Twelve Months by Steven Manchester Read Free Book Online

now, Charles. And I’ll never let you go again.” At that very moment, the boy choked to death.
    That legend witnessed many seasons and outlived many people who tried to dispel it. It undoubtedly grew larger through the ages, so by the time my brother and I caught wind of it, it was bigger than our own lives. It was rumored that the place was going to be a funeral home, but the window boards never came down. Instead, the eerie house continued to serve as a test of courage to adolescents who were chased off the property by town police.
    For years, I sprinted past the place on my way to and from school. And though it witnessed all of my childhood woes and triumphs, most of the time I never spared the place a look. As my courage grew, though, so did Joseph’s challenges.
    On one late September night when I was ten, I decided to take my brother up on his dare. After all the years of harboring fear of the place, I was finally willing to face the demons of Loretta Biggins – and perhaps even my own.
    It was autumn in Massachusetts and there was no prettier place on Earth. On this night, the whole world was perfect – except for the Biggins’s place. It loomed over me worse than my overactive imagination. I’d agreed to the wager only if I could take Dewey, my best friend, along. Joseph agreed.
    Peter Duhon, or Dewey, was a heavy-set kid who was a bit too jaded for his age. Though cocky, it was only a defensive trait to combat his low self-esteem. His overprotective father was the complete opposite of mine and showed me what a good dad could be. As a result, Dewey was hell-bent on being somebody; being successful and having money, which he was convinced would bring him all the happiness he’d ever need.
    Donned in our hooded sweatshirts, Dewey and I started for the house. I doubted that Old Lady Biggins’s laughter would be any match for that of my cynical brother’s. Under the faint light of a crescent moon, like Marines hitting the beach, Dewey and I approached the place on bicycles. There was never a shortage of drama in our neighborhood. I was just nearing the overgrown yard when I actually felt a presence – an invisible, unfriendly presence. I looked over at Dewey, but my best friend was already high-tailing it home. He’d obviously felt the same thing. Unwilling to face Joseph’s ruthless teasing, I gritted my teeth and willed myself closer. It was then that I heard it. Though faint, it was the distinct sound of a sea captain’s whistle. I expected to find my brother in wait and squinted hard to search the yard for the shoddy ambush. Joseph was nowhere to be found. And then I felt something; it was like a patch of cold air traveling straight through me. I gasped, and at that instant, felt a tormented solitude well up inside of me. I was suddenly lost and alone. In one spine tingling moment, I honestly believed I’d just met the anguished spirit of young Charles Biggins.
    The boy’s energy was wandering aimlessly, unaware of the great sin he’d committed; unaware of his natural place in the universe. Although the experience reached beyond bizarre, for reasons unknown I did not feel afraid. Instead, it seemed that all of the fear in the world belonged to Charles. The boy was trapped, imprisoned, without knowing any means of escape. Surprising myself, I called out, “Charles?” I saw and heard nothing, but the stiff hairs on the back of my neck announced that the boy was nearby. I could think of nothing but trying to help. “You no longer belong here, Charles,” I told him. “You must go.” The spirit’s feelings of despair only increased. Nearly paralyzed, I realized that this boy was in hell; the very hell he’d created when he’d tried to cheat nature by cutting his time short on Earth. He was still connected to this earthly dimension and would probably serve his remaining time alone – lost and scared. I had to get out