Are You Ready To Go
by: M.J. Orz
A few years ago, Jacob went missing. Jacob had been my best friend throughout elementary school and most of the time that I was in middle school; that is, until he disappeared. The police searched high and low, but never found him. They never even found footprints or an opened window or anything that would shed any light on where he might have gone off to. His parents had said that they had seen him go to bed and shut his door, but when they returned and yelled for him to wake up the next morning, he was nowhere to be found; the windows still locked from the inside, his door to his room still shut.
The police said that it was possible that maybe he ran off and out the front door, but his parents assured them that he had no idea what the alarm code was for the front door and, if he had opened the door without the code, the alarm would’ve woken up them up immediately. They had been awoken by the alarm once before when a man tried to break in through a window. Even the neighbors heard the alarm and stepped outside to see what was going on. There was no way that Jacob would have been able to get around it. After the rest of the town heard of the details, they all started blaming his parents. The police ended up getting a warrant for the house and tore it apart. I felt bad for them because I knew they didn’t do it. They had no idea where he went or where he is now and truthfully, neither do I.
But I have an idea as to what happened.
I used to stay the night at Jacob’s house pretty often – at least once a month or so. But then one night, Jacob told me that I couldn’t anymore. When I asked him why, he said the whispering boy told him that he didn’t want me to be there. I was, of course, curious and upset so I asked him who the whispering boy was and why did it matter what he thought. Jacob said that the whispering boy used to stand outside of his window and slowly ‘tap, tap, tap’ all night until Jacob would talk to him. I told Jacob that I didn’t believe him, but he swore up and down that it was true and I never stayed the night over there again.
I would ask Jacob about the whispering boy from time to time but would only tell me some of the lighter details. The boy was about his age, had dark hair and skin so pale that it appeared almost blue. Jacob had told me that the only thing about the boy that frightened him was that it seemed as though the shadows used to always sit over his eyes so he could never see them clearly and that the boy had a smile that was certainly too large for his face.
And he always smiled.
He loved to smile.
I would ask Jacob what the boy would want to talk about and he would say that the whispering boy would only ever ask him one question:
“Are you ready to go?”
Jacob told me he would ask what he meant, but the boy only ever said that to him. When Jacob would threaten to get his Mom or Dad, the boy would just shake his head from side to side. When he would get his parents, the boy would be gone upon his return. When he would tell the boy to go away, he only shook his head, still smiling at Jacob. When he said anything to the boy, it just shook its head and repeated its question.
“Are you ready to go?”
And when Jacob said ‘no’ and tried to fall asleep, the boy would lightly ‘tap, tap, tap’ on the window, all throughout the night.
I don’t know where they went but the boy must have taken Jacob somewhere.
I only write this because I am afraid. This morning I woke up with my mother visibly mad at me. I asked her what was wrong and she told me that she was surprised I was able to sleep through the racket and that even through my shut door, she could hear it. Confused, I questioned what she meant. She told me that I needed to tell my little friends to only come by my house during the day.
And to stop tapping on the window.