A Ghost in the Coral Castle

They say if you ring the bell, the ghost will give you a tour.

Hello! It’s here. The time of year when we ignore the rule about not taking candy from strangers and revel all things creepy. In honor of Halloween, I’ve written a new ghost story. Now, to be clear, all of this is made up. So even though the Coral Castle is a real place in South Florida (on the National Register of Historic Places) that you can read more about here, this story below is complete fiction. Enjoy!

A Ghost in the Coral Castle

They say if you ring the bell, the ghost will give you a tour. I don’t dare touch that damn bell. Maybe that’s what Kia did that night. It’s late and no one is supposed to be here anyway. Especially not me, on my birthday. Sweet sixteen. It’s all over this place, too. Sixteen steps down to the well. Sixteen steps up to the house. Sixteen carved in the stone. That’s how old Kia was. She’ll always be 16 now.

That bell still dangles like a loose chain on the gate, which is really just a 9-ton chunk of limestone on some kind of turn table. That heavy rock would swivel open effortlessly, almost as if on its own when it was first built, but after 100 years or so, one of the bearings broke. Now it’s closed like a boulder sealing a tomb along with the rest of the place. Good riddance. Did we need this ragtag monument of limestone carvings? No, the word “carving” implies precision. Some of these stones look more like they were broken and bludgeoned into shapes.  

Anyway, people didn’t come to gawk at a bunch of rocks and a two-story hovel. The Coral Castle: that was a generous title. More like an oversized sculpture garden. It fit in the South Florida landscape about as well as a ski slope.

I think the story is what lured people in. They came to see if they could figure out how the man who built this place did it. They came to see the sorcery revealed. How could a man about 100 pounds soaking wet moving tons of stone without the benefit of massive machinery? Well, he died a long time ago. Took those secrets with him. I’m hunting a different secret. I glide over the makeshift perimeter fence and slip silently inside.

Who cares how he built this place? What drove him to spend 30 years of his life making this stuff? I wanna know why he only worked at night. Why people think he’s still here. Why my sister’s not. I drift toward the well. There’s water at the bottom. I can see the sheen of it like a black mirror. I know the stillness of that stagnate damp. I shiver. I’ve been down the steps that lead below. I didn’t find anything but a hole in the side at the bottom. It’s big enough to climb into. Kia never made it that far.

I want it all destroyed, but the place is practically indestructible and the city won’t spend the money to try and move tons of rock. Even after what happened. I pass by here all the time like some kind of sentry trying to keep girls out. I know there’s going to be another incident. It had to end in 16. Fifteen deaths so far. Everyone said they were accidents. Kia was goofing off with friends, and they said she fell down those sixteen steps. They asked a few questions, and that was it.

Then they took the police tape down like streamers from a party that was long over. Everyone moved on. Not me. I wasn’t ever moving on. Damn these rocks.

I hear the bell ring and my head snaps up to look back at the main gate. The only thing that fills me with more dread than that chime is the youthful laughter that follows it. Idiots. I sneak back to the front and hide behind the towering obelisk to get a better look at them.

One of them is a girl about my age, but she can’t be from here. I didn’t recognize her from school. And the cut of her grey shorts and midriff top are so angular, stiff and unusual, but she wears them like pajamas. Her skin is dark like mine. The other idiot looks slightly taller, paler and older with dark hair that cuts across his face in a model-esque angle. Her boyfriend perhaps? His white T-shirt is cut in a deep V.

“See?” he teases the girl with rows of braids in her hair. “No ghost. I told you we’d have the place completely to ourselves. We can do whatever we want.” He pulls her close to him and kisses her.

After a moment she pushes him away gently. “Don’t get too many ideas. I just wanted to look around.”

“And then?” he asks, a little too enthusiastic if you ask me.

“And then leave because this place is super creepy,” she says.  

“C’mon. It’s been years since anyone died.”

Is that some kind of joke? Kia died a year ago. Just one year. They’d know if they were local. But if they weren’t, what made them come in the middle of the night? I thought I was the only one crazy enough to keep doing that. I’m about to yell at them to leave when I realize it might be easier to scare them off. They clearly hadn’t seen me, and they were expecting a ghost, right?

I pick up a rock and throw it so it lands right behind them.

The girl jumps and turns to the sound. “What was that?”

The boy laughs. “Aww, are you scared? I’ll protect you.” He pulls her closer to his side. “Why don’t we go inside the castle?”

“No way! It’s pitch black in there. That’s where he used to work.” She’s right. Even I don’t go in there. If I were making a horror flick, I’d start in there.

“I’ll just take a peek,” he says and races off to the little house. The fool. At least it’s locked. But when he gets to the door, it swings open. He hadn’t touched it. I’m certain. It opened because it wanted him to come inside.

I’d never seen the evil but I’ve felt it. Something about the place is cursed. Whenever I’m here the wrongness of it seeps into my bones and holds me. Sometimes I forget why I’m here and I can’t leave until sunrise.

