31 Ghosts

31 spooky tales for October

31 Ghosts 2018: October 5 – Haunted

Photo by Eric Muhr on Unsplash

Jade woke with a start, unsure of what woke her. Listening hard in the darkness she heard it again… the creaky hinges of the door from the kitchen. “The wind,” she told herself. “Just the wind…”

Then the footsteps started. “House settling?” she thought. The footsteps continued and seemed to be getting closer. She frantically searched the room for something she could use to fight off whatever approached one step after the other. The steps started cautiously up the creaking stairwell. She stared at her closed door and could see a glow coming up nearer with every step. Time running out, she hurried behind the door hoping maybe she could get the jump on whatever it was when it came in through the door. The door knob began to turn slowly. She could feel the door start to open and then she could see one foot enter, a hand on the door, then a man’s head came into view.

“Aaah!” she screamed, shoving at the door.

“Aaah!” the man screamed back, dropping his flashlight to the floor.

“Oh shit, Jason, it’s just you…” she said, her voice dripping with disappointment as she crossed back to her bed.

“Jade! I’m so glad you’re here!” the man scrambled for his dropped flashlight. “I missed you!”

“Jason, just go, okay?”

Jade, come on,” he pleaded as he moved to sit next to her on the bed. “Give me a chance!”

“Jason, it’s not going to work.”

“Look, I know we’re different, but we can make it work…”

“For fuck’s sake!” She stood up again and walked to the far window. “It’s not enough that my sicko stepfather shot me and left me clinging to life while he set this goddamn place on fire. No, now you’ve got to come around every fucking day telling me you’re in love with me.” She whirled on him, “This is hell. That’s what this is, Jason. Hell.” She stopped abruptly and stabbed the air towards him, “Are you Satan? Jason? Maybe a lesser demon? Come on, you can tell me….”

Jason stood up. “I’m not Satan, Jade. It’s me! Jason! High school?”

“Oh, I remember. I thought that was hell then! How wrong I was. And do you remember I turned you down then, too?”

“Well… sure, but this is different…”

“Different? Because I’m dead? Eww, necrophilia much?”

“I can see you!” he declared.

“Lucky me!” she rolled her eyes.

“That’s got to mean something! It’s a sign, you know?”

“A sign god hates me enough to worse-than-kill-me.” Jason was about to reply but Jade held up a hand, “Shh! What’s that?” she said listening.

“Jason?!” someone whisper-yelled outside. “Where are you?!”

“Maybe he’s not here…” another voice whispered.

“Are you kidding? He had such a hard on about coming here tonight.”

“Heh, you said ‘hard on’ and ‘coming’” Both boys laugh-whispered.

Jade arched an eyebrow at Jason. “Friends of yours, clearly…”

“I can explain…”

“You don’t have to. Really. Just go. Leave! Vamoose! Leave me haunt in peace!”

Jason backed out of the room bumping into the wall at least twice and tripping over the door before he hurried down the stairs and out the front door.

Jade leaned out the charred, empty windowsill and stared down at the two boys as Jason panted out of the house. “Guys! Guys!” Jason panted as he caught up with friends. “I’m glad you came.”

The two boys looked at each other silent for a moment and then broke into cackling laughter. “You said ‘came’!” one laughed.

“Real mature, guys. This? This is how the Elmwood High Paranormal Society comports itself? Really, Jose?  Ricky? Very professional…” Jason shook his head disapprovingly, hands on his hips.

“Dude…” Ricky stopped laughing. “Don’t be a dillweed.”

“Seriously,” Jose agreed. “Where were you anyway? We’ve been out here for like, what? Half an hour?”

“At least,” Ricky said.

“You guys just got here.”

“You don’t know that!”

“No, I seriously do. I was right up there when you got here,” he pointed to the window where Jade looked down on them. “Communicating with an actual ghost.”

“Who would like him to take his bitch-ass home and take his friends with him!” Jade called down.

“They can’t hear you!” Jason called up.

“Heh, I know!” Jade yelled back. “And this makes you look like even more of a dork,” she laughed.

“Dude, who are you talking to?” Ricky asked.

“The ghost,” Jason replied as if it were obvious.

Jose looked between Jason and the empty upstairs window and back several times. “There’s nothing there, man. Did you stop taking your meds?”

“Jose! I’m fine! Look, there’s a ghost up there. She’s up there!”

“He didn’t answer the question, dude,” Ricky said to Jose and they fist-bumped. He turned to Jason, “Look dude, we’re here because we thought there might be something in this creepy-ass place. I mean, shit, that dude killed his family here… that’s… serious! But you’re acting really weird, dude.”

