Help for the Haunted by John Searles Read Free Book Online Page B

bejesus you’re up to, but I don’t like it one bit.”
    Rose ignored her, mulling the deal. Finally, she whispered, “Okay. Give her one good one, and I’ll take over from there.”
    I knew exactly the kind of performance my sister expected, so I stood and went to the bathroom door. “Dot,” I said in my quietest voice. “It’s Sylvie. Can you hear me?”
    â€œYes. I mean, no. Not really. Can you speak louder?”
    â€œAre you okay?”
    â€œIf you call freezing and dripping in the dark okay, then yeah, I guess I’m just dandy. Now what is going on? And talk louder for cripes’ sake. I can’t hear you.”
    â€œPress your ear to the door,” Rose told her, joining me at my side.
    Dot shifted around in the bathroom. “Okay. What is it?”
    â€œI warned you about the spirits,” my sister said in a hushed voice. “Now do you believe me?’
    â€œNot really. More likely your parents didn’t bother to pay the electric bill.”
    Rose poked me with her flashlight. I took the deepest of breaths and out it came: a scream— The Scream —so sudden and shrill it would put the best horror movie actress to shame. In the silence that followed, I clutched my throat, since it always hurt afterward.
    When she was done fumbling, Dot called out, “Sylvie, dear? Are you okay?”
    From the tremble in her voice, I could tell she felt genuinely afraid now. I opened my mouth to let her know I was fine, but the thought of my essay being handed back to me as confetti made me close it again. Rose forked over the pages, and I stepped away from the door. Before leaving the room, I glanced back to see my sister making herself comfy on our mother’s bed. She pulled out the bible from the nightstand, flipped the thin pages and in a slow, methodical voice began reading a random passage from Revelations: “And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon . . . And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him . . .”
    â€œLet me out of here!” Dot screamed. “ Please! Let me out! Help!”
    I should have helped her.
    I should have shredded that essay myself and untied the rope.
    Instead, as Dot kept pleading, as she kept pounding her fists against the door and Rose kept right on reading, I crossed the hall to my room. I climbed into bed, pulled a pillow over my head, and squeezed my eyes shut.
    F or centuries humans have believed in God, Buddha, Yahweh, and so many forms of a higher power. And yet, not one can be seen. Why do the same people who believe in those deities doubt the existence of darker spirits? I ask all of you, how can a person believe in the light but not the dark? How, when all evidence points to the basic facts of dualities? There is the light of the sun and the dark of the moon. There is the heat of summer and the cold of winter. Even a simple magnet demonstrates positive and negative energy. So when people ask for proof, I know they want stories about things my wife and I have encountered, and I can tell plenty. But first, I point out that they already have all the proof they need. Any of us here has only to observe the opposing energies of the world we live in, and it’s proven time and again: If there is good, there is bad. If you believe in one, you must accept the existence of the other.”
    I opened my eyes. The house was dark, silent. My nightlight and digital clock were still dead, which meant the electricity had yet to be turned on. My pillow had fallen to the floor. I retrieved it and rolled over, staring at the wall. Those words I’d heard before coming fully awake, they had been spoken by my father. In my drowsy haze, I imagined them taking shape, drifting across the hall into my room, surrounding me in my narrow bed and