The Matron of Hawthorne Hall

Hal­loween was my favorite evening to work at this exclu­sive all-girls board­ing school. I know I should have retired years ago, but some­thing kept me teth­ered here. A rope of exis­ten­tial angst and remorse.

On my nights off, I float­ed around the grounds and ran my fin­gers over Hawthorne Hall’s ancient stone and creep­ing vines. Spi­der webs fogged every win­dow, so they were pre-dec­o­rat­ed for the hol­i­day. The stu­dents added to the spooky vibe with wink­ing jack-o-lanterns and hand­made paper skele­tons. The near­est town is too far for trick-or-treat­ing, so the girls real­ly dove into prep for the scari­est of holidays.

I watched from the staff’s quar­ters in amuse­ment as they played hide n’ seek and bobbed for apples. Their screams and laugh­ter were punc­tu­at­ed by the pound­ing of hooves from the hors­es of the school’s rid­ing acad­e­my. Fright­ened by the flap­ping ghost bed­sheets and roar­ing bon­fires, they gal­loped in the near­by field. 

Cats, ghosts, witch­es, and princess­es gob­bled boy­sen­ber­ry cup­cakes and tof­fee made for them by the new chef. Part of me wished I jump out from a tree with a “Boo” but I pre­fer to do my work when the moon glows. 

Head­mas­ter Howard, who also hap­pens to be my father, was keep­ing a close eye on the sug­ared-up stu­dents from the for­est edge, occa­sion­al­ly trip­ping a girl with a branch if she got too close. He had a dour scowl on his face with his black suit frayed at the cuffs and ankles. His hor­rid expres­sion was famil­iar and I put one of my wiz­ened hands on the sweet­heart lock­et hang­ing from my neck.

The judge­men­tal old fart was always look­ing to pun­ish the girls, where­as I want­ed to pro­tect them. Just one of the many con­flicts in our com­pli­cat­ed relationship.

When all the can­dy was eat­en, the bell at the top of the library tow­er tolled cur­few. The wee gob­lins scur­ried to bed, and I began my night­ly dorm check. With a frown, I saw the old win­dows had been cracked open, over­grown vines tum­bling over the sills.

A hunched famil­iar back dis­ap­peared into the gloom of the hall. Bit­ing my lip, I decid­ed to call him out. “Father, do not open the win­dows. The girls will get a chill.” 

He turned and shook one gnarled fin­ger at me, a nasty smile on his face. It had been hun­dreds of years, but my insides froze any­way. How did that old ghoul still have any pow­er over me? Even as an appari­tion, he could turn my bow­els to liquid.

I dug deep and forced myself to sound author­i­tar­i­an. “If you retire, I’ll retire. How long are we going to do this?” 

Instead of an answer, he howled with laugh­ter, the grat­ing sound echo­ing in the halls and shak­ing my ribs. It took immense effort, but I willed my incan­des­cent arms to close the sticky dormers. 

“Get out of my halls or else I will slice you in half with a knight’s sword.” I point­ed my own knob­by fin­ger at him and imbued force into my voice I didn’t have. Mov­ing objects as a ghost takes immense effort. Con­va­les­cence was need­ed before I could do it again, but I was hop­ing my dad didn’t notice my exhaustion.

He cack­led again but dis­si­pat­ed, his vapors ris­ing through the ceil­ing. I can’t kill him with the iron swords dec­o­rat­ing the school, but it still hurts and slows the old ghoul down for a few days. I’d been attempt­ing to rid the school of him for eons, but I hadn’t found a way yet. Per­haps the extra pow­ers giv­en to spir­its on Hal­loween would inspire me?

I paused to regain my strength when gig­gles rang out from a bunk room. Is there an age as delight­ful as twelve? I cracked the door open and gazed at the group of three sit­ting on the floor. They’d pulled their duvets off their beds, wrapped them­selves up, and formed a cir­cle around a pile of sweets and snacks. 

With Head­mas­ter Howard off haunt­ing else­where, I could spare the time to listen…

#

Alex­is shook her dark curls and flicked on a flash­light under her chin. “Hal­loween is the best night to tell hor­ror sto­ries and scare all you weenies.” 

