Author: B Humphrey
Date: 2024-10-22 00:00:00+00:00
Description: The Polaroid Project: In the summer of 1982, four high school friends discover an old Polaroid camera buried in the cluttered stalls of a flea market. At first, it seems like just another retro relic—perfect for capturing their skate park tricks and lazy afternoons. But when the photos they take reveal unsettling glimpses of events that haven't happened yet, the friends realize the camera holds a dark secret. Each picture pulls them closer to the mystery of Susie Quinn, a girl who disappeared five years ago on the night of a lunar eclipse. As the line between past and present blurs, the group
Publisher: Independently published

Dedicated to you. May you always find a reason to smile.

The Polaroid Project

A Retro Horrors: The Lost Decade Book

By: B. Humphrey

Copyright © 2024 by B. Humphrey All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters, movies, songs and fictional scenarios belong to their original creators and trademark owners respectfully.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

Contents

Chapter 1: Flea Market Treasures

Chapter 2: Captured Moments

Chapter 3: Clues in the Shadows

Chapter 4: The Night Before the Eclipse

Chapter 5: Reflections of the Past

Chapter 6: Beneath the Eclipse

Chapter 7: The Morning After

Epilogue: A Glimmer of Hope

Chapter 1: Flea Market Treasures

The sun baked the asphalt of the old flea market lot, a simmering shimmer rising from its cracked, uneven surface like a warning. Somewhere down the row of booths, a boom box crackled with the tinny strains of “Take on Me”, its beat floating through the stalls, mixing with the scent of hot pretzels, frying sausages, and stale popcorn.

Jesse Harper adjusted the strap of his Walkman slung over his shoulder, the faint hum of a cassette winding down as the song ended. He slipped off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck, and waved to Tina Delgado, who was poring over a milk crate of vinyl records at the nearest table.

“You find anything good?” Jesse asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his faded jean jacket.

Tina pushed her oversized sunglasses up her nose, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You mean besides your future as a DJ extraordinaire? Not yet, Harper.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile. Tina always had a way of making everything sound cooler than it was—like he wasn’t just a kid collecting mixtapes, but a rising star in the making.

The market bustled with energy, a living thing made of rusted bicycles, mismatched roller skates, and forgotten relics of other people’s pasts. Old men haggled over baseball cards, their fingers stained with ink, while moms with feathered hair picked through racks of parachute pants for their restless kids.

Logan Pierce appeared out of nowhere, skidding to a stop on his skateboard with a smooth, practiced ease. His blond hair, sun-bleached from too many afternoons at the skate park, stuck out in every direction like he’d just rolled out of bed—because, knowing Logan, he probably had.

“You guys have to see this,” Logan said, breathless, as he kicked his board into his hands. “There’s this creepy booth back there, selling all kinds of weird old junk. Like—haunted house kind of stuff.”

“Haunted?” Brit O’Leary’s voice cut in as she joined them, a stuffed plastic bag slung over her shoulder. “You’re speaking my language.” She adjusted her neon headband, eyes wide with intrigue. Brit had a thing for the paranormal—ghost stories, UFO sightings, you name it. If it was spooky, she wanted to know all about it.

Jesse, Tina, Logan, and Brit exchanged glances, the unspoken agreement passing between them: they had to check it out.

They weaved through the rows of booths, dodging kids with dripping ice cream cones and old women hawking homemade jams. Every step brought them deeper into the heart of the flea market, where the sunlight didn’t quite reach, and the air felt heavier—muffled by dusty tarps and the scent of mildew.

The booth Logan had found was crammed between two larger stalls, almost hidden behind a curtain of beaded necklaces. The air inside was thick and musty, like an attic sealed shut for decades. Trinkets cluttered the tables—yellowed postcards, antique dolls with chipped faces, and tarnished jewelry tangled in knots.

“Check this out,” Logan whispered, holding up a cracked porcelain doll with half a face. “Why would anyone want that?” Tina muttered, shuddering. Brit leaned in, her fingers grazing the edge of a brass Ouija board. “I bet this stuff is cursed.”

“Cool,” Logan whispered with a grin.

Behind the counter sat an old woman, her back hunched, eyes lost in the folds of her sunken face. She looked as if she’d been waiting for them—like she knew they would come.

Jesse noticed the camera first. It sat on the edge of the table, hidden beneath a tangle of braided friendship bracelets and dust-covered postcards.

It was a Polaroid camera—big, clunky, and scarred with years of use. The kind of thing you’d expect to find in your grandma’s attic, right next to old photo albums with cracked leather covers. Jesse picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his hands. It smelled faintly of plastic and time, like the scent of cassette tapes left in a hot car.

“How much?” Jesse asked.

The old woman’s lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. “It chooses who it belongs to,” she said in a voice like dry leaves scraping pavement. “Fifteen dollars, and it’s yours.”

Jesse exchanged glances with the others. Brit’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and even Tina, usually the skeptical one, looked intrigued. Logan just shrugged, pulling a crumpled five-dollar bill from his back pocket.

“I’ll cover the rest,” Jesse said, digging into his own pocket for a handful of change.

The woman’s eyes seemed to glint as she accepted the money. “Be careful what you capture,” she whispered, almost to herself, as Jesse slung the Polaroid camera over his shoulder.

They left the booth with the camera, the woman’s words lingering in the back of Jesse’s mind like a half-remembered dream.

They gathered in Jesse’s basement later that afternoon, the room lit by the glow of his lava lamp and the soft hum of the box fan whirring in the corner. Posters of The Clash and Duran Duran covered the walls, and the scent of buttered popcorn filled the air as Logan opened a fresh bag of microwave popcorn.

Tina sprawled on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, flipping through an old comic book. Brit sat cross-legged on the floor, her hands cradling the Polaroid camera as if it were a precious artifact. Logan balanced on the edge of the armrest, his skateboard propped against the wall.

“We gotta try it out,” Brit said, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. Jesse grabbed the camera and pointed it at Logan. “Say cheese.”

