The Ghosts We Carry

A serial fiction story for your enjoyment

written by James Rada, Jr.

1: Returning Home

As the sun began to set on Friday evening, cars started rolling into Thurmont, bringing with them alumni from all over who were returning for their anticipated Saturday reunion of the Catoctin High Class of 2016 at Thurmont Ambulance Company Event Complex. Sunday’s brunch, held at Community Park, was also a must-attend event, but still just another opportunity for old friends and classmates to get together this weekend. Some, like Brian Peyton, lived a few hours away, but others actually flew in to be a part of the reunion.

Brian couldn’t understand why. He had never thought he would return to Thurmont, but here he was. He had no reason to, and plenty of reasons not to, be here. But when a mysterious envelope arrived in his mailbox postmarked from Thurmont, but with no return address, everything changed. Inside was a familiar face: Jack Davis’s senior picture. In it, Jack wore a navy blue sports coat and red tie, his forced smile betraying his true feelings about being there. It marked one of the first steps on his path to graduation.

But it wasn’t the picture that had caught Brian’s attention. It was what had been written on the back…five words that sent chills down his spine and made him reconsider his decision not to attend the reunion: “I know what you did.”

In a panic, Brian had dropped the small wallet-size photo, as if it had suddenly turned hot. He had frantically looked around, feeling guilt-stricken even though he was alone in his apartment. His first instinct had been to call Thomas or Will, but he didn’t have their contact information. They also didn’t have his, although they could have easily found it if they wanted.

So, who was behind this? And why now, after 10 years, bring up Jack?

The invitation beckoning him back to his hometown for the long-awaited reunion had arrived in Brian’s inbox a week earlier than the picture. He had deleted the invitation without a second thought, but the picture changed things. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the two events were connected.

Brian had dug the invitation out of his email trash and sent his RSVP. He hesitantly booked a room at the Super 8 Hotel, dreading his return to Thurmont after all these years. Months passed, and he found himself constantly questioning who could have sent the mysterious letter and what their intentions were.

Upon closer inspection, there was little to go on. No return address, inside just a typical school picture with printed words on the back. It could have been anyone from his graduating class who still held on to this memento. Brian used to have one too, but without the creepy message.

Now, someone was actively seeking him out, and it seemed like the reunion was the perfect opportunity for them to make contact.

As Brian pulled into the hotel parking lot, he couldn’t help but scan the area for any familiar faces. He saw a couple entering the building ahead of him and wondered if they were also attending the reunion. He reminded himself that 10 years wasn’t enough time for drastic changes to occur in his former classmates, and he headed toward the hotel entrance with cautious steps.

Stepping out of his car, Brian couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was unlikely that anyone knew when he was arriving or where he was staying, but he couldn’t shake off this eerie sensation.

He checked into the only hotel in town and made his way to his room. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, feeling a sense of reluctance wash over him. It was a simple, nondescript room—beige walls, generic artwork on the walls, and a bed with crisp white sheets that beckoned him to relax.

He unpacked his belongings, in particular his suit, which he hung in the closet. As he settled on the bed, staring at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Not for the first time, he doubted his decision to return. Nothing good could come of this. He felt a pang of unease at the thought of wandering around Thurmont after 10 long years. The town held too many painful memories for him, and the last thing he wanted was to run into old acquaintances who would want to talk and reminisce. But there was no avoiding it, not with the weekend’s events looming ahead.

However, he held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, this night could be one of peace before all hell broke loose. He checked his phone for any new emails or messages, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Walking to the window, he gazed out at Tippin Drive below. The highway stretched off to the right, while a bustling shopping center rested atop a nearby hill. In the distance, he could make out homes perched on the ridge. The passing cars were mere blurs, each one holding the possibility of belonging to the sender of that damning picture.

With a grimace, he realized that sleep would elude him that night. His mind was too wound up with thoughts about this weekend and what he might uncover about Jack’s involvement in it all. Unable to bear lying in bed any longer, he ventured out into the quiet streets and found a liquor store nearby. He purchased a bottle of Jack Daniels—his go-to drink during stressful moments—and returned to his room.

Sitting in the dimly lit room, he sipped at the whiskey slowly as it burned its way down his throat. The alcohol helped dull his frayed nerves and bring some semblance of calm to his mind. Despite having built a successful career as an architectural engineer in Charlottesville after graduating from the University of Virginia, he had never once considered returning to Thurmont—until now. And as he sat alone in the darkness with only his whiskey for company, he couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling that this weekend would bring about unwelcome revelations, especially about his troubled past with Jack.

After a long night of restless sleep, he finally woke up late the next morning. His stomach grumbled hungrily, and he decided to go to the Mountain Gate Restaurant, just a short walk away. He found a quiet corner and ordered a hearty breakfast, hoping it would give him enough energy to face whatever or whoever had brought him back to town.

With nothing to do until the reunion at 6 p.m., he returned to his hotel room and pulled out an old yearbook he had brought with him. His fingers traced over the familiar names and faces of his former classmates and teachers. As he flipped through the pages, memories flooded back, the faces of former classmates and teachers smiling back at him. He paused on Jack’s picture, the same one that had been sent to him in the mail. Each personal message from seniors caught his eye, wondering if there was any significance behind their words.

But as he read on, nothing stood out as a warning or someone to be cautious of, except for maybe Thomas or Will. He couldn’t help but wonder if they would also be attending the reunion. Could one of them be behind the mysterious invitation?

Pondering over these thoughts, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was not right about this reunion. Was this all part of a plan? Why had someone lured him back to Thurmont after all these years?