To Summon What They Should Not

The clock had slipped into Sunday morning three hours ago, with a heavy hanging full moon being the only light offered to the trio. Fog coasted the cemetery grounds, making each of their steps appear as if they were trudging through the dreary clouds. Holding the camera tight within her grasp, Nevaeh watched the pair of guys in front of her as they picked their way between the graves. They were far too chipper, far too eager, and far too disrespectful for this setting, but that nothing new.

Still, she hiked the bag up her shoulder, and made sure to watch her steps through the darkened grounds. Her steps were silent, despite the crunch that should have come from the dried leaves under her feet. The single echoing of an owl in the distance was the only noise to break through the guy’s chattering into their mics. In between each heavily over acted line of “the ghost was seen over there” and “sure hope we don’t wake any evil spirits tonight” Nevaeh tried to ignore the ear-splitting silence that passed through the air.

From the corner of her gaze, she caught sight of something moving through the graves. Nevaeh stopped her steps and quickly turned her light to search for movement, the beads in her hair created a hallow echoing through the night as the clashed together. The quick darting of a creature three rows down caused her to drop the heavy bag of equipment. It was only on realizing it was nothing but a deer darting away, did Nevaeh feel safe trying to catch her breath. She brushed her braids back over her shoulder. Her hands shook slightly.

“Here! This is where we are going to do it!”

That was her cue to gather the fallen items and rush to where the two guys were standing. She listened as they prattled on, baiting the live audience with what they planned on doing. When the camera moved to Nevaeh’s face, she did her best to hide the eye roll as Cyrus began to set up the so called ‘summoning circle’.

“Why don’t you lean me a hand,” he asked, offering Nevaeh up a set of candles. His gaze was directed onto a rather unremarkable grave, not even bothering to turn his tanned face towards her. His shoulders were hunched under his jacket, causing the hood of it to bunch around his ears and back of his ball-cap. There was something setting his spine tight, and Nevaeh assured herself it was just the chill in the air. Her own shoulders were shaking from the chill, despite the hefty plaid hoodie covering her frame.

She took the candles, careful to place them in the exact position they needed to be. They’d been running through the steps of the ritual for the last few hours, Cyrus demanding that they get everything perfect. This was their one shot, he’d repeated over and over again, their one shot to make a real name for themselves – to prove that they were different than any of the other ghost hunters on the platform. They weren’t just gimmicks and fake scares, they were professionals, ones that would show the audience a real and true ghost sighting.

“This is very serious guys,” the ridiculous smirk on Mike’s lips was strong as he grabbed the camera and place it on himself. His blonde hair had lost most of the volume he’d put all that moose into achieving, so it flopped around his forehead with each giddy bounce in his step. “If we mess up, we might get haunted.”

She didn’t resist the eye roll as he danced around them, echoing off a poor mimicry of what a ghost was meant to sound like. She highly doubted if they did summon any spirits, that it would sound like a cheap Scooby-Doo ghost; but what did she know, she wasn’t a professional ghost hunter, she was just their spare hands for a camera and their so labeled hot girl to place on the thumbnail.

“Face the camera on me,” Cyrus directed.

Nevaeh took the camera from Mike – who was walking around a large tombstone with a towering depiction of the Virgin Mary carved into the stone – and did as instructed. Cyrus was standing behind the gravestone. The candle lights flickered in the darkening night. The graveyard was quiet around them.

When the lens was level with him, he adjusted his ball cap and leaned close into the camera. In the low cast moonlight, his eyes were even darker than normal. With the eager glee in his face, he looked like a teenager who’s snuck out for the first time, and not a twenty-six year old man who was hoping this viral live stream would be the payday he needed.

“We are going to try to summon the ghost of Avery Whitmore,” Cyrus started to speak into the camera. “She was a witch during the early settlement of this town. But before we do that, and this is really important Ghoul Squad, I need you to remember, don’t try this at home. We are professionals and are highly trained to enact these sorts of rituals.”

By highly trained, he must have meant the quick Google search and hours of practicing placing those candles in a circle. Nevaeh wasn’t going to protest the over flatting of their so called “experience”. The channel made decent money, and as she thought of the beaten up van she drove – with the flickering Check Engine light and the back window that liked to roll down on its own – she figured the money was more important then the cold running down her spine and her irritation for this so called ritual.

But it was working, based on the number of views and the collapsed chat going crazy in the corner of the feed. They were eating all of this up. The comments were flying. The numbers were rising. The memberships and donations were racking up those dollar bills. They’d surpassed their last live stream numbers by a hundred or so – 27,340 live views and rising.

“She was accused of killing six kids who had made fun of her daughter. Poisoned them with candy she made in her shop.” Cyrus spoke with an almost revelry to his voice. “She placed a curse on the town after she died, and its a curse that we still deal with now.”

Nevaeh kept her thoughts to herself about the so called curse. Small towns always had their quirks.

“This is her grave right here and Whitmore was hung from a tree not too far from this spot.” Mike pointed off to the darkness, to a tree that hung with heavy branches over a slow flowing stream. “And then they burned her body, but, and get this, no matter how hot the fire got, her body would not burn. Spooky huh?”

“The candles will attract the witch’s spirit to us. Once summoned, we will need to remain completely calm. As long as we remain within the light of these candles, she cannot hurt us. How are you doing, Nevaeh? Everything good before we start?”

Nevaeh brought her thumbs up in front of the camera. “All good.”

Setting the camera on the tripod, she did a quick check of the chat to make sure they were still holding their attention. The number of views were still looking good.

cant wait to see a ghost – ginny3345

show me the witch – pervertonmain

a wtich is pretty spooky – JulieGrains4Eva

FindersKeepers Subbed for 4 months

DamselInYourDress Donated $25

Love that you guys are real ghost hunters – booksmakeyoutravel

its my brithday 13 years old cansoemone gift me sub – kpopislife

mike is sooooo hot – livingthedaydream

SharksAreFriends gifted a sub to kpopislife

my mom doesn’t know im still awake lol gotta be quiet so excited – schoolisjail

GuyInAGuySuit Donated $100

Cyrus and Mike placed themselves beside the grave, relighting the candles which had blown out, and holding their hands into the air. Cyrus began to chant some gibberish sounding words that if she listened closely, almost sounded like a real language as he lite a bundle of incense.

Movement caught in the corner of her gaze. Writing it off as just another deer, Nevaeh kept her focus on the view finder, tracking the burning incense the boys now passed between them. The glow of the embers burned brightly. The candles encircling them flickered rapidly but all of them remained lit despite the wind that was tearing its way through the graveyard. As each gust of wind passed around them, it gave a deep and bellowing howl.

“We call to you Avery Whitmore,” Mike spoke over Cyrus’ chanting. He looked around the graveyard, slowly waving the incense through the air. He glanced down at his phone, and the smile wide across his face made it clear that he finally saw the numbers they had achieved.

Mike spoke even more boisterous. “Come and grace us with your presence. We wish to speak with you – to ask you to lift the curse upon this town.”

The movement continued to dart just out of her eyesight. It was hiding behind graves, slowly moving closer to where they were. She could feel the temperature of the graveyard shift as heavy clouds passed over the moon. It got even colder. The little hairs at the base of her neck stood up. Goosebumps grew under her jacket.

The candles surrounding the graves went out all as once. They were basked in darkness; a darkness deeper than she knew was possible. Cyrus’s chanting continued, and even when Mike nudged him to get his attention, their friend continued to sit there, chanting up at the darken sky. His voice deepened until it lowered to a register that was far beyond a human tone. He continued to chant, reciting a serious of strange words over and over again.

“Ooh shit!” Mike expelled, scrambling away.

His back crashed into a grave, and even with his movements blocked, he kept trying to move further away. His hair was dancing wildly from the wind that lashed at him. His hand was gripping at the zipper of his jacket. Terror was plastered across his face – a face that was even whiter than normal as all the blood seemed to drain from his cheeks. As he continued to muttered under his breath, his words were lost under the raising yell of Cyrus’ chanting.

Nevaeh tried to look at Cyrus, but her eyes watered from the strength of the wind. The wind knocked her to her knees. She braced herself against a tombstone as the camera crashed beside her. Lifting the camera, she zoomed it onto her friend’s face. Fear coated each breath as she looked through the viewfinder at the developing scene.

Cyrus’s voice was loud, deep and echoing through the night. The wind had ripped his baseball cap away. There was blanket of darkness over his face. His gaze was locked onto the grave before him, and there was a blankness to his stare.

Despite the candles having gone out, a lingering light still encircled him. The nonexistent flames continued to flicker with a deep red glow. There was smothering darkness outside of the small collection of graves.

Nevaeh’s braids were being blown wildly around her face, the beads clacking together in thunderous echoes. She dropped the camera, its focus still on the flickering distortion that was Cyrus. Nevaeh crawled forward, finding the wind taking the very breathes from her lungs. As she dragged herself across the grass, a second source of bright glowing light came from the left of her. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at the strange addition. Her only focus was on Mike.

“What’s happening?” Mike’s voice shook as he grasped her hand. He pulled her forward, helping to place her back against the cold tombstone.

Opening her eyes, Nevaeh looked up at the towering stone they were using for shelter. The Virgin Mary was standing strong against the rush of wind. The flickering of flames was cast over her weathered face. As Cyrus continued his echoing chant, the wind picked up his voice and carried it through the night.

The blistering light began to overtake the graveyard. Nevaeh’s eyes began to water as she looked at the approaching figure. It was blinding, a form of pure white light that was walking ever so slowly across the field. It passed through each gravestone, nothing seeming to stop its slow walk towards them.

“What is that?” Nevaeh’s voice was shaky as she stared at the creature.

Mike was bracing himself against the gravestone. His face had lost all color to it. “What the fuck! What the fuck is that? What the fuck? Cyrus?”

As Mike continued to muttered the same variation of those phrases, Nevaeh tore her gaze onto Cyrus. His chanting had lowered in volume and began to slow. Their friend had turned his back to them, now standing and facing the creature walking towards them.

It was as if the sun had risen. Bright morning light cascaded over the field. But it was only an illumination that covered the fog filled graveyard; the night sky was still darkened outside the light’s reach.

Nevaeh watched the approaching figure through tear drenched eyes. It was distinctly feminine in form, but there was nothing about the creature that was worldly enough to be labeled as either feminine or masculine. Each step it took was slow, and the glowing light seeped into the ground with each placement of their foot. The light coming off the figure was blinding, still Nevaeh struggled through her tear drenched gaze to keep her sight upon it.

“Cyrus, stop!”

Mike moved beside her. He rose to his feet quickly, being urged forward by the wind against his back. He stumbled forward, screaming their friends name in a desperate plea.

Cyrus had stepped out of the circle of candles and was walking quickly towards the approaching figure. They could only see his back, but his shoulders were slumped forward and he swayed when he walked. Mike, despite the speed of his steps, could not seem to get a grip on Cyrus.

The glowing figure was upon them. The blinding light was nearly impossible to look at. Nevaeh shielded her face, focusing on Cyrus’ back as opposed to the light. He stood, with his back rod rammed straight and his face lifted towards the towering creature. It was at least a head and a half taller than the already tall Cyrus. He was still repeating his chanting, even as the creature raised its elongated arm and placed a hand upon his cheek.

The chanting was replaced by a blood curling scream. Cyrus’ deep voice hit an octave higher than he’d ever managed. His scream continued and continued. Nevaeh had to remove her hand from over her eyes to clasp them over her ears to try and smoother the sound.

The tears in her eyes were both from the light and from the death of her friend that she was forced to watch.

Cyrus began to burn. Light danced across his skin, a light that flickered like the candles which had blown out. Nevaeh had smelled burning flesh before, but those incidents of minor accidents were nothing like the smell overpowering her nose at this moment. The smell was thick, mixing an acrid and disturbingly sweet scent under the growing smell of sulfur. It was more pungent then ever imagined and the odor coated the taste of her tongue – the copper flavor so strong that she felt as if she were gargling pennies.

Cyrus’ screams tore through the air until they were abruptly silenced. Not even the leaves under Nevaeh’s legs crunched as she tried to press herself closer to the grave. It was eerie, the way the silence hurt her ears.

“What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

Mike was standing between her and the glowing figure. He swayed back and forth. He dragged his hand through his hair roughly, and tried to step back. The figure matched his step. Mike stopped moving with a second step hovering above the leaves. The repeated exclamations remained on his lips.

The game of chicken was ended when the figure took a single step and was transported in front of Mike. Just as Cyrus had done, he began to scream as a hand was raised to his cheek. And just like a candle, Mike began to flicker and burn,

Candle.

The wind was still howling through the brightened night. It embraced Nevaeh as she rose to her feet. Her braids were flung in front of her like outstretched fingers, and the wind pushed her towards the unremarkable grave. She stumbled, silent in each step she took.

Mike continued to scream and burn. The light upon her back was blisteringly hot.

Crashing against the ancient grave, Nevaeh immediately started searching through the dried leaves. Her hands were shaky as she grasped the lighter. The pin up girl painted onto the plastic gave her a wide grin as Nevaeh sparked a flame.

Mike’s screams fell into silence. The pervasive odor of death lingered through the graveyard. She felt the blindly light growing closer.

The candles lite easily, all except the last one. As the heat grew closer and her back began to scald from the sheer power of the creature, Nevaeh began to beg. The flame within her grasp was low, barely more than a lingering presence. Still, it was enough to light the candle.

Placing the last one back in the circle, Nevaeh scrambled to place herself in the center. She dared to look at the glowing woman who stood just outside of the circle. Her white light seemed to be diminished slightly by the low yellow glow of the candles. Up close, there was very little to be seen of the creature. There was no face, no distinguishing features. It was merely a steady, far too feminine mass of pure white light. But even without an expression given, there was an air of anger and hunger clear within its frame.

Nevaeh wrapped her arms around her body as the wind continued to blow. Despite it being strong enough to send her hair flying wildly and the dried leaves dancing through the air, the candles did not go out. Not this time at least.

“Please, just go!” Nevaeh was crying heavily now. Her eyes had been wet from some time, but now those tears began to all but evaporate the moment they touched her check. The air was so hot, that her lungs burned with each breath.

“Please! Let me go!”

She’d never believed in ghosts. Through the four years she’d worked with Cyrus and Mike, they’d never come across anything to change her mind. The guys had believed, always repeating their experiences with the paranormal whenever she began to burn-out from the hikes through so called haunted trails and night spent breaking into freezing abandoned buildings.

She had stayed through, pretending for the cameras that she was scared by every little sound that was no more than an old building creaking or a bobcat yelling its distinct call. Cyrus and Mike were her friends, and even when she pretended like the money was the reason she stayed around, it was always because they cared about each other.

There was nothing left of Cyrus or Mike but a chard section of grass.

“Please!”

The candles grew brighter, causing the figure to step back. A sound that could have been called a scream tore through its throat as a massive wind coasted through the field.

Her candles went out. Pure unending darkness overtook the graveyard as all light was smothered. The moon sat high in the sky, but no light reached the ground.

It was dark, darker than Nevaeh ever though it could be. It was too silent. The air felt heavy.

There was one source of light, the small camera nestled just out of her reach. Leaving the safety of the candle circle, Nevaeh crawled quickly towards the device. She grabbed it and scrambled backwards into the circle.

Moving the camera around quickly, she looked through the screen to find anything that remained with her. There was no sign of Cyrus. No sign of Mike. And thankfully, no sign of the creature.

The chat was going crazy.

what happened – ginny3345

was that supposed to be the witch cause she looked cool – taylorswiftygirls

pretty bad affects these guys are lame – flexonyourmom

so cool am subing – BigDino

were did cyrus go – ginny3345

Pervertonmain Donated $50

he die – luckymage666

BigDino subbed for 3 months

SharksAreFriends Donated $15

ur lame! go **** off – ghostslikemyballs

he died – luckymage666

Crushingonyourmom Donated $100

The chat was going so fast that it kept drawing Nevaeh’s gaze upon it. She kept looking through the camera lens, finding no movement within the graveyard. The taste of copper remained on her tongue and even with the source of the heat gone, her face still ached from the dried skin of her cheek.

The heavy-set silence was broken by a single call of an owl some distance away. Turning the camera to it, she watched as an owl flew off from the tree Mike had pointed to earlier.

The moonlight slowly trailed over the graveyard, landing finally on Nevaeh as she remained breathing heavily. The unremarkable grave next to her crumbled as the soft light touched it. The tears upon Nevaeh’s face flowed freely as the chill of the night air embraced her.