One-Man Hide and Seek? What da hell was One-Man Hide and Seek?

On the way home from Brenda’s house, I scrolled through Dad’s YouTube Channel, Cooper Ghost. The iPad’s white light shone like a torch on my face, and my finger hovered over one video’s play button. I wasn’t interested in ghosts, especially not after that encounter in the house. Yet, I felt something pull my gut—like I had to learn more and return.

“Whatcha doing over there?” Dad asked, pulling into our house’s driveway, only ten minutes away from Brenda’s.

“Nothing,” I lied, shutting off the iPad and placing it on the dashboard. “I’m just ready to get out of this bloody car.”

“Fiery as ever,” Dad giggled, but then he cleared his throat. “Son, the Number One rule of ghost hunting is that you want to be gentle with the spirit. That’s how they open up. We won’t learn anything if you mouth off like that again.”

“I’m not going back,” I argued. “I’ll leave ghost hunting to the big boys.”

“But aren’t you curious about your mother?”

“I am, but—!”

“That settles it!” Dad parked and shut off the car. “We will return on Thursday.”

“Thursday? But I have summer classes to attend.”

“Not at nighttime.” Dad patted my back. “There is just as much good in the world as evil, son.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re not Brenda’s enemy.”

“She’s a ghost!” I argued. “That means she’s evil.”

“That’s a demon, son.”

“Shut up, Dad!” I was the one who was supposed to know everything.

I started to climb out of the car, but then Dad picked up his tablet and unlocked it. “One-Man Hide and Seek?” He gave me a knowing look. “What are you doing looking up One-Man Hide and Seek? I thought you weren’t interested in this crap.”

Stop taunting me, Dad.

“I’m not,” I stated, blushing.

“One-Man Hide and Seek is a voodoo ritual,” Dad explained, ignoring my embarrassment and seeing right through me. He tucked the iPad under his arm. “You take a stuffed animal and cut it open. You then replace all the stuffing with rice, sewing the animal back up afterward. Then, pour water on it and say, ‘One-Man Hide and Seek’ three times. It supposedly traps the ghost in the toy.”

“Have you ever done it?” I found myself wondering aloud.

“Not yet. I just recently learned about it, too. I’d love to try it, though. Maybe One-Man Hide and Seek is our chance to free Brenda.”

“I already told you that I’m not going back.”

“Suit yourself, but I’ll leave the tablet in the living room if you want to learn more. For now, it’s late, and we must go to bed.”

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“I hate you, Dad,” I silently mumbled, hoping he didn’t hear that. I slammed my car door shut and slipped my sweaty hands into my jeans pockets, kicking a stone in the driveway.

Unlike Brenda’s, our house was a two-story farmhouse on the outskirts of Downtown Banyan. While we didn’t have as many banyan trees as Brenda, we did have cornfields and an apple tree in the front yard. Dad said Mom used to sit under that apple tree like George Washington when she was pregnant because she always craved apples.

I went inside our house to my sports-themed bedroom and thought about Brenda. Why? I had no idea. I attempted to forget her, but my mind always returned to her.

Stop, Riley, stop. She’s a ghost.

Aw, heck. I had to learn more about One-Man Hide and Seek.

Around 4:30 am, Dad snored from his room across the hall, meaning it was time.

I rolled out of bed, hit the carpeted floor, and stood, my blanket over my bare shoulders. Dad told me they would become broad one day, but I wasn’t sure. I was thirteen and still small.

I tiptoed into the living room, grabbed Dad’s iPad, and took it into my room. I unlocked it and covered my head with my blanket.

From there, I looked up videos of One-Man Hide and Seek. It was just as Dad explained: cut open a stuffed animal and stuff rice in it. Voodoo ritual—check! While it was interesting, did it work?

No, Riley, you’re not into this crap, so stop giving in.

During one video, I turned my bedroom light on because it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I never knew a Paw Patrol doll could be so terrifying. By the time it was over, it was nearly 6:00 am, so I returned the iPad and lay awake for two more hours.

Dad took me to Downtown Banyan’s General Store in the morning. Tucked between a gas station and a one-story school—it had a little of everything. I checked the video games while Dad talked to the store clerk, Mr. Mitchell, for thirty minutes. What was the latest shoot-em-up game? Those were the ones I enjoyed.

“Riley,” Dad called, waving me over, “come say hi to Mr. Mitchell.”

Seriously? I had other things to worry about—like reaching the next level in Call of Duty. Dad didn’t care much that I played it; he was too worried about ghost hunting and my mother. Regardless, I groaned and approached him and Mr. Mitchell, lowering my head.

“Riley! You’ve gotten tall!” Mr. Mitchell pinched my cheek and adjusted his face mask. “Before long, you’ll catch up to your old man.”

“He and I went to Brenda’s house last night,” Dad elucidated. “Our first father-son ghost adventure.”

“Really?” Mr. Mitchell eyed me. “What’d you see?”

“Not much,” Dad answered, “but we used the Paranormal Music Box and Spirit Box and got readings from Brenda.”

“You did?” I swore that Mr. Mitchell nearly jumped out of his skin, and I pictured his skin hitting the store’s ceiling, leaving his skeleton behind. “What did she say?”

“‘Help.’ She kept saying ‘help.’” Dad tapped the counter.

“‘Help?’” Mr. Mitchell rubbed his beardless chin. “Hm, I wonder.”

“Wonder what?” Dad instantly inquired, pushing me aside so he could face Mr. Mitchell.

“Ow,” I said, hitting the dusty, white tile floor. I rubbed my head.

Mr. Mitchell leaned close to Dad and whispered, “Have y’all heard of the Banyan Serial Killer?”

Wait… Serial killer? I knew it! Aside from the legends about Brenda, I always knew something was strange about Banyan.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Dad told Mr. Mitchell. “Isn’t he known as the Demon King?”

The Demon King? We were going Legend of Zelda there. I assumed the so-called Demon King’s nickname was Ganondorf.

“That he is,” Mr. Mitchell replied, nodding. “Legend has it that his spirit’s haunted Banyan since the Seventies.”

“The same time Brenda died,” Dad mumbled. What was he getting at?

I stood and tapped him, but Dad ignored me.

“Where is he supposedly most active? We haven’t had a kill here in ten years. At least, I don’t think so.”

“No one knows,” Mr. Mitchell admitted. “And you’re right, sir. The last kill was ten years ago—strangling, I believe, like Brenda. Supposedly, one of the best ways to find the Banyan Serial Killer is by trapping one of his victims in a stuffed animal. It’s called One-Man Hide and Seek.”

Oh, shit. Don’t get any ideas, Dad. I’d rather summon a demon from an Ouija board than trap them in a toy.

Dad smirked. “That’s interesting because I’ve just started the One-Man Hide and Seek Challenge on my channel. Thank you, sir, for informing us.”

I swear, Dad.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders but still paid me no attention. “Anyway, we’re rambling here. I want a twelve-pack and some cigarettes, please.”

Yeah, Dad had a dark side, too.