George woke the next morning to the sun shining in his face. He tried to cover his head with the pillow, but he could not fall back asleep.
On the way downstairs, he noticed that Eddie’s room was empty. He figured he would join him downstairs for breakfast, as he was eager to continue their conversation from the previous day. The kitchen was also empty. George frowned momentarily, until he heard the familiar sound of the lawnmower springing into action in the distance.
George sighed as he plopped down with a bowl and a box of cereal. At least today was Eddie’s last day of being grounded. He thought about going to the boathouse alone, but he remembered his promise to Eddie.
George returned upstairs to take a shower. He only promised not to go through it, but he could still go look around. He knew he was just making up excuses to himself, but it helped him deal with his guilty conscience. He absentmindedly went through the motions of washing, not concerned if he was really getting clean. His thoughts focused on the boathouse. He returned to his room to get dressed, throwing on the first thing he came across that passed the sniff test. He stopped in Eddie’s room on his way downstairs.
From Eddie’s second story window, he could see him cutting the grass. He smiled to himself, not only because of the boathouse, but because he felt like he had his friend back. George felt closer to his brother like they were back in their younger years.
George glanced around his brother’s room, not to be nosy, but just out of acknowledgement of how much his once close sibling had changed. No longer littered with toys and matchbox cars, it had slowly been transformed with football memorabilia and posters of swimsuit models. George turned to walk out of the room, when he tripped over Eddie’s discarded jeans from the previous day. He kicked them lightly with his foot and stepped around them; then he noticed a small folded note protruding from the back pocket. He glanced around nervously, even though he could still hear the hum of the mower outside. He pulled out the note, making a mental image of how it was folded and carefully unwrapped it, feeling a twinge of guilt as he read the words.
Eddie,
We really need to talk. You told me you thought I was acting weird. Truth is I probably have been. I have just been dreading this conversation for the past two weeks. But we have to have it. Can you meet me this weekend? Alone?
Love,
Sarah
George folded the note and placed it back in the pocket of Eddie’s jeans. So this was the mystery girl that Eddie and Jake were talking about. Funny, George didn’t know of anyone named Sarah. How could Eddie be dating someone or breaking up with a girl and never mention her name? He thought about what he had read in the note and wondered what it meant, but figured he wouldn’t worry about it. He wasn’t even supposed to know that Eddie knew this girl. George glanced out the window again at his brother. Eddie had stopped to drink from his water bottle. The July heat was already in full swing.
Promise me you won’t use it anymore, at least not without me, Eddie’s warning about the boathouse echoed in his head.
There’s no harm in just looking around. It was his discovery, after all. George was out the front door without another thought.
George made it to the tree house in record time. He set his bag down, and looked over at the boathouse to make sure no one had been there. Everything appeared to be as they’d left it the day before. He walked over to the boathouse, no longer nervous about trespassing. He kept his promise to Eddie, sticking to the outside. He looked around for any clues that might help explain the situation. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he decided to check out the house.
He walked past the rusty swing set, up to the back door. George reached up, half expecting the door to be unlocked, but when he twisted it, the doorknob didn’t budge. The windows along the back of the house were dusty, and appeared to have been boarded up for some time. The weeds were tall, and reached to the bottom of the windowsills. George wiped the dust with the palm of his hand, but he couldn’t see much through the boards. He was about to give up and go fishing for the afternoon when something caught his eye. He squinted harder, and realized it was the small doll he’d seen in the boathouse the other day.
He wondered if the little girl had more than one doll. He raced back to the boathouse to see if the doll was still on the shelf where he put it. Although there was little light inside, he could see that the doll was missing.
“I thought you were going to wait for me! What are you doing here, George?” Eddie appeared out of nowhere.
“I wasn’t going to go through. I was just looking for a doll!” Startled, George said the words without realizing what he’d said.
“I didn’t know you were into dolls. Boy have I had it all wrong.” Eddie was laughing too hard to be mad.
“I didn’t go through the side door, Eddie. I didn’t plan on going in at all, but something weird is going on.”
“No kidding, dork. Boathouses that make you move in time, my kid brother playing with dolls, tell me something I don’t know!” Eddie, now in a playful mood, looked around the boathouse—his eyes seeming to take inventory.
“Follow me.” George wasn’t in a playful mood. He was serious and wanted to show Eddie that the doll was real. He ran back to the house, and pointed to the doll through the dirt-covered window. “See that doll? It was in the boathouse last time we were here. I put it on the shelf.”
“How do you know it’s the same doll? Little girls have lots of dolls,” Eddie reasoned.
“Because I know. The doll that was in the boathouse yesterday isn’t there anymore—it’s inside the house. I think the little girl that used to live here is trying to tell me something. Eddie, I think she’s dead. You have to trust me. I had this dream, and she was in it. With a doll—this doll.”
“So you’re saying that a ghost is trying to talk to you? Better yet, that a ghost girl wants to play dolls with you.” George’s older brother rolled his eyes and laughed. “Why don’t you just go in if you want to play?” Eddie walked over to the door, and reached for the doorknob before George could tell him that he’d already checked the door. The door creaked open.
Eddie and George just stared at each other. Eddie stopped laughing. Without a word spoken, the two brothers entered the old Miller house.
The house smelled stale and musty, and all the furniture was covered in sheets. The boys stood in the kitchen area; the dining room table seemed to be the only furniture uncovered. Newspaper articles littered the table. Eddie picked one up and stared at the picture of a little girl.
Emily Miller, age five, disappeared from her Brunson home two weeks ago this Saturday. Her parents reported that on July 30th, Emily was playing in their backyard when she disappeared without a trace. Neighbors reported that they saw nothing suspicious.
The search continues in the rural Brunson area, as well as an ongoing search of the lake, located behind the property.
“Emily would never go near the lake. She was a strong swimmer and knew that she wasn’t to go near the water unsupervised,” said Emily’s father, the day of the disappearance.
If anyone has any information regarding Emily’s disappearance, please contact the Brunson Police Department, by calling 555-2746.
Eddie set the clipping down, and used his hand to fan out several more articles, all spanned out over many months.
“Look at all these. There must be fifty of them.” George joined his brother at the table, the doll in his hands.
“Eddie, that’s the little girl from my dream—the girl with the doll. This doll. I remember her face, but she had on a green dress, and she was in the woods.” George held up the doll to show Eddie, and he could see his brother cover his arms to hide the fact that he had chill bumps but would probably never admit it.
“You know, before you showed me that boathouse, I would never have believed you. But now, I really think anything is possible. I just don’t know why she would come to you in a dream.” Eddie looked a little pale.
“She was warning me about the boathouse, I think. I was chasing you, remember? That was the night I woke you up.”
“Yeah, I remember that night. I just don’t know what any of this means, or what it has to do with the boathouse.” Eddie looked one last time at the mess on the table.
I guess the rumors were true,” George acknowledged.
Among the scattered news clippings were several homemade flyers with the little girl’s picture, as well as hand-written notes with dozens of names and phone numbers.
“We should go now, George. It doesn’t seem right to be here.” Eddie turned toward the door.
George could see a serious side to his brother he had never seen before. “Wait a minute.”
Without waiting for an answer, George took off at a quick pace to the staircase at the front of the house. He could hear his brother calling his name behind him, but he didn’t reply. Taking the steps two at a time, he quickly reached the top landing. He glanced in both directions, and decided to try the doors to the right of the stairs.
The first door opened into a small office. The furniture in the room was not covered as the downstairs was. He could see from the doorway that there were more news clippings spread across an oak computer desk. He closed the door and tried the one directly across the hall.
“George! What are you doing?” Eddie marched angrily up the stairs. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
George didn’t answer, instead, he walked across the room, assuming it was Emily’s, to the canopy bed in the middle. He gently set the doll on the pillow. Eddie came to the doorway, but didn’t follow George into the room, nor did he stop him.
“Where are you, Emily? Are you dead?” George whispered at the pink bedspread. He shivered at the thought of hearing an answer to that question, and joined his brother in the hall. “I’m ready to go now.”
The two boys walked in silence out of the house, both deep in thought. Eddie closed the door behind them, careful not to disturb anything else. George wondered if Eddie had locked it. George led the way once again to his tree house, where the two brothers sat and reflected over their recent discoveries.
“So, the rumors are all true. There really is a little girl that disappeared,” Eddie said to himself as much as to his brother. “You really think it’s the same girl from your dream?”
“I think so. The dream seems kind of fuzzy now, but I feel it more than anything. It’s weird, Eddie. Being in that house, I feel connected to her. I can’t explain it.” George rubbed the goose bumps on his arms this time, even though the heat was in the upper nineties outside.
“Do you think she’s dead?”
“I don’t think so. I did at first, but after being in her room, things felt, well, different. It’s hard to explain. Her room felt lived in, where the rest of the house felt stale and musty. Her room felt like a home, if that doesn’t sound weird.” George looked up to see if his brother laughed at his description, but he just nodded as if he understood.
“So where is she, then?” Eddie wondered out loud.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”
The boys sat in silence for a few minutes before Eddie noticed the time. “I have to get back home, before Mom notices that I’m gone. Don’t go back in there,” he demanded, and quickly added, “or the boathouse.” George sat and watched as his older brother and best friend walked down the dirt path, away from the house.
It was almost lunchtime, but he wasn’t hungry. He retrieved his fishing rod, but didn’t feel like fishing. George tried to find something to do to occupy his mind. He took off his shoes, and dangled his feet over the edge of the dock. He sat his rod down and stared at the water, wondering if the little girl had drowned. He wondered again if his grandfather had known the Millers when they still lived here, and was saddened at the thought that he could never ask him himself.
George packed up his stuff and headed home early. He crept up to his room and closed his door quietly. He opened his dresser drawer, and pulled out a stack of pictures he had in the bottom. He wiped his nose and eyes with the back of his hand, not even aware that he’d started crying. One by one, George flipped through the pictures he had of his grandfather.
He ran across his favorite picture. It was one of himself, when he was very young, proudly holding up his first fish. Standing next to him in the picture was his grandfather. It was the day he taught him to fish, and really made him love the sport. From that moment forward, while Eddie would be hanging out with all his friends, George would spend as much time as possible with his grandfather, fishing.
He loved to hear the old war stories his grandpa would tell. Eddie would complain about how boring they were, but George thought they were fascinating, and could listen for hours. As his grandfather grew sicker, the stories grew shorter and shorter. Now, he would give anything just for one more story.
That evening, George didn’t eat much of his dinner, and excused himself back to his room, only stopping long enough for his mother to feel his forehead and ask if he felt sick. He mumbled something about feeling tired and headed to bed.