The Boy in the Middle of the Night

Olivea Carrigan

Summertime in Arizona was a joke, but not the funny kind. If the nights were unbearably dry and hot the daytime was like Hell on Earth. The sun beat down on the sand and rocks and dry bushes for hours on end and it seemed like the sun would never set. Long days and ridiculously short nights… There was barely any time for rest in Arizona when it was August. A young rancher was coming home one night, however, seeking the relief of his home. A small wooden house, dark and unlit as he had not been home all day. The rancher was just happy that his home was dark and cool at this point.

The young man approached his front porch, boots thudding heavily up the steps as the sun set behind him. Every step sending pain shooting up through his heels… he needed to get his boots off. He took off his hat and hung it by the front door and turned his attention to the small radio that he left on the wooden railing that morning. Ah… that’s what he needed, some music. Not that the Arizona night was quiet, it was buzzing with bugs and sweating off the heat from the day. Just like him. He pictured himself sitting in the rocking chair a few feet away and listening to the sweet nothings of the music that would come from that little box. What an incredible invention.

He took off his boots and placed them under his hat, allowing himself to pace his porch in his socks, socks covered in sand and sweat. He left faint, sweaty footprints with every step toward the radio. Picking up the radio and turning it on he leaned on the porch railing and began to fidget with the dials and antennas… but all he got was static. And even more static. He twisted the dials but nothing eased the static that oozed from the musical box. He pulled at the antennas but that only seemed to make the static louder. He placed the radio back on the railing with a defeated thud and let his head drop between his shoulders. Another cruel joke. The rancher was not laughing.

“Mind if I help with that, sir?” 

A voice coming from his left startled the young man. An even younger man stood next to him with a relaxed stance, hands in his pocket and hair tangled and messy. The rancher was already young, but he could tell this man was even younger than him. It was not a man he realized… It was a boy. He couldn’t have been much younger than a teenager.

“How did you get on my porch?” He said defensively in response, tensing up and standing straight.

“I think you mean how did you get on my porch.” The boy quipped back.

A look of confusion flashed across the man’s face but it quickly turned to shock. He started thinking about his home… his small wooden house and who he had bought it from. A family had lived in it previously, a mother and her husband, two young daughters and… one son. He remembered the pain in that mother’s eyes, he could see it even when she was smiling.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Said the rancher, running a hand through his matted hair “The dead start living again these days huh?”

“Damn straight.” The boy had an odd sense of confidence in his voice as if he was proud to be standing as a ghost.

“The heat must really be gettin’ to me…” The man said while rubbing his face with both hands. There was no way there was a ghost standing on his front porch.

“I don’t think so, sir.” Said the ghost “If I can hear you and you can hear me, well… I think you better start believing in ghost stories.”

The man finally took a good look at the boy in front of him. He looked normal enough except for his messy hair… until the man started to notice the small details. He was wearing only one boot, his suspenders were off his shoulders and down by his sides and small tears and rips ran across his dirty button-up shirt. This poor kid…

“Can I help you with your radio or not?” The boy said, holding out his hand expectantly. The man had not realized he had gone quiet… Figuring there was no harm done, he grabbed the radio from the porch and handed it to the boy with a sigh. He was never good with all this new technology and such, Hell he didn’t even have a TV in his small house… not that he would exactly be able to afford one. What’s the point of watching something in black and white anyway?

The rancher did not touch the boy’s hand, but even with the proximity of him handing the ghost his radio, he could tell how cold the boy was. Cold and just the slightest bit translucent, like he was a vivid dream. The boy took the radio and fidgeted with it just like the rancher had but this time with more purpose. He adjusted the antennas in small amounts and turned the dials slowly. He hit the side of the radio with a hearty thump and the slightest amount of song broke through the stubborn static. The boy flicked his eyes up for just a second and continued to work.

“Why don’t you sit down sir? I’ll be just a few moments and you look mighty tired I must say.” The boy did not look up as he spoke.

The rancher was not about to deny that offer. So… he turned on his heel and paced to his rocking chair and sat down with an exhale. The ghost followed him and leaned back against the porch railing, continuing to work on the radio. The man noticed the boy made no sound as he walked. No clunk of a boot and no thump of a foot. Just silence.

“If you don’t mind me asking… What happened to you son? How did you uh…” The rancher started.

“Die?” The boy finished his sentence.

“Yeah…” The rancher was too delirious to worry about niceties and his curiosity was piqued. He had only just met the boy but… it’s not every day you meet a ghost.

“It was an accident actually. I probably could have gone on living but…” The boy trailed off, losing himself to his thoughts for just a moment.

 “It was a night like this actually. Dead middle of summer and-” The boy paused and stifled a laugh. “No joke intended, but my sisters were causing a stir and snuck right out the front door. Guess they couldn’t sleep or something, probably too hot. I heard them leave and then a little later I heard the cattle causing a ruckus. Rearing and running and kicking up the dirt, I knew my sisters had something to do with it. So I did what anyone would do.” He paused from working on the radio for just a moment, as if he was trying to remember something.

“It’s a little fuzzy but I know I ran out there and faced the cattle. I saw my sisters in that blur of hooves and hide and I remembered getting them outta that mess, but after that…” He stopped and hit the radio again with his palm. This time, it burst to life with music, loud and crackly. A man sang slowly while a trumpet melted with his voice. The boy turned down the volume and placed the radio on the railing next to him.

“I think I was trampled.” He finally said.

There was a silence between the two. A heavy silence except for the man and trumpet from the radio. The rancher was in a quiet and dazed shock. His weariness from a long day of work wasn’t really helping him process the story he just heard… and it wasn’t very often you got to hear how someone died. Especially from themselves. Especially from a kid…

The boy felt, again, fuzzy thinking about his death. He was a cold being but thinking about it made him feel warm, like he had a fever. Like thinking about being alive brought him closer to actually being alive once again… but he knew that would never happen. His face felt warm and if he was alive his eyes would have probably started to water. But he had never cried as a ghost. No water would seep from this iridescent being. Just like how no water would seep from the desert in the middle of August.

The rancher couldn’t think of anything to say in response to the boy’s story. ‘I’m sorry to hear that’ probably would have been no help. He stared at the boy who stared at the floor of the porch.

“Thank you for helping me with my radio.” The rancher finally said. It was all he could manage. The music played softly and sweetly. The rancher, at least, felt at peace with the music. He hoped the boy did a little bit too.

“You’re welcome sir.” The warm feeling left the boy’s face as he gave a small smile.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?” The boy said, pushing away from the railing.

“Don’t mind at all.” The rancher replied softly, closing his eyes and sitting back.

The boy sat down next to the rocking chair and pushed himself up against the wall of the house. He crossed his arms and exhaled his ghostly lungs. The rancher began to rock slowly in his chair, it creaked quietly as the pair sat and listened to the radio. The sun finally sunk below the rocky horizon and it was finally dark. The heat was finally gone. 

The next morning the ghost was gone. The rancher didn’t even get to say goodbye, but it’s not like he would have had much to say anyway. He always questioned if that whole experience was a dream, he fell asleep right there in his rocking chair and awoke the next morning sore… and alone. 

If he was real, the rancher never saw the boy again. The rancher’s radio also always worked after that night, he never had a problem with it again. He never forgot that night either. In remembrance of the boy, the rancher decided to leave his radio on every night since it worked so well. He hoped that the boy could hear it. Wherever he was.