Free A Summer of Fear: A True Haunting in New England by Rebecca Patrick-Howard

staying. It was true I needed the money. I’d spent my savings (little as they were) just by driving up there and the taking care of little things my first couple of weeks. I had nothing to take with me to Wales other than the student loans I’d be getting.
    But it was more than just the money. I’d made a commitment to work the job, I’d told everyone back home I was leaving, and I’d emotionally prepared myself to leave for the summer and start on my next adventure. This was my adventure. I couldn’t turn back now. Grad school didn’t start until the middle of September. I’d applied for tons of jobs back home and been turned down for everything, despite my pretty good resume and degree. I couldn’t just admit defeat and go home with my tail between my legs and kill time for the next three and a half months. To go home now would like giving up, like saying I couldn’t hack it. I’d already left one job recently because of the conditions; I couldn’t do it to another.
    I would tough it out. I would be okay.
    The rain stopped but, once again, the fog set in. This time, though, it was horrendous. The fog was so thick on the road I slowed down to an excruciating 45 mph and then to an even slower 30 mph until I felt as though I was creeping along the asphalt. As the only car, it was dark and lonely and I couldn’t see beyond my hood. I crept along at a turtle’s speed, watching the white line along the shoulder to reveal curves to me. If not for the line, I wouldn’t have known when to veer my car to the right or left. It was my saving grace. The fog swirled and dipped and cast shadows on the car and in the air. It even seemed to creep inside the air vents and claw at my face and neck as the coolness sent chills up and down my arms and legs. What should have been a two hour drive at most took nearly four. By the time the farm house came into view I was shaking, cold, wet, and tired.
    The house was dark, a giant shadow against the dense, thick air. There weren’t any lights on and my window peered down at me from the night sky, a sentinel. Any other time I would’ve found the house beautiful, inviting. I loved farm houses. I dreamed of living in one someday. But this one…this one was a nightmare.
    I put my hand on my door handle and made to get out, but found myself rooted to the seat. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. I was physically unable to get out of the car. The thought of going into that house and spending the night in its viscosity, enclosed by its clamors, was too much. I could feel the bile rising up my throat and threatening to come out with a might. I forced it back down, gagging on its bitterness. In frustration, I laid my head on the steering wheel and cried. I was a loser, a baby, an insane woman who couldn’t even manage to walk up a flight of stairs and deal with a few thuds and what in all likelihood could be animals trapped in the walls. I beat myself up for several minutes while the tears flowed. I wanted David, I wanted my mother. I wanted to sleep through the damn night. Then, without another thought, I pulled myself together, turned the car around and drove to the other side where the interns were living.
    A light was still on and the two guys were up watching television. “I’m sorry,” I apologized as they led me in. “I just got spooked. It took a long time to drive back tonight from Boston, the fog is awful, and I just can’t stay in that house tonight. To tell you the truth, I’m a little spooked because I forgot to leave a light on. Can I sleep on your couch?”
    “Sure,” Trent shrugged. “No problem.”
    Jeff brought me his sleeping bag and a pillow and began setting up the couch for me. I felt silly, but not as silly as I thought I would. At least I would be able to sleep.
    As Jeff worked, Trent sat down in one of the easy chairs and studied me. Finally, he laughed out loud. “Honestly, from what we’ve heard, we’re shocked you’ve lasted as long as you