“Ricky! Jose! I’m fine, okay? Let’s go inside, let’s investigate. Come on,” he took a step towards the house.

The other boys remained rooted, looking at each other and giving each other little shakes of their heads. “Hey, Jason,” Jose started, “as vice-president of the Elmwood High Paranormal Society, I think you’re, uh, too obsessed with this place. I think we should call it a night.”

“As secretary of the Elmwood High Paranormal Society,” Ricky added, “I second that motion.”

“I’m president, guys! We should go in!”

“And the vote?” Jose asked the air and then both he and Ricky said “Aye!”

“Cool,” Ricky said, “Motion carries. We’re outta here, Jason.”

The two started walking off towards the street. “What time does the Round Table close?” Jose asked Ricky.

“Ten I think. You wanna see if we can my brother to buy us beer?”

“Guys!” Jason called after them exasperated.

“Toodles!” Jade called down to Jason.

Jason looked up at Jade, then back to the street, then back up to Jade, “I’ll be back!”

“I won’t wait up! Take your time! Take years! Seriously. Just go away.”

 

 

 

 

 

31 Ghosts 2018: October 4 – The Unquiet Suburbs

I’m not going to say “I don’t believe in ghosts” because, well, it’s not that I didn’t believe in them, it was just that I’d never experienced them. It’s like… Lichtenstein – I’ve read about Lichtenstein, I’ve known people whose opinions I trust who say they’ve been there and it’s a lovely place. I have no reason to doubt the existence of Lichtenstein and maybe someday I’ll find myself crossing its borders and I’ll say to myself, “Wow, so this is Lichtenstein. Huh.” Until then, though, I’m open to Lichtenstein, but as far as first-hand experience I have simply never been to Lichtenstein.
We weren’t the first owners of our house by a long shot – a few years back I did some rewiring and discovered multiple generations of wiring styles, so I dug into the history of the place as much as I could from official records. Despite the rows of neat cookie-cutter homes around us in the cul-de-sac and down the street, it turns out our humble abode started way before this place became suburbia. The front wall – and even then, only a section hidden by modern drywall – are all that remain of the rough-hewn timbers that made up the diminutive farmhouse that occupied a quarter of our current house’s footprint. I saw a picture of the original place at the local historical society – little shack of a place flanked by newly-planted palm trees. Those palm trees are still there, but they tower above our now-two-story house and should have clued me in to the much older history within the walls. The family that lived here died and/or sold the acreage off and the new owners divvied up the land into parcels which eventually became our little slice of white-washed Americana, complete with “Drive like your kids live here!” sign beneath the ominous eye icon warning of the Neighborhood Watch.
Sure, we’ve had bumps in the night, but I chalked it up to house settling or roof rats. There’s your odd cold spot in the house, of course, but this place had been remodeled and remodeled and remodeled –there was even a fire in there somewhere – since the first owner sold it, so to expect it to be thermally tight… I gave up that battle long ago.
Still, though, there haven’t been any… I don’t know… full bodied apparitions? Demons in the closets? Hands reaching out of the television? I’ve seen all the tropes and our sleepy house on a sleepy street in a sleepy section of a sleepy town could tune in “Ghost Adventures,” but that’s as close as it ever really got to anything paranormal.
Until last night.
The old maple in the back has been dropping leaves from its enormous canopy which is a sure sign fall is here. That means one thing: parent teacher conferences. Ugh. Yeah, there’s also Pumpkin Spice Lattes, the crisp scent of winter coming, first rains, and of course Halloween, but those are all good things. Parent teacher conferences are the bane of my existence.
“Laura, do I have to go?” I whined as we both got into the Subaru.
Laura laughed at me, “Jenny, sweetie, you sound as bad as your daughter when I have to get her ready for school in the morning!”
“But I haaaaaaate Parent teacher conferences,” I kept up the channeling of Surly Teen.
She pulled me close and kissed my forehead. “There, there. It will be fine. I’ll even buy you frozen yogurt afterwards!”
I smiled. “Does that work with Amelia?”
“Well,” she said, “there’s a lot more eye rolling, and heavy sighing involved.”
“I could start again…”
She put her hand on my arm, “Jenny, I’m not afraid to get violent with you if you start again.”
We both laughed and I started the car and backed out of the garage.
I waited for the garage door to close while Laura searched through her purse. “Shit!”
“Problem?”
“There’s that damn packet with Amelia’s class information in it. I swore I put it in my purse…”
“Not there?”
“Must be on the counter.”
“Okay,” I said hitting the seat belt release, “I’ll get it.”
“Thank you, sweetie!” Laura smiled relieved. “It should be right there on the counter by the fridge.” As I stepped out of the car she hurriedly added, “…. If it’s not, then the kitchen table!”
“Got it!” I closed the door and jogged up the porch and neatly unlocked the door in a quick, fluid motion. I opened the door, stepped forward, and fell completely through the floor.
The floor didn’t give way structurally, no, it was as if the floor didn’t exist. I was so shocked as I pitched forward I didn’t have time to even call out. I fell into blackness for a moment before I had the sensation of swinging back up, like the arc of my fall brought me back up to the position I had been in. But I wasn’t in my house anymore – at least not the house I knew. Judging from the gaps in the boards of the walls, I guessed this place might have even predated the building incorporated into our house. I heard horses whinnying and stomping around outside, dust from their feet permeating the house and dimming the already wan lamplight. A black man in overalls rushed past me close enough for me to smell his sweat and fear. He turned the wheel on the oil lamp that sat on the table in the middle of the single room, extinguishing its light such that the only light was streaming chaotically through the windows – torches. He crossed to where a woman crouched, sheltering two young children in the corner next to the cast iron stove.
