I Confess

‘Me too!’ said Jessie.

‘Fine, then,’ said Edie.

‘Five girls,’ said Murph. ‘HELEN, CLARE, JESSIE, LAURA, and BABY EDIE … were driving out of town when, right in front of them, a towering oak fell from the skies and landed inches from their car. Laura tried to reverse, but behind them the hedge over the ditch split wide open and a river of mud and branches and stones poured through it, filling the road. The girls were trapped! What were they going to do? They were exhausted and so far from home. Then lightning struck, and pointed, like the needle of a compass, to … Rathbrook Manor – no more than a mile from where they sat.

‘“Why don’t we stay there for the night?” said Laura. “There may be a boy inside that I haven’t kissed yet!”

‘“Nonsense!” said Clare. “There’s not a single boy in Beara that girl hasn’t kissed!”

‘“Yes – let’s stay at the manor!” said Jessie, cracking open her fifth can of cider, looking up at the spires of the manor, which were a total blur, and, in fact, a tree.

‘“No!” screamed Edie, screaming hysterically. “I’ll scream if you make me stay there!” she screamed. Hysterically.

‘“Don’t tell me you believe in the Ghost of the Manor!” said Laura.

‘“Of course I don’t believe in ghosts!” said Edie. ‘It’s just … I have nothing with me! How can I possibly wear the same outfit two days in a row?”

‘The girls agreed that the manor was NOT haunted and so they decided to stay there, and they set off to walk the mile to the door. When they arrived, the manor was all locked up and in total darkness. Edie screamed. Laura punched her in the face and they walked on through the grounds until they stumbled across a dormitory. They peered in the window and saw row after row of iron beds, all of them empty. As they approached the door, it creaked open, and they all walked in. They each took a bed, side by side, and after hours talking about some ride they knew called Murph, they finally drifted off to sleep.

‘In the middle of the night, Laura woke with a start to find herself staring silently at a ghost standing three feet from the end of her bed. Beside her, Helen woke with a start to find herself staring silently at a ghost that stood three feet from the end of her bed. The same happened to Clare, and then to Jessie. The last bed in the line was Edie’s. When she woke to find a ghost standing three feet from the end of her bed, she was instantly hysterical, and she screamed at the ghost: “Who are you?”

‘And the ghost replied: “I am the Ghost of the Manor. And I am yours.”

‘Edie turned slowly to her left, and realized that each friend had a different ghost at the end of her bed.

‘As each girl stared at the ghost before her, all five ghosts stepped forward into the silvery moonlight that slanted across the ends of the beds like the blade of a knife. Each ghost had died a different way: Laura’s was bruised and broken, its eyeballs dangling from their sockets; Helen’s was covered in tyre tracks, its limbs at odd angles; Clare’s had half its head missing; Jessie’s was pristine; and Edie’s was covered in burns.

‘The friends’ mouths opened wider than a mouth naturally should, and their screams emerged as though ripped by the claws of a bear from the centre of their soul. But the source of their terror was not simply the apparitions that stood before them, nor the horror of their wounds. It was because each girl’s ghost looked exactly like her, just … older – maybe ten years, maybe thirty, maybe fifty. But the likeness was unmistakable!

‘Across this group of friends rippled the same realization: they had been RIGHT: the manor was NOT haunted. And this would be proven when, after they left, wherever they went, their ghost would reappear … some would say “without warning”. But, of course, each ghost DID carry a warning, a GRAVE warning. For it was not the Ghost of the MANOR. It was the Ghost … of the … MANNER … of DEATH.

‘And on that first night, as the friends were faced with the terrifying spectacle of the death that would befall them at some point thereafter, they were all struck by one thing: EDIE’S ghost, despite the burns that marked it, looked … the YOUNGEST.’

Everyone gasped, then gasped again as smoke started to rise around Murph.

Edie pointed. ‘Oh my God – smoke!’

Murph was unperturbed. ‘What?’

‘I’m serious!’ said Edie. ‘There’s actual smoke!’

‘Where?’ said Murph.

‘All around you!’ said Edie.

‘There is!’ said Laura.

Murph turned and looked. ‘Oh Jesus, lads. I was warned! If you tell this story on Hallowe’en night, it’ll come true.’

‘What?’ said Edie, getting to her feet. ‘Why did you tell it? What do you mean, it’ll come true?’

‘Unless,’ said Murph, ‘we all say “Sister Cuntsolata” three times backwards.’

Everyone looked at him.

Murph burst out laughing. ‘It’s a smoke bomb. Special effects, lads. Special effects.’

‘You prick!’ said Laura. ‘Where did you get your hands on a smoke bomb?’

‘I made it!’ said Murph. ‘A bit of this, a bit of that.’

Jessie reached into Laura’s bag for another can. She turned to Murph. ‘Can I still say Sister Cuntsolata three times?’

‘You can, of course,’ said Murph. A rush of white smoke appeared behind him.

‘Right!’ said Clare. ‘Open the door, someone. I’ve seen my cousins with these – there’s a reason you’re only meant to use them outside.’

‘Jesus – I know,’ said Murph. ‘Relax. It was only for a minute. Then I was going to fuck it out across the grass. I even have my protective glove lined up.’

‘So you want to draw the nuns on us?’ said Laura. ‘Throwing it out across the grass? No fucking way.’

‘To create a distraction,’ said Murph.

Edie started to cough.

‘The drama,’ said Murph.

‘Can you just put the fucking thing out?’ said Laura.

‘It’s not on fire,’ said Murph. ‘It’s fine. It’s safe.’

‘I’m happy here with my cans,’ said Jessie, closing her eyes, smiling.

Helen and Laura exchanged glances. ‘Locked,’ Helen mouthed.

‘Probably better off,’ said Laura.

Murph was starting to disappear into a cloud of smoke. ‘Okaaay,’ he said, standing up. ‘Maybe open the door.’

‘Why are there flames, then?’ said Jessie, looking up at everyone.

‘What?’ said Edie, panicked.

‘If it’s not on fire,’ said Jessie. ‘Murph said it wasn’t on fire.’

‘I can’t see any flames,’ said Clare.

‘There really are flames,’ said Jessie. She pointed into the corner. ‘Are those not flames?’