Taylor Brooke McCoy

Writer, Reader, and Person With Opinions

Misremembered Tales: Bloody Mary

Such an old building was bound to have creepy noises erupting from the nooks and crannies, corners and cracks, and Highland Park was no exception. The pasty-yellow brick walls seemed not to shield the sound of gurgling beyond. Could it be the pipes? Or were the ghosts that lurked there growing restless from being confined in such a place.

I, the self-appointed ghost hunter of my hall, assured my classmates that I would be the one to face down and eradicate the ghosts and the causes of the strange noises and happenings in the girl’s restroom and beyond. Many tried to tell me that ghosts didn’t exist, but still some stood beside me and vowed to help me with my noble cause.

Since I grew up Church of Christ and not Catholic, I knew little about the Bloody Mary legend, but from other students and my own imagination, I figured out a fool-proof plan to summon her from the dank and poorly-lit recesses of the restroom.

Not wanting to risk the health and safety of my classmates, I convinced most of them to stay behind while I went to summon and banish her. I would compel her with the power of Christ to leave the school and quit her gurgling terrors.

The lights flickered as I entered. A green tint from the walls and tired fluorescents gave the sensation of being in a dungeon. Someone peed in a stall at the end, but that was no matter. I began to turn on all the faucets. I felt the angry tremblings of the ghost within me that had nothing to do with the stench of a children’s restroom. Feet slipping on the tiled floor, I ran into each stall and flipped the switch on the toilets. The roar of wasted water paled in comparison to the roar of the ghost.

I ran to the center of the bathroom and called her name three times with my eyes clenched shut. With a rush of silence that followed the flush, I felt her presence, and before my eyes, I imagine I saw her in her gory glory, her green, ectoplasmic body flowing and floating.

Just as she, enraged, came at me with knives wielded, ready to take me with her to the afterlife, I thrust a cross at her and screamed her banishment. Her ghostly roar punctuated one final flush from the peer in the last stall, and she vanished.

I had defeated her, at least, for a time.

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