Page 23 of The Haunting of the Mountain

I catch my audience up with what has happened since my last check-in before diving into what brings me to a dark, spooky basement.

“I’m at the Whispering Winds Library to investigate the local lore. Unfortunately, their main history book has been checked out so I’ll be scouring their newspapers on…” I grab the camera and pan it to the machines. “Microfilm. Just like the movies. I swear I feel like some amazing researcher when I pull out a reel and turn those dials. And in a place like this?” I pan the camera around me, showing the basement level of the library. “I have no doubt I’ll find something spooky.”

I hear footsteps and the sound of overhead lights clicking on. At first, they’re far away, a muted thud, but as they move closer they’re accompanied by a sharp jangle of metal.

“It’s probably Stone,” I say, but I know the truth. The footsteps are too light. “I’ll go ahead and leave this on… just in case.”

My mind is racing as fast as my heart. A part of me wants to glance around the corner. The other part of me wants to stay alive, so I stay put.

The lights stop turning on, but then I hear more footsteps. They’re moving away, and I feel the heaviness in my chest lessen. They’re looking for a book in the stacks—that’s all this is.I’m in apubliclibrary.People look for books. I’m not the only one here.

I sigh, turning my attention to the cabinets behind me. I should start researching if I want to find something useful for tonight’s ghost hunt.

I’m hoping to explore the old lumber mill, but it seems like Stone is a little hesitant. It’s been abandoned for so long that it’s likely a health risk. But unless he comes up with some other options, I’m not sure another night at his cabin will be fruitful. Not for ghosts, at least.

My body lights up. My mind swirls with thoughts I’ve tried to suppress. Thoughts of Stone tearing off his flannel, lifting me off the ground, and carrying me to bed. All those muscles. All that hair. His thick—slam!

I jolt out of my reverie and turn to see a scowling man in coveralls next to me.

“Heard you’as lookin’ fer a book.”

Was that English? I can hardly make out what he’s saying because his voice is so guttural. I know I’m not the best at English, but I’m pretty sure that book only has one syllable.

“What?”

He grabs a book from the metal cabinet and offers it to me.

“History ah Whisperin’ Winds. S’all here.”

“Okay…” I say, grabbing it as I keep quiet and try not to get myself gutted like a fish in the basement of a library by the creepiest man I’ve ever seen. “Thanks.”

He sucks at his teeth, all yellowed and haggard, the perfect compliment to hisroughappearance. Long scraggly hair hangs in greasy clumps around a patchy beard. I don’t remember it raining but the man looks soggy and wilting. And I think it has been a few days or weeks since his last shower based on his strange odor.

My gaze drops to his name tag. Vernon or something like it. It’s hard to make out the cursive on his old and frayed coveralls. He makes a throaty sound like he’s about to cough up some phlegm as he leans against the cabinet.

“Thanks?” I say again, still not sure what else this man wants.

He grunts, his dark, bottomless eyes chilling me to the core. It feels like he’s been staring at me for an eternity. Finally, he turns around and leaves me alone, but I doubt I’ll be washing off this creepy feeling any time soon.

I mouth WTF to the camera once I feel like he’s far enough away. But when I pick it up, the battery is completely drained. I charged it this morning. It was full power a few minutes ago, I swear.

What in the hell is going on? I turn it around, inspecting it, wondering if I’d somehow damaged it. I’m so focused on troubleshooting, that I don’t even notice Stone until he touches my shoulder.

I shout, jerking my body away like I’ve been struck by cold water in the shower.

“Shit,” Stone says, “I’m sorry.”

I turn around, breathing a sigh of relief when I see his face.

“Didn’t mean to spook you.” He’s genuinely apologetic, and I feel bad about my reaction. After a few deep breaths, I pull out a chair and take a seat, exhaling long and slow.

“I know. I’m a little on edge after my run-in with the resident creepy janitor.”

“Janitor?”

“Yeah, the pale, thin dude in blue coveralls. Gray hair and black eyes. Looked like he’d hopped in a vat of canola oil. Reminded me of the skeleton fromTales from the Crypt."

Stone stares at me blankly, shifting into concern as he walks toward me. “Must have missed him. Haven’t seen anyone else down here, except for a few people at the tables by the stairs.”

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