“Wee­nies! Speak for your­self, you can’t scare me,” Megan said, hug­ging her pil­low a lit­tle tighter and blink­ing her dark eyes.

Emma peeked out from her blan­ket. “I heard Hawthorn Hall is haunt­ed.” She was sit­ting criss-cross apple sauce and wrapped up like a baby, only her blue eyes, blonde fringe, and pale face visible. 

“You heard right.” Alex­is shone the flash­light up her nos­trils. “I’ll tell you a ghost story.”

The wind whis­tled down the cor­ri­dor, caus­ing the hairs on Emma’s arm to stand up. “No, I’m scared enough already!”

The low long howl made me glad I’d shut all the win­dows. A bit of moon­light fil­tered through the dirt on the glass into the hall.

Megan, one of the braver girls, reached for a hand­ful of prawn crisps. “The ghosts and demons are roam­ing free tonight.” 

Alex­is, encour­aged, began, “I heard this sto­ry from my sis­ter, and she promis­es it is absolute­ly one hun­dred per­cent true. It’s about a mur­der, a cen­tu­ry ago, right here at Hawthorn Hall.” 

The girls all leaned in to hear the tale, and so did I, putting one hand on a suit of armour to anchor myself.

“No way,” Emma said.

Alex­is winked. “Way, and it’s about for­bid­den love.”

Emma flushed and her cheeks blushed an inno­cent pink.

Megan tossed her blan­ket off. “Wait! Don’t start with­out me. I need to go to the loo.” 

#

 I hid behind the armored knight. Megan flounced out of the room and down the hall to the com­mu­nal baths. Yel­low eyes gleamed a few yards away. Was that my father hid­ing behind anoth­er suit of armor with the sword held aloft? Rare for him to return for anoth­er dal­liance so soon, but it was Hal­loween. Maybe he was also inspired by a well of evil energy.

My malev­o­lent par­ent clapped his hands togeth­er and the weapon tum­bled out of the knight’s hands; the blade angled toward Megan’s head. Mov­ing as quick­ly as my ghost­ly bones per­mit­ted, I caught the hilt of the sword and pushed it. Megan gave a lit­tle scream and jumped as the clang rever­ber­at­ed down the hall.

She ran the rest of the way to the toilets.

I picked up the sword and swung it at him, but he swirled out of the way. The tip just hissed through a tiny bit of his belly.

I grit­ted my teeth. “Father, I’m warn­ing you, I’m not going to let you hurt anoth­er one of my girls.”

He ignored me and crept back down the hall. I dropped the weapon and escort­ed a trem­bling Megan back to the room. If she only knew how close to true dan­ger she had been. My work pro­tect­ing these stu­dents is becom­ing hard­er with every decade. Head­mas­ter Howard – my father – must be per­ma­nent­ly retired.

#

Megan col­lapsed back onto the car­pet and re-bun­dled her­self in her duvet. “Oh my god guys, like, I almost died. One of those swords fell again.” 

Emma mum­bled through a mouth of choco­late. “I heard a hel­met clipped Ser­e­na last year on Hal­loween. She end­ed up in a hospital.” 

“You, okay?” Alex­is asked Megan, ignor­ing Emma.

Megan nod­ded, con­sol­ing her­self with anoth­er bag of crisps.

Alex­is pat­ted her arm. “The sto­ry will dis­tract you from your own near-death experience.”

“Great, go on,” Megan said.

“A for­eign stu­dent, Ana, joined for a year and rumor has it, the headmaster’s daugh­ter fell in love with her,” Alex­is said. “She was exot­ic and could have been a supermodel!”

“The head­mas­ter has a daugh­ter? How come I nev­er heard of her?” asked Emma.

Megan rolled her eyes. “Alex­is said it was, like, one hun­dred years ago, duh.” 

Alex­is raised her voice. “Any­ways, both women loved hors­es and they would go for roman­tic mid­night rides.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Emma chewed on the edge of her duvet.

Megan threw a pil­low at Emma. “Noth­ing, obvi­ous­ly, stop interrupting.” 