Logan struck a ridiculous pose, fingers framing his face, and Jesse snapped the photo. The camera whirred, spitting out a glossy white square. They all leaned in as the image slowly developed—first a blur, then shapes, then color. And then… they froze.

The photo didn’t show Logan’s goofy pose. Instead, it captured a moment that hadn’t happened yet—a glimpse of Logan standing outside the flea market booth, surrounded by shattered glass.

“Whoa…” Logan whispered, staring at the photo. “That’s… weird, right?” Tina sat up, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t you almost knock over that glass display earlier?” Jesse frowned, flipping the photo over in his hands. “This isn’t possible.”

Brit grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “Guys, this thing is showing the future! It’s like… some kind of paranormal camera!”

Tina scoffed, though she couldn’t hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes. “Or it’s just a coincidence.”

“Let’s take another,” Logan said, grabbing the camera. “We gotta test this out.”

They spent the next hour snapping pictures—Jesse holding a cassette tape, Brit flipping tarot cards, Tina reading a comic. Each time, the Polaroid showed something slightly different from what they’d posed for—a tape unspooled on the floor, tarot cards scattered in the wind, Tina looking out a window she hadn’t been near.

It was unsettling. The photos were… wrong. Not by much, but enough to make their skin prickle. The last photo they took showed something none of them could explain: Brit, standing beneath a graffiti-covered bridge, with a girl’s face peeking out from the shadows behind her. A girl with hollow eyes and pale skin.

Jesse’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that face, even though he’d never seen it in person. They all did. “Susie Quinn,” Brit whispered, her voice barely audible. “That’s Susie Quinn.” The room fell into silence, the hum of the fan suddenly too loud.

Susie Quinn had disappeared five years ago—vanished without a trace. The only thing anyone remembered was that she’d been seen near the old roller rink on the night of a lunar eclipse.

And now, she was staring back at them from the photograph. The scent of popcorn was suddenly overwhelming, thick and heavy. Jesse’s stomach churned.

“What does this mean?” Logan asked, his voice cracking slightly. “It means…” Tina began, then trailed off, her eyes wide with fear. “It means we have to find out what happened to her,” Brit finished, her voice steady despite the chill in the air. Jesse looked down at the camera in his hands, the weight of it suddenly unbearable.

Something told him this was only the beginning.

Chapter 2: Captured Moments

The low hum of the streetlights buzzed overhead as Jesse, Tina, Logan, and Brit stood in the pale glow of dusk, still lingering outside Jesse’s house, the Polaroid camera heavy in Jesse’s hands. A warm breeze rustled the oak trees that lined the street, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint tang of someone grilling burgers a few houses down. But for all the familiar sounds and smells of the neighborhood, something felt… wrong. It clung to them like static, prickling the hairs on the backs of their necks.

Jesse flipped the Polaroid of Susie Quinn between his fingers, the glossy edges cool against his skin. He could still see her pale face peeking out from the graffiti-covered bridge, even when he closed his eyes.

“We can’t just… leave it like this,” Brit said, breaking the silence. She twisted a lock of her frizzy hair nervously around her finger. “What if we’re supposed to do something? What if this is, like, a clue?”

Logan rolled his skateboard back and forth under his foot, the wheels making a quiet, rhythmic thunk on the pavement. “Or maybe it’s just some creepy coincidence.”

Tina shot him a sideways glance. “Since when do you believe in coincidences?”

“Since… I don’t know. Since right now.” Logan kicked his board up into his hands. “I mean, come on, guys. We’re talking about a girl who vanished five years ago. There’s no way—”

“Look at the picture again,” Tina interrupted, her voice sharp. “Look at her face.”

Reluctantly, Logan leaned in as Jesse held the photo up under the streetlight. The four of them crowded close, their shoulders brushing, and for a moment, Jesse was hyper-aware of how small the world felt in that instant—just the four of them, the quiet street, and the mystery in their hands.

There she was. Susie Quinn. The same girl who had made the front page of the Newport Gazette the summer they were in sixth grade. The story had been on everyone’s lips for months—Local Girl Vanishes Without a Trace. But as the seasons changed and the news cycle churned forward, Susie became just another ghost in the town’s long history of whispers and rumors.

And now here she was again, staring back at them from the shadows of a Polaroid photograph. “I think we have to go to the skate park,” Brit whispered. “It’s the only way to know for sure.” Jesse’s stomach twisted, but he nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

The skate park always felt different at night. In the daytime, it was a place filled with energy—kids weaving in and out on their boards, music blasting from portable radios, the smell of soda and sunscreen hanging in the air. But now, under the dim glow of a half-moon, the ramps and graffiti-tagged walls looked jagged and strange, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

Jesse shivered in the night breeze, adjusting his jean jacket as they crossed the cracked pavement toward the bridge where Brit said the photo had been taken. Somewhere in the distance, the lonely sound of a train whistle echoed, the kind that always made Jesse feel small, like the whole world was moving on without him.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Logan muttered, kicking a loose soda can off the path. “Everything gives you the creeps,” Tina shot back with a smirk. “Remember that time you thought the mannequin at the mall was following you?”

“That was different,” Logan insisted. “That thing was cursed, I swear.” Brit giggled, the sound bright against the heavy night air. Jesse was grateful for her laugh—anything to cut through the eerie quiet that pressed down on them.

They reached the graffiti-covered wall under the bridge, and Brit stopped abruptly, staring at it as if she’d seen a ghost. “This is it,” she whispered. “This is where the picture was taken.”

Jesse felt a knot tighten in his chest. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the Polaroid, holding it up for comparison. It was the same wall—same swirling colors and looping tags—but the scene felt… different somehow. As if the photo showed a version of the place that didn’t belong in this world.

Tina ran her fingers along the rough surface of the graffiti. “There’s something about this wall,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Like it’s hiding something.”

