Zavier and Zayne

Trina Hanshew-Sanders


It was drawing closer to darkness, and the two boys didn’t realize the time approaching. Their parents were out for the evening, and the babysitter was downstairs. The two boys thought they were old enough not to have a babysitter, since they were approaching their ninth birthdays, but their parents still insisted on getting them a sitter for the evening.

Zavier and Zayne were identical twins. No one could tell the two apart, not even their parents, which led to many tricks and pranks played by them in the short amount of time since they’d been brought home from the hospital.

Another thing that is interesting about the twins is that they were born on the date of June sixth, at the time of six p.m. When Mrs. Bronsons gave birth to the twins, there wasn’t a second thought of the time stamp. But ever since the twins arrived home, weird and strange occurrences had been happening. It’d only been the last couple of years that things had gotten worse.

At first, lights would either burn out for no reason, or they would flash off and on. Then their baby monitor would pick up strange conversations in the boys’ nursery. When the parents would go in to investigate the conversations they were hearing, no one would be in the twins’ room, and the boys would be fast asleep in their cribs. Then things slowly progressed to other electrical items in the house going on and off. When the Bronsons brought in an electrical expert to check out the house and some of the equipment, the electrician was at a loss as to what could be causing the electrical spurts.

As the twins grew older, the phenomena progressed. The Bronsons would awaken at night to knocking on the walls, breathing in their ears, and covers being pulled off them. Eventually the strange occurrences happened anytime of the day, and the Bronsons slowly began became accustomed to the activity in the house. It never did dawn on the Bronsons that the hauntings might have started the day the twins came home.

The two boys were sitting in the center of their room, breaking in a new deck of Bicycle playing cards. The game was War, and Zavier was ahead at the time.

“I don’t think I like playing with you,” said Zayne.

“The only reason you don’t like playing with me, is that I always beat your butt at this game,” replied Zavier.

“The reason you always win is because you cheat,” replied Zayne.

“How can I cheat at this game, dude?” said Zavier.

“I don’t know, man. Knowing you, you’ll find a way to cheat at everything,” said Zayne.

“Aw, shucks. Just play the game. I’m the only one you have to play with. You’re stuck with me. I’m not cheating,” replied Zavier.

Then all of a sudden the lights began to slowly flicker off and on.

“It’s starting again,” Zayne said.

“Don’t worry, brother. You know it always stops after a few minutes.”

“But I hate it when this happens, “replied Zayne.

“I don’t know why you let this bug you. This has been going on for years. Do you want the babysitter to hear you? You better keep it down, or she’ll just tell us to go to bed,” said Zavier.

“Zavier,” Zayne cried.

“What?”

“Look at the time!” The boys still hadn’t notice the dark making its way into their bedroom window. “It’s a quarter to ten, and if our parents knew we were up at this time, they would kill us,” exclaimed Zayne.

“Don’t sweat it, man. They won’t be home for another two hours. I heard them telling the babysitter that they won’t be back until around midnight, so we’re in the clear,” said an exhausted Zavier.

Then the banging began on the boys bedroom walls.

Secretly, Zayne never got used to the hauntings that happened in the house. But when he was hanging with his brother, he always pretended the phenomena didn’t get under his skin. As the boys started to collect the cards and put them back in their case, the lights started flickering with a rhythmic flashing, as if the boys were watching a laser show. The banging and pounding on their bedroom walls joined in with a double base delight, and a snare drum was the walls’ side kick. The boys jumped with fright. The banging on the walls had never been so strong and frightening before. Both boys screamed, startled out of their skins, and cards went flying in the air. Both boys didn’t know what to do, and thought the babysitter would be coming up to find out what all the racket was.

After waiting a few minutes with no sign of the babysitter, things got worse. As Zavier and Zayne stood in the center of their room, grasping each others arms and shaking with fear, both their Tonka four-wheel trucks began rolling across the floor.

“Look Zavier! Your truck!” cried Zayne.

“Look at your truck!” Zavier replied. As the boys continued to watch their trucks roll slowly across the floor, Zavier heard other toys start up the same way their Tonka trucks started, and he knew his brother wasn’t going to like what was going to happen.

As all the toys roared up their engines, some with fighting powers, some with intelligence of flight, the room became even more horrific with the sight of flying and shooting toys, disco flashing lights, and banging walls, all of it hammering out tunes of morbid death calls from the past. Things never were this bad before, and they’d never been alone when things happened. “Where is the babysitter?” cried Zayne.

“I don’t know, little brother,” said Zavier nervously. Zavier always called Zayne little brother, for the fact that Zavier was born two minutes before Zayne.

“Aren’t you scared, man?” cried Zayne.

“Yeah, I am! I wonder where that babysitter is.”

The two boys stood in the center of the room, while toys flew around them and lights flickered above them.