I move over to one of the windows. He turns on a flashlight inside. All the builder’s tools are still mounted on the walls like trophies except dull with age and rust-brown stains. He touches one of the chisels and pulls. It’s nailed onto the wall but as he wiggles and yanks it, the porous limestone around the nail crumbles and litters the dirty, moldy floor. With a final tug it’s off the wall, and it flies out of his hand to the floor. The clatter of metal on stone rattles my insides. He shouldn’t take from here. He shouldn’t take what he doesn’t want following him.

He picks up the chisel and stares at it, looking dazed.

“Jay!” the girl calls outside. I’m ducked around the back of the house, but I hear her footsteps coming closer to the door that’s still wide open, inviting trouble.

Jay’s hand tightens around the chisel. He’s still staring at it like it’s his favorite thing in the world. It’s all wrong. I grab a fistful of pebbles and throw them into the open window. They scatter around his feet and he drops the chisel in surprise.

“What the—”

“Jay!” the girl yells again.

He moves to leave, chisel abandoned, and the door shuts him in. Then the window shutter closes in my face. Shit.

I hear the girl jiggling the door from the outside, but it doesn’t budge. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Jay says. “I just dropped something.”

“Can you open the door?”

He pushes and bangs on the door from inside. “I think it’s stuck.”

“Great,” the girl says.

“Let me try the window,” he says. “See if you can find something to bust the doorknob.”

I move around to the front of the house as the girl wanders away. She pulls out her own flashlight and looks around. She finds a chunk of limestone and bends to pick it up, but freezes and tilts her head as if listening.

I hear it too: splashing coming from the bottom of the well. She straightens. She hugs herself as she meanders closer to the well.

“This is it,” she whispers. She stops dead at the top of the steps. “This is where the last one died.”

The last one? She had a name. Was Kia forgotten already? Crouched down next to the stone table, I rustle some of the palm fronds to draw her attention away. Do these people have a death wish?

She hugs herself tighter and then raises her chin and speaks louder, “They’re gonna tear the place down.”

The words hit me like she said them for me. Does she know I’m here? She turns away so I almost don’t hear what she says next. “I wanted to see it before it’s gone.”

She’s looking down the well, looking like she’s going to walk down those steps. Something about her and where she stands fills my head with so much hot static, getting louder and drowning me, I can hardly move.

I panic. Not another. The terror of 16, 16, 16, ringing like alarm bells. Then a surge pushes me. I’m shooting across the ground and swallowing the space between us. Maybe she was just going to take a step and be fine. I’ll never know. I crash into her.

She wasn’t braced for a hit and I easily knock her away from the steps. She falls sideways to the ground, screaming in terror. The flashlight rolls away highlighting her in flashes. I jump up to stand, but I slip on the mildewy top step and tumble down.

“No,” I breathe. There wasn’t any air in my lungs to carry the word. It dies as it leaves me.

I don’t hear my bones breaking or a splash when I hit the bottom. The water doesn’t stir. I don’t feel any pain. I look up to the mouth of well. Silhouetted by the moon is the girl, dusting herself off.

Jay rushes over and hugs her, his once stylish locks disheveled. “I just got out the window. What happened?! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” She’s shaking like a leaf. “I think she was trying to protect me.”

“Who?”

“The last girl to die here. Number 16.”

“Hey! Kia was number 15!” I shout. “That isn’t right!”

The girl continues like she can’t hear me. “She died the same way her sister did. Her name was Mya.”

“No, I’m Mya!” I say. I climb up the steps. One. Two. Three. It’s not that deep a well, but they aren’t looking at me as I move.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

“Did you dig up historical records or something?” Jay asks. “How do you know all this?” He’s rubbing her shoulder and looking around wildly. They still don’t see me.

I let my palm drag against the wall as I go, but the rough stone doesn’t shred my skin.

Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

“She was my grandmother’s cousin,” the girl says. “Nana told me the story. They never knew if it was a mistake or grief, but I wanted to let her know that soon this place will be moved. The well will be filled.”

Fifteen. Sixteen. I’m standing right next to them. The air leaves my lungs. I see it like a breeze stirring Jay’s dark hair.

“I didn’t know,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He pulls her away from the open well.

“It didn’t feel like my secret to tell.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “Anyway, I think I’m over this place. Let’s get out of here.” Finally, some sense. They head back to the entrance and they both pass straight through me.

I look back down the well at the black shine of the water at the bottom, and for a brief moment I remember. I remember retracing Kia’s steps, letting the stone bloody my palms. I remember wanting to find a clue and then, and then nothing. I’m still looking for her. I’m still trying to understand what happened. She moved on. She moved on to someplace I can’t get to.

The couple climbs back into their car and drives off. How long have I been here? At least they’re finally getting rid of this place. Maybe then I can move on. Maybe then I’ll see Kia again.

Until then, they say if you ring the bell, the ghost will give you a tour.