Zhane's Short Story: The Haunted House

We both said something was odd about the affair,” Zhane continued. “What do you propose to do about it?” “Someone who can silence the city corner can easily silence a beat officer.” “And you were hoping the outcast witch could not be silenced?” Kendall prodded. “I’m sorry.” “The problem with being the outcast, people can pretend you are the little boy who cried wolf.” Zhane pause to get a sense of where they were after following Kendall’s lead thus far. They were standing at the top of a hill that rushed down towards the sea. A few tress stood sentinel over a graveyard of unique markers. “What is this?” He asked. “The witch’s graveyard.”

She paused and glazed at the simple cross. She got lost in memories of kind hugs and fierce tongue lashing, lessons of spells and morals, picnics and homework. “Do you know this person” Zhane asked, gesturing at the cross. “This is my grandmother.” Zhane did a double take at the stone: Hanna Osborne. “Why would you put up such a simple marker when you had more freedom?” “Granny picked it out. She tithed fully, she was in church every Sunday that she wasn’t tending to the sick as a healer and the Ladies of the Standard would not let her be buried next to Grandfather in the church yard.” “I’m sorry.” “I wish he had died after the Unveiling. He would have been buried here so they could be together if he known.” “I think that is enforcing the wrong rules.” Kendall fell quiet, and Zhane let her be. His own parents and brother rested side by side as would Amy too soon if he could not get the money for a good doctor. “I’m still going to find that dairy,” Kendall announced, settling Zhane out of picturing a cross much like the before them for his niece. “But don’t we think Genie was murdered.” “Yup.” “And someone is covering it up.”

“So now what.” “Well beat cop, I was thinking you could poke around at with some of the people who know acting as if you are looking for the dairy for a superior and I will go to the one person that is better at tracking than me.” “And meet up back at your house?” “Yes.”
* * * Kendall was whistling as she walked down the street in slums of San Francisco. A normal girl would have been prey but her outfit let people know she wasn’t quite normal. She knew the way to the sisters of the faith mission. Her grandmother served here since …. Kendall didn’t know. Longer than she could remember and she knew granny and Ms. Dominique were remanist about when Hanna was young. Kendall waved a Sister Mary Ruth as she entered the rod iron gates. “Where is Ms. Dominique? The old nun smiled. “You look just like Hanna, Dominique and I was young and dancing in the hall on the square. But that was before Hanna married and I took my vows.” Kendall smiled indulgently for Sister Mary Ruth had told her how much she looked like her grandmother since Granny passed. “If you tell me where Dominique is, I’ll tell her to get gussied up and we’ll go dancing.” Her eyes crinkled. “In the