by Lost

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Jake brought the rock crashing down on the doorknob. After repeating this motion a third time, the knob flew to the ground and Jake discarded the stone. Glancing around to make sure no one had noticed his activities, Jake stepped inside the house.

To his relief, the place was a mess. There were cobwebs all over the place, and a thick layer of dust lay undisturbed but for the trails of mice and other small rodents. Jake exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. You could never be entirely sure a house was abandoned from the outside, and the last thing Jake wanted was another run in with the cops. They’d kicked him out from under the Marion Street bridge earlier that day after he’d been caught raiding the Abercrombie Acres apple orchard. He absently rubbed his side; his expulsion had come with the complimentary beating as well.

Jake waited patiently, watching the front driveway and the highway off in the distance for flashing lights and sirens. After fifteen minutes he concluded that it was safe to relax and set in for the night. It was getting dark out and was even darker inside, so he pulled his battered flashlight out of his old backpack and got to work exploring his new temporary home.

Jake quickly came to realize that it had once been quite a nice place. He’d judged from the exterior that the house had been old; probably built around the turn of the century, but it was in very good repair. Judging from the modern three pronged outlets, the electrical was probably up to date, and aside from all the dust the wooden floors were beautiful and in very good condition. The furniture consisted of mostly restored antiques and some rather nice modern pieces, which made Jake wonder why it hadn’t been taken when the house was abandoned, or stolen afterwards. The walls also boasted a number of paintings. If the house had been foreclosed on, like most of the other places Jake had broken into for refuge, why hadn’t they taken or sold their things?

Jake continued exploring the lower level. He was thrilled to find that the pantries were stocked very well, and while much of it was spoiled or eaten by vermin, plenty of canned food remained. As expected, the gas, water, and electricity were all deactivated, but he was fine with eating the food cold if necessary. Food was food, after all. He moved on to the dining room, with an expensive chandelier hanging above a beautiful, solid oak table. It felt kind of sad sitting there, such a grand piece of furniture. It had probably once hosted grand meals with friends and family, while now it stood alone, collecting dust in the dark. Some withered houseplants remained in pots, abandoned thirst and neglect. As Jake rounded the corner, he found the stair and ascended to the level above.

The second floor had fared a little worse than the first. This level had been carpeted, and now in a few corners patches were missing, likely stolen for use in rodent nests. As if conjured by thought, Jake entered a bedroom only to see a pair of mice scurry into a closet. Jake felt a bit of empathy for the small animals. After all, they were both unwelcome guests in a home that belonged to neither of them, trying their best to find what comfort they could.

This room was painted a light pink, with a wallpaper border of ponies around the ceiling. Obviously a young girl’s room, he noted, and was confirmed when he spied a toy chest full of dolls and a closet full of girly things. The bed was a mess, and hadn’t been made before the house was abandoned. He was about to leave when he noticed a peculiar red stain on the carpet on the other side of the bed from the door. He came closer and then spotted a light outline of a body in chalk. “Shit,” he said to himself. Someone had been murdered there.

He felt a bit uneasy. It looked just like a crime scene. Obviously from the chalk, it was a crime scene. Still, it was dark and the house looked like his best bet for a good night’s sleep and an easy meal, so he continued exploring. The bathroom was a mess, covered in mold and mildew and with a hamper half full. Cosmetics and medications lay on the counter, untouched for who knew how long. The toilet was a rusty mess, mostly empty but for the remains of a mouse that had fallen in and become stuck. In disgust, Jake left the room and went to check the other three doors in the upstairs hallway.

One turned out to be a closet, stocked with towels and blankets. Jake cracked a smile; winter was quickly approaching, and while the Southern winters weren’t bad, the nights frequently dipped below freezing. Blankets and food, he thought. Murder or not, this is a real windfall.

Another door led to another girl’s room, who was probably a bit older than the first. Here the bed covers lay in a mess on the floor. Hesitantly, he shined his light on the bed and then immediately turned away and exited. The pillow had been soaked red with blood.

Well, that explains why the house was abandoned, he thought to himself. Even houses that hadn’t had been witness to brutal murders were tough sales these days, this house probably won’t sell for years! A part of him just wanted to go back downstairs, but he knew he had one more door to check. So, he moved to the last door and pushed it open.

It must have been the master bedroom, since it had a double bed. It too was unmade, and Jake had no problem spotting the chalk outline on the floor. This person had clearly died of a gunshot wound, given the pattern of the stain to the outline. So it looks like the whole family got killed, then, he thought silently. Curiously, he peered around for a second outline, but found none. Instead, what he saw made his eyes pop wide open.

Sitting on the dresser was a large glass jar, filled nearly to the top with change. And not only was silver the dominant color, but there were flashes of green as well. There could be well over a hundred dollars in there! He hadn’t seen that much money since before his parents had died.

He felt a stab of guilt as he reached for the money and he hesitated. He’d been raised with strong moral values, and he knew stealing was wrong. Living on the streets hadn’t completely driven that from him. Still, his parents were dead, and so were the people that might lay claim to it. He could certainly use it — it wasn’t being used as it was, anyway. Thoughts of fresh produce, meat that didn’t come in a tin, luxuries like ice cream and candy, and maybe even a propane heater raced through his head. Hell, he thought, maybe I’ll even get a dog. I’ve always wanted one, and guys do so much better begging when they’ve got a dog with them. If I can start bringing in dog-money, it could be the start of a major step up in my life!