“Or someone,” Brit whispered, her eyes wide. “Come on, Brit, don’t start that ghost stuff again,” Logan groaned, though Jesse could hear the tension in his voice. “Just take another picture,” Tina said, glancing at Jesse. “We need to see what it shows.”

With a deep breath, Jesse raised the camera and pointed it toward the bridge. The click of the shutter echoed in the stillness, followed by the familiar whir of the film sliding out. They all huddled close, watching as the image slowly developed, the shadows coming into focus.

When the picture finally cleared, Jesse’s breath hitched in his throat. It showed the four of them standing together under the bridge—just as they were now—but there was someone else in the frame. A girl with pale skin and dark, hollow eyes. She stood just behind Brit, her expression blank and empty. Susie Quinn.

“Jesus,” Logan whispered, taking a step back. “This is… this is impossible.” Jesse felt like the ground was shifting beneath his feet. He knew what he was seeing—knew it wasn’t possible—but there it was, plain as day. Susie Quinn, standing right there with them.

Brit clutched Jesse’s arm, her voice shaking. “She’s trying to tell us something. I know she is.” Tina stared at the photo, her face pale. “We need to find out what happened to her,” she said softly. “This isn’t just some urban legend. It’s real.”

“Yeah, but how?” Logan asked, his voice rising with panic. “What are we supposed to do? Just walk up to the roller rink and ask if they’ve seen her ghost?”

At the mention of the roller rink, Brit’s eyes lit up. “The roller rink,” she whispered. “That’s where it happened. The night she disappeared—there was a lunar eclipse, just like the one that’s coming up.” Jesse’s pulse quickened. “You think it’s connected?”

“Possibly,” Brit said. “We have to go there. It’s the only way to know for sure.”

They left the skate park with the weight of the Polaroid camera heavy between them, the night air pressing down like a blanket too thick to breathe through. As they walked down the empty streets, the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement, Jesse couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Every sound—the rustle of leaves, the clink of a bottle rolling down the gutter—felt amplified, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

“Do you guys feel that?” Jesse asked quietly. “Feel what?” Logan muttered, kicking a loose rock down the street. “Like…” Jesse hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like something’s following us.” Tina glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing. “We’re not alone,” she said softly. “I can feel it.”

Jesse gripped the camera tighter, his pulse quickening. Whatever was happening—whatever they’d stumbled into—it wasn’t just a mystery. It was a warning.

And the clock was ticking.

Chapter 3: Clues in the Shadows

The night deepened around them as Jesse, Tina, Logan, and Brit made their way through the winding streets toward the roller rink. The town felt unnervingly quiet, as if it had slipped into a dream—or a nightmare—while no one was looking. Every so often, the glow of a television flickered behind curtained windows, casting eerie blue shadows onto the cracked sidewalks. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, its howl carrying a strange, lonely weight.

The roller rink stood on the edge of town, at the end of a narrow road flanked by overgrown trees. It had been abandoned for years, left to rot beneath layers of graffiti and broken glass. By day, it was a playground for bored kids and vandals. By night, it was a ghost story waiting to happen.

Brit tugged her denim jacket tighter around her, her breath a soft puff of mist in the cooling night air. “This place always freaked me out,” she admitted as they approached the towering building. “Even before Susie disappeared.”

Logan glanced over at her, his skateboard tucked under his arm. “Come on, Brit. You’re always talking about ghosts and curses. Isn’t this, like, your dream come true?”

Brit shot him a look. “Dream? No. This is what happens when you spend too much time reading Stephen King.” She gave a nervous laugh. “But I guess I can’t back out now.”

Jesse slowed as they reached the roller rink’s entrance, the enormous double doors warped and splintered from years of rain and neglect. Weeds grew through cracks in the pavement, and a faded sign still clung to the wall above the entrance, barely legible: “MONROE ROLLER RINK – Open Fridays, Family Fun Night!”

“Family fun, my ass,” Tina muttered, kicking a piece of debris out of the way. Jesse adjusted the Polaroid camera on his shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.” He pulled on one of the doors, gritting his teeth as the rusted hinges groaned in protest.

They slipped inside, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous dark. A strange smell hung in the air—dust, mildew, and something faintly sweet, like stale cotton candy. The remains of forgotten nights lingered here: torn flyers, discarded wristbands, and warped wood floors that had once vibrated with the rhythm of disco music.

“Whoa,” Logan whispered, his voice reverberating off the walls. “This place is, like… frozen in time.”

Jesse felt it too—that eerie sense that they had stepped out of their world and into another, one where time had splintered and stopped. He raised the Polaroid camera and snapped a picture of the rink, the whir of the film ejecting breaking the heavy silence. They crowded together as the image developed, colors bleeding into focus.

The photo revealed an empty roller rink, just as they saw it now—but in the center of the frame stood a girl. She was motionless, her long hair draped over her face like a veil. Even though they couldn’t see her features, they knew exactly who it was. Susie Quinn. Brit inhaled sharply. “She’s here.”

Logan shook his head in disbelief, rubbing his arms as if to chase away a chill. “This is insane.” Jesse’s pulse hammered in his ears. “We need to find out why. Why she’s still here.”

They moved deeper into the rink, their footsteps soft against the warped wood. The air was thick and still, like it was waiting for something—or someone.

Tina ran her hand along the edge of the skate counter, where ancient rental skates sat gathering dust. “This place must’ve been amazing once,” she murmured. “Can you imagine? The lights, the music… skating with your friends.”

Jesse tried to picture it: the flash of neon, the sound of wheels on the floor, the booming bass of some forgotten pop song. But all he could feel was the emptiness—the strange hollow sensation that filled the space now, as if it were missing something vital.

A sudden clink made them all jump, spinning toward the source of the sound. “What was that?” Brit whispered, gripping Jesse’s arm.

The clink came again, softer this time, like the sound of wheels rolling over wood. Jesse’s heart pounded as he scanned the darkness, his fingers tightening around the Polaroid camera.

