Going Going Wrong
Lizzy and I are bound together by the Explorer's Creed. No, that's not some ancient pirate code, nor is it really that old. We made it when we first decided to be best friends, at age six, and wrote it in shaky bad spelling with the forbidden permanent marker snatched from her mother's desk. It's tucked in a tree somewhere, probably still protected by the elements. As we've grown up, we've still stood by it, all these years.
One day, Lizzy called on the Creed and made us go to up to the snowline, about five miles away from Shaver Lake. As we trudged through the snow, well-bundled for the trip, she told me about the cabin that was presumed haunted.
"I've already paid rent for a few days," she said, jangling a pair of keys in her gloved hand and looking altogether too triumphant.
Upon arriving, the first thing we did was unpack. That was part of the Creed, a bit we'd developed over the years: Explorers always unpacked first, to establish their base and presence. As we yanked warm sweaters and long-sleeved shirts from our duffels, the sliding door began to shudder.
"Is that the wind?" Lizzy asked, lifting her head from her duffel.
I shook my head. "It's inside."
She grinned widely. "Let's go check it out."
As we crept closer to the door, it slowly creaked open, shivering in the old rusty track. Lizzy reached out and put her fingers on the handle. Instantly, the movement stopped.
Frowning, Lizzy pulled the door closed. "Hmm. Maybe it was the wind."
We settled in and decided to take the night off after the long trudge up the mountain. "Our boots were so loud, we probably scared off anything paranormal," I joked as we prepared dinner.
That night, as we prepared for bed, something in the other room crashed loudly. We both jumped and whirled around. Lizzy's reaction, of course, was to sprint for the other room, while I pulled my usual cautionary methods and hung back a little.
We approached the room. Something with cold little fingers crawled down my spine, but I blew it off as fear. Lizzy turned to say something to me, and her eyes went wide. "Oh my god. Raevyn. There's a dark shadow. By your shoulder!"
Her last three words elongated into a wail as I snatched her hand and dashed back into our room. The door slammed shut behind us.
We'd never actually run into a ghost before; this was a first. It didn't take much shivering and whispering to decide it was time to get out of here.
We started packing up our clothes. Suddenly Lizzy froze, staring stiffly over my shoulder. "Raevyn...there's a face..."
Ever so slowly, I turned around. Just outside the window stood a tall, dark shadow, a man with no face or features.
Grabbing my half-filled duffel, I dragged the frozen, trembling Lizzy out into the snow, running in the opposite direction, praying the man wouldn't follow. Up ahead, the light of the rental house bloomed into the shape of a window; I burst through the door and slammed the keys to the cabin on the desk.
"Is -- is there something wrong?" The mild man at the desk swiveled in his chair and peered over his glasses at me, looking slightly amused at my bursting in.
I opened my mouth to answer, but Lizzy finally found her voice. "Of course there's something wrong! We're Explorers! Explorers just don't abandon an adventure without good cause!"
"Liz, I'll take this," I said, gently guiding her to a seat nearby. Returning to the desk, I explained in as calm a voice as I could what we had seen at the haunted cabin.
The man turned away, and I thought for a brief second that he was simply going to ignore us. But he punched a few buttons in the computer, asked me some details about the ghostly sightings, and then printed out a receipt. "The money's back on your friend's card," he said without ceremony.
Surprised, I took the paper. "Thanks."
"Give us a call if you have any future sightings," he called as we left.
We may be explorers, Lizzy and I, but we have never returned to the cabin. Any time I mention it, Lizzy interrupts me with, "What's wrong with you?"
Then the cold shivers dance down our spines.
