The Foley House

aaaaaaaaIs there anyone there? I have something to confess. I know what happened to Cordelia Matthews. Are you listening?
aaaaaaaaCordelia returned to the house at the edge of town about a year ago. You know the one, the old Foley house? She was obsessed with it and its history. She loved the tall windows and the way the building towered over us. We would walk by the house every day on the way to school. It was out of our way, but she was disappointed anytime we went a different route. Cordelia would stare at the house longingly. She talked about wanting to peek through the windows. Just to see what’s inside. She wouldn’t admit it, but I knew she wanted to know if the stories were true. She wanted to see if the ghosts were real.
aaaaaaaaDo you know the story about the Foley House? It’s become quite the tall tale in this area. The details get muddled, depending on who you ask. The legend goes that, in the late 1800s, the original owner of the house, Joel Foley, went crazy and murdered his wife and six children before hanging himself in the attic. No one knows what led to his breakdown, just that the cries of his family echoed through the wind.
aaaaaaaaAnother family moved into the house not long after that fateful day. It was a young, wealthy family. They seemed normal to the people in town, but something went wrong. Rumor has it that the mom hanged herself in front of the youngest daughter a few weeks after moving in. The girl claimed that her mother had been tormented by the screams.
aaaaaaaaThe property has passed through several hands since, but no one ever stayed. Everyone skipped town or died mysteriously. As far as I know, the house has been vacant since the ‘60s. It’s become an urban legend that we tell around the campfire to scare each other.
aaaaaaaaPeople say that if you sit on the top floor of the house, you can hear a rope snap. Most people that have gone into the house have come out screaming. They claim they saw the ghosts of the Foley children. These people are usually ignored or shrugged off.
aaaaaaaaWhen I was in elementary school, my brother told Cordelia and me that some teenagers had gone missing a long time ago. He said that four teens went in, but only one came out. The surviving boy went mute after the event, and his family ended up leaving town not long after. No one heard from or saw them again.
aaaaaaaaI never believed in the tale, but Cordelia has been intrigued with the house for as long as I can remember. She longed to see inside the house, but I didn’t let her get closer than the winding driveway’s end. I’d have to pull her away some days. Then, a year ago, she begged me to visit the property. She was insistent, more so than usual. I’d never seen her like that. I figured that ghosts weren’t real, so there would be no harm in going.
aaaaaaaaIt was a warm night, so we decided to walk across town. She was giddy the whole trip there. She shined her flashlight on her face, concealing her features in shadow. She dramatically recounted the story of the house. In another life, Cordelia could have been an actress. Seeing her joy about the adventure made me feel better about sneaking out. That happiness didn’t last for long.
aaaaaaaaUpon reaching the house, a chill ran down my spine. I shined my flashlight on the house, noticing that the beam barely made a difference. The house was nearly pitch black against the night. I quickly realized I had never been so close to the building before. While I had grown uneasy, Cordelia practically shook with excitement. I’ll never forget how betrayed she looked when I grabbed her arm and said we shouldn’t get any closer.
aaaaaaaaCordelia put her hand on mine and told me I could wait outside. She asked me to give her five minutes. I need to know if it’s true. I relented and set a five-minute timer on my phone, watching her disappear into the darkness.
aaaaaaaaI should have convinced her to stay, to go back to my house and watch a movie or something. I should have fought harder, but she insisted on going in. I should have begged. I shouldn’t have let go of her arm. I should have gone in with her. I should have done a lot of things.
aaaaaaaaInstead, I stood at the end of the driveway, flinching when the door slammed behind her. The house creaked in the breeze. I could hear her moving around the house. The building was so old, you know? I bounced on my heels and watched her flashlight move around the windows.
aaaaaaaaAfter a minute of her being in the house, it went silent. The wind stopped. The creaking stopped. Everything just stopped. I couldn’t see Cordelia’s light anymore. I let another minute pass, but nothing happened. Growing concerned, I inched up the driveway. I shined my light toward the window but still couldn’t see anything. I wanted to yell into the house to tell her to come out, but I promised five minutes. I would never have heard the end of it if I pulled her out early. I stopped by the porch steps and waited. I shouldn’t have waited.
aaaaaaaaThose promised minutes passed in agonizing silence. Not even the crickets were singing that night. I jumped when my phone’s timer went off, dropping it into the overgrown grass. That’s when the screaming started. At first, I thought it might be one of the Foley children and that the rumors were true. But then I recognized the wail. It was Cordelia. I crashed through the front door, bellowing her name, but didn’t receive a response. I frantically shined my flashlight around the foyer and up the long staircase to my right. Everything was dusty, and her footprints led up the steps.
aaaaaaaaClimbing the stairs two at a time, I continued calling her name. At one point, I felt eyes on my back, but no one was there when I turned. I followed Cordelia’s footsteps up another flight of stairs, passing a broken window. My shoes crunched on the glass, but I didn’t pause to ponder what happened. I continued to follow her prints, shivering as the temperature dropped during the ascent.
aaaaaaaaHer footsteps stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall on the third floor. I shined my light on the ceiling. The attic hatch was open. I swallowed a lump in my throat and called her name again. This isn’t funny, Cordelia, I yelled.
