A short story by Lorraine Carey
During a
class field trip to a historical site in the Caribbean, a curious student
encounters a lonely ghost who does not want her to leave.
The sun was just about to set as eight-year-old Mary Jane
Eden watched its golden rays spread over the azure waters surrounding Grand
Cayman as if to illuminate and warm the sea. She smiled and felt at ease as she
sat in her weather-beaten rocker on the second floor of Pedro St. James
Castle. It had the best views on the
island—it always did, that was until it had fallen into ruin in the 1950s.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky this late September evening. The mahogany
wooden floor creaked as she rocked back and forth. The grounds people had left
for the day—she knew their routine, after all, she’d been here since 1877.
Since that time, she was bound to the property when she was struck by lightning
on the steps of the plantation house as she and her brother went to fetch water
in some buckets.
Before that, the castle was one of Grand Cayman’s most
important historical properties, a place where democracy had taken place back
in 1831 and later the governor of Jamaica had proclaimed the end of slavery in
the British Empire. The three-story structure resembled that of a plantation
solidly built with stone walls 18 inches thick. It was originally built by
slaves and William Eden and his family resided there until his daughter was
killed by a freak lightning strike during a tropical storm. It was then the
family decided to move, leaving the castle to be later occupied as a bar and a
restaurant, but only to become victim to two mysterious fires. The seven-and-a-half-acre
property is surrounded by colorful bougainvillea and opulent poinciana trees.
The tourists had been sparse lately and Mary Jane wondered
who would show up tomorrow. Maybe someone who would want to stay, maybe stay
longer than the usual tour. Every day gave her new hope.
She wandered around the three-tier plantation checking to
see if anyone was still there. She peered out of the thick louvered shutters
once again checking the night sky for any hint of a storm. She went from room
to room twirling around in her long white tattered dress. She decided to sit on
the wooden rocking horse in one of the main bedrooms. It was a special gift she
treasured from her father one Christmas. She rocked away until she became very
sleepy.
***
“Now please, please, stay with your guide,” Mrs. Taylor
urged. “If you get lost then it will reflect on Grand Island Elementary and
we’ll never get an invitation to come back to visit,” she said, her tone firm.
She had been taking her sixth-grade class to Pedro St. James
Castle for the past seven years on a field trip. It was scheduled every year by
the principal urging local students and expat parents to work on the island to
learn the history of the structure.
Mrs. Taylor tried to settle her students in hopes of gaining
their interest, instead of posting videos on social media.
“Students, as you know in 1831 this island signed its first
democracy papers and the government had been formed,” raved a tall elderly man
who was the main docent for the tour. “My name is Mr. Dalton. You will first
watch a movie on the history of the castle in our large theater room and then
we will begin our live tour. And please remember to have your phones muted or
turned off during the presentation.”
The students were all seated in the theater then the lights
went out. There was only blackness as the big screen rolled down from the
ceiling. A few of Mrs. Taylor’s students began to scream, but it was mostly the
girls.
“Ssh!” Mrs. Taylor hissed, putting her finger up to her
lips.
“But, Mrs. Taylor, I’m scared, and I don’t like this place!”
Jessa Franklin said, clinging to her teacher’s arm.
Dana Benson had her arm around Jessa, being they had been
best friends since first grade. “It’s okay, Jessa. It’s just a movie.”
“I can walk her outside, Mrs. Taylor,” offered one of the
parent volunteers.
“I’ll be okay, Mrs. Taylor,” Jessa said softly. “I’m going
to be brave.”
“The movie will be over soon and then we’ll be out in the
sunshine,” Mrs. Taylor assured. “You’ll feel better then.”
The movie began with the portrayal of the beautiful grounds
that surrounded the castle as Robert Thompson, the governor from Jamaica held
court inside where he issued a proclamation that ended slavery in the British
Empire. Outside dark skies rolled in and thunder boomed as a fleet of pirate
ships came ashore only to be met with an intense thunderstorm that now caused
the castle to be shed in an eerie light. The loud booms caused the entire
theater room to vibrate due to a state-of-the-art surround sound system. A
misting system had been activated to sprinkle its audience giving them the full
effect of the storm, not to mention the musty smell of a damp theater.
A voice echoed from the speakers, “What you are about to see
is not for the faint of heart.”
Jessa grabbed Dana’s arm tightly. “I’m going to cover my
eyes.”
A frightening portrayal of the storm that had taken the life
of Mary Jane Eden, the daughter of William had commenced. Most of the students
were silent as they watched bolts of lightning strike the child on the steps of
the bottom landing as she and her brother attempted to fill buckets of
rainwater.
When the movie screen rolled up, the lights came back on and
everyone clapped, especially Jessa.
“Okay, students, now that you know the history of the
plantation you’ll get a tour from our guides, Mr. Dalton informed.
“I’m glad, that’s over,” Jessa sighed as she wiped the sweat
off her forehead while they walked outside. The bright sunlight hit their faces
like a strobe light causing the students to squint. Jessa wasn’t the only one
who was glad to be outside as the other students spoke of being spooked in the
theater.
“Mrs. Taylor, can I use the restroom?” asked Dante Reed, the
class troublemaker and attention seeker.
“Sure, and you know, I think we’ll all take a break before
heading on with the tour. Please stay with your group. We’ll meet out by the
main house when you’re done,” the middle-aged teacher said while pulling her
long brown hair up into a high bun. She wiped the back of her neck with a
handkerchief.
“Ya know, Dana, for some reason this place really gives
me the creeps. Do you believe the stories about the slaves they kept in the
basement and all the strange things that went on here?” Jessa asked while
scanning over the lush grounds.
Continue reading in the Anthology