A few minutes later, he found himself downstairs, counting through the change jar. It was beyond his wildest dreams — there was two hundred and thirty six dollars in the jar just in bills, and probably a hundred more in change. The family had probably been using it to save for a vacation they’d never take. In the face of his vast riches, Jake felt the best he had in years, despite the horrible scenes upstairs. Living on the streets for a decade, he’d seen far worse. After having seen someone being eaten by rats, a couple blood stains were nothing.

After carefully pocketing the bills and stowing the change (old habits die hard; he almost felt like someone was watching him, and he kept constantly expecting someone else to rush in and take his prize) he noticed a door he hadn’t checked out and saw that it went to the garage. There were two cars, a black SUV and a red sedan, and had a number of useful items on wooden shelves, including some sleeping bags, a tent, and other camping equipment. Jake searched around for a camp stove but came up short, though he did manage to find a book of matches. By now his breakfast of apples was in the distant past, and he was eager to break into the canned goods. As he turned to leave, he noticed a small chute built into the wall. It was filthy and covered with sawdust, and with a sudden realization he knew what it was.

He headed back inside and looked for any missed doors, and quickly found one leading to the basement. The basement had been expertly finished and he shined his flashlight around in wonder. Mostly, it consisted of a large game room, with a pool table, bar, dart board, foosball table, and even some arcade games in the corner. The walls consisted of knotty pine, giving it a faux log cabin feel, which he felt gave the area a warm, comforting feel. Antique beer cans stood in a display case alongside pool trophies, and various plaques hung on the wall, awards for the various sports and contests that the family must have taken part in. A jukebox stood in the corner, its lights dim and cold, almost begging someone to power it up to bring its own cheer to the silent darkness.

Jake’s attention quickly went to the liquor cabinet. It was locked, but he quickly found the key on the counter. As he opened it, he saw that it was stocked with a variety of very nice stuff, everything from wine to whiskey. This would fetch a decent price somewhere, he thought. He wasn’t much of a drinker — he’d seen too many starving men trading their last few dollars for a bottle of booze and had resolved not to get drawn into the trap of alcohol and drugs. Still, this was a rare opportunity, so he poured himself a glass of wine as celebration for his good fortune.

He continued exploring the basement, silently contemplating the situation while sipping from his glass. He wondered what the family must have been like that had died here. They seemed quite well off, economically and socially, and as far as he could tell they had been quite happy. The basement seemed especially important to the father — he guessed that the bar and pool area would have been like a refuge for the man. With a sense of unease, he realized he was most likely to find the father’s outline here, and a small bit of the cheer he felt evaporated.

There was a small sun room off of the bar area, though the patio door was boarded up. Lying on a table were a deck of cards, poker chips, a cribbage board, and some UNO cards, along with four small containers of nickels and pennies with names written on the lids; Dad’s, Mom’s, April’s, and Jenny’s. It was almost a peaceful scene, and Jake could imagine the family sitting together and playing low stakes card games together. A bit of emotion hit him and he was suddenly homesick for his late parents, and felt a great deal of sympathy for the family he was intruding on.

Next, he came to another bathroom, decorated with a theme of bears and fishing poles. The toilet paper came out of a holder shaped like a little outhouse, though when Jake opened it he found a family of mice; two adults and a pair of pink babies. One of the mice ran off, but the other stood there in terror with the babies, so Jake quickly closed it to leave them in peace.

Outside of a closet with assorted things packed in crates, the only remaining door led to an office/bedroom. Here a computer sat, along with a fax machine, telephone, and a filing cabinet full of papers. There was also a bed in the corner and an air mattress sat nearby in its package. Jake checked the bed and was relieved not to find any blood or signs of violence. For the first time in over a decade, he finally had a comfortable bed to sleep in.

Finally, he came to the fireplace, with the chute from the garage emptying into a bin. No freezing this winter! he thought to himself. Next to the bin along the wall, firewood was stocked to the ceiling, except on the left hand side where wood had already been used. They must have died at least a year ago. Otherwise, the wood pile would either be completely full or nearly empty. His spirits soared at that conclusion, since there was a good chance he wouldn’t be noticed and could stay there all winter. Feeling a bit chilled, he grabbed some kindling and started the fire going. Within minutes, the basement was basked in a warm glow, and Jake ran upstairs to grab some food, some pans, and a can opener. Ten minutes later and he found himself sitting in a recliner beside the glow of the fire, eating canned soup and a tin of smoked salmon. Before he knew it, he’d drifted off into a contented sleep.

The next morning, Jake woke and saw that the fire had gone out. It was early and a bit cold, but things would warm up once the day got started. He left arm felt a bit numb, but it quickly faded. He’d had some strange dreams he remembered, but beyond that nothing stood out. Some light crept in through the small, unboarded windows at ground level, so he no longer needed his flashlight to get around. After rushing upstairs to check on his stashed money and chiding himself for not keeping it with him, he started another fire and cooked some breakfast.