“It’s probably just a rat or something,” Logan muttered, though his voice wavered. Jesse wasn’t so sure. Slowly, cautiously, he raised the camera and pointed it toward the far end of the rink. The shutter clicked, and the camera whirred, spitting out another glossy square.

The picture developed slowly, agonizingly slow, as they huddled close, waiting for the image to appear. When it did, Tina sucked in a sharp breath.

The photo showed the rink, just as it looked now… but there was a figure standing in the shadows near the exit. A girl, her hair tangled and wild, her eyes hollow and dark. She was staring directly at the camera.

“Susie,” Brit whispered again, her voice trembling. Jesse felt a cold sweat break out across his skin. He flipped the photo over, hoping for some kind of message, some clue—but the back was blank.

“What does she want from us?” Logan asked, his voice cracking with fear. Tina bit her lip, her brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe she wants us to find out what happened to her.”

Brit nodded, her expression solemn. “She’s trapped here, somehow. And the eclipse… it’s connected. I know it.”

Jesse glanced at the camera, the weight of it suddenly heavy in his hands. “We don’t have much time,” he said quietly. “The eclipse is tomorrow night.”

They moved toward the spot where the figure had stood in the photograph, their footsteps slow and deliberate. Brit carried a flashlight, its weak beam cutting through the dark and casting long shadows on the walls. The air felt colder here, as if the temperature had dropped the closer they got to the exit.

Logan ran his hand over the graffiti-covered wall, squinting in the dim light. “Look at this,” he said, brushing away the dust.

Beneath the layers of graffiti, hidden among the swirling colors and jagged lines, was a message—words scrawled in messy, uneven handwriting.

“She was here. Find the night, find the truth.”

Jesse stared at the message, a strange sensation curling in his chest. The night. The eclipse. It was all connected.

“We have to come back tomorrow,” Brit whispered, her voice thick with determination. “During the eclipse.”

Logan groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. “Seriously? You want to come back here? At night?” Tina shot him a sharp look. “Do you want to find out the truth or not?”

Logan opened his mouth to argue, but Jesse cut him off. “She’s right. We have to come back.”

They stood in a tight circle beneath the night sky, the roller rink looming behind them like a silent sentinel. The moon hung high above, a sliver of silver light peeking through the clouds.

Jesse pulled out the Polaroid camera one last time and snapped a picture of the group, capturing the moment beneath the stars. The photo developed quickly, the image sharp and clear.

It showed the four of them standing together, just as they were now—but there was a fifth figure behind them. A girl with hollow eyes and tangled hair, her expression blank and empty. Susie Quinn.

Brit reached out and touched the photo gently, her fingers trembling. “We’ll find you,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Jesse slipped the photo into his pocket, his heart heavy with the weight of what lay ahead.

Tomorrow night, under the light of the eclipse, they would return to the roller rink. And this time, they wouldn’t leave until they found the truth.

Chapter 4: The Night Before the Eclipse

The night air felt heavier as the four of them walked back from the roller rink, the quiet buzz of cicadas filling the silence between their conversations. Jesse’s heart thudded against his ribs like a metronome set too fast, the Polaroid camera swinging from his shoulder. Every step felt like it carried the weight of a promise, one he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep.

The eerie photograph of Susie Quinn was tucked safely into his jacket pocket, but it burned against his skin, as if the glossy paper had soaked up the fear they felt.

Tina broke the silence first, her voice low. “We should meet at my house tomorrow before we head back to the rink. It’s closer.” She kicked a pebble along the road, her brows drawn tight beneath the tangle of her bangs. “And… I want to make sure we’re ready for whatever happens.”

Jesse nodded, though he wasn’t sure how they could ever be ready for something like this.

Jesse’s house was only a few blocks away, tucked between two streets that looked identical except for the cars parked outside. The smell of damp grass and someone’s barbecue hung in the air, and for a moment, everything felt normal—like they were just four kids on a summer night, with nothing more important to worry about than curfews and skateboards.

As Jesse and Tina turned onto his street, Logan and Brit waved goodbye, heading toward their own houses. Jesse felt a pang of guilt watching them disappear into the night. What if tomorrow went horribly wrong? What if the pictures they’d taken were more than just warnings—what if they were inevitable?

Inside the house, the air was cool, and the faint sound of the TV hummed from the living room. His mom sat curled up on the couch, still in her work uniform, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as she half-watched an episode of Magnum, P.I.

“Hey, kiddo,” she said, giving him a tired smile. “How was the flea market?”

“Good,” Jesse muttered, shrugging off his jacket. He left out the part about the haunted camera and the ghostly photograph of a missing girl. “Just… hung out with the gang.”

She yawned, stretching. “You guys always get into the weirdest stuff. There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Jesse said, heading to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, the cold air washing over him, and grabbed the Tupperware container of spaghetti. As he twirled the noodles onto a fork, his thoughts drifted to Susie Quinn again—her pale face, her empty eyes. He tried to shake the image from his mind, but it clung to him like cobwebs.

Later that night, Jesse lay on his bed with the Polaroid camera on the nightstand beside him. His lava lamp cast shifting blobs of blue and green light across the walls, and the distant hum of crickets drifted through the open window. He held the photograph of Susie up to the dim light, staring at it until the lines blurred.

What did she want from them? And why now, five years after she disappeared? He thought about the message scrawled on the wall at the roller rink: “She was here. Find the night, find the truth.” What truth? And what was it about the lunar eclipse that seemed to connect everything?

The questions circled his mind like restless moths around a flame, refusing to settle. He rolled over and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come, but the night stretched long and uneasy, filled with fragments of dreams that slipped away the moment he tried to remember them.

The next day dawned hot and sticky, the kind of summer heat that clings to your skin no matter how many fans you crank up. Jesse spent the morning pacing his room, waiting for the afternoon to crawl by. When the sun finally began to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the neighborhood, he grabbed the camera and headed to Tina’s house.

