There was a chill in the air that late October evening. The amber glow of streetlights bathed the sidewalks in a river of shadow; the damp sweet smell of old fallen leaves loomed heavy on the wind. Tommy Dobbins had just turned 13 the month before, and this was his first mischief night out on the town. Jessie was supposed to meet him in his backyard on Second Street, but that last text message gave the code for “caught by Mom and grounded.” They’d planned this for weeks. Carefully hiding shaving cream cans, pilfered from upperclassmen’s gym bags, swiping half rolls of toilet paper, piecing together a whole carton of eggs by sneaking two from each family’s fridge and storing them in the mildewed garage. It was supposed to be easy. The boys saved every cent of their lunch money to buy the other supplies, but fate decided to interfere, or rather it was a clerk at the drugstore in town who had questioned them; piecing together the intended purpose for their odd shopping list. The boys decided to cut their losses, leaving the goods, along with their pride, at the counter. They managed to slink out the automatic sliding glass doors without causing any more of a scene. The plan called for backpacks, loaded for bear. Black sweats and a hoodie, ninja style, with gloves to avoid leaving any incriminating fingerprints. This was a mission, a rite of passage, it was all figured out, down to the last detail, but now the plan had changed.
Tommy felt a shiver run down his back as he cut down the alley at Railroad Avenue and made his way up Prince Street. He snuck to the first floor window of a darkened house and pulled out his bar of Ivory soap, to feverishly scrawl an emoji injecting, “ice water in his veins” and a four-letter word that would have made his grandmother blush. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he successfully pulled off his very first prank. Truthfully, it looked more like a dopey cartoon dog holding a ray gun, but he was proud of his creation nonetheless. Tom stepped back to snap a picture of his deviant masterpiece. In an instant he winced, drawing a quick breath through tight teeth as the phone slipped and the case bounced hard, twice on the ground. Instinctively, he bent, just in time to sink below the sweeping search light from a black squad car, on patrol, looking for vandals. Woop woop! An explosion of red and blue burst into every leaf and windowpane on the block as another police car raced by. “That was close! Way too close…” he thought as he darted down the steep slope of Walnut Street and dipped further along the winding path behind the creek. The streets were too risky, he’d have to cut across the wooded treeline that sunk beyond the houses, past the cemetery, and onto the railroad tracks, to circle his way back home. He assured himself repeatedly that he was anything, but afraid.
There was an eerie silence as he stumbled through the dark, skidding and tumbling down the sheer cliff toward where the old train tracks intersected the Riverline light rail. Thorns shredded his hands and knees, even through his clothes. He let out a yelp as he crashed into a bush at the foot of the hill. All was still, as if mother nature collectively held her breath. Two shadows, which were darker than the night that surrounded him, rose up before Tommy. The outline of two men emerged from what he thought was the horizon. They were looking for whomever had made the noise. They moved swiftly and quietly, but seemed oddly disjointed, somehow twisted up, mangled, and misshapen. His eyes were playing tricks on him for sure. A chill ran down his spine, it almost made him shake.
“Psst… hey! Get down! They’ll see you!” a hushed whisper came from the tall grass to his right. Tom slunk down instantly to see the face of a younger boy, he had to be a grade or two behind Tommy. This kid must have been tough to be out on his own at ten or eleven years old, he thought. Tom blushed in his brief embarrassment. “They’re dangerous men. They’ve been staying out here for the last three days, and they’re real mean.” The younger boy looked worried, but seemed to know what to do. The steam whistle of the night train sounded off in the distance, the ghost train, as it was called by the locals. “I’ll dash out to distract their attention and when they follow me, you run for it, the other way!” “But, they’ll catch you!” Tom replied. “Not on their best day!” his new friend chuckled, “They can try!” “GO!” he screamed and ran like the wind. Tom stood there, frozen for a second, blinking in disbelief. “Run already!” his new friend shouted and laughed as Tommy booked it on home.
The golden sun peeked above the mists of the morning; it was Halloween. He hadn’t really slept, wondering about that kid, hoping he had gotten home safely too. Tommy didn’t know his name, or where the boy lived, so he opened up his Chromebook in homeroom at school. He searched online for any news, hoping he would see a report of those men being arrested. He steeled himself, dreading the possibility of reading about the child being attacked in those backwoods. As he scrolled through the endless search results, a faded image caught his eye. It was the boy from the night before; the same reckless, friendly eyes, the same roguish smile. It was an old fashioned newspaper clipping from the Register News. It read, “Boy slain by vagabonds, two killed by train, October 30, 1923. Police intervened and tried to apprehend the men but they misjudged the speed of the passing locomotive and were instantly mangled. Officers tried to save the boy, Henry Folger, but his injuries were too severe. Just then, it dawned on Tommy, as the school bell rang for his first period class. Henry, the boy who had saved him, just the night before, had passed away a whole century ago, right down to the day. He shivered as he played through the images in his mind; snippets of events that couldn’t possibly be real. “Next year,” Tommy thought, “I’m just gonna stay home.” Mischief night just didn’t seem like it was very much fun anymore.
by D. Ryan Lafferty
Note. Originally published in the People Papers column, Literary Crumbs, October 2023.
Literary Crumbs: Poems & Short Stories to Savor by D. Ryan Lafferty 