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Emma Lee met her first ghost hunters toward the end of that summer.
They pulled into the cemetery early one mid-week morning, parking their nondescript, white Subaru wagon in the first quarter of the circle, pretty much directly in Emma Lee’s path as she returned to the trailer. She thought of changing course, avoiding any contact at all, but in the end, she couldn’t think of a real excuse to do so.
Two guys and two girls, right around Emma Lee’s own age, spilled onto the pavement, stretching and walking stiffly around the car, obviously recovering from a long drive. It was an amusing dance, almost ritualistic. It ended with them gathered around the open rear hatch of their vehicle.
Emma Lee didn’t pay much attention. She hadn’t seen them before, but that was no surprise. There was a handful of “regulars,” as she liked to call them—people who visited the grave of a loved one more or less on a schedule—but she saw most visitors only once or twice.
It was a little surprising, though, when they started passing around different electronics: black boxes with speakers and telescopic antennae; voice recorders; a device that looked like a TV remote, but with an array of lights across the top. There was a silver box with a big black dial and a meter, and another with a big LED screen. She found herself slowing, almost against her will, certainly against her better judgment, to watch as they fiddled with knobs and buttons.
One of the girls looked up and caught Emma Lee looking. “Hey,” the girl said.
Emma Lee smiled and raised her hand in a brief hello, then lowered her head and tried to hurry on.
“Excuse me,” the girl called. Emma Lee stopped and sighed—not too visibly, she hoped—and turned to face them.
“Hey,” Emma Lee said.
The girl walked over, holding out her hand. “I’m Kaitlyn,” she said.
“Emma Lee.”
“Emily, nice.” Emma Lee felt a brief constriction in her chest as Kaitlyn turned to her friends. “Hey, guys, this is Emily.”
The others joined them, introducing themselves and shaking her hand.
Bryan (with a “y,” she later learned) was taller than he was comfortable with. He had a goofy grin. He dropped Emma Lee’s hand and draped his arm across Kaitlyn’s shoulder. The poor girl seemed to squirm under the weight. She didn’t look comfortable.
Emma Lee wasn’t sure if the other two were a couple. Sam was an almost translucent wraith; her waist-long blond hair spilled out from under a tie-dye-inspired knit cap. Myles (also with a “y”) was stocky and rumpled, with a floppy fisherman’s hat and a deeply serious expression.
“You from around here, Emily?” Bryan asked.
Kaitlyn elbowed him in his side. “That sounds creepy,” she said.
Emma Lee laughed at this. “It’s okay,” she said. “Yes, I’m from around here. I take it you aren’t?”
“We’re ghost hunters,” Bryan said.
“Paranormal investigators,” Myles corrected, an exasperated edge to his voice. He handed her a card that had, as far as she could tell, materialized from thin air. It said, “Spooky Gang” in a purple-and-orange typeface that seemed familiar. She cocked her head, trying to recall what it reminded her of.
“Spooky Gang,” Bryan said. “Like Scooby Gang, only Spooky?”
Kaitlyn elbowed him again. Emma Lee wasn’t sure if these were meant to be light-hearted, but Bryan withdrew his arm from her shoulder and rubbed his side.
Just below the hippie typeface, and between two orange, cartoon daisies, were the words “Paranormal Investigations,” along with a cell number and URLs for their blog and YouTube channel. “O-kay…,” Emma Lee said.
“This place is listed as haunted,” Sam said, holding up her phone to display a web page. Emma Lee recognized the picture.
“Ah,” she said. “Yes, I’ve seen that site.”
“Have you seen any of the weird stuff they talk about?” Bryan asked.
“I’m sorry, I really haven’t. But,” she added quickly, when she saw Kaitlyn’s disappointed look, “maybe I’m just not here enough.”
Myles stepped off to the side and held up his device—the TV-remote-looking thing with the row of lights—and turned a slow circle. He tried to shade the lights from the sun, but it was apparently too bright. “Can’t see anything,” he muttered.
“So, you haven’t seen anything weird?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Well,” Emma Lee said, “some weird people, I guess. Funny names. Some people leave weird gifts. But I don’t think that’s what you mean.”
“No creepy feelings? Feelings of dread?”
Emma Lee shrugged. “I mean, it’s a cemetery, right? So I think it’s a little creepy by definition. But, no, nothing serious.”
“No woman in white?”
“Ah,” Emma Lee said. “I read about her. No, no woman in white. No gravedigger, either.” She paused. “But, like I said, maybe I’m just here at the wrong time.”
“Right,” Sam said. “The weird stuff probably happens at night.”
“Right!” Emma Lee said.
They spoke a bit longer. Myles tried to talk “Emily” into an on-camera interview for their blog and YouTube channel, but she managed to bow out. Before long, they drifted off, Myles and Sam in one direction, Kaitlyn and Bryan in the other, muttering welcoming phrases to the ghosts they were certain were waiting to communicate with them. “We’re not here to hurt you,” she heard Myles say, and she tried to imagine what possible harm he could inflict on a ghost, even if such a thing existed, and even if he wanted to.
She made her way down the driveway and out the front gate so they wouldn’t learn that she lived next door.
She sat at the picnic bench to watch as they finished their rounds of the cemetery. Either they were true believers, or they were making a good show of it. They often stopped to hold up a phone for a selfie. They filmed each other like TV journalists reporting intrepidly from the field, standing before a worn tombstone, or the chained gate across the pitted door of the mausoleum, or the polished granite of the veteran’s memorial.
They left after a couple hours. Emma Lee moved a chair into the shade of one of the old redwoods—much cooler than the heat emanating from the canvas awning—and settled in with a tall bottle of water and her well-worn copy of Mansfield Park.
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Story by Greg Kemble. Art and animation by John David Irvine (thejohnirvine.com).
In addition to reading the series on the blog, you can enjoy “Emily’s Grave” in a few other formats (you’ll find links to all of these versions at the Emily’s Grave (a story) page):
- Videobook (YouTube) – I commissioned my friend and former student John David Irvine—now an award-winning animator—to create an atmospheric animation to accompany the audio version of the story.
- Audiobook (mp3) – Recorded by the author (that’s me!). You can listen to it on the blog or download it.
- Print version (PDF) – If you prefer to read written text, you can view or download a PDF version.
Tip Jar – Pay what you like, if you like.
A-and there’s merch! If you like John’s cover art, check out the shirts, coffee mugs, stickers (and more!) at Redbubble.
About the author (that’s me!)
Close-to-retirement English prof.
Occasional musician, blogger, and writer.
Mildly Introverted, mostly harmless.
About the artist
Multi award-winning artist/animator/filmmaker John David Irvine is known for his unique style of handcrafted animation and darkly surreal imagery. His cryptic work explores identity, queerness, and generational trauma, wading into the everyday horrors that undulate beneath the veneer of the mundane. His award-winning short film COMMON MONSTERS is currently being expanded into his feature film directorial debut.
Check him out at https://thejohnirvine.com.
“Emily’s Grave” © 2021 (text) and © 2023 (audio and video) by Greg Kemble are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0