Tina lived on a quiet street lined with towering oak trees that seemed ancient, their roots cracking the sidewalks like veins beneath the surface of the earth. Her house was a cozy, two-story place, with a front porch that sagged slightly in the middle and a tire swing that hung from the oldest tree in the yard.

Jesse found Logan and Brit already waiting on the porch, Logan balancing precariously on the swing while Brit sat cross-legged on the steps, flipping through an old comic book. Tina appeared a moment later, her arms full of supplies—a flashlight, a pack of batteries, and a small plastic bag filled with salt.

“Salt?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow as she dropped the bag onto the porch. “What are we, ghost hunters now?” Tina shot him a look. “It’s just in case. You never know.” Brit grinned, nudging Jesse with her elbow. “Told you she’s been reading too much Stephen King.”

They huddled together on the porch, going over their plan one last time. The lunar eclipse was set to begin around 10:30 that night, with totality expected just after midnight. That gave them a narrow window to explore the roller rink and figure out what Susie Quinn was trying to tell them.

“If things get weird,” Tina said, her voice steady, “we stick together. No wandering off alone. And if we find anything—anything—that feels off, we leave. Got it?”

Logan nodded, though Jesse could see the nervous energy buzzing beneath his usual bravado. Brit just gave a small, determined smile, her hands clutching the strap of her backpack like it was a lifeline.

They set out as the sun dipped below the horizon, the first stars winking into the indigo sky. The Polaroid camera bounced against Jesse’s hip with every step, a strange comfort despite the fear curling in his stomach.

The roller rink looked even more sinister under the twilight sky, its broken windows like jagged teeth, its walls covered in layers of graffiti that seemed to shift in the fading light. The air smelled of rust and mildew, heavy with the promise of rain that never came.

Jesse led the way inside, his heart pounding in his chest. The wooden floor creaked beneath their feet as they made their way toward the center of the rink, where the shadows felt thickest.

Logan fished a flashlight from his backpack, clicking it on with a nervous flick. The beam cut through the dark, revealing the same message scrawled on the wall: “She was here. Find the night, find the truth.”

Tina pulled out the salt and began scattering it in a loose circle around them. “Just in case,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Jesse raised the Polaroid camera and snapped a photo, the familiar whir of the film ejecting breaking the silence. They gathered close, holding their breath as the image developed. When the picture cleared, Jesse’s blood ran cold.

The photograph showed the four of them standing exactly where they were, and behind them was their bodies, bloody and mangled lying on the floor—and behind that there was someone else in the picture. A girl with wild hair and hollow eyes, her face twisted in a silent scream. Susie Quinn.

The temperature seemed to drop all at once, the air thick with an oppressive weight. Brit gasped, clutching Jesse’s arm as the lights overhead flickered and dimmed.

“She’s here,” Tina whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their own breathing. The floorboards groaned beneath them, as if something massive and unseen was shifting in the shadows. And then, all at once, the music started.

A haunting melody drifted through the air, the faint sound of a slow, mournful waltz played on an old piano. It was the kind of music that felt out of place—too beautiful, too sad, like a memory that refused to fade.

Jesse’s hands shook as he raised the Polaroid camera one more time. The shutter clicked, and the film slid out with a soft hiss. They gathered around the photo, their breath hitching in their throats.

The image showed them standing in the rink, but the walls around them had changed. They were no longer covered in graffiti—instead, they gleamed with mirrors and gold trim, as if the rink had been restored to its former glory.

And in the reflection of one of the mirrors, bodies lying all over the floor and Susie Quinn stood watching them, her hollow eyes filled with something that looked very much like sorrow.

Chapter 5: Reflections of the Past

The roller rink seemed to breathe around them—floorboards groaning beneath their feet, walls humming with unseen energy. The eerie waltz continued to drift through the rink, each haunting note floating through the still air like the ghost of a forgotten night. Jesse’s hands trembled around the Polaroid camera, the cold plastic slick against his palms.

The mirrors from the photograph—those gleaming, golden-framed relics of a time long past—were nowhere to be seen in the physical space around them. And yet, they felt present. It was as if the rink itself existed in two versions at once: one filled with rot and graffiti, the other alive with the shimmer of chandeliers and reflections waiting to swallow them whole.

“What the hell is going on?” Logan whispered, his voice strained as he scanned the dark corners of the rink. “No idea.” Jesse’s throat was dry, his pulse thudding in his ears. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady. “But something’s… changing.”

Tina knelt on the floor, scattering more salt in precise lines, her hands steady despite the fear flickering behind her eyes. Brit hugged her arms around herself, her breath coming fast. She kept glancing behind her, as if expecting someone—or something—to be lurking in the shadows.

“We’re slipping into it,” Brit murmured, almost too softly to hear. “Slipping into what?” Logan’s voice cracked slightly, betraying his nerves. “What are you even talking about?”

Brit turned to them, her eyes wide with a strange, sad understanding. “Time. The past and the present—they’re blending together.” Tina looked up sharply. “Like… a time loop?”

Brit nodded slowly, her gaze flicking toward the far end of the rink. “I think we’re seeing the night Susie disappeared.”

The music grew louder, swelling with each note, as if the piano player was coaxing it to life from beyond the grave. Jesse could almost imagine the rink as it had been: the glossy wood polished to a mirror finish, disco lights spinning overhead, kids laughing and skating in circles beneath the glittering glow of the chandeliers.

But now, in the silence of the abandoned rink, the music felt like a requiem—a song for the forgotten, the lost. And then, they saw her.

At first, it was just a flicker at the edge of their vision, like a trick of the light. But as they turned toward the far wall, the shadows seemed to part, revealing the figure of a girl standing at the edge of the rink. Susie Quinn.

She wore a white dress that shimmered faintly in the dim light, and her dark hair hung loose around her face. But there was something wrong about her—something off. Her features were too pale, her eyes too wide and empty, as if she wasn’t fully there. “Is that… really her?” Logan whispered, his voice barely audible.

