That crumbling brick facade with the sunbleached “Westbrook Elementary” banner brings back memories. It feels like yesterday when I walked Claire through those doors for the last time.
I should still be walking her to class.
Fumbling with my keys, Noah beats me to the door to the janitor’s closet.
“Evenin’ Benjamin!” He pats me on the back and scurries towards his coveralls hanging from his cubby. “First night shift, huh?”
“Yeah.” I step into my uniform, ready for this night to end.
“How ya holdin’ up?”
I debate telling him the truth.
“Alright,” I lie.
Truth is, I don’t sleep anymore. I can’t. Not since the funeral. When I close my eyes, all I see is her. Her blonde pigtails and sparkling eyes. The missing front tooth when she smiled. Her favorite purple dress Sarah bought her for church.
I should’ve paid more attention. I shouldn’t have let her ride her bike that far up the road…
“Good seein’ ya back at work, bud,” Noah’s remarks snap me back to reality. “I know it’s been a rough couple weeks.”
That’s an understatement.
…
These hallways give me the creeps. Being in this drafty old schoolhouse is unnerving.
As I wheel my mop and bucket down the long stretch of linoleum, the lights flicker and with a loud crackle, shut off.
Great.
Guess I’m going into the basement.
“I’m resetting the fuse box,” I radio to Noah. “Stay where you are until I get power back.”
“10-4,” Noah’s voice comes through the static.
Taking the flashlight from my hip, I point it towards the room numbers on the doors. Where the hell is the basement door?
Marching down the corridor, I hear something behind me. Footsteps? I turn around, thinking it’s Noah. Nothing.
“Noah?” I call through the airwaves. “Where are you?”
“Still in the cafeteria, waitin’ on you to get those lights.”
Huh. Must’ve been my mind playing tricks on me. Insomnia’s a bitch.
…
There’s the damn fuse box.
Nearly fell down the damn stairs and burnt my finger, but we got power again.
“We should be good now,” I tell Noah as I climb up the stairs.
That’s weird.
Is that a handprint smudged on the glass? How’d that get there?
Taking the rag from my pocket, I spritz Windex and wipe until the window’s spotless.
“Noah… I think there’s someone else in the building.”
“Why ya say that?” Noah’s voice cuts in and out. “Everything’s locked up tight.”
“I just saw a handprint on the door.”
“That could’ve been there all day. It’s just the night shift gettin’ to ya.”
Maybe so. There’s too much to do tonight for me to fixate on what I thought I saw.
…
The cart’s wheels creak across the linoleum as I navigate back to the supply closet.
Something in front of me stops me cold.
I squint my eyes. All I can make out is a shadow standing in the middle of the hallway. Staring. It lifts its arm and slowly waves at me.
I drop my mop and it echoes as it collapses on the floor. Before I can speak, it vanishes.
What the hell?
I hear Noah’s boots squishing louder as he approaches.
“I tell ya, scrapin’ gum is shit,” Noah peels gum from his fingers. “Ya good? Ya look like ya seen a ghost.”
“I think I did,” I wipe sweat from my forehead.
“Ah, ya must’ve seen Little Rosie.”
I’ll probably regret asking, but I can’t resist.
“Who?”
“Legend says she’s a lil’ girl who died here in the fifties.”
We walk down the hall, and Noah points at a plaque near the school’s entrance that reads “Dedicated to Rosie Lewis. 1948-1956. Gone but not forgotten.”
“What happened to her?”
“Who knows. They never found her body…” Noah taps me on the back. “Ah, anyway. It’s just a story. I ain’t never seen nothin’ since I been here.”
…
Kids are so damn messy. It’s only two hours into my shift and there’s so much to clean.
Clutching my sponge, I spray a teacher’s desk with Clorox. The fluorescent lights flicker above me.
Not again.
I toss my sponge in my cart, and turn towards the door.
A little girl with red hair in a pink dress kicks her shoes back and forth, lightly scuffing the floorboards. Her hazel eyes stare at me and her lips pout. She looks like a doll.
I gasp.
“Are you Rosie?”
She nods then points to the doorway. My eyes follow, but when I turn around, she’s gone.
There’s a little handprint on the door’s glass window. The sound of her shoes clicking down the hall echoes in my ears. Curiosity tells me to follow.
Leaving my cart behind, I wander down the hallway, peeking into each classroom for a sign of Rosie. The only clue is the trail of handprints on windows, leading me to something.
…
The last handprint leads me into the bathroom. This must be it. I push the wooden door open and flip the light switch.
“Rosie? Are you in here?”
There’s a message scribbled in crayon on the mirror: help me.
Rosie appears in the reflection, and I jump. She steps away from me and wraps her arms around her. I kneel down to her level, shaking.
“Rosie. It’s okay.” I outstretch my hand towards her. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyebrows raise and jaw clenches.
“I… how can I help you?”
She sways in her frilly dress. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I’m not even sure she’s real.
“Rosie,” I whisper. “Do you want me to help you find your Mommy and Daddy?”
Her eyes grow wide and she shakes her head. I guess that’s not what she wants.
“Can you talk to me?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay… can you show me?”
She nods. Uncurling her little fingers, she places a crayon in my hand. I examine the small piece of purple wax, and Rosie vanishes.
What are you trying to tell me?
“Where are ya, buddy?” Noah’s voice crackles through the radio. I place the crayon in my pocket.
“Sorry, Noah. Give me a few minutes to finish up here.”
“You got it. I’m headin’ into the gym. Head over when you’re done and we’ll wax these floors.
I don’t know what the crayon means, but I have a hunch. Crayons, along with all the art supplies, are housed in the art room. My feet ache from hours of standing, but I trudge closer to Rosie’s clue.
…
There’s nothing in here but acrylic murals of dead presidents on the walls. I search for her clue, but how am I supposed to know what she’s telling me?
I turn on my flashlight and walk through rows of desks. Some of these must’ve been here since the school was built. Got to love lack of funding.
Engraved on a desk in the back corner of the room is the word “ROSI3.” Is this where she sat?
I examine the desk when Rosie appears. She points at the board underneath my foot. I grab the plank and pull it up, revealing yellowed paper stuffed below.
“What’s this?”
I unfold the paper. It’s a picture of a family. Parents with a little girl and a baby in front of a house. In the corner it reads “Mommy, Daddy, Amelia and me.”
“Is this your family?” She nods. “Amelia… is that your sister?”
Her parents are probably gone now, but maybe this sister is still around. I guess she’d be in her mid-fifties.
It seems like Rosie’s ready to give me another clue as she slides another drawing towards me. I look at it under my flashlight. A playground with a large tree behind it. Like the one behind the school.
“Okay, Rosie. I’ll go check it out.”
…
The playground’s eerie with early morning fog creeping in. The tree’s much bigger than what Rosie had drawn all those years ago, but it’s still standing, having weathered all the storms Westbrook had seen.
Rosie’s behind me as I walk around the tree waving my flashlight up and down its trunk. There has to be something she wants me to see. I wish she could tell me.
She’s shaking nervously as I rub my neck.
“Can you tell me what I’m looking for?”
She shakes her head and taps her fingers on her neck.
“Did something happen that took away your voice?”
She hangs her head. She kneels down and digs at the ground with her hands. The earth doesn’t move, and she wrinkles her nose.
“Rosie, it’s okay. I think I understand.”
I dig around the trunk with my hands, pushing back layers of mulch as I grip the flashlight in my teeth. I hit something hard. Rosie seems excited, jolting upright and clapping her hands.
I yank up a tin box from the tangled roots and set it next to me. Rosie sits on her knees and smiles, waiting for me to open it.
Inside the box is a stuffed puppy that’s missing its button nose. A note next to it reads “my most favorite toy, Max.” She must’ve put him here for safe keeping, hoping to return to him one day. I put Max in my pocket and wait for Rosie to lead the way.
…
I walk to the school’s entrance, but Rosie doesn’t follow. She stops in the fog and stares at the crumbling facade.
“It’s okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you. I promise.”
Her little feet slowly climb the steps. Her lips quiver, and she closes her eyes. Something bad must’ve happened here. Her eyes are fixed on one room near the front office: the infirmary.
She won’t budge, just frantically shaking.
“You can wait here. I’ll be right out.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d find inside the infirmary, especially since the records didn’t go back to 1956. It didn’t hurt to look. I open the file cabinet and flip through files hoping something would turn up.
Nothing. Figures. If it were that easy she wouldn’t still be here.
Not ready to call it quits, I press on the floorboards, the walls, anywhere that might lodge free. I’m grasping at straws, but it’s clear Rosie’s scared to enter this room after haunting these halls for years.
I push the file cabinet across the floor to get to the planks beneath it, my last chance to find something that might help me. The planks are loose so I reach my hand inside, and I feel around.
I wrap my fingers around something cold and smooth. An empty medicine bottle. The label’s faded but I think it’s “Dr. Schoops.” I remember Mom and Dad telling me horror stories about kids overdosing on this stuff.
Reaching my hand back into the floor I feel a slip of paper and carefully retrieve it. I can barely make out what it says. The ink has all but washed away. It looks like a log of visits to the infirmary, the last dated November 7, 1956. “Cold.” On the top there’s the initials “R.L.” Did they poison her?
…
Rosie’s waiting in the hallway for me. I carry the empty bottle in my hand, and she stiffens.
“Did they give you this?”
Tears well in her eyes. I set the bottle down and calm her, assuring her that I’d help her find her way home.
Noah chimes in on the radio, but his message’s distorted in Rosie’s presence.
“Where… you been… I…. looking… you…”
“Sorry Noah, I’m in the infirmary. I’ll head over to help you in a minute.”
I put the radio up, looking towards Rosie hoping she’d give me another sign.
The power goes out again.
“Noah, I’m going to reset the fuses again. Hang tight.”
It’s almost dawn. The sun’ll be coming up soon and the teachers will start trickling in. I shrug at Rosie.
“I’m sorry Rosie, but I’ve to go into the basement and fix the lights.”
She stomps her feet and crosses her arms. I head towards the basement, and her shoes scurry behind me. I go down the stairs and she waits at the top for a moment before following me.
I flip the switch, restoring the power and I look around at the old desks and unused equipment. It’s a mess down here. Rosie wades through the sea of cardboard boxes and old papers and stops suddenly.
The corner of the basement’s dark where the light burned out we never fixed. I walk to what must have been the original art room. It’s hard to move a kiln that big. Rosie makes noise with her feet and hands against the boxes.
I open the kiln.
I panic. My heart’s pounding.
I think I’m going to be sick.
The pink dress…
I found Rosie.
…
Rosie vanishes, and I run up the stairs where Noah is waiting for me.
“What the hell happened to ya?”
I fight back the urge to puke.
“I… I found Rosie… She’s… her body… it’s…”
“Whoa, calm down, bud,” Noah’s eyes widen. “Maybe this was too soon, ya know? Night shift messes with a person, ‘specially after all ya been through.”
“But she was… I saw…”
“It’s just a story, Benjamin. I shouldn’t have told ya. That’s on me an’ I’m sorry.”
I put my hand in my pocket and feel around for Max. He’s not there.
“Where the hell did he go?”
I pat around my uniform looking for the puppy while Noah looks on in confusion.
“What’d ya lose?”
“Rosie’s stuffed puppy… I found…” My voice fades as Noah raises an eyebrow. “No… just look at this picture.”
I pull the folded paper from my pocket and hand it to Noah, proof that I had seen Rosie.
“Benjamin… I think ya need to go home and get some sleep.”
“Noah just look! It’s Rosie with her parents and sister Amelia. She showed me where it was…”
Noah frowns. “Buddy, I don’t know how to tell ya this… but that’s not Rosie.”
What?
He hands the picture back to me. “That’s the picture Claire drew for you.”
I look down at the drawing. It says “Mommy, Daddy and Me. Luv Claire.”
“But I saw… she was… she told… I found…”
Noah leads me to the janitor’s closet so I can change out of my uniform.
“Benjamin, I want ya to go home and get some rest. You’re really scarin’ me.”
“Can you check the kiln in the basement? Please?”
“Benjamin, what are ya talkin’ about? There ain’t no kiln in this school.”
…
Maybe he’s right. Maybe Rosie only existed inside my mind. I tell myself I’m just seeing things again.
I fumble with my keys as I walk to my car and look back at the school as the sun hits the horizon. I see Rosie waving at me, but she disappears in the light.
It’s time I go home, take my sleeping pills and face my own ghosts.
I’ll see you soon Claire.
Alternative Ending:
Rosie vanishes, and I run up the stairs where Noah is waiting for me.
“What the hell happened to ya?”
I fight back the urge to puke.
“Maybe this was too soon, ya know? Night shift messes with a person, ‘specially after all ya been through.”
I put my hand in my pocket, clutching Max as I walk to the janitor’s closet.
I think about what I’d seen. She must’ve been sick. The nurse must’ve over drugged her. Then they had to get rid of the…
Who would even believe me?
…
As I change out of my uniform and hang it up in my cubby, I take Max and the picture of Rosie’s family out of the pocket and carry them with me.
The sunrise hits the horizon as I head towards my car. Mrs. Walker, the principal, comes over to greet me.
“Good morning, Benjamin,” she smiles. “How was your first shift back?”
I’m not sure what to say.
“Good, thanks.”
She looks down at my hand as I cling to the puppy, her glasses falling down her nose.
She gasps.
“Where… where did you get that?”
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you ma’am. Let’s just say I found it while cleaning.”
I step towards my car, but she calls after me.
“That was my sister’s favorite toy.” I stop in my tracks. “She named him Max.”
“Amelia?” I turn around. “Amelia Lewis?”
“That was my maiden name.”
“Little Rosie is your sister?”
“Yes.”
Rosie appears, standing in the dew-covered grass, smiling. I smile back at her.
“Here, this belongs to you.” I hand Amelia the toy. “I think Rosie wanted you to have him.”
“But how did…?”
I debate telling her the truth. Instead, I plan to report the remains to the school board to spare her some pain.
“Rosie says she loves you.”
Tears rolls down her wrinkled cheeks as she pulls the puppy close to her chest. “Thank you.”
Looking back at Rosie, she waves at me before disappearing into a glowing white light.
I fumble with my keys as I walk to my car. For the first time since Claire’s death, I think I’ll be able to sleep.