Short Stories

The Lonely Horse - Chapter 1

Please note: This is my first-ever scary story. I can't guarantee that it will actually scare you. But if you scare easily... don't read it at night.

Look at the people around you. I mean it, look around. What are those people doing? Texting on their phones? Listening to music? Staring into space? I bet they aren't paying much attention to the world around them. Most people don't. I've noticed that.

Around campus, nobody notices anything. I've watched bikers and skateboarders collide because they're too busy with their music or their phones to see each other. I've gone through entire semesters without a single person knowing my name or realizing I'm here, besides the immaculate paper trail of assignments. No one seems to have noticed that I'm a little taller than other girls, or that my jaw is stronger.

I'm not here to write another whiny thinkpiece about how young people are digital zombies who never stop and smell the roses. I'm just trying to illustrate that anyone could do what I do, if they just looked up. I'm not special. I notice things because I choose to look around, not because I'm unique.

I honestly have no idea why I was given this job. Maybe because of the stereotype that autistics are good with the supernatural. Maybe because I was around for that horse incident. Or perhaps that shady government agency is accountable to someone after all, and they thought I'd be a good diversity hire. I don't really care what the reason is. This job pays in fistfuls of cash, and I need cash.

They said I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about what I do. I said I don't have friends, so there's no risk.

I've never met the higher-ups after that first time, with that horse debacle. They said they were going to do something to "help me forget," and they would have done it to me too, but José said he wanted my skills on the team. I went with it. And before you know it, I was given a lot of hush money and a contract with several zeroes after the dollar sign, and told to be there for José and Evelyn whenever they needed my services.

I still don't get why they pay me so much. All I do is notice things.

There was that frat guy once, with a smile a little too wide and eyes a little too dead. When we followed him, we saw what he did with that cavernous mouth... After we turned him in, I remember Evelyn locking herself in the bathroom, and the hiss of steam and heat under the bathroom door. She came out with red skin scrubbed raw. Then there was that croaking that sounded off for a frog in June, and we found the lost kids. And there was the haunted hall. The cursed hollow. You know the deal.

Knock, knock.

I straighten. Those were two firm raps at the door. José's knock.

I quickly smooth down my hair. Do I have a five-o'-clock shadow? I graze my face with my hand, remembering Evelyn's "all girls have a little fuzz there" comment, even though I really doubt I look like an ordinary girl right now. (The laser treatments are helping, but they're far from done.) I'm in pajamas and slippers at only 6 pm, with a bowl of popcorn prepared for my TV show marathon, which is not exactly what I would call presentable.

But I can't keep José waiting. So I throw on a robe to ensure that my nipples don't show, slide back the deadbolt, and let him in.

"Hey, Marley." He gives me that same easygoing smile. Dimples framing his mouth. Dimple in his chin. Same movie-star smile.

I look him up and down, from his scuffed shoes to his familiar chin. "What's up?" I ask. Then I remember that I'm supposed to let people come in when they knock, so I step aside and gesture to the room.

José doesn't seem put off by my lack of manners. He grins at me and swipes a piece of popcorn from my TV-ready bowl. I narrow my eyes. He tosses the popcorn into his mouth, and winks. My cheeks get hot.