The next day at school, Lisa found herself staring at her laptop in the dimly lit corner of the library, her mind still buzzing from the previous night. Jake had gone home convinced they'd made "real contact," but Lisa knew whatever she felt in the cemetery had little to do with Jake's ghost-hunting fantasies. And now, there was something else tugging at her attention: her history project.
The assignment was simple—research the town's past and find a notable story to present. Most of her classmates had chosen predictable topics—the old firehouse, the origins of the town's annual parade. But Lisa was determined to find something… unusual. Something that felt like it was waiting just for her.
As she skimmed through online articles, something caught her eye: The Legend of Liam Weaver. The name alone made her pause, but when she saw a grainy black-and-white photo of a boy around her age, she felt an inexplicable pull. With tousled dark hair and a solemn expression, Liam looked almost like he could step out of the picture and walk right up to her.
The article recounted the basics: Liam had died under mysterious circumstances nearly sixty years ago. Locals claimed he'd been seen wandering the streets late at night, just before his disappearance, acting strangely, talking to people who weren't there. Some said he was cursed. Others believed he'd been trying to communicate with the dead. The details were scarce, but Lisa's fingers flew across the keyboard, digging deeper, desperate to understand who Liam was—and why she felt so drawn to him.
There was a small note in the article's sidebar: Local historian Mrs. Helms may have more details on the Weaver family tragedy. Contact the town library for information.
Lisa couldn't help but grin. This was exactly the lead she'd been hoping for.
An hour later, Lisa was sitting across from Mrs. Helms in the library's musty archive room. The elderly historian peered at her over the rim of her glasses, a faint smile on her lips.
So, young lady, you're interested in the Weaver boy? she asked, her voice soft but tinged with a strange sadness.
"Yes," Lisa replied, feeling her own voice lower to match the somberness of the room. "I… I read about him online. But there wasn't much detail.
Mrs. Helms nodded slowly, her fingers tapping an old newspaper clipping. People don't like to talk about Liam. Even now, he's seen as… cursed. Her gaze shifted, her eyes darkening. But he wasn't cursed, you know. Just misunderstood.
Lisa felt her heart clench. What happened to him?
Liam Weaver was different, Mrs. Helms began, her voice dropping to a whisper. He had… unusual interests, like you, I think. She looked pointedly at Lisa, as if she knew about the night at the cemetery, the whispers she'd heard. Liam was fascinated with life beyond this world. But in those days, such things were seen as… dangerous.
Lisa leaned in closer, feeling the weight of each word. Did he… did he really die under strange circumstances?
Mrs. Helms took a shaky breath. He vanished one night, and when they found him… it was as if he'd been in a place no one could understand. Some say he'd opened a door he shouldn't have. Others claimed he'd returned… different. She pressed the newspaper clipping into Lisa's hand. Read this. But be careful with what you uncover. Liam Weaver isn't just a story. For those who listen too closely, he has a way of… lingering
Later that night, Lisa sat cross-legged on her bed, the clipping trembling in her fingers. The headline read: Local Boy Dies in Tragic Mystery, Town in Mourning. She skimmed the article, absorbing every strange, unsettling detail. Liam had last been seen wandering the cemetery, talking to no one, eyes wide and unseeing. His family found him days later, curled up under a tree, his face pale as if he'd seen something he couldn't escape.
A chill prickled the back of her neck. She couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a history project anymore. There was a connection, a thread that linked her to Liam. And she didn't understand why, but she wanted to pull on it, to see where it led.
Her phone buzzed, breaking the tension. It was a message from Jake.
Jake: Hey, still up for ghost hunting tomorrow? Found some new gadgets ;)
She rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a small smile. Maybe Jake's enthusiasm could help ease the eerie feeling the story had left with her. But a part of her wondered if she should keep this one to herself.
The next day, after school, Lisa and Jake met up at the cemetery again. This time, she'd come prepared, tucking the necromancy book under her arm, its weight comforting against her side. She hadn't told Jake about Liam yet, but she planned to tonight, if the moment felt right.
Alright, ready to hunt some ghosts? Jake asked, his face lit with excitement. He pulled out a flashlight and a strange device that he claimed could detect spiritual energy.
Lisa laughed. Do you even know how to use that thing?
Jake shrugged, grinning. Eh, only one way to find out.
As they wandered deeper into the cemetery, Lisa felt the weight of the story settle over her, thick and heavy. Her eyes scanned the tombstones, wondering which one might belong to Liam, if any. The book in her bag seemed to pulse, urging her forward, as if it, too, sensed something close.
They came to a clearing, where a single, ancient-looking tree stood, its branches casting eerie shadows over the ground. Lisa stopped, her heart pounding. This was it. This was where they'd found Liam.
She took a deep breath, then turned to Jake. Do you know anything about Liam Weaver?
Jake looked at her, surprised. Uh, yeah, kind of? Isn't he that kid from ages ago? The one who died… weirdly?
Yeah, she whispered, feeling the pull of something unseen, something old and unfinished. I think he's… still here.
Jake frowned, his gaze darting around. Here? Like, right now?
Lisa didn't answer, her attention focused on a soft rustling sound coming from the shadows. She took a step closer, clutching the book to her chest, feeling its energy mingle with her own. Suddenly, the pages seemed to flip on their own, stopping on a page covered in symbols that made her shiver.
Lisa, maybe we should get out of here, Jake whispered, his voice tinged with genuine fear.
But Lisa shook her head, her eyes fixed on the tree. She could feel it now—the presence, faint but insistent, as if something or someone was watching, waiting. She took another step, the ground cool beneath her feet, her pulse thundering in her ears.
And then, she heard it—a voice, low and filled with longing, drifting through the night air. Lisa…
She froze, her blood turning to ice. That voice was familiar, painfully so. It was the same one she'd heard before, in that strange moment with the book.
Did you… did you hear that? she whispered to Jake.
But Jake was already backing away, his face pale. I… I think I'll wait by the entrance.
As he disappeared, Lisa took a deep breath, bracing herself. She turned back to the tree, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and curiosity.
The voice came again, this time closer, as if it were right beside her.
Lisa…