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

have. We’ve all talked about it.”
    “What do you mean?” I demanded. Jeff was finished so I slipped my shoes off and perched on the edge of their saggy sofa. It smelled faintly of spilled beer and something sweet I couldn’t put my finger on, but I wasn’t going to complain.
    “I worked here last year as a counselor for the kids. The chick who had your job last summer? She came down here in the middle of the night, her second week, just like you did. I was down here hanging out, playing cards. She looked terrified. Had a baseball bat in her hands. Shaking like crazy she was. Said she couldn’t take the noises. Said she wasn’t going to go back there again.”
    I looked at both Trent and Jeff, stunned. Jeff nodded his head in agreement, as though collaborating with Trent’s words. “You’re serious?”
    “Yeah,” Jeff said. “Everyone knows that house is haunted. We were just talking about it last night. There’s even some kind of weird-ass story they used to tell kids about. About a blind girl who sits in the basement, in a chair, and just stares at the wall.”
    The guys laughed but I didn’t think it was funny.
    I was furious . I’d asked Janet if anyone had heard anything about the house or had any experiences there and she’d shrugged me off as if I were a fool. And now these guys were acting like everyone was familiar with the ghosts of the farm house, like it was common knowledge weird stuff went on in there. I didn’t believe in the blind girl story, but obviously there was enough action in the house that it had spawned a tale like that. Couldn’t she have at least been honest with me?
     

A Night Visitor
     
    I resisted the urge to bring up my newfound information with Janet. I spent the next two nights on the interns’ couch, however. They didn’t seem to mind me bringing my pajamas and hanging out with them. Although I wasn’t able to read or work on my book or do anything private, at least I had company. I still didn’t feel as though we’d made friends with one another yet, but we were getting used to each other and that was something.
    “I don’t know that I like them,” I informed David as I ate supper at the tavern. I took to calling him when I ate sometimes. It made me feel like we were having dinner together. “But at least they’re people to hang out with.”
    “Well, sometimes you need the company,” he agreed. “Hey, I looked at flights. Where’s the best place for me to fly into? Manchester?”
    It was his idea to come and visit me. We’d agreed upon the Summer Solstice, thinking it might be fun to spend this holiday together and do something interesting, like going for a midnight hike.
    I was really looking forward to seeing David again. He was now my closest friend, my confidante, and I was depending on him. Over the past few weeks he’d become my lifeline. When I was feeling especially scared or alone I’d reach out to him in my mind, focusing on his voice or a memory or something he’d said to me and like a balm I’d feel almost instantly better. I didn’t want to share this with him for fear of scaring him off, but I thought I might even be falling in love with him a little bit. I was rational enough to understand it was probably due to my own seclusion and the fact that I was in need of companionship, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.
     

     
    O n the third night, the interns decided to play some drinking games. I wasn’t opposed to drinking; in fact, I rather liked alcohol. But it had been awhile since I’d played any kind of alcohol-related games. I mostly liked to do my drinking quietly over a conversation or at a concert. These guys were hardcore about their recreational drinking, however, and took it very seriously. They brought out balls and cups and all kinds of contraptions and after about half an hour I was feeling sick to my stomach and silly. I might have only been twenty-five, but I was feeling every bit my age and at that time twenty-five felt