My hand hurt; I was hold­ing my lock­et so fero­cious­ly. Beau­ti­ful Ana, I kept her pic­ture near me always. The storm was inten­si­fy­ing, the vines bat­ter­ing against the win­dows, and the old hunt­ing pic­tures shift­ing on the walls. 

“The old guy was a homo­phobe. He devised a plan. He knew the ladies liked to meet in the barn, so he wait­ed for a stormy night. One where the wind blows like it is tonight. He sent his daugh­ter off on an errand in the next town right before the storm struck. Then he came back and typed a note for the for­eign stu­dent. The note said ‘meet in the barn at mid­night for a spe­cial ride.’”

Emma nod­ded. “Noth­ing good hap­pens after midnight.” 

Alex­is shone her flash­light into each girl’s face. “The school had a stal­lion that it kept for breed­ing called North Fire, but he was a wild thing. A son of North­ern Dancer and his blood­lines were worth mil­lions, but he was a sav­age. No one went in a field or stall alone with him. He was heav­i­ly tran­quil­ized when he had to be handled.” 

A shiv­er ran down my spine. Hors­es were gor­geous ani­mals, but so pow­er­ful, and very capa­ble of harm.

“When the for­eign stu­dent arrived, the school mas­ter let the stal­lion out into the ring. He was lead­ing him with a chain and muz­zle but took both off when he let him loose. The stal­lion was half mad already in fear from the storm and gal­loped straight at her,” Alex­is said.

“What hap­pened to the stu­dent?” asked Megan.

“North Fire tram­pled her. She died.”

“That’s it? That’s the sto­ry?” asked Emma.

A tear slipped down my face as I sank down to the floor. A tree branch thumped on the win­dow across from me. A crack appeared, frac­tur­ing like an ice cube.

“Yup, they couldn’t prove it was mur­der,” said Alexis.

“Any­thing hap­pen to the head­mas­ter? His daugh­ter?” Megan grabbed the flash­light and shone it back in Alexis’s face.

“The headmaster’s daugh­ter was so dev­as­tat­ed; she poi­soned her father, and then her­self. She even poi­soned Night Fire. Rumor has it, their tor­tured souls roam this place.” Alex­is turned off the flashlight. 

The girls rocked in their blan­kets and laughed nervously.

“I hate it when ani­mals die in sto­ries.” Megan pout­ed. “But if it was hun­dred years ago, I can get over it.”

Emma smiled shy­ly at Alex­is. “Let’s go to the barn and see if we can pick out Night Fire’s stall.” 

“Our pret­ty lit­tle mouse is get­ting brave.” Alex­is clapped. 

The girls trad­ed their duvets for jack­ets and Alex­is slipped the flash­light in her pocket.

Enough was enough. I took a deep breath and stood in front of the door, hold­ing my arms out. “No girls, tonight is not the night to vis­it the stables!”

My guts churned and my blood turned to ice as they walked right through me. I sum­moned all the ener­gy I could from the wan­ing pow­er of All Hallow’s Eve. “Girls you MUST NOT GO TO THE BARN.”

My father loved the old pitch­forks and thresh­ing tools in the barn. There were so many ways he could hurt my girls. Tonight, on Hal­loween, his evil spir­it was feed­ing on the ener­gy of the holiday.

I screamed again, “STAY OUT OF THE BARN.”

“Did you hear some­thing?” Megan asked, lead­ing the way.

“Nope.” Alex­is picked up the pace. 

#

The moon was full and its sil­ver glow illu­mi­nat­ed the crushed stone path. The wind whipped the long hair of the girls as they scur­ried, hunched against the chill. I wasn’t the only one fol­low­ing the girls down the path to the barn. The yel­low eyes of my father glowed in the trees. He laughed with delight, this was a true treat for him.

In the barn, Megan pat­ted the nos­trils of an old grey Ara­bi­an school horse over her stall door. I touched my lock­et when I saw Alex­is take Megan’s hand, but the head­mas­ter was glow­er­ing at them from the far door.

