled in a large area in front of the pews, where part of the ceiling had fallen off at some point. They moved forward, making sure to walk around the upended furniture, broken glass and discarded books. Blaine stopped at the stairs of the altar and picked up one of the books. Half of its pages were rotted by the many rains it had endured and the rest were yellowed by time. Blaine turned the pages carefully, and they rustled feebly with the effort to keep from crumbling.

“What is it?” Cecilia looked over his shoulder to investigate said object.

“It's a gospel song book,” Blaine whispered reverently. It was all in Latin, though. Nevertheless, Blaine hummed the notes of the main melody like the learned musician he was.

“Panis Angelicus,” Cecilia guessed quietly. She didn't know why they were whispering, but then the thought of the ghost returned to her in a flash and her sudden fear made her scan the premises just in case.

Blaine didn't heed her sudden fright and smiled to himself. “It must have been Christmas time when the…”

“Please don't say it,” Cecilia said nervously. Blaine looked up at her frightened face and saw how genuinely scared she was. In that moment, guilt swelled in his chest, feeling bad for dragging her all the way here when she was so obviously scared out of her wits. Blaine shut the book and took her hand in his.

“Just stay with me, you'll be alright. I promise.” He smiled sincerely.

 Relieved by her friend's assurance, Cecilia took a deep breath and let go of her fears. Blaine was still clutching the book to his chest as they took the steps down from the altar. If there was anything worth taking from this place, it was the music, and even though Blaine was an agnostic, he still had a soft spot for classical gospel music. Maybe at their Christmas bash he could convince the Warblers to sing the old songs. But what would the crowd think if they learned the music came from The Bugger's End?

When they approached the rubble, Blaine looked upwards at the fallen ceiling and watched as the clouds passed by. The hole must have been very old because vines were growing down from it, low enough for Blaine to reach and touch their ends with his fingers. They were blooming with bright purple and blue flowers, mostly congregated at the edge of the opening. It was both a sad and beautiful sight, the flowers shinning ethereally in the soft light. Yet, the debilitating state of the building displayed the lack of love it had received in the past century. Like a neglected child abandoned by his family, or maybe he was reflecting himself on the state of the building too much.

A loud groan pulled Blaine out of his trance and he looked around, fear coursing through his body for the first time since he stepped foot in the building. Cecilia had let go of his hand without him noticing and walked down the aisle to admire the stained windows. However, when their eyes met, she too was frozen with fear.

“Do you think it's the ghost?” Cecilia whispered loudly, but Blaine didn't answer and continued to inspect the place.

The building groaned once again and this time it was louder and longer. Then he heard a crack and saw the debris fall from the ceiling. Then Blaine looked up at the right moment and watched as the old chandelier made its break from the ceiling and down over….

“CECILIA!” Blaine screamed and ran towards his petrified friend. He pushed her out of the way just in the nick of time, knocking her out cold as she fell backwards against the hard, marble floor.

Then the deafening crash came.

Minutes later, Cecilia was woken by a dull ache in the back of her head and the sound of silently echoing sobs. She rubbed her head and groaned as she sat up, but when she opened her eyes, she lost all the air in her lungs. A few inches away, was Blaine, grotesquely stuck under the chandelier. He was lying face down, barely moving. Cecilia scrambled towards him on her hands and knees, but she slipped as her palms slid over the wetness and fell into the pool of blood forming around Blaine's chest.

“Oh my god…oh my god….fuck…oh my god…Blaine!” she rambled as she righted herself. She wanted to touch him, but her hands flitted over him, too scared of hurting him more.

“Cecilia,” Blaine's voice cracked as he reached out his trembling hand. Cecilia immediately took it between hers and held it against her erratic, beating chest. His big eyes were wide open and filled with a fear she had never seen before. It was strange and so wrong; Blaine shouldn't be looking at her like that. He was the one who was supposed to smile all the time!

“Blaine, Blaine…please…Blaine…what should I do, Blaine!” she blubbered, tears running furiously down her face.

“I c..c..can't feel m..my legs,” Blaine sputtered, and coughed weakly as blood leaked from his mouth.

Seeing him struggle like this, Cecilia's mind finally caught up and she immediately pulled out her phone and dialed 911 with a shaking hand. What the hell was she thinking asking Blaine for help when she was the capable one? How fucking stupid was she?

“We need an ambulance please!” she burst out. “M…my friend…he's hurt! Please! We…we're at the abandoned church…What happened?” she repeated the operator's question dumbly as she fought to collect the right words. “A…a…a…chandelier fell on him and there's blood everywhere! PLEASE HURRY UP!”

She then dropped the phone, unable to find the strength to hold it anymore, and tightened her grip on Blaine's hand. She brushed his cheek with her other hand, smudging his skin with blood.

“Stay with me, Blaine. They'll be here soon. You'll be alright.”

“You p…You p…promise?”

“Yes. Yes, I promise.”

The Arlend Sun

Sept 26, 2011

A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD TEEN KILLED BY A FALLEN CHANDELIER!

At the infamous St. Plato's abandoned church, a boy was crushed by a fallen chandelier when he and his friend skipped school to go on a little adventure. Sadly, neither of the students had any idea of the haphazard shape the church was in and subsequently put both their lives at stake. According to his best friend's allegations, the young man had pushed her out of harms way before the chandelier fell on her head. No comments were made by his parents except for the request for privacy for them and their family as they mourn the sudden and tragic death of their youngest son.

“I bet you it was that ghost haunting the church that dropped that chandelier. Why do you think no one ever went there? We always hear weird noises coming from that place at night,” said the closest neighbour to the church.

“This place should have been torn down ages ago. The town has obviously given up on it, and because of it a poor kid had to lose his life,” said a cop at the scene.

There has been no response from the Mayor except for deep condolences to the family and a promise to block off the historical mark with high wire fences to avoid any future accidents.

On one hand I agree with the town council not wanting to bring down such a historical mark, but on the other hand, why keep it if they'll never put the effort to renovate the relic. I smell something fishy. So what do you think? Was the boy's chivalry worth losing his life for? Should the town finally bring down the church? Please leave your comments below!

Bradley Ian Murphy,

Bringing you Arlend's news every day!