“It has to be,” Brit replied, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s the same dress she wore the night she disappeared. I read about it in the old newspapers.”

Susie stood perfectly still, her gaze fixed on the center of the rink, where a mirror suddenly flickered into view—a large, ornate frame that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Its surface shimmered like water, rippling with reflections that didn’t quite match reality.

“We’re seeing the past,” Tina whispered, her eyes locked on the mirror. “This is what happened that night.”

The room felt colder as they approached the mirror, the air thick with the weight of something unseen. Jesse’s breath puffed in small clouds before him, the chill sinking deep into his bones.

Susie stood in front of the mirror now, her reflection wavering as if it were made of smoke. Slowly, she reached out, her pale hand brushing the glass——and in an instant, the reflection changed.

The image in the mirror was no longer Susie’s; it was someone else’s. A shadowed figure loomed behind her, tall and menacing, its features twisted into a cruel grin. The thing raised a hand, and Susie’s reflection opened her mouth in a silent scream. Jesse stumbled back, his heart hammering in his chest. “What the—”

The mirror rippled again, and the reflection shifted once more—this time showing an image that made Jesse’s blood run cold.

It was them. The four of them, standing exactly as they were now, but there was someone else in the reflection—a figure lurking just behind Brit, its face hidden in shadow.

Brit let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. “It’s… it’s following us.” Tina grabbed Jesse’s arm, her voice sharp with fear. “We need to leave. Now.”

But before they could move, the music swelled to a deafening crescendo, the piano keys crashing down in a violent, discordant finale. The mirror shattered with a sound like a gunshot, fragments of glass scattering across the floor. And the figure stepped out of the shadows.

The air shifted, heavy with malevolence, as the thing emerged from the darkness. It was tall and thin, its limbs too long, its movements too smooth—like a marionette dancing on invisible strings. Its face was hidden beneath a tangle of shadows, but its presence was overwhelming, filling the room with a suffocating sense of dread.

“Run!” Jesse shouted, grabbing Brit’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

They bolted toward the door, their footsteps pounding against the warped wood as the thing pursued them, its movements eerily silent. The air seemed to ripple around them, the walls shifting and changing with every step, as if the rink itself were warping around them.

Logan skidded to a stop, his breath hitching in his throat. “It’s… it’s not letting us leave!” The exit was gone—replaced by another mirror, its surface shimmering with the same distorted reflections they’d seen before.

“We’re trapped,” Tina whispered, her voice shaking. “It’s not going to let us out.” Jesse’s mind raced as he clutched the Polaroid camera to his chest. There had to be a way out—some way to break the cycle, to escape the grip of whatever was haunting the rink.

And then, he remembered the photograph—the one they’d taken earlier, the one that showed Susie standing with them.

He pulled it from his pocket, his hands shaking, and held it up to the mirror. The image shimmered in the dim light, and for a moment, the two versions of reality—the photograph and the reflection—seemed to overlap.

“Susie,” Brit whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “If you’re here… please, show us how to help you.”

The mirror rippled, and Susie’s reflection appeared once more, her eyes filled with sorrow. Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand on Jesse’s through the glass.

The world seemed to shift, the air humming with strange energy, and the shattered pieces of the mirror began to reassemble themselves, forming a new reflection—a reflection of freedom.

The dark figure snarled, its twisted features contorting in fury, and it lunged toward them but the mirror held fast, trapping it inside.

With a loud crack, the mirror sealed itself, the surface going dark and still. The air around them lightened, the oppressive weight lifting as the dark presence vanished into the glass.

Jesse raised the Polaroid camera one last time and snapped a photo, the shutter clicking softly in the quiet.

When the photo developed, it showed the four of them standing together—just as they were now—but this time, there was no dark figure lurking behind them.

Susie’s face was there too, but she was smiling—a bittersweet, gentle smile that seemed to say, Thank you. Brit let out a shaky breath, tears glimmering in her eyes. “We did it,” she whispered.

Tina gave a small nod, her expression softening. “We helped her.” Logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “So… does this mean we survived a ghost story?”

Jesse grinned, though his heart still hammered in his chest. “Yeah. I guess it does.” They stepped out into the cool night air, the first light of the approaching dawn creeping over the horizon. The roller rink stood silent behind them, its haunted echoes fading into the past.

As they walked home together, side by side, Jesse knew that they would never forget this night—or the girl they’d helped set free.

And as the first rays of sunlight kissed the earth, the Polaroid camera hung heavy at his side, silent once more. But in the back of his mind, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder…

What would happen if it ever took another picture?

Chapter 6: Beneath the Eclipse

The night of the lunar eclipse arrived, wrapped in a heavy silence that pressed down on the town like a wet blanket. The stars seemed dimmer than usual, hidden behind wisps of thin clouds that stretched like gauze across the night sky. The air smelled of rain that never came, carrying with it the metallic tinge of something ancient—something waiting.

Jesse, Tina, Logan, and Brit stood huddled outside the roller rink, the Polaroid camera clutched tightly in Jesse’s hands. The building loomed above them like a fossilized skeleton, its cracked walls and broken windows brimming with shadows that writhed just beneath the surface. The weight of the night settled over them, pressing into their skin like cold fingertips.

Brit shivered, though the air was warm and still. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she whispered, clutching her denim jacket tight around her.

Tina shot her a look, though her expression was softer than usual. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy.” Logan shuffled his feet, his skateboard slung over one shoulder. “It never is,” he muttered. “But we’re not turning back now, right?”

Jesse shook his head, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “We’re finishing this,” he said quietly. “For Susie.”

The others nodded, the gravity of the moment sinking in. They had come too far to back out now. The eclipse was beginning, and time was running out.

The air inside the roller rink was thicker than before, heavy with the scent of dust, mildew, and the faint, sour smell of old sweat. It was a place haunted not just by ghosts, but by memories—echoes of the lives that had passed through its doors, now twisted into something dark and strange.

The light filtering through the cracked windows was dim, tinged with the rusty orange glow of the partial eclipse. The shadows seemed deeper here, pooling in the corners and creeping along the walls like oil.

Tina pulled a flashlight from her backpack and flicked it on, the beam slicing through the dark. “Stay close,” she whispered. “And watch the mirrors.”

Jesse’s pulse quickened at the mention of the mirrors. He could feel their presence again, just at the edge of his vision—flickering in and out of existence, as if the past and present were bleeding together once more.

They made their way to the center of the rink, where the mirrors had appeared in the photograph. The air was colder here, prickling against their skin like static.

Brit knelt down and spread a small circle of salt around them, her hands shaking slightly as she worked. “Just in case,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the shadows that stretched along the walls. “This place feels… different.”

“It’s the eclipse,” Tina said quietly. “It’s pulling everything together—past, present, and… whatever else is in here with us.”

Jesse raised the Polaroid camera, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew they were standing on the edge of something big—something dangerous. But there was no turning back now.

The air grew colder as the eclipse deepened, the shadows thickening like ink spreading through water. And then, without warning, the mirrors appeared.

They flickered into existence all around them, their surfaces gleaming with a strange, otherworldly light. Each mirror reflected not just their present selves, but fragments of the past—ghostly images of skaters spinning beneath disco lights, children laughing, couples holding hands.

And there, in the largest mirror at the center of the rink, stood Susie Quinn. Her reflection was clearer now, her face no longer twisted in sorrow or fear. She looked… relieved. Grateful. As if she knew that the end was finally near.

But then, the shadows shifted behind her.

A figure emerged from the darkness—tall, thin, and wrong in every way. Its limbs were too long, its movements too smooth, like a puppet on tangled strings. And its face… its face was a blur of jagged lines and sharp angles, as if it had been stitched together from pieces that didn’t belong. It Was Back!

Jesse felt his breath hitch in his throat as the thing reached for Susie’s reflection, its hand brushing against the glass. “No,” Brit whispered, her voice thick with fear. “We’re not letting it take her.”

Tina grabbed Jesse’s arm, her eyes wide with determination. “We have to break the mirrors,” she said urgently. “It’s the only way to stop it.”

Jesse nodded, his pulse racing. He raised the Polaroid camera and snapped a photo, the shutter clicking like a gunshot in the still air. The camera whirred, spitting out a glossy square. They huddled together, their breath hitching as the image developed.

When the picture cleared, it showed them standing in the rink, surrounded by shattered mirrors. Susie was gone—but so was the dark figure.

Tina didn’t hesitate. She grabbed a piece of broken wood from the floor and swung it at the nearest mirror. The glass shattered with a deafening crash, the shards scattering like stars across the rink.

Brit followed suit, her hands steady as she smashed mirror after mirror, each one falling with a sound like the breaking of a spell. Logan joined in, his skateboard slamming into the glass with reckless abandon.

Jesse raised the Polaroid camera one last time and snapped another photo. The film ejected smoothly, and they watched as the image developed.

The photo showed the rink empty, the mirrors gone, the dark figure nowhere to be seen. And in the corner of the frame, just barely visible, was Susie’s reflection—smiling.

The moment the last mirror shattered, the air shifted. The oppressive weight lifted, replaced by a strange, peaceful stillness. The eclipse began to recede, the rusty glow fading as the moon returned to its usual silver-white hue.

They stood in the center of the rink, surrounded by broken glass and the echoes of the past. For a long moment, no one spoke. And then, slowly, Jesse exhaled, “We did it,” he whispered.

Brit smiled, though her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “She’s free.” Tina nodded, her expression softening. “And so are we.”

Logan let out a long, shaky laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t believe we just survived that.” Jesse grinned, though his heart still pounded in his chest. “Me neither.”

They left the roller rink as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. The town was quiet, still asleep, unaware of the strange, supernatural battle that had taken place in its forgotten corners.

As they walked home together, side by side, Jesse felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. They had done it. They had set Susie free.

But as the sun rose higher, casting long shadows across the empty streets, Jesse couldn’t help but wonder… What would happen if the Polaroid camera ever took another picture? And deep in his pocket, the camera sat silent—waiting.

Chapter 7: The Morning After

THE FIRST LIGHT OF dawn crept over the town, casting soft hues of lavender and rose across the sky. For most people, it was just another summer morning—birds chirped lazily in the trees, sprinklers whirred to life, and dogs barked at mail trucks making their rounds. But for Jesse, Tina, Logan, and Brit, it felt like stepping into a different world. One where something had changed.

They walked home together in silence, their footsteps soft on the cracked sidewalk. The events at the roller rink weighed heavily on them, each step dragging like a stone tied to their ankles. The air smelled fresh with dew, but it carried a strange undercurrent, as if the town was holding its breath.

When they reached the intersection where their paths split, they stopped, exchanging weary glances. “So,” Logan muttered, running a hand through his messy blond hair, “are we… like, just supposed to go back to normal now?”

Tina gave a small, humorless laugh. “Normal doesn’t really seem like an option anymore.” Brit shifted her backpack on her shoulders, the straps creaking. “Do you think she’s really gone?” she whispered. “Susie, I mean.”

Jesse clutched the Polaroid camera tighter, its weight oddly comforting. “I think we did what we were supposed to do,” he said quietly. “She’s free now.”

They stood in awkward silence for a moment, none of them ready to say goodbye. It felt strange to leave each other’s company after everything they’d been through—like walking away from the only people who could understand what they’d experienced. Finally, Logan let out a long breath.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later.” Brit gave him a tired smile. “Yeah. Later.” Tina nodded, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes. “We’ll… figure out what to do with the camera. Right, Jesse?”

“Right,” Jesse agreed, though the knot of uncertainty in his stomach told him otherwise. With quiet goodbyes, they went their separate ways, the early morning light casting long shadows behind them.

When Jesse slipped through the front door of his house, the familiar scent of coffee and pancakes greeted him. His mom stood at the stove in her pajamas, flipping pancakes with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before.

“Morning, kiddo,” she said without turning around. “You were out early.”

“Uh, yeah,” Jesse muttered, kicking off his shoes. “Just… couldn’t sleep.” She glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “You okay? You look a little pale.”

Jesse forced a smile, though it felt heavy on his face. “I’m fine. Just tired.” His mom studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “Pancakes should help. Go sit down.”

He slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, the Polaroid camera resting on the edge of the table like a secret he wasn’t ready to share. The events of the previous night swirled in his mind—Susie’s reflection, the shattered mirrors, the dark presence that had almost trapped them forever.

For a brief moment, everything felt unreal. Like maybe it had all been a strange dream, and the camera was just an ordinary relic from the past. But deep down, Jesse knew better.

After breakfast, Jesse retreated to his room, the camera still clutched tightly in his hand. The sunlight streaming through the window felt too bright, too ordinary for what they’d been through. He dropped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of everything.

He pulled the last photograph from his pocket—the one that showed them standing in the rink, free from the dark figure’s shadow. Susie’s reflection lingered in the corner of the frame, her smile bittersweet and full of unspoken gratitude.

Jesse traced the edges of the photograph with his thumb, feeling the glossy surface beneath his fingers. For a moment, he felt a strange sense of peace, as if Susie’s spirit had finally found rest.

But then, the camera whirred. Jesse’s heart skipped a beat as a new photograph ejected from the camera, sliding into his lap with a soft hiss. His hands trembled as he picked it up, dread curling in his stomach.

The image was blurry at first, the shapes bleeding together like wet paint. But as it developed, the picture came into focus. It wasn’t the roller rink. It was a house—his house. And standing in the doorway was a shadowy figure with hollow eyes.

Jesse stared at the photograph, his heart hammering in his chest. The shadowy figure was back. Somehow, it had escaped the rink—or maybe it had never been trapped in the first place.

A cold knot of fear twisted in his stomach. He flipped the photo over, hoping for some kind of clue, but the back was blank. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, making him jump. He grabbed it and saw a message from Tina:

Tina: Did the camera take another picture? I’ve got a bad feeling…

Jesse’s fingers hovered over the screen as he typed out a reply:

Jesse: Yeah. It did. And it’s… my house.

The reply came almost instantly:

Tina: We need to meet. Now.

Within an hour, the group was back together, gathered in Jesse’s room with the Polaroid camera sitting ominously between them. The air was thick with tension, the weight of the new photograph pressing down on them like a vice.

Logan paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair. “This is bad. Like, really bad.” Brit hugged her knees to her chest, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought we ended it. I thought we set her free.” Tina’s expression was grim as she studied the photograph. “Maybe we didn’t break the curse. Maybe… we just moved it.”

Jesse felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine. “What do you mean?” Tina met his gaze, her eyes dark with worry. “What if the curse isn’t just about Susie? What if the camera is tied to something older? Something that feeds on these kinds of stories.” Logan stopped pacing, his face pale. “Like… a ghost that follows the camera?”

“Or something worse,” Brit murmured. “Something that makes new stories wherever it goes.” Jesse stared at the photograph of his house, his stomach twisting with dread. “So what do we do?” Tina took a deep breath. “We need to destroy the camera. For real this time.”

The group stood in Jesse’s backyard, the Polaroid camera sitting on an old metal table. A sledgehammer leaned against the fence, and a bag of salt sat nearby—just in case.

“Are we sure about this?” Logan asked, shifting nervously. Tina gave him a hard look. “Do you want to risk it taking another picture?”

Logan shook his head. “Nope. Not even a little.”

Jesse picked up the sledgehammer, his hands steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides. He took a deep breath, raised the hammer high, and brought it down with all his strength.

The camera shattered beneath the blow, pieces of plastic and metal scattering across the table. Jesse smashed it again and again, until nothing remained but fragments.

Brit scattered the salt over the broken pieces, her expression solemn. “Just in case,” she whispered. The group stood in silence, the weight of the moment settling over them like a thick fog. “It’s over,” Jesse said quietly. “For good this time.”

Epilogue: A Glimmer of Hope

Weeks passed, and life slowly returned to normal. The Polaroid camera was gone, and the dark figure had vanished with it. The roller rink stood empty, its ghosts finally laid to rest.

Jesse, Tina, Logan, and Brit remained close, bound together by the experience they could never fully explain. They knew the world was stranger than they’d ever imagined, but they also knew they weren’t alone.

And as they sat together one evening, watching the stars blink into existence above them, Jesse felt a strange sense of peace. Whatever came next, they would face it together. Then, somewhere behind them they heard a camera go off, a polaroid picture came flying up to them like a ghostly frisbee set adrift on memories lane. Tina picked it up, as the final blurs faded an image came into view, it was them- lying on the ground with a huge hulking black shadow standing over them. Jesses looking around at them nodded with a grin; “here we go again.”

Because some stories never really end.

Also by B. Humphrey

Retro Horrors: The Lost Decade

Cassette Ghosts

Summer of the Black Star

The Arcade Incident

Dead End Drive – In

The Polaroid Project

The Autumn Folklore Chronicles

The Forest Of Forgotten Names

The Witch Of Windspindle Hollow

The Burrowfolk Chronicles

The Phantom Finders Club

A Haunting On Maplewood Street

The Secrets Of Old Fort Tower

Ghosts OF The Infirmary

Table of Contents

- Dedication
- Chapter 1: Flea Market Treasures
- Chapter 2: Captured Moments
- Chapter 3: Clues in the Shadows
- Chapter 4: The Night Before the Eclipse
- Chapter 5: Reflections of the Past
- Chapter 6: Beneath the Eclipse
- Chapter 7: The Morning After
- Epilogue: A Glimmer of Hope
- Also By B. Humphrey