Afterwards, he went upstairs and was pleased to discover that the father had been almost his size. The other man had had a bit more weight on him, but they were about the same height, so while a bit baggy, the clothes fit. Plus, they weren’t covered in filth and grime and holes like his old rags. It was like he’d found the house that kept giving.

Finally, he stood there for a moment and realized that he had absolutely nothing to do. He didn’t have to worry about the police, other homeless people, or even about finding a good place to beg (or failing that, somewhere to steal food from). In a sense, he was a free man. No responsibilities and no worries, at least for a time! Exuberant, he spun in a circle and laughed.

Oh no you don’t, he thought to himself suddenly. You want to stay here? Fine. But you’d better go fix that door, in case someone comes knocking! It was an odd thought, but it made sense. So he went upstairs and grabbed the money jar, intending to convert it to bills at a change counting station. But then another thought struck him — maybe there would be a bike in the garage he could use, rather than walking all the way into town?

Sure enough, there were four bikes in the garage. He toyed with the idea of looking for the car keys, but that posed too much of a risk, since the licenses were probably expired and would raise too many questions if he got pulled over. He grabbed the large blue one and found a bike chain and locks nearby. It was a strange experience — he actually had something worth stealing, now! And so, in good spirits he headed into town.

He returned a few hours later with a brand new doorknob and an empty jar. He found some tools in the garage and quickly went to work fixing the knob up. It was harder than he thought, and he was only halfway done when he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. With a sinking feeling, he noticed the blue and white of a police car.

Don’t panic! he thought to himself. I can take care of this.

“Afternoon,” said the cop, stepping out of his car.

“Afternoon,” Jake replied. “Anything I can help you with?”

“We received a phone call this morning, one of the neighbors said they’d spotted smoke coming from the chimney.” He gestured towards the doorknob. “Might I ask what you’re doing here? What’s your name, son?”

Shit. I never should have started that fire! I am so dead, Jake thought. Almost out of nowhere, he started spinning a tale. “Oh, just fixing up this door. Someone noticed it was busted off recently, so the estate called me out to do some repair work. Name’s Jake Anderson,” he said, giving his name truthfully.

The cop frowned. “Why weren’t we informed of this? Anything taken from the premises?”

Jake shook his head. “Naw, just some food. One of the beds had been used, so we figured it was just some homeless guy taking refuge from the cold. Aside from the door, nothing else was damaged.”

The cop stood there a moment in silence, and Jake started sweating bullets. Finally, he nodded. “Damned homeless. We spend half our shifts kicking the bastards out of the park every day. Complete waste of life, and a waste of our time, too. Makes me miss back home in Minnesota, we had a really good program to take care of them.“ When Jake didn’t inquire further, he continued. “We called it ‘winter,’” he said with a laugh.

Jake repressed a grimace and rubbed his sore side. Yeah, I’m sure you absolutely hate kicking us out of there. The feeling’s mutual, buddy. Instead, he said, “Yeah. That’s why the Barnet estate hired me to keep a watch on the place. I’ll be moving in, that way I’ll be able to get the house in presentable shape so they can hopefully sell it finally. It’s a pretty good deal for me, since I’ll be getting free rent and utilities along with a decent paycheck. All I have to do is get the place in a livable shape again, and keep any burglars away.”

The cop nodded. “I’m surprised this place was only just now broken into. Been a wide open target for some time. Fewer robberies makes my job all the easier, though.” The cop’s radio buzzed. “Well, I suppose I’ll let you get back to your work. And if you have any more problems with the bums, don’t hesitate to give us a call.”

Jake glared daggers into the door in front of him. “Right. I’ll be sure to do that,” he replied, not turning around.

Jake heard the sound of the man’s footsteps receding. Then, they stopped. “Oh, one more thing,” he said. “I don’t know if you were told, but you can feel free to clean up the scene now. Forensics was done with that months ago. I can’t believe it’s taken the estate this long, but who knows. I heard that every time a cleaning crew was scheduled to come in, Forensics would need another look at the scene, delaying the cleanup. But that’s all behind us now, so if it hasn’t been done yet, go right ahead. I guess that might account for why the place hasn’t sold yet.”

Jake nodded and mumbled a “thank you” and watched as the cop pulled away. Damn, I’m good! he thought to himself.

After another hour of work, Jake stood back and admired the fruit of his labor. The door now swung open and shut easily, and clicked into place. He felt good about his handiwork, and was about to go back inside when he had a strange thought. Maybe he should go unboard all the windows? It would let more light in during the day at the very least, and would go with the lie he’d told the cop. I wonder what came over me there. But whatever, I told one hell of a story, so hopefully I should be secure here for a while!

The day passed quickly, and Jake smiled. A good day’s work felt wonderful. It was a new feeling he hadn’t experienced before. After unboarding the windows, he did a bit of exploring and found a small creek behind the house and used it to clean up. He hadn’t had a decent bath in a few weeks, so even though the water was cold, it was very refreshing. He brought back a pail full of clean water to sterilize over the fireplace for drinking water, and then amused himself with various books and magazines that had been left in the house. After another nice meal, he settled in for sleep, this time actually utilizing the guest bed.

