JASON WAS TALKING AGAIN, but Mac barely paid attention to what he was saying. They were two hours south of St. Lawrence and both he and Jason had already put in a full eight hours tying rebar in Syracuse before they had gotten in Jason’s truck to head towards their next job in the North Country. Mac offered a noncommittal grunt and for a moment the only sound was the engine as the truck raced north along Route 81.

“I also got us a new place to stay this week,” Jason said. Mac opened one eye. The last time they had come up to work on this job, they had stayed in a dingy motel with a floor that pitched wildly and stank of green mold. “I talked to Marty Comstock, he’s the caretaker for the Stonecutter house. He says the brothers aren’t staying this summer, so I pulled some strings and got it so we can stay there for the rest of the job.” The Stonecutters was a Simpsons reference Jason used to describe the fraternity he had been a part of when he was a student at Canton University during the mid-90s. Mac had heard stories about the house and the frat, but had never seen it.

“Fair warning though, when we stay there, you’re probably going to see something.” Mac’s eyes opened and he looked sideways at Jason.

“What do you mean something?” Mac asked.

“The house is haunted.” Jason smiled. “I know I’ve told you about this before.”

Mac frowned. “I would have remembered if you had told me you lived in a haunted house during college. I would have remembered a ghost frat.”

“Either way. While we’re staying there, you’ll probably see something, but as long as you understand it can’t hurt you, you’ll be fine.” For a moment, Mac just stared at Jason.

“What?!” Jason laughed.

“God dammit, Jason. That’s the worst haunted house advice I’ve ever heard,” Mac said.

“And how much advice on haunted houses have you gotten?” Jason replied.

“I’ve seen enough movies to know that when someone says, ‘it can’t hurt you’… it can absolutely hurt you,” Mac said. He shook his head, leaned back against the window and closed his eyes, although he knew sleep wouldn’t come.

After a few minutes of silence, Mac opened his eyes and dug his cigarettes out of the breast pocket of his work shirt and lit one. He held the smoke in as he rolled down the window, then blew the smoke out. He looked over and saw Jason smiling. Mac shook his head and looked back out the window and watched the insipid North Country expanse pass before them.

* * *

Jason had mentioned that the house had once been a funeral home before it had become a fraternity, and as they pulled in, Mac could believe it. It was massive, standing three stories and looked to be as long as it was tall. By rights the towering structure should have looked more imposing, but the bright yellow paint revealed its less ominous identity: a renovated party chateau for North Country bros.

They parked in a driveway that lay to the right of the house and got out. Mac grabbed his backpack from the bed of the truck and looked through a window into the house. In the din of the evening light, he could make out a modest dining room.

So this place is haunted.

********

Exorcise your demons with the rest of this ghost story in Sheriff Nottingham 14: Twilight Zone!

Comments

comments