The moon shed soft light over the wash near the Savannah River as the three teenagers pulled in.

“Effingham County sure isn’t known for its nightlife,” Myra grumbled. “There’s nothing to do.” She pulled the tailgate of Tyler’s truck down and hopped up, swinging her legs to the beat of the song belting from the cab.

“Nope,” Tyler replied, setting a bottle on a fence post a dozen yards away. He took aim with his BB gun and pegged the bottle, shattering it. “Got that one,” he called to Brad.

“Nice,” Brad replied, climbing out of the cab and stretching. “I’m bored. Let’s go find that haunted house.”

Myra looked around with wide eyes. “A haunted house?”

“Sure. I know where one supposedly is.”

“I don’t want to go to a haunted house!” Myra replied, shivering.

“Sis, you know it’s just old tales,” Brad said, his eyes gleaming. “A real haunted house in Effingham County? I’ll believe it when I see it. Besides, it’s not far from here.”

“I know the place you mean,” Tyler said, leaning against the fender. “I heard there’s a ghost–some old lady who died falling down the stairs. She grabs you and hauls you upstairs and pushes you down, so you’ll die just like she did.” He glanced at Myra. “But don’t worry, girl–I’ll protect you.” She swatted his arm.

“So, let’s go! What are we waiting for?” Brad asked impatiently. The three piled back into the truck and Tyler slung mud onto the fenders as they bounced out of the wash and along the road toward Old Ebenezer.

A few minutes later, Tyler turned down a dirt road. “I think it’s down here somewhere,” he said. Myra noticed his voice had dropped considerably since they left the river.

“You think?” she asked, glancing around at the moss-draped trees. Her eyes widened as she looked back toward the road. “Tyler, look out!”

Tyler slammed on the brakes and skidded on the dirt, coming to a stop that threw all three forward. “What?” he cried. Myra pointed.

“There was a huge spiderweb, all the way across the road,” she said, her voice jittering with fright. “And there was one of those huge spiders in the middle of it . . .”

She trailed off at a scratching sound coming from the front of the truck. A large black-and-yellow spider pulled itself over the edge of the hood and seemed to stare straight at them. It rose and extended its long front legs, then scuttled up the hood toward the windshield.

All three of them screamed, and Tyler floored the accelerator, sending the spider into the wind.

“Holy cow!” Brad yelled, sticking his head out into the wind. “Whoo-hoo!” He was laughing like a loon.

“I don’t like this,” Myra said, cowering in the middle seat.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Brad admonished. “It was just a spider. Now, for the real scare!” He pointed to a clearing that appeared at the end of the road. In the clearing stood a dilapidated house, its porch sagging and shingles missing from the roof.

“That’s it?” Myra whispered. Brad nodded. Tyler pulled up in the weedy yard and shut off the engine. The quiet was too loud.

Brad climbed out of the truck, then stood looking up at the house. After a moment, Tyler got out of the driver’s seat and helped Myra down.

“Let’s go in,” Brad said. “I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

“Brad . . .” Myra said.

Brad rolled his eyes. “Come on, scaredy-cat. Tyler and I will make sure the ghost doesn’t get you.”

They climbed the steps to the porch, Brad in the lead. Myra shrieked as a black shape darted by.

“Calm down, sis. It’s just a cat,” Brad told her. He pushed the door open, laughing at the creaking sound it made. “This is perfect for Halloween. We ought to set up a haunted house here and charge for admission.”

They entered the foyer, looking around curiously. “It’s not in as bad a shape as I thought,” Tyler said. Myra nodded.

“It seems like . . .”

Thump.

All three froze. Slowly, they lifted their eyes to the top of the stairwell where the noise had come from.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Measured footsteps passed from an unseen room and down the upstairs hall. Myra shook but could not seem to move. The two young men were frozen as well.

“Do you hear . . .” Brad began, then screamed.

At the top of the stairs, a glowing white figure appeared. It was an old woman wearing a long dress, with flowing grey hair. Her eyes blazed.

“Nobody home,” she called in an eerie, keening voice. She began to move slowly down the steps.

The three teenagers barely touched the floorboards as they ran for the door. They jumped from the porch and dove into the truck. The sound of gears grinding and tires shrieking was the only thing louder than their screams as they fled back up the road.

The ghost came down the steps. A hand reached up and pulled the long white wig and mask off. An old man’s face appeared.

“Darn kids,” he said. “Serves them right, coming in here without permission.” He laughed to himself. “Bet they won’t trespass again. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. Gotta hand it to them.”

A slight noise made him turn. He froze, his gaze fixed at the top of the stairs.

A white, misty figure looked down at him. It was an old woman with flowing hair. Her feet did not touch the floor; instead, she hovered a few inches above it.

“I’ve been trying for fifty years to have visitors,” the woman said in a hollow voice. “And you’ve ruined it.”

He beat the teenagers back to the main road.

RL Imre is an Effingham County author whose mystery and suspense novels blend history, crime, and the supernatural. She is the author of “The St. Augustine Mysteries” and “The Savannah Mysteries,” two series inspired by the rich history, folklore, and haunting atmosphere of the coastal South. A lifelong educator, Imre holds a doctorate in Curriculum and Instruction and teaches high school science at South Effingham High School. When she isn't teaching, she's researching historical mysteries and writing her next novel.

Learn more at www.rlimre.com.