Jake woke the next morning feeling quite odd. Again, he couldn’t remember his dreams, but he retained the feeling that they were disturbing. His body felt quite sore but that soon passed. But when he headed to use the bathroom, he was shocked by a sight in the mirror. He shook his head and blinked, but the image remained clear. For some reason, the mirror was entirely fogged up except for the center. And rather than reflecting Jake and the wall behind him, there was instead the face of a shimmering woman. He was fairly attractive, probably in her mid to late thirties. Her hair shone with an iridescent glow, making it impossible to tell its color, but it was long and blowing in the wind.

This isn’t real! Maybe I drank a bit too much last night? He shook his head and the woman vanished, replaced by his own reflection. “That was really strange,” he said to himself. A bit unnerved, he pushed it out of his mind. After all, it was probably just his imagination, reacting to the murder scene upstairs. There were no such things as ghosts, after all!

Jake headed upstairs and noticed something odd. The clocks on the VCR and appliances were blinking, and the refrigerator was humming quietly. Confused, Jake flicked a light switch and was startled when the kitchen lights turned on. He went over to the sink and pushed the handle and a trickle of brownish water poured out, though it quickly turned clear after a few moments. It was even hot, so the water heater was probably working as well. In a daze, he checked the rooms of the house and found that the utilities were working just fine — there was even cable television!

Jake stood in the living room, watching the figures moving across the forty-two inch plasma screen on the wall. What the hell is going on? His mind thought back to the woman in the mirror. Was the house haunted after all? Confused and more than a little bit frightened, he plopped into the couch and raised a huge cloud of dust. After a brief coughing fit, he had the sudden idea that maybe he should clean the place up a bit.

But I don’t know how to even begin with a mess like this! I’ve never so much as operated a vacuum cleaner in my life! Out of nowhere, images of a woman dusting flooded into his mind. Immediately, he reacted with terror to the foreign images, but quickly calmed himself. It was probably just him remembering his mother cleaning up when he was younger, he rationalized. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought that the woman in the images had been brunette, while his mother had had red hair.

Jake quickly found the cleaning supplies and went to work dusting the first floor. It was a bit easier than he’d thought, and it was almost as if he’d been doing so all his life. Likewise, vacuuming was just as easy, and he seemed to know just the right way to get stains out of the carpet. He labored throughout the day, and finished up by throwing away all rotted and expired food. He felt proud of his handiwork, but a bit uneasy. For some reason, certain things seemed to be a bit higher up than normal.

After a quick meal, Jake settled down for some television, this time without a shower of dust. Unfortunately, something seemed off with the television, though. It seemed like every channel would dissolve into static after a few minutes of watching, and after a bit, only a few channels remained that came in clearly. For the most part, the only channels that stayed in clearly were those playing chick-flick movies, the Lifetime Channel, and a few cooking and gardening shows. Still, Jake did his best to make do. Television was television, after all! After a few hours, he began to grow sleepy, and he headed downstairs to the guest bedroom, where he quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Jake woke, again with no memory of his dreams. He then went and had his first shower in well over three months. It felt very much overdue, especially with all the dust and dirt caked in his hair and face. However, as he washed up he realized that something seemed off, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. However, when he went upstairs to change, he was met with a shock. None of the clothes seemed to fit him at all anymore. The dirty clothes from the previous day seemed to fit fine, but when he examined them, he found they were several sizes smaller than the rest of the wardrobe. While he was tempted into wearing them, a part of him seemed to find that revolting, despite the fact that he was normally used to wearing clothes for weeks at a time. Instead, he settled for a pair of jeans and a shirt that he was absolutely swimming in. After wrapping a belt around his waist, he headed downstairs for breakfast, feeling almost as if he was wearing clown clothes. Maybe he would have to use some of his stolen jar money to buy some new duds?

While there was a lot that still needed to be done downstairs, such as polishing the furniture and washing the windows, Jake decided to tackle the upstairs. He quickly disposed of all the soiled sheets and the bloody pillow, and then dusted and vacuumed the rooms as best he could. However, when he stood in the master bedroom trying to determine the best way to tackle the horribly stained carpet, the doorbell rang. Puzzled, he rushed downstairs and opened the door, revealing a uniformed woman with a nametag reading “Nancy.“

“Triple A cleaning. We got a call to clean the upstairs carpets? The old murder scene?”

For a moment, Jake didn’t know what to do. Then, in a flash of inspiration, he decided to play along.

“Oh, yeah! Uh, it’s just this way!”

“Right,” stated the woman with a bored expression on her face. “Give me a hand with this cleaner. My partner called in sick today, so I’m working alone. Just help me get it upstairs and I’ll take it from there.”

Jake nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure.” He opened the door further and helped her with the machine. It was huge and seemed to weigh a ton, even more than he’d expected from an object of its size. “Woah, careful there,” he said as they eased it past the door frame.

“Hurry it up, Hercules. We ain’t got all day,” she said as Jake struggled with his end. It was strange — he didn’t know why he was having so much trouble with it while she seemed to be just fine. To be fair, she was a bit of a beefy woman (tall, too — she was just about as tall as Jake’s six even, maybe even an inch taller), and probably lugged things like this around every day, but still, Jake had never felt that he was a weakling.

Finally, they had wrestled the machine up the stairs and it settled down onto the floor, where the woman was easily able to wheel it around.