aaaaaaaaWhile fighting back tears, I pulled down the rusty ladder. I climbed it slowly, my hands shaking uncontrollably. In the corner of my eye, a small figure ran into a room behind me. I didn’t turn, dismissing it as paranoia. Ghosts aren’t real, I whispered repeatedly. There was no way the legend was true, right?
aaaaaaaaPulling myself into the attic, I shined my flashlight around the room. It was full of furniture covered with dusty sheets and children’s drawings taped on the walls. There was a massive circular window that looked onto the lawn. I lingered, staring at the spot by the porch where I had stood. I stepped forward, something crunching under my shoe. I assumed it was more glass until I looked down. It was a tooth. It was multiple teeth. I stumbled back, bumping into an old chair. I can’t remember if I screamed.
aaaaaaaaYelling for Cordelia again, I shined my light all around the room for a glimpse of her auburn hair. I hoped she was hiding. That this was a trick, and she was going to jump out at me any moment. She was always telling me that I was too tense. I wanted the trick to be over. I wanted to go home.
aaaaaaaaThen I shined my light up. It landed on her canvas shoes, the ones we had painted together the summer before. The yellow sunflowers were stained red. I panned my light up further, dreading what I’d find.
aaaaaaaaMy best friend was unrecognizable. Her forehead was torn open, revealing her skull. Her eyes were gone. Blood ran down her front, pooling around the rope tight around her throat and dripping to the floor. I screamed and fell to the ground, scrambling away from the sight and into a pile of bones. Some were old and broken. Some looked more recent and wet. I looked back to my beloved friend, the girl I’ve known since pre-k, and threw up. I tried to scream again, but the sound died in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to do. What are you supposed to do when you find your best friend mutilated? I ran.
aaaaaaaaI threw myself down the ladder and the first flight of stairs. I slid on the glass scattered across the floor, crying out as it cut into my hands and knees. I managed to catch myself before I fell down the stairs. My ankle twisted, and I had to stop to breathe. Then, Cordelia howled my name. My heart sank, and the image of her mangled face flashed into my mind. It’s not real. It’s not…
aaaaaaaaI rushed out the door, not stopping until I reached the river. That’s where they found me the next day. The police. My family. Cordelia’s mother. I had scratches up and down my body and bruises around my throat. They asked me what happened and who hurt me. They asked me where Cordelia was. I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know. That’s all I could say. I don’t know.
aaaaaaaaBut I did know. But I couldn’t tell them that. I couldn’t handle the shame of what I’d done. I didn’t think they’d believe me, anyway. My mom asked me if we went to the Foley House. I looked at Cordelia’s mother. Her eyes, which matched Cordelia’s, were full of sorrow and worry. I didn’t want her to know the truth. I didn’t want her to know how her daughter had suffered. In a moment of weakness, a moment I’ll regret for the rest of my life, I said no.
aaaaaaaaRumors began to spread in the days after Cordelia’s disappearance. You know how small towns are. People talk. Girls at school said she got knocked up and ran in shame. I wanted to defend her but couldn’t find the words. Old ladies at church said that teenage girls run away all the time. They said she’d find her way home eventually. I stayed silent.
aaaaaaaaAfter a few weeks, people stopped talking about her at all. It was like she had never existed. She lived here her entire life and was forgotten in less than a month. I would still see her mother around sometimes. She continued putting up missing posters to no avail. Eventually, she lost hope. She packed up and left town. She had nothing keeping her here.
aaaaaaaaAfter the initial grief, I was okay for a while. As okay as you can be, I guess. But recently, I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened, how I left Cordelia hanging in the attic. You’re probably thinking, who does that? What kind of friend is she? And I agree. Who sees their closest friend die and then leaves them there? A shit one, that’s who. I had so many chances to tell the truth and wasted all of them.
aaaaaaaaThe guilt has been eating me alive these past few months. I can’t eat or sleep. It hurts to breathe. Cordelia’s mutilated face appears every time I close my eyes. Fingers wrap around my throat in my dreams, and I’m left with bruises when I wake up. I hear Cordelia’s screams when I lie awake at night. Sometimes she appears in the corner of my bedroom. A rope snaps, and she hangs there in the dark, whispering my name. I’ve woken my parents up with my screams countless times. Mom holds me close, telling me it’s just a dream. It’s not real.
aaaaaaaaAre you still there? I haven’t lost you, have I? This is important.
aaaaaaaaI drove by the Foley House after school a few days ago. It was unintentional. I just found myself there. I stopped and looked up at the house. My eyes locked on the attic window. There was someone there, staring back at me. The figure was concealed in shadows, but I knew it was Cordelia. The silhouette reached out and placed a hand on the glass. I sped away but couldn’t get the image out of my mind.
aaaaaaaaI never believed in the urban legend about the Foley House. I never believed in ghosts – I need you to know that. But I know what I saw, and I know what I heard. I’ll never forgive myself for letting the house take Cordelia. I need to go back to her. I need to get her body out of there. She deserves a proper burial. Maybe the house will claim me, and if it does, so be it. I have to try. I can’t just abandon her like that – not again.
aaaaaaaaI’m the only one who knows about what happened to Cordelia Matthews. But now you do, too. Do with this what you will, just please believe me. I hope to return, but if I don’t, promise me you’ll stay away from that house. Don’t let it take you too, okay?
aaaaaaaaThis is Cove, signing off. Tell my parents I love them.