“Stay away from those girls, Dad.” I shook my fin­ger at his waver­ing apparition.

The girls moved on to the next stall door where a brown geld­ing stuck his head out check­ing their pock­ets for treats. The head­mas­ter grinned and looked up at the loft. They were stand­ing under the hay chute. One of those heavy bales…

“Dad, don’t you dare.” I put my hands on my hips.

He ignored me and float­ed towards the ladder.

In a dark cor­ner of the barn, I heard a famil­iar snort and whin­ny. I ran down to the aban­doned stall and saw Night Fire paw­ing the ground. His eyes were red and his coat shiny black. I regret­ted poi­son­ing him all those years ago, and rarely vis­it­ed the barn. Pre­fer­ring to avoid my father and the crea­ture that killed my love. The mem­o­ry was too sav­age for even decades to fog. My stal­lion had been my sec­ond love after Ana. Both wild and wonderful.

I opened the stall door and leapt on bare­back. His mus­cles clenched and I rev­eled in the feel­ing of his strength and pow­er. Rid­ing was my favorite sport back in the day. With a squeeze of my thighs, we lunged out of the stall.

My father had one foot on the hay loft lad­der.  “Time to toss some hay.” He spat the words at me, his chapped lips curl­ing off black teeth.

“Get down old man! I am tired of your treach­ery!” I called over the clop of my horse’s shoes.

Night Fire trot­ted on the aisle cob­bles, his met­al-clad hooves cre­at­ing sparks like lit­tle fire­flies. Skid­ding past the girls, he picked up speed. His tail swished with aggres­sion as he bucked but didn’t dis­lodge me. 

I gave his neck a pat. “Night Fire, Hal­loween imbues us with the pow­er for poet­ic jus­tice. Har­ness the fury of your wild stal­lion predecessors!”

My father was halfway up the ladder.

Snort­ing as if to answer me, Night Fire struck the hay lad­der with his front hooves. I clung to his mane to avoid being thrown. The lad­der flew off its hinges and clat­tered against the far wall. 

The old grey Ara­bi­an mare whin­nied in fear. The girls gasped and clung to one anoth­er in shock. My stub­born father held on and tried to vapor­ize as I spun my horse towards him. 

“Not this time Dad! It ends tonight.”

Night Fire reared high and came down on my father’s head, tram­pling him under his strik­ing hooves. The old man screamed as he became a spray of grey oth­er­world­ly ether. His crusty voice fad­ed as the mist dissolved.

I smiled. My father was no more. That wasn’t him turn­ing to vapor. That was the last ves­tiges of his evil soul return­ing to what­ev­er dark­ness beck­oned in hell.

A chill wind burst open the sta­ble doors, rat­tling all the horse stall bars, and stir­ring up the hay. My school girls screamed and dropped to the ground, hug­ging each other.

Night Fire reared again. “Whoa, big boy,” I pat­ted the stallion’s neck. 

“What was that?” Emma asked as tears streamed down her face.

Alex­is shiv­ered and point­ed. “The lad­der just flew across the barn! It’s like there’s a pol­ter­geist in here.” 

“Who’s going to believe that?” Megan grabbed the hands of her friends. “Let’s get out of here, before they blame us for van­dal­iz­ing the barn.”

The three ran back to the dorms and I watched them go. Night Fire was now qui­et beneath me and gave a con­tent­ed snort. I smiled, watch­ing the moon light catch their shiny hair as they dis­ap­peared towards Hawthorne Hall.

That was the last gen­er­a­tion of young girls my father would ter­ror­ize. With a gen­tle click and pres­sure from my calves, Night Fire and I trot­ted out onto the grass. I already felt lighter on his back. Years of anger waft­ing away. While I still had strength, I squeezed Night Fire’s sides and he broke into a gal­lop. The night sky’s stars twin­kled and we rose towards them. The stallion’s body dis­in­te­grat­ed beneath me, the two of us becom­ing thin­ner, more ethe­re­al. Togeth­er we became a mist over the tree­tops, the last time either of us would ride on Halloween.

I can’t wait to see Ana. I can final­ly leave my beloved Hawthorne Hall.