“Thanks,” she said. “Just the three rooms, right?”

“Right,” he replied. “Anything else I can help you with?”

She sized him up and grunted a bit. “Yeah, right. No, not unless you’d rather just replace the damned carpet. I don’t have a clue how you’d be able to live in a room like that, even with a top job cleaning like this. Whatever though, I guess.”

Jake spent a few hours trying to work around the woman, and mostly concentrated on the upstairs bathroom. With the water on, he was easily able to flush the drowned mouse, but there were still all kinds of rust problems that took forever to get out. Just as he was about to finish up the bathroom, Nancy called him over.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, showing him all three rooms. “There was a lot of blood caked onto the headboards here, and a bit splattered on the walls, but I think I got it all. Christ, that stuff’s a bitch to get out, they should have had the courtesy to die on tile or something. Anyhow, that should be all of it, though, so it should be in a livable condition right now. Relatively speaking.”

For a second, Jake felt a sense of rising anger at the cavalier way she was regarding the blood of the dead, but it quickly evaporated. He thanked the woman and helped her get the machine back into her van. Apparently, the bill was already paid up, so that was one less thing for him to worry about. Finally, he went back to work, though a stray thought crossed his mind. Was it really this hard to reach the top of the door frames yesterday? God, my perspective seems to be so off lately . . . Within a few moments though, he quickly forgot about any discrepancies between the apparent height of objects in the house.

Finally, he called it a day. Feeling gross from all the dust, he decided to take another shower, this time in the freshly cleaned room upstairs. His body hair seemed to be thinning unexpectedly, though it actually looked kind of good on him. He also seemed to have lost a bit of weight — the pot belly he’d obtained from years of eating cheap junk food seemed to be entirely gone. After finishing the shower, he stepped onto the scale, curious. What he saw completely shocked him. He was nearly one forty in weight, down from what he’d guessed was probably closer to one ninety. How could he lose that much weight? He didn’t look like he was all skin and bones, either. He just looked fit. The strangeness he’d experienced cleaning came back to him, and in a panic, he ran to the garage and grabbed a tape measure. He carefully stepped on one end and pulled it up until it reached his total height.

“Holy crap!” he said aloud, a note of fear creeping into his voice. “I’ve lost four inches! What the hell is going on here?” He was down to five foot eight. No wonder that cleaning lady was so tall, and why the clothes aren’t fitting anymore!

Things were getting too weird for him. Great house or not, Jake had to get out of there. After stuffing some things into his backpack, he quickly ran to exit the house, only to find that the front door wouldn’t open. Crap! I must have done something wrong installing that door knob! He headed downstairs but found that he’d somehow neglected to unboard the patio doors. Simply put, he was stuck.

Frustrated, Jake sat down and just started crying. The outburst shocked him, since he hadn’t cried since being thrust on the streets after his status as ward of the state wore off. Struggling with his emotions, he eventually recovered. Frustrated, tired, and feeling defeated, he threw on the underwear he’d been wearing earlier and crawled into bed and immediately fell asleep.

Jake woke the next day in a pleasant mood, though his body seemed to ache quite a bit. In his morning shower, he absently noticed that all of his body hair was gone, except for a thin bit on his legs, arms, and underarms. It was also lighter as well. Jake just shrugged it off, though he had a strange feeling that something was completely wrong with the situation. As he got out of the shower, he noted that the hair on his head seemed lighter as well, and if possible, it seemed to be longer as well. It was quite a bit past his ears, but Jake wasn’t sure if it had always been that way or not.

Afterwards, he headed upstairs to find some clothes. He tried on some more of the husband’s clothes, but they irritated his skin and were just too big for him to wear. But without the husband’s clothing, what was he going to wear?
I could try the wife’s clothes.

Immediately, he rejected that thought. He couldn’t wear women’s clothes! But what else was there to wear? Jake stood there a moment, and then suddenly, he was hit with an idea. Maybe the oldest daughter might have something that would fit him! Applauding his genius, he rushed into the room down the hall and quickly found a pair of jeans and a light green long sleeved shirt. He didn't know what to do about his underwear, since the pair he had slept in had kept falling off on his way to the shower, but then he found a nice pair of white underwear in a dresser drawer. They looked a bit different than he was used to, but they fit much better, so he stuck with them. He then donned the jeans and shirt and was pleased with the result. They didn’t fit quite right — the pants especially were too loose around the hips and bottom, and too tight around the waist, but they weren’t too bad. He paused in front of the vanity and looked at his reflection, and for a moment felt that something was missing from his face, but quickly shook that thought away. Finished dressing, he ran downstairs to have breakfast.

He then went to work cleaning the basement. However, when he got down there, he remembered that he’d forgotten to remove the boards from the patio doors, so he went upstairs and grabbed his shoes. They were battered, stained, and falling apart, and earned a solid look of disgust, but he slipped them onto his feet. For some reason they didn’t seem to fit right at all and his feet kept sliding around in them and threatening to slip out as he worked outside, even though they were tied as tight as he could.

Finally, the board was gone. The door was locked, so he went back inside. As he closed the front door, he had the strangest feeling that something wasn’t right, but he ignored it. After slipping his feet out of the dirty old shoes, he tossed them into the trash. He’d surely be able to find something more fitting to wear later.