“I’m going to see what’s going on,” he told her. In his free hand he held an old rifle I could see even in the poor light seemed rusty.
“Oh God, James, don’t!” she pleaded, terror in her voice.
“Daddy, no!” the young boy begged. His sister added, “Daddy?” from under the other protective arm of their mother.
“Can’t be helped,” James said. He levered the bolt on the rifle to chamber a round. “I’m just going to talk. Stay here,” he said in a steady voice. He crossed past me to the door, put his hand on the door knob, and yelled, “I’m coming out! You hear?”
“Come on out Jimmy,” a voice called back from outside.
He opened the door and I could see men on horseback outside brandishing guns and torches. James stepped out onto the porch.
“He’s got a gun!” someone yelled.
James spread his arms wide, the rifle held in one hand perpendicular to the ground. “I’m just taking care of my family,” he said.
“You’re not welcome here,” the first voice said flatly.
“Sheriff,” James started, “I bought this land myself. I own it outright. I’ve as much right as you do to your land.”
I turned back to the woman and kids on the floor, and I crossed to them and knelt down. The boy stared past me, while the woman clenched her eyes closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. The little girl, maybe five, looked directly at me. She saw me. She stared directly into my eyes…
A gunshot shattered the night. Screams. More gunshots. More screams. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from that little girl’s eyes. The house, the gunshots, the screams, all faded out so it was just me and the girl, eyes locked, silence around us now, heavy like a cloak.
“Remember,” she said. I fell through the floor again.
This time the landing wasn’t nearly as graceful, and I hit carpeted floor on all fours with a crash that drove me bodily down. I opened my eyes and the wide room was lit by candles, but I could see from the décor that this wasn’t the old cabin. This wasn’t even the house I’d seen in the picture at the historical society. No, looking around the room, it had the same layout as the house we lived in… the stairway wasn’t there for the upper story, and the shag carpet, plaid couches, and ovoid lamp with an oversized shade suggested this had to be sometime in the late 1960’s. The candlelight came from the dining room table at the back of the room where four teens crowded around a table, the candles providing ambiance.
I stood gingerly, steading myself on the edge of the sofa. As I did, I could see what the kids were doing – all four crowded hands onto the planchette of a Ouija board. “Well, shit,” I said aloud, “this can’t possibly end well.”
The kids couldn’t hear me and they were in the process of spelling out a word anyway. “T…” they said in unison as the planchette slid to the next letter, “A!”
“Santa?” one of the boys asked.
“There wasn’t an ‘N’, dummy,” the other boy snapped.
“Shh! It’s still moving!” one of the girls chided.
“’N’” they said solemnly. The other girl stated the complete word, “Satan.”
“Okay, who was moving it?” the first girl, a short girl with a short page-boy haircut. Everyone issued denials, but the first boy who seemed younger than the other three fell quiet and sat back suddenly in his chair.
“Davey, are you okay?” the second girl, taller and more wiry than the others with long dark hair asked with concern. Davey started jerking involuntarily, seemingly in the throes of a massive seizure.
Davey’s mouth opened and a guttural voice barked, “Get. Out!”
The shorter girl reached for his arm but jerked her hand back, Jenny could hear and smell the sound of skin searing from across the room. She stepped forwards towards the kids just as the other boy bumped the table, knocking one of the candles off the table. The flame touched the gauzy shears over the window which instantly erupted in angry fire. The jerking boy slumped forward and the tall girl grabbed him by the torso and pulled him from the chair. All three struggled past me for the front door as the flames spread with uncanny speed along the walls, licking the ceiling, smoke rapidly filling the space.
Jenny could smell the fire, feel the heat, but the smoke didn’t choke her. She lost sight of the kids as the room darkened with thick, billowing smoke. She heard the crackle of the fire, felt the rush of cold air as one of the kids must have reached the front door. The fresh air caused the fire to surge with piercing intensity and blinding brilliance. Jenny could hear the sound of approaching fire trucks as the smoke closed in again, blotting the flames in a chaotic, strobe-like manner. The fire became a deafening roar filling her senses, the heat unbearable…
Jenny stood panting in the middle of her front room, the only illumination the last light of the evening pouring in through the open front door behind her. She stared around in the dark silence, her eyes taking inventory of their couch, their flat screen tv, the family pictures on the wall… it was their house. Their house…
She took a tentative step forward, then another, and another, and found herself in the kitchen. She immediately saw the folder on the counter next to the stove, and that artifact grounded her, settling her into reality. She caught her breath in the quiet dimness and sagged against the refrigerator for a moment.
Sighing, Jenny turned and started back out through the kitchen for the front door and came to an abrupt stop as a little black girl in a gunny sack dress stood in her path. Jenny stared down into those arresting eyes again. Once again the girl said simply “Remember,” and then Jenny stood alone again in the front room. She stared around, then delicately started forward again, grateful that the floor held. She closed the door behind her and hurried to the car, dropping heavily into the driver’s seat.
“Was it there on the counter?” Laura asked. “Jenny? Are you okay?”
Jenny sat, eyes wide, handed the folder to Laura without turning her head. She mumbled something incomprehensible.
“Jenny? What did you say? What’s wrong?”
Jenny turned to face Laura and repeated slowly, “I’ve been to Lichtenstein.”

31 Ghosts 2018: October 3 – Unhappy Meal

Yes, this is a short one – I have class on Wednesdays at the JC (Adobe InDesign). Sorry about that. But I have a ghost for you! 

Photo by Marc Kleen on UnsplashBy all accounts, Lacy was having a shitty night.

That jerk-off Andy was a no-show for his shift and Ohmi had burned a basket of fries… During the middle of the night rush her daughter, Sam, called in the midst of a screaming fight with her brother.

“I don’t have time for this now!” Lacy told them, “I told you to only call me in case of an emergency.”

“This is an emergency! Tyson is trying to put my dance shoes down the garbage disposal!”

“Are you dead?”

“What? No,” she said her tone making up for the omitted, “duh.”

“Are you dying?”

“No, mom…”

“Then figure. It. Out!” she hung up just as the drive-through alarm chimed indicating someone was there. She shook her head, took a deep breath and forced her mouth into a smile before saying, “Welcome to Jack In The Box. What can I get for you?”

“Hi!” the voice came back a little too chipper for Lacy’s night. “How are you?”

She tried to meet cheerfulness with cheerfulness. “I’m great, thanks for asking. What can I get started for you?”

“Oh, umm, I’ll take the Jumbo Jack combo with a coke and…. Uh, can I get that with curly fries?”

“Sure can,” she responded. He didn’t sound like an asshole. That was something. “Small, medium, or large?”

“Umm… large! Go big or go home, right?”

“I suppose so,” she smiled despite herself. “I’ll have your total at the window.”

“Great. Thanks!”

She could hear Ohmi putting down the fryer basket for the curly fries. “Let’s not burn those this time, okay?”

“Yeah, boss!” Ohmi called back.

Lacy filled the large cup with ice and a coke as the headlights from the customer’s car approached down the narrow drive through lane. She heard the car stop as she surveyed how Ohmi was coming with the rest of the order, then looked at the register for the total. Finally, she reflexively opened the window and leaned out to tell the… driverless car…

“What the hell?” she said aloud. Then she remembered the YouTube videos where a kid would cover himself with upholstery making it look like no one was in the front seat. “Very funny. What kind of crap is this?” As she looked inside the Honda Civic, the driver’s seat looked identical to the passenger seat. The overhead light shone into the car just right so she could see down into the footwell where no feet rested on pedals…

“What’s the total?” a voice came from inside the car. Not from a speaker in the car, not from some hidden compartment in the car, but as present as if it came from a person sitting right there in the front seat. But there was no person.

“Uh…” Lacy stammered. “Eight… uh… sixty five.” Her eyes roved  over the interior looking for the hidden driver, the remote control, the speaker… something to explain this. She jumped as a chime next to her startled her – the NFC payment sensor indicating it registered a valid payment source. But she was just staