"In the late seventies,"
"When your pants were first sold."
"Yes. In the late seventies, three teenagers went up to the castle to camp out. And only two came back down the hill the next morning."
"Where’d the other one go?" I ask as I can’t take my eyes off the ruins.
"No one knows. There was a whole investigation, no body, no trace, no footprints. Nothing. It’s still an open case."
That’s troubling.
"Now, kids try to prove it’s nothing and camp out. Nothing has happened since but locals say it’s only a matter of time."
"And now it’s our turn?" I ask him.
He turns a devilish smile at me. "Yes."
"Fine, you go first."
He laughs. "Duncan, nothing is going to happen."
"Famous last words Charming."
He shakes his head at me but idiotically gets out of the car. I’m not about to be sitting alone down here though. That’s exactly what The Keep would want.
It’s colder out here. The wind whips and plasters my polyester outfit to my body.
We start up the trail, the swish of my pants fighting with the howling wind.
"Beautiful weather we’re having." I comment.
"Yeah." Rhys replies sarcastically as he rubs his exposed arms.
"I guess I didn’t factor in the coastal breeze when I gave you a sleeveless option."
"It’s fine."
"Do you want my jacket?"
"Then you’ll be sleeveless."
I glance down at my sequined tank. "Right."
"It’s fine. Let’s head up to the top, take a picture, and head back down."
"In a hurry now, Rhys? Are you scared?"
"No."
"Two minutes of touching."
Rhys shakes his head at me. "Do you want me to be scared?"
"Yes."
He laughs. "It’s just a bunch of old stones."
"So you don’t believe in ghost stories?" I ask as we continue up the overgrown path.
