Page 70 of Phoenix

“Take that back. That’s just mean.”

“I will not. Look, I’ve always wanted to take a ghost tour. You’re going and you’re going to like it or else,” I tell him, jokingly.

“You’re lucky I enjoy fucking you,” he says.

“Yes, yes I am.”

We approach the square where our tour guide is waiting for us.

It’s dark out, obviously, as it is 11:00 p.m., and Savannah is oddly quiet. You can hear the cicadas singing in the wind. It’s beautiful. Peaceful.

“Are you here for the tour?” the young man with a black shirt and black beanie on asks.

“We are.” I give him my name so he can get us checked in.

“All right, perfect,” he says. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

I squeeze Case’s hand in excitement. “Yes, we shall.”

We stand with a group of six others, a family of four and a couple, and listen as the tour guide gives us the history of Johnson Square.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Savannah is essentially covered in Spanish moss. Everywhere you look, you can see it dangling from trees. If you take a look around Johnson Square, however, you’ll notice that it’s essentially void of any and all Spanish moss.”

I glance around as he talks, and he’s right. There’s none here at all. Odd.

I slide my arm through Case’s and lean in closer to him as we keep listening.

“Legend has it, American Revolutionary War hero, Major General Nathaneal Greene despised the stuff because it reminded him of his grandfather’s beard. Sounds like some intense family drama there, if you ask me.”

The small group we reside in laughs, as does Case. I can feel the throaty vibrations with my cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Why would his hatred matter, you ask? Well, it just so happens that the Major General’s remains are buried right here, beneath this monument.”

He points to the large, vertical monument just to our left. It’s essentially two feet from us. I instinctively step away from it, causing Case to laugh again.

“A little spooked, Phoenix?” he whispers into my ear.

“Not at all. Nope.” I shake my head.

“Liar.”

The tour continues as we walk around all of the historic district of the city. We are told tales of slavery, ghosts, murders, conspiracies, and more. It’s truly fascinating. I knew the city had its share of history, but I had no idea just how much.

Case is enjoying himself too. I can see it. I can feel it, and that makes me incredibly happy. He gave me a lot of shit for wanting to do something so “touristy,” but I know he was excited to bring me.

We round a corner and approach a darkened alley that apparently has some kind of sordid history. It instantly gives me the icky vibes. It’s too dark, too secluded, and everyone seems a bit more tense, though I’m sure that is the point. This is a ghost tour, after all.

I look around the alley as the guide talks us through each subject, taking in the cobblestone and brick. It’s beautiful on the surface, but the vibe is all off.

A flash of light catches my attention to my right, and I see a man standing there, leaning against the wall. He just lit a cigarette, and he’s just watching us.

Case seems to sense him too, because he slides his arm around me and pulls me in tighter to his side. The way he’s staring is just…creepy.

I try to ignore his eyes on me and focus on the stories, but I can’t seem to shake it. I glance back toward him and he’s still staring, puffing his cigarette.

He is dressed in ripped blue jeans and a white wifebeater style tank top with messy hair. He gives off the textbook creeper aura, and I internally urge the guide to rush through this portion so we can move on.

I feel Case lean down and speak against my ear, “You okay?”

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