Zavier noticed that the walls weren’t banging anymore and it appeared to Zayne that the toys were losing whatever energy had powered them. The trucks were stopping, the flying objects were falling, and the shooting guns were running out of bullets. The only thing that wasn’t losing its will was the strobe light that continued to impair the boys’ vision.

The strobe light began to slow to a flicker, and Zavier and Zayne started to see better. As the light continued on a heart beat rhythm, the two became more relaxed.

“I think it’s stopping,” said Zavier.

“Do you think so?”

“Yeah, I think so. That was a really bad one. I think it might have been testing us.”

“Testing us!” cried Zayne.

“Yes, testing us.”

“Who are They that you’re always talking about? And why would they want to test us?”

“I don’t know, little brother. I know as much as you do. I’m trying to figure this out,” said Zavier.

“I want to know more about the They people you keep talking about,” said Zayne.

“Zayne, I’m not sure who “they” are. Maybe it’s electrical. Maybe its rats in the walls.”

“Don’t let the baby sitter hear you say rats in the wall,” Zayne replied.

“I’m just trying to say that I’m not sure what’s making this happen. Mom and Dad say that it’s been happening since we came home from the hospital.”

“Do you believe that?” asked Zayne.

“I don’t know. I don’t see why Mom and Dad would lie to us. But maybe we’re the cause of this,” Zavier said as he gestured around to the mess that lied around their room.

“You can’t believe that, Zavier!”

“It might be possible.”

“You’re crazy, man. You need to go back to the chicken farm,” exclaimed Zayne.

“You know I don’t like it when you talk like that. Don’t call me crazy!” yelled Zavier.

“You’re crazy, you’re nuts, you belong in the chicken house,” said Zayne as he jokingly pinched his brother’s ears.

“You’re making me mad. I told you that I don’t like that.” Then the rattling of the bedroom door began again ever so softly, drawing the boys’ attention to the door.

The rattling turned into banging, the doorknob started turning, and they thought that maybe now it was the babysitter coming to check in on them. It wasn’t. As the door banged louder and harder, the boys were afraid the door would break off its hinges. Then all of a sudden, the banging stopped as quickly as it had begun. Zayne thought to himself, “Not again,” and grabbed onto his brother for help. The boys looked around their room, waiting to see what might happen next, when they heard a slight scratching at their closet door.

“Do you hear that?” asked Zayne.

“No, what is it?”

“It’s a scratching noise.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t found it yet.” Then, at the same time, both boys located the noise. Scratching, as if skinless hands were trying to claw their way out from a casket, was coming from behind their closet door. Unsure of what possibly could be making the noise, the boys drew closer to the closet door. Step by step, as the boys slowly walked closer, the scratching grew louder, and it seemed that whatever was clawing at the door was penetrating deeper into the wood. The closer the boys got, the louder the noise got.

The doorknob wiggled like something wanted out, and a foul odor came rolling from underneath the bottom of the door. It was the odor that stopped the two in their tracks, as it continued to fill their bedroom. With the scratching upon the door, the odor filling the room, and the twisting of the doorknob, the boys still anticipated what possibly could be behind the door. As they stood outside the closet, they heard murmured voices behind the door. They could make out voices that were in pure agony. Some were asking for revenge, some were asking to end their suffering. There were even voices speaking in a foreign tongue the boys couldn’t understand.

“I can’t take this anymore. I got to get out of here,” cried out Zayne as he pushed his brother’s arms away from him.

“Calm down, little brother.” The odor in the room was burning the brothers’ noses.

“I’m getting out of here, and I’m going downstairs with the sitter,” cried out Zayne as now his eyes burned from the odor as well.

“Please don’t go. Please don’t leave me!” Zavier said.

“What? I thought you weren’t scared.” As the scratching continued on the closet door, and the banging started up again on the bedroom walls. “I’m really out of here now,” yelled out Zayne.

“Don’t forget me!” exclaimed Zavier. As the twins ran to their beds and gathered up their bedding, the voices, the flickering of the lights, the rattling and banging on the walls, and whatever was in the closet had progressed to such an alarming state that pictures nailed to the wall were falling down, dresser drawers were flying open and closed, and both of their bedside lamps blew up like mini explosive bombs. As the twins ran to the bedroom door to safety, a monstrous voice field the room.

“DON’T GO!” screamed out the voice with such anger and authority, it almost stopped the brothers in their tracks. The boys opened the bedroom door with such fright. They feared the dang thing wouldn’t open. The two strongly held onto their bedding as they descended the staircase. Once they reached the landing, they saw the babysitter crashed out on the couch. It was no wonder the babysitter never came in to check on them. The twins walked over to the living room couch and looked down at the sitter. She must have been asleep for awhile. She was drooling on her pillow. Still feeling scared from the evenings events, the twins began making a makeshift bed for the both of them in the living room, just in front of the television. Once they made themselves comfortable enough to where they might be able to get some sleep, the television came on and began to switch stations on its own, and slowly descending the stairs came the thing that had been hiding in the closet.