Georgie-Ray

“Here lies Georgie Ray

Enter all who seek eternal sleep,

And decomposing innards.”

‘This is literally the dumbest thing anyone has ever done.’ Sully’s pacing back and forth so hard he’s making a trench in front of the picket fence.

                   ‘Just calm down!’ you tell Sull, knowing full well, no-one in the history of ever, has actually calmed down from being told to calm down. ‘It was just a story. No need to panic. And look -’ You point across the field of gravestones to where you can just barely see the remains of another picket fence, and a grove of trees beyond. ‘-all we need to do is get over there.’

                   ‘And then what?’ Sully asks. Which is a very valuable question. ‘Then where?’

                   You gnaw on your bottom lip. Since when were you supposed to have all the answers? ‘Sully. Come on. We’ve wasted too much time already. We gotta bail. We can’t go back.’

                   Sully weighs this up for a moment. He looks over his shoulder, scuffs his shoe in the dirt and then throws his hands up. ‘Fine. But if I end up sharing a grave with you, you better believe you’re in for an ear full for the rest of eternity.’

                   You hold out your hand (trying not to let it shake). ‘Deal.’

                   The grass and ivy have overtaken the picket fence. It’s hinges seized and botanical tendrils holding the wood in place. But after a few good shoves, it finally gives.

                   You head in first. Sully close behind. So close, in fact, he kicks the heel of your feet a couple times.

                   ‘Sorry,’ he whispers.

                   The night seems oddly still. You’d even call it peaceful, if it weren’t for Jekyll’s rhyme on repeat in your head. The full moon, high above, lights up the graveyard, in all its creepy glory.

                   The gravestones are dug into the dirt in random clumps. A few of them have names etched into the stone, while others are completely empty. Overhanging tree limbs reach across the sky, their fingertips full of leaves, seem to tease you and Sully as you walk beneath them.

                   ‘Hey,’ Sully whispers. ‘Why do you think they even have a graveyard at a summer camp?’

                   ‘Sull,’ you say over your shoulder. ‘I don’t think this is a summer camp.’

                   ‘Oh. Yeah, right.’ Sully pauses, nothing filling the space but the sound of both of your footsteps. After a few quiet moments, he asks. ‘Do you think it ever was?’

                   You shrug your shoulders, side stepping a fresh bit of upturned dirt. ‘Who knows. You heard what Len said about Cherry. Sixty-eight?’

                   Sully scoffs. ‘No way.’

                   ‘I’m not saying I understand it. But that’s a long time to be eighteen.’

                   Sully makes a nervous cough in the back of his throat before replying. ‘Wh-what do you think happened?’

                   ‘Who knows. There’s been a lot of talk of wishes.’

                   ‘You don’t think that’s true though, right? Like Len’s some kind of demonic genie or something?’ Sully laughs uncomfortably.

                   All this talk of wishes and genies, and probably the fact that you’re walking through an actual graveyard, is getting into Sully’s head.

                   ‘It’s probably all just some sick and twisted game they play. Like which camp counsellor can scare the kids worse. Let’s just get out of here, okay?’ You try and keep things light, but Sully’s breathing starts to get shallow, and you hear him sucking down a quick spray.

                   ‘What if it’s all true? What if we can’t get out? What if we get stuck here?’ Sully starts throwing out every worst-case scenario like it’s his wish list for Santa.

                   ‘Woah, woah, woah!’ You spin around, grabbing Sully by the shoulders. ‘Sull. Chill. We’re almost out of here.’

                   Sully looks over your shoulder and you can tell by the way his eyebrows furrow that he’s absolutely seen that you are no way near out of here.

                   ‘Hey,’ you say quickly. ‘I may not know what the deal is with Camp Crypt, but one thing I do know… is that I’m starving.’

                   Sully’s gaze drifts back to you, his shoulders relaxing. ‘You’re hungry?’

                   ‘Oh man.’ You drop your head back. ‘Famished! I would demolish a worm burger right about now.’

                   Sully chuckles and you can see the tension drain from his face. ‘You know, I bet if you asked real nice, Churchill would give you a double helping.’

                   You let Sully go and turn back around. ‘Mmm mmm! I bet they taste just like grade A ground beef.’

                   ‘Totally.’ Sully laughs. ‘Add a little barbecue sauce and I bet you can’t even tell when they wriggle around in your mouth.’

                   You grimace at the thought, but all this talk of worms is really helping to ease the mood. ‘A little extra cheddar will probably cut through the worminess.’

                   ‘A bit of fresh lettuce for added nutrients,’ adds Sully.

                   ‘Some sliced onion?’ you say.

                   ‘Extra pickles!’ Sully laughs.