Cleaning the basement went by quickly, now that he was used to the routine. The only problem that cropped up was the mice in the toilet paper dispenser. A quick check revealed that they were all inside, so he blocked the exit and gently unscrewed it from the cabinet. Taking care not to jostle it around too much, he opened the patio door and deposited it outside. It might be a bit colder out there, but at least the mice would still be able to take shelter in their little house.

Cleaning went smoothly until he came to the trophy case. Then, an unexpected hatred rolled through him, and he found that he was unable to control himself. A red haze washed over his vision, and he quickly reached for trophies, plaques, and antique beer cans and hurled them to the ground. Some shattered into pieces while others just bounced around, mostly undamaged. In frustration, he grabbed an old wine bottle from the collection and began beating the undamaged trophies until he found himself collapsed on the ground, sobbing. The red haze faded from his vision and Jake quickly got a hold of himself.

Why did I do that? he asked himself, but no answer surfaced. He picked up a shattered bowling trophy and looked at the name plate. Steven Barnet. He picked up another one, and this one too had Steven’s name on it. As he looked back at the wall, he saw that a number of trophies remained untouched. Curious, he noted that only the trophies belonging to Steven had been destroyed — he hadn’t grabbed a single one belonging to one of the other family members.

Puzzled but feeling a bit exhausted from his exertion, Jake grabbed a broom and swept up the mess. And then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to cleaning.

The next day began much as the previous had. Jake woke in a pleasant mood with an aching body. As he took his shower, he felt that something was clearly wrong. What happened to all the hair on my torso? Why is my leg hair so thin? And that inverted triangular patch?

“Oh my God!” he said aloud, suddenly realizing. This isn’t right at all!

Jake set his razor down and exited the shower. Man, that was weird! he thought to himself. But thankfully, it had been easy to fix, and his smooth legs and underarms felt so much better. After grabbing some clothes from the older daughter’s room, Jake felt good to go.

After breakfast, he decided that he really needed to get some groceries. A part of him was demanding that he stay and finish cleaning up the place rather than leaving, but he managed to ignore it. All the major work was done, and all that remained were some minor touches. The place already was beautiful once again, so he deserved a day off. And so, with that in mind, he went in search of some shoes. He quickly found a pair of white tennis that fit perfectly, so he hopped on the large red bike and headed into town.

On the way there, though, he felt odd. He had this strong urge to return to the house and fighting it off was extremely difficult. But as he pedaled farther and farther away, it seemed to die down. Then, he felt a different feeling, almost as if a haze was slowly being lifted. Suddenly, bits and pieces of some of the strange occurrences during the past few days came flooding back to him. This is really weird, he thought to himself. I can’t put my finger on anything yet, but something’s not right. Something with a door, or maybe my clothes? Unable to draw any conclusions or solid thoughts, Jake changed his destination and headed for the library instead. Whatever was going on, it had something to do with the old house and he wanted to see what he could learn.

Arriving at the library, Jake readjusted his bra straps, which had moved out of place during the ride over, and locked up the bike. He signed in at the front desk and grabbed one of the open computers and began searching the local records.

According to records from the local papers, three members of the Barnet family — Nicole (36), April (16), and Jennifer (12), were found dead on the morning of November 1st, 2007 of an apparent mass-homicide. The husband and father, Steven Barnet, was missing, and had been the prime suspect until a neighbor, Roger Simms, was found dead a few days later in his attic from a self inflicted gunshot wound. Nearby, a note had been discovered detailing his event in the murder of the family of four. After attending a Halloween party together, Simms had become enraged by a comment made by Steven Barnet. After several hours of drinking after the Barnet family had gone home, Simms visited the Barnet household, where he’d found Steven working in the front shed. He then proceeded to beat him with a lead pipe. Then, terrified that he’d been seen, he returned to his house for his pistol and broke into the Barnet household, where he shot April Barnet in her sleep. Having woken the remaining two Barnets, he proceeded to shoot and kill Nicole, and then killed Jennifer and fled the scene. The paper noted that Simms had had a history of mental illness, and that the Barnets would be missed.

Stunned, Jake stood in silence. So, now he knew what had happened. Noting the decorations throughout the library, he realized that he was only two days from the coming Halloween, the two year anniversary of the murders. He was about to do some additional research when someone tapped on his shoulder.

“Uh, miss? There’s an hour limit on the computers. If you’d like, though, you can sign up for another hour at the front desk, and we’ll page you when it opens up.”

Jake nodded. “Oh, okay, thanks!” he said, and then got up. He headed for the front desk to sign in, where he noticed something peculiar. His name wasn’t anywhere on the sheet. He ran through it, and then gasped.

He hadn’t signed his name. He’d signed in as “Jackie” Anderson.

No. That’s impossible! What . . . what’s going on here?

Confused, he bolted out of the library, his chest giving a slight but unfamiliar bounce as he ran for the bike racks. His first impulse was to run. To go as far away as he could, and to forget the house and anything that had happened there. But on the other hand, when he'd checked his wallet, he noticed that he'd somehow left almost all of his money back at the abandoned house. Additionally, his backpack was there, and it contained the scant few possessions he owned, including a photograph of his parents. He couldn’t abandon that!

So, with a great deal of misgiving, he headed back towards the house. After a while the haze he’d felt returned, and he was suddenly confused as to why he wanted to abandon the house in the first place. That house was the best thing that had ever happened to him! So instead, he found himself completing the original purpose of his trip, and he stopped at a grocery store just a few blocks from the house.

It felt like he was in heaven, surrounded by wonderful food knowing that he could get whatever he wanted for once. He loaded up on fresh produce, some eggs (though no bacon, since a girl needed to keep her figure!), and other assorted goodies. He even grabbed a pumpkin and a few packages of candy for the trick or treaters that would be coming the day after tomorrow.

He made his way to the checkout counter, where he noticed the bag boy kept stealing glances this way. The boy was probably around eighteen years old, yet still with all the awkwardness of youth. Jake found it kind of cute. Smiling playfully, he absently pushed a few strands of hair behind his ear as he watched the boy trying his best to hide the fact that he was checking Jake out. He’s pretty cute. Too bad he’s too young for me . . . or is he too old for me? What? His mind went blank for a moment.

“Fifty three ninety four,” stated the obviously bored cashier. Jake pulled out his wallet and paid her.

“Here you go, miss!” said the bag boy, placing the last plastic bag in the cart. Briefly, their hands brushed.

“Thanks!” said Jake, flashing him a smile. His heart was beating far faster than it had any right to. Confused, he quickly exited the store, and then struggled to load up the bike with the groceries.

After a brief but difficult ride, juggling packages the whole way, Jake finally made it back home. As he collapsed against the door, he suddenly heard a woman’s voice.

“For a while there, I thought you wouldn’t be coming back. There will be no more unnecessary risks!”

And then suddenly, Jake found himself drifting off to sleep.

Jackie woke in her room, feeling as if she’d slept forever. She groaned and stretched and then rolled out of bed. Glancing over at the clock, she noticed it was almost ten o’ clock, probably ten at night if the darkness outside the windows were any indication. What am I doing just getting up at this hour?

After a quick shower, she dried her shoulder length red hair, got dressed, and then headed downstairs. Immediately, she noticed the circle of lit candles in the living room. She felt an urge to step into the center.

Suddenly, the air around her began to shimmer, and the faint figure of a woman began to appear. A jolt of terror ran through her body, and something inside of her snapped.

Jake looked around, dumbfounded. How did I get here? he asked himself. The last thing he remembered was the ride back from town. He glanced down.

“What the hell?” Stunned, he noticed that he was wearing a jean skirt and a yellow tank top, just exposing the tops of his . . . breasts? Panicking, he surveyed the changes, from the long red hair on his head to the slim legs with tiny feet at the bottom.

“Welcome to the final hours!”

Startled, he looked up, finally noticing the ghostly figure in front of him. “You — you’re that figure I saw in the mirror!” he stated.

“That’s right.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, desperately trying to get his senses back. He was still a bit groggy from sleep, and his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He badly needed to figure out what was going on and what had happened to him.

“Just the same thing you initially had wanted - a new home and a chance for a better life. You’ve slept for quite a while, and now it is time - just over an hour from midnight on All Hallow's Eve! This is the two year anniversary of my death, and it shall be the night of my rebirth,” she said, sending flashes of light radiating out from her form in her excitement.

Something clicked. “You’re Nicole Barnet, aren’t you?”

A flash of rage crossed her pale face. “Nicole Croswell! Did you expect me to keep the name of that monster after all this?” she screamed.

Jake flinched under her verbal onslaught, his hair blowing back from a gust of air expelled from the deceased woman. He struggled to remember something important, but it eluded him. Instead, he once again asked, “What do you want from me?”

She gave a small laugh. “You are to become my new host, my escape from this unbearable nightmare! I shall take your body and expel you from it, and again walk among the living. You shall be my second chance.”

“Why?” demanded Jake. “Why me? And why did you do this to my body, and how? You’re behind all the strange happenings lately, aren’t you?”

She laughed. “No shit, Sherlock. Why? Because you are here. At first I’d made the mistake of sending people away from my resting place - the police, or those who meant ill to my home or aimed to remove the last connection I had to my daughters. But by the time I realized I could possess someone, this place had already gained the reputation of being haunted, and people stayed away. You can’t believe my luck when I saw you breaking in, and only days from the anniversary of that fateful day, coincidentally falling on the most sacred night of the year!

“So, it was only a matter of time. I infiltrated your dreams, and experimented on you in your sleep. I influenced you to prepare the house for my return, even though I had to exert a great deal of influence to persuade a few neighbors to make a few phone calls here or there when necessary. And I learned that I could alter your body into a more suitable shape — originally, I wanted to pick up my life where it had left off, and mold you into that form, but you gave me a better idea. When I couldn’t get you to wear my clothes, but was able to trick you into wearing April’s, I saw that maybe it would be in my best interests to make you a bit younger. You’re roughly eighteen now, the same age as my oldest daughter would have been. You are the girl you would have been, minus whatever genes your father would have contributed with your sex chromosomes. Once I finish the transfer, I’ll alter your features so as to take on April’s appearance, so in a way, this will be her second chance as well.”

Panic began to fill Jake’s head, but he found he could not run away. “This isn’t right!”

“Right? You speak to me of what’s right? Is it right that my children were murdered, just feet away from me? Is it right that we were betrayed by the one person that should have protected us? No! There is no right in this world but what you make for yourself! Now be quiet, I have a lot of ceremony to get through before the midnight hour strikes!”

Jake found that he could no longer open his mouth to speak, as his mouth was almost glued shut by an unseen force. And then, it dawned on him. She thinks her husband murdered them!

He began struggling, but it was no use. He simply couldn’t fight the woman’s control. She began drifting through the room, muttering nonsense, and then suddenly there was a a strange breeze swirling around, despite the fact that all the windows were shut tight.

Jake’s body began to tremble slightly, but no matter what he did, he was stuck to the spot. Despair filled him. This is all my fault. Ever since my parents died, I drifted by. Deep down, I know I could have done better for myself. At the very least, I could have gotten government help, at least with food stamps or something! But instead, I chose the life of no responsibility, drifting around, yet dead on the inside. And now, with complete death imminent, I stand here useless and unable to do a thing. Please, won’t somebody help me? I swear I’ll do something with my life if I get out of this!

And then, he felt something take control of him. His first thought was that it was the ghost woman, but he then noticed that she was still doing her ritual, appearing not to notice. And then, he felt a pressure building inside of him, and another presence entered him.

“Don’t do this, mommy!” he said. “Yeah, mom, this isn’t right, he hasn’t done any–“ before he could finish, he felt the two presences being pulled away. One attempted to struggle back, but then it too was gone.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks. “What did you say? And how?”

Jake found that he once again had control. “Your husband didn’t murder you! It was your neighbor, Roger Simms! He confessed and everything, and took his life!”

The woman exploded in rage. “Don’t you dare try to blame this on someone else! I know he did it!”

Jake struggled to collect himself. Being screamed at by the ghost seemed to drain his strength. “You never actually saw his face, did you?” he managed to get out at last.

The woman paused, an expression of doubt crossing her face for the first time. “Well, I . . . no. It all happened so fast . . .”

Jake continued. “I’m guessing the two men were about the same height and build, right? And it was dark inside!” For a brief moment, he felt a spark of hope.

And then her expression turned back to rage. “If it was Simms, then what happened to Steven? Did he just abandon us? Because he never came back here!”

Jake’s mind raced, and then he found the answer. “Think about it! You drove the police and other people off! They might have searched the area, but with you influencing them, they probably never got a good chance to find his body! Your husband is dead, Nicole, and he never betrayed you.”

A flicker of emotion passed her face, and then she disappeared. Jake, still rooted to the spot, waited uncomfortably, unsure of what was going on. And then, a few minutes later, she reappeared. This time, an expression of horror lay on her face for a change.

“I . . . You’re right. His body was in the shed, buried behind some things. I never went there because the place was so closely associated with him, but my rage clouded my judgment. It’s not easy being a spirit, you lose sight of everything . . .” Tears began flowing down her face. “Will you forgive me? My God, what did I almost do?”

Jake nodded. “I can’t say I can understand what you went through, but I get the feeling that you weren't quite yourself. I think in time I'll be able to forgive you.”

Nicole continued crying. “I’m so sorry. I’ll return you back to normal. I can still do that, I think. But tell me, was that really my daughters I heard? Are they okay?”

Jake nodded. “I think so, they probably were able to break free of the afterlife for a brief moment somehow. And I think it’s finally time for you to cross over and be with them again. Your family loves you, and they want you to stop suffering.”

Nicole nodded. “Thank you. My time left is limited, but I’ll try to do what I can to make up for everything I’ve done to you.”

Three months later, April grabbed her ratty old backpack, her only remaining link to her old life, and dashed out the door. It was her first day of classes, and she didn’t want to be late.

After the incident, Nicole had done what she could to make it up to Jake. However, Jake had learned something from his near death experience, and realized that there was nothing for him in his old life. Instead, he kept his form — it reminded him of his mother, and didn't bear the scars of years of life on the street. He felt that it would serve as a reminder, that “for good or ill, we are who we are and while we may not have control of our circumstances, we can’t let our circumstances control us.”

Nicole had been surprised, but had followed through on her promise. She vanished, probably for good, and then a few days later packages arrived in the mail containing all the documentation and records that he needed for his new life. Additionally, she left the house to him, along with a few thousand dollars in cash. It wouldn’t last forever, but it would give him a start on his new life. She had smiled at the new name on her papers — she’d suggested April Jennifer Anderson, in honor of the two girls. It wasn't much, but in a way, it was a second chance for them, too. They’d never gotten to live the lives they’d deserved, so April would have to live the best life she could in their names.

And so, as April settled into the driver’s seat of the car that had once belonged to Nicole Barnet, she smiled. Maybe this time, life would be different. After all she’d been through, she knew she could weather anything, and her new lease on life made getting up in the morning a truly pleasant experience. She’d taken a lot away from her past experiences, which is why she was enrolling as a Social Services major at the local university — she wanted to find a career where she might be able to improve the lives of the homeless.

After all, everyone deserves a shot at a second chance.
 

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