The Caretaker

Something different and a bit silly

I used to warn people that the old Delacourt place was haunted, but I’ve pretty much given up on that. It’s not that they didn’t believe me. No, the problem was that they did. For a while, it felt like there was a new group of kids trying to break in there every weekend. And of course, nothing I said could ever keep them out.

“Don’t go in there,” I said. “There’s a pretty good chance they’ll either kill you or make you wish you were dead.”

Then there’d be questions thrown at me from all directions, like I was the last kid left to be hit in dodgeball.

“Is it really haunted?”

“Who’s it haunted by?”

“Have you gone in there before?”

“Have you seen any of the ghosts?”

That was always where I lost them. Sure, I’d shoo them away for now, but later I’d find a busted door or window and, if I was lucky, one or two of the kids huddled in terror outside. Then I’d have to call the sheriff again so he could come talk to the girls (it was usually girls who got out) and file a report. The ghosts had a spooky way of only grabbing kids whose parents either weren’t around or didn’t care enough to make a stink about it. They never messed with the cops, though. Maybe they still had some weird post-mortem fear of the law. Or they just didn’t want to spend eternity with a bunch of donut-munchers.

So now I only tell the kids about the most boring hazards I can think of. The floors are rotten and might break under your weight. There’s a shit ton of asbestos in there. It’s full of spiders. That kinda thing. Hey, all of those things are probably true. It’s not my job to go in there. I’m just here to keep the weeds down and the windows boarded up. When they ask about the ghost stories, I say they’re just that. Stories. Shit made up on social media by people who don’t live in this town and have way too much free time. Sometimes, if they’re especially persistent, I’ll remind them that this is private property and they’re technically breaking the law just by standing here. I’ve still had one or two break-ins over the years, but hey, I can’t say I didn’t warn them.

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I wrote this story a few months ago, then promptly forgot about it. It wasn’t until a day or two ago that I realized it would work for S.E. Reid’s flash fiction contest. Enjoy! (Image generated by NightCafe)