The Light in Zedediah McCumber’s Chicken House
An overconfident theology major delves into forbidden subjects.
“Let’s do it,” I said, shining the light where he indicated.
Tommy managed to get up on the bench unscathed and he placed the equipment on the wall. He tossed me the cables and I went out to the car, plugged them into the computer, and turned it on. In a few minutes Tommy came out to see if I had accomplished my task. “I’m going to go back inside and we’ll see if everything works,” he said.
He headed back inside and I could see him on the monitor. “Let’s make sure it works before we do anything,” he said, looking at camera. He came back out. “All good?” He asked.
“I could see you and hear you,” I said.
“I’m going back inside, it’s almost midnight. I’ll communicate with you through the monitor and by cell phone. The voice recorder should catch everything else.”
“I’ll see you on the other side,” I responded.
Tommy went back in and began, in true ghost hunter fashion, to speak with any disembodied individuals who might want to communicate. I don’t recall anything in particular, but he said things like, “If anyone is here I’d like to speak with you. Please make your presence known.” At that time and for about 15 minutes or so, we had no success in reaching out to any spirit.
I suppose it’s fair to say that we had no success, ever, in reaching out to a spirit. No one and nothing replied to Tommy’s inquiries. Instead, something reached out to us.
Around half past midnight was when I thought I heard music. It sounded like something from ages ago, and it was accompanied by singers. The singing sounded very much like it was performed by a woman, maybe more than one. I did not recognize their ancient melody.
Then the laptop failed. No, it didn’t fail. The screen blinked and stayed dark for a few seconds.
The monitor blinked off and then back on, off and on again. It was then that I definitely heard singing and music. It was off in the distance and I turned my head to the side, unwillingly, to hear it better. I was unable to move. I was paralyzed, but I could see the monitor and I could tell that Tommy couldn’t move either. He couldn’t move, and evidently he couldn’t speak.
Then I saw the light. Probably both of us saw the light. There was no reason for light to be there, but there it was. It was bright enough to see through the open door, and then I saw it on the monitor. It wasn’t just light, it was what I can only describe as a ring of light, a portal, of pale blue light. Then I saw it. It looked like a headless unsheared sheep with an indescribable pink mouth where the head should be. It was full of teeth.
The four-legged monstrosity stepped from the portal and immediately extended a mass of fleshy tentacles from its body. They whipped around and about, lashing out at Tommy. He remained immobile, as I was, and I am thankful, selfishly, that I could not see his face.
Are ghosts real? I didn’t know at the time, but after that experience I was willing to speculate that they are, because there are things that can manifest on the earthly plane and cause you to have nightmares for years to come. There are things that are simply wrong, and don’t belong here.
In conclusion, my testimony to the reader is simple: Don’t make the mistake that Tommy Davenport made. Don’t be a scholar who seeks out a reality that he’s not truly ready to face. It may seem like an adventure in academia. It may seem like a game. If it is, it’s a dark game that can have dark consequences.
The last time I drove down McCumber Road, both of the chicken houses had been torn down. According to Mackenson Institute officials, Tommy transferred to another school and then dropped out of sight. The truth is, of course, quite different. I don’t know if he’s alive. I doubt it, because the last time I saw Tommy Davenport he was wrapped in those tentacles and being pulled closer and closer to that terrible mouth.
The End.
© 2023-2026 Ren Adama