                   ‘Don’t forget the entrails, dudes!’

                   You freeze. The voice is gravelly. Lazy. And it’s not Sully’s.

                   ‘Wh-who was that?’ Sully stutters.

                   ‘Churchill still hyping those sloppy wrigglers?’ The voice echoes around the graveyard. ‘And what about the gardener? He ever get a good crop?’

                   The voice weaves through the headstones. Drifting in from all around.

                   ‘Who’s there?’ you call out.

                   ‘Did B ever start her thirteen?’

                   Sully backs up and you press your backs together, spinning around surveying the graveyard.

                   ‘Can you see anyone?’ You ask Sully. You scan the yard, not a shadow out of place. The branches of the trees are bare. Darkness flickers from all around, but you can’t find the owner of that voice.

                   ‘Nothing!’ Sully replies.

                   ‘Dude, no-one ever looks down.’

                   You and Sully stop spinning. Your feet anchoring to the earth. Then up from the dirt comes a skeletal hand. Flesh and sinew have disappeared, all that remains is dirt encrusted bone.

                   ‘Run!’ You scream, but three more hands burst from the dirt and wrap around your ankles. Each ivory phalange tightens against your flesh, and you begin to sink.

                   From a fresh lump of dirt in front of you, a skeleton emerges. Dirt falls from his bones as he shakes himself off. Dark eye sockets void of any eyeballs stare at you.

                   ‘G-g-georgie?’ Sully stumbles over the word.

                   ‘In the flesh,’ the skeleton says, before chuckling to himself, his jawbone clattering together. ‘Get it?’

                   You look down at your legs, submerged in the dirt all the way up to your shins.

                   ‘You’re gonna eat us,’ you say, before you can reel back the words.

                   Georgie-Ray looks horrified. Or as horrified as a skull without flesh can look. ‘Du-ude.’ Georgie-Ray drawls out the word. ‘I don’t know what tales Jekyll’s spinning about me up there, but I aint in the business of eating people.’ He points beneath his ribcage to nothing but empty space. ‘I don’t even have a stomach, bra?’

                   You keep sinking into the dirt, your thighs constricted from the sand swallowing your limbs. ‘Then why are you doing this?’

                   Georgie-Ray’s jaw opens wide as he lets out a lazy yawn. ‘Don’t take it personal, kay. I just can't have dudes cruising through my turf when I'm trying to crash. You feel?’

                   ‘Was that English?’ Sully asks.

                   The dirt’s cold as you’re pulled down to your waist. ‘So, what?’ you gasp, struggling against the sucking soil. ‘We just get swallowed up by dirt?’

                   ‘A grave.’ Georgie-Ray yawns.

                   Sully and you stop moving.

                   ‘A what?’

                   ‘A grave, dudes.’ And with that, Georgie gives another ripper of a yawn, and collapses into the dirt, letting the soil suck him back down for another decade of sleep.

                   The earth creeps higher up your body and behind you, Sully tenses.

                   ‘Sully. I’m so sorry,’ you start to apologise, thinking of all the things you need to say before you’re sucked underground.

                    But Sully cuts you off, putting on his best impersonation of you. ‘Let’s go into the graveyard. Nothing bad happens in a graveyard. What could be so bad about a field of skeletons?’

                   ‘Okay, I know. That wasn’t the best-’

                   ‘It’s not like we were just told about all the horrible things that could happen around a campfire by a jumping, bell jingling, jester of a camp counsellor!’

                   ‘Sully, I get it, it was-’

                   ‘Oh no, I couldn’t have listened to Sully. What does he know? Just common sense, that’s all…’

                   Sully’s rant gains speed as dirt creeps up your neck. But curiously you don’t feel scared. It feels homely. Cosy even. You feel yourself getting sleepy, and the dirt feels like a perfect place for a nap.

                   ‘- you just had to go and get us lost!’ But Sully’s on a freight train of blame and retribution. ‘How did that even happen? It’s like one path in and one path out! All you had to do was go straight! Yet, here we are, nestled into this patch of dirt.’

                   You yawn, your limbs aching for rest. But despite sleep tearing at your eyelids, there’s one tiny thing ruining your slumber.

                   ‘A graveyard. A graveyard. Who would think a graveyard was a good idea? Ever. Like, EVER. And then we meet him. Georgie-Ray. A skeleton, I might add. Just like the story said he’d be…’

                   Sully continues, long into the night, long into the week, long into the next decade…

Ouch. Ever wanted to get some shut eye so badly, but there’s a light flickering, or a weird buzzing, or perhaps even another motor-mouth skeleton with a chip on his shoulder sharing your grave? This one may be the most annoying ending yet.