Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Ghosts and Flashlight Tag


Imagine living on an estate with two enormous boxwood mazes. Then, imagine having five kids in the family and parents who, no matter how well they were doing financially, didn’t buy their kids toys. They wanted them to be creative and resourceful. The land and its outbuildings alone had more than enough to work with, from building tree forts to using leftover furniture in the barn to turn it into a playhouse. One of our favorite activities was flashlight tag. It was especially fun on a hot Virginia summer’s night with lightning bugs competing for attention.

The back boxwood maze was more mature in height and an ideal place for a great game of flashlight tag. The ancient birdbath with the naked cherub statue in the center was our starting point. Usually my brother wanted to manage (or is that micromanage?) the game, so he would begin by being “it.” The rest of us would scatter like buckshot throughout the winding maze of English boxwoods to find the perfect strategic point to make our way towards the birdbath without being seen.

It was just after a particularly violent late afternoon thunderstorm that we played this one night. I was perhaps 10 at the time. I always did great at the game because I was able to hide behind most of the boxwoods with my short height and not be seen. Plus, my brother was more threatened by my two sisters who were one and two years older than him, so he’d be dogging them the entire time.

This night, however, the boxwoods were a wet mess and I opted to go hide in the hickory tree grove nearby. Between the maze and the hickory trees was a huge rectangle of about a half an acre or an acre of land that we used as the family football field on Sunday afternoons. Darting from tree to tree in the perfectly straight stand, I giggled as I saw the light click on and off and my sisters yelling at my brother and instigating his assault on them in the darkness.

Besides the buzz of mosquitoes, the hickory stand was pretty lonely and extremely dark. It lined up against the woods of an estate beside ours called “Tallwood” owned by George Mason University and left unruly and natural. The land there always bothered me and, in fact, I usually avoided the hickory stand all together because it felt like someone was at my back the whole time.

This night would prove why I instinctively avoided the grove.

The lightning bugs around me were intense since I was bottled in between the trees and the fence line where the raspberry bushes grew. Their sluggish light soothed me and made me feel sort of trance-like. I leaned against the tree, knowing I should make my run for the birdbath, but hoping he’d take out my sisters first. I had a tendency to end up in the crosshairs. Not this time. I was determined to win again.

Hushed voices sounded a few trees up from me. I leaned back and studied the line of gray tree trunks. Nothing. I looked over to the boxwood maze, the light blinking on and off. My sisters together darted through what I called “the great hall” because it was the biggest empty “room” in the maze.

Murmuring voices continued to talk. I stormed up the tree line, studying it carefully. It wasn’t unusual for local kids from the surrounding suburbs to try and sneak into the yard and play. I usually didn’t mind. It got lonely there when my siblings usually avoided me. They let me play the game along with them mostly because as the baby of the family I’d stomp and cry and get attention, so I found myself playing alone a lot. There were, however, a few unsavory neighborhood kids I didn’t want to enjoy my personal haven, so I came to a stop between the trees and waited. Scott got my sister, Kathy out and she took over the flashlight. Scott took the game like a tactile engineer so my chances of winning were looking pretty miserable. In my mind, I begged out of the game, more interested in who was in my yard.

The voices sounded again. This time they were where I had originally been standing. I rushed over fast and came to a halt. There was no one there. They sounded again like quick hushed whispers behind the berry vines. I turned and studied the darkness, unable to see anything but the pulsing of the lightning bugs.

A sense of movement behind me made me turn and study the long line of trees. I peered out from behind one, almost afraid at this point. I’d heard these hushed whispers in our house, but never on the property. A dark shadow stepped out from behind a tree about five trees up from me. Just the long length of half a body coming out from behind the tree and then—whoosh! It was gone.

Still imaging Kurt or one of the other pranksters in the neighborhood, I stomped over to the tree and looked. No one. Of course. I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the tree waiting for Scott to hopefully become “it” again so I could maybe rejoin the game. I looked down the row of trees and watched as something tall and dark stepped out from behind the tree and started a slow cruise along the tree line away from me.

Kathy? Tina? Could it be one of my sisters? No, probably Scott!

I ran towards it, feeling myself gain on it when it just vanished. It didn’t step behind anything. It didn’t run. It just suddenly wasn’t there. Winded and confused, I looked up at the cloudy sky. No moonlight. I waved my arms. No shadow. The murmuring voices started again in the raspberry bushes not far from me.

I didn’t even look this time. My mind immediately focused on reports that college people made when they rented our cottages on the property. Shadowy figures peering into windows, taking off through fields, riding horses, disappearing without notice, and murmuring voices.

As I high-tailed it towards the house, the flashlight’s beam hit me and I stopped.

“You’re it.” My sister said.

“I’m done.” I looked back at the tree line.

She looked there too.

“We don’t play outside of the boxwoods. You disqualified yourself, She-She.”

“Yeah, well I’m done.”

“I don’t go there at night.” She told me in a hushed voice.

“Why?” I looked up at her wide-eyed.

“That’s where he walks.”

“W-who?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugged. “I think he’s having a meeting with someone. Did you see him?”

I nodded dumbly.

To Tina, none of this was unusual. She took it as part of nature. No threat to herself.

“I think he’d rather be alone, so I just give him a wide berth.” She sighed. “Take off now, I’ll tell them you were sick. I know how you hate for Scott to beat you.” She ruffled my tangled hair and I rushed off towards the relative safety of the house.

The spirits in the main house I could take.

21 comments:

  1. My back yard looks like a boxwood maze. I hate gardening.

    Very atmospheric piece.

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  2. Awesome story! You seemed to overall have a really cool childhood. I would have loved to have lived where you did and have siblings to aggravate! Would love to visit your old homestead one day! Love ya Sis!

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  3. Fun story. I Got yer flashlight right HERE.

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  4. Sucio;
    I like your gardening style. I personally like the unmanicured look. Let nature take over, I say.

    Sis;
    My siblings were a mixed bag of nuts--seriously, but we did entertain ourselves and with all the property, creek, surrounding woods, cottages, bar, stable, arbors, maxes and orchards, we managed to somehow survive it all. I nearly killed myself all the time being the little tomboy who thought she could invent hot air balloons and parachutes. Good thing my mother was clueless about our antics.

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  5. MM;
    Seriously, dude, really? Does it have an on/off switch and one of those rims you can twist and the light gets brighter? hee hee

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  6. Another great story from your childhood. I just love hearing them. We used to play ditchum' in the field and old church across the street from my parents house, but never saw a ghost or shadow figure. We did get in trouble a few times playing in the church. I never ran so fast, lol.

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  7. Sis;
    I get the feeling I would have gotten you into a lot of trouble as a kid. I can't believe the things I talked my friends into doing. It's a wonder any of us are still alive.

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  8. All that twisting sounds painful. You sure you know what you're doing? hee hee

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  9. MM;
    Hey, isn't that how a mag light works? I use one for ghost hunting. I like them because they double as a weapon since they're long and hard as steel, and they fit perfectly in my hand.

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  10. When I was growing up one of my friend's plantation era house was haunted. The whole family would head out to work or school and when they came back things would be rearranged (like the super heavy coffee table that took four people to move would be turned 90 degrees, pictures would be in different spots or turned backwards). Sometimes when they would be sitting around the table at dinner or watching tv the shower would turn on full blast for a few minutes, enough to fog up the bathroom, then turn back off completely. It was always a little scary to spend the night.

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  11. Vapor;
    Boy, did I run into that issue. Where I grew up, it was a working class suburb of DC and in the middle of the tract homes sat my mansion on a hill with a huge property around it. I was a total freak in school. Getting anyone to sleep at my place--nearly impossible. I had like 3 friends who were brave enough. I used to catch kids sneaking around my yard to get a close up look at the house. One time, I pretended to be a ghost and scared a kid away. I think he was actually screaming as he tried to pitch himself over the fence. It was awesome!

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  12. Wow, the way you tell the tale sends shivers up my spine. The idea of disembodied voices just creeps me out! Oh, by the way, how was yer Christmas?

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  13. HN;
    It was very pleasant and cozy and the best one ever because I didn't have to rush around buying gifts for a dozen ungrateful inlaws, didn't have to make dozens of cookie baskets for people I don't even work with. I went on my first single vacation and it was a blast. I hope yours was super and that you got some awesome things that inspire you in your future home haunts for Halloween. I can't wait to see what you do next October! I'm glad you enjoyed that piece of my childhood. There was actually a large black man who was seen many times on the property and gazing into the windows of the cottages and looking rather lost and out of place in clothing that was very rustic. He often paced along the area near the hickory stand and the back boxwoods and I suspect that's what I encountered that night. I tended to stay away from there at night. It never felt right. My instincts were right.

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  14. hey there, great story. sounds like a wonderful place to have grown up in. makes the whole ghost thing sound romantic.
    the haunted house i grew up in, for part of my childhood was a small house in a lower middle class neighborhood. a neighborhood that wouldn't seem to contain a house with freaky happenings.
    hope all is well, my friend.

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  15. Sandra;
    I hope you had a dreamy Xmas and hopefully your first white one, dear. Ghosts show up anywhere and even in modern homes. I am on a mission to find out what these places have in common since obviously lots of people die in lots of locations but they aren't necessarily haunted.

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  16. Nice story =]

    Creepy blog! Although i like it! following :P

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  17. Doo;
    I'm glad you like creepy. It's often times just funny, other times dark, other times thought provoking. It really depends on my moods and women do so have their moods. :-)

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