Miss Molly

“Why was Pa-kun at the O’Brain’s?” Jon would ask as he thought about it. It was expected that he would stay at the theater during a storm, that was no surprise, but he never went to the O’Brains alone. “H-he always said that it smelled.” The others would look to Jon, odd looks all around. “You know, it’s right by the restaurants. You can smell the smell coming from the vents. He said it always smelled like meat, left out in the sun. The O’Brains never noticed, they said it smelled like haggis or something strange.”

Nathan looked up and turned his hidden gaze towards Jon. “Isn’t their place just behind Misha’s? The sewer’s there. And well, Mac’s pipes were old, always backing up with literal shit. Think that’s where the smell came from?” He would ponder, staring at his music player’s screen.

Leslie sat back. “I can’t say it smells bad, cause it’s what the farm usually smells like after a big rain. So -- they’re probably used to it because they came from a farming town before coming here.” She explained knowledgeably.

Nikki looked up and moved to lean over the table, opening her mouth. “Nikki, no.” Nathan stated sternly as he heard her just breathe. “I am not going to a place where our friend was just attacked by a loopy house wife.” She tried to whine and present her determination but he looked over to her, turning his head. “They said Mr. O’Brian was dead.” His last words were unsteady.

“They didn’t, though.” Kaitlynn spoke up. “Pa-kun did. In fact the other officers couldn’t find Mr. O’Brian, or Billy and Theodore, b-but he insisted.” She looked tired, having been up with her dad most of the night dealing with the emergencies. “Something’s wrong too. I was helping at the emergency tents earlier while my dad dealt with closing off the bridge. I saw a body in the river.”

Jon looked to Nathan. “You think the flood washed away the bodies at the cemetery?”

Nathan pushed the meat filled bowl to the end of the table. “Of course I do. They didn’t fix it last time it happened. They couldn’t get the fundings because they were spending it on repairing the bridge. There’s no money in burying bodies.”

Leslie scoffed. “Tell that to Mortimer, charging obscene amounts of money for a casket and headstone. His family has always been greedy.” The occultist defended. “That’s why almost none of the graves in the old cemetery have stone markers. A lot of the wooden ones have long since been washed away or have deteriorated without the proper care.”

That was a problem the town always had to deal with. The Undertakers had lived in Middletown since its founding. They settled on Hollow Road, named so because it was Christened ground specifically for burials. The family had moved from their old home at the end of the river, which was still intact and used as a tourist attraction during the Fall. They settled on Hollow Road; their home was located on the same plot as the mortuary, where bodies were prepared for embalming and eventual burial. They also served as the town’s pathologists for generations, doing autopsies for the sheriff’s department when needed. They were never want for money and had several Friesian horses that pulled their carts and served as working animals that assisted on the property. The family were traditionalists and still did much of their work as was done during colonial times.

“So--” Jon looked down to his phone. Still no call from his sister. “Why don’t we go see Pa-kun in the hospital, and ask him?” It was a good idea, and better than staying here.

Misha would return to their tables with a pitcher of iced tea. “Here you go.” She reached up to gently caress the top of Jon’s head. “Oh is one of your little friends hurt? You should not go out. There are many khuligan running about.” She warned. “Troublemakers, such a quiet town too. You stay and Misha will make you hot chocolate, hmm?” She would return to the back, the group having forgotten about the vandals tearing up the town, up until that point.

“I have to pee.” Jon pushed to stand, Nathan looking over to his friend, worry expressed by his downturned expression.

“You okay man?” Nathan was worried about Jon, he seemed jittery and his mind looked to be wandering.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back quick. After let’s go visit Pa-kun.” They would agree to Jon’s request and the young man would hurry to the swinging doors at the right side of the shop.

Heading through the doors one would find themselves in a harrow hall. Down the right would lead to the alley, a few trash bags were hanging out of metal bins waiting to be taken out by Bo. To the left was the path that led to the back of the kitchen where food was prepared. Along the way to the kitchen were the bathrooms. Overhead were loud vents that drowned out any busy work that happened back here. They were old, but effective so didn’t need to be replaced. It was still creepy as the floors had weird, patchwork tiles of black and white that felt uneven especially when the walls back here still had the peeling wallpaper from the old shop which were painted up with horizontal stripes of gold and green. He made it to the men’s bathroom and pushed to head in. The bathroom itself was an amalgamation of shoddy design work and stylish 80s motifs with white walls speckled with dashes of vibrant color, the bathroom stalls added as an afterthought as the shop originally only had urinals, many of which were consistently out of order. The mirrors were marked up with graffiti, but not the kind from street gangs. It had been a prank put out by the art department in the university to raise awareness on the arts, but the spray paint used wasn’t easily washed off. It was more cost effective to just scrub out a few spaces to peek through than clear the whole thing.

After relieving himself Jon would wash his hands, finding the dull scrape of the fans more a nuisance than doing anything to relieve the humid air in the toilets. He was hit by that aforementioned sewage smell, his nose wrinkling as he pulled the door open, to leave. He could see the garbage bins were missing from the corner. Bo must have taken them out as the backdoor was left ajar with a brick. Drying off his hands he would jump a bit as he saw someone standing in the corner of his eye. Looking toward the kitchen he would spot the familiar visage of --

“Molly...?” Jon murmured as the spectre turned her gaze toward the kitchen before dragging herself out of sight.

Jon tossed the balled up paper into the bathroom as the door closed, barely bouncing it off the refuse bin. Hurrying down the hall into the kitchen Jon would slowly look around the corner. Molly was standing there, staring at the metal counters. He could smell the herbs and spices used in Misha’s cooking: a large pot of borscht boiled on the stove. It was relatively clean save for a few discarded parsley stems bundled on a cutting board and the hanging sausages that looked like a contamination hazard as it hung over the bowls of washed and drying vegetables. The walls were peeling from age and years of getting scrubbed clean. The floor was a little wet, Bo’s footprints visible all over the brick flooring. He moved towards Molly, peering over the top of her head to spot a cleaver slammed into a cutting board. Some of the Polish sausage was being sliced up. He looked towards the fridge: large metal faces that hummed raucously. He looked over to the fridge as the rattling sound it made, was a bit startling.

“Why are you here--?” But as he turned to look to the spectre she was gone! “Where did you go?” He looked around the room, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Weird...“ Shrugging he would turn to leave, reaching up to close the kitchen door behind him.

As he grabbed the swinging door he would move to pull it closed, but movement through the door’s window caught his attention. He moved to lean his head back so he could peer around the door, the window itself frosted by condensation and age. There he would spot several black bags piled up in a green cart next to bowls of dry ice. It was the kind of green, metal pushcart they used on the farms to lug hay and equipment. They looked like game bags, probably provided by the local hunters to the shop. Behind the push cart he spotted Molly once more. She was staring down onto the cart. Jon followed her gaze, her sad eyes just staring into the empty space. There he would see a human hand hanging out of one of the overturned bags, resting against the ice.

Jon inhaled and closed the door as he left the kitchen, hurrying back to the main room of the dining hall where he would slide back into the booth with Leslie and stare ahead. Nathan, Nikki, Kaitlynn and Leslie looked to each other before looking to the flustered young man.

Leslie patted his back. “Looks like you’ve seen a ghost!” She patted his shoulder.

“I did.” He nodded firmly. “Molly was back there.” He whispered the last part of his comment, lowering his head.

Leslie seemed a bit surprised. “Oh,” She was concerned. “But Molly...“

“Yeah, she was looking at something.” His response was succinct.

“I see...“ Leslie lowered her hand and adjusted her fedora. “We should go.”

“We should.” Jon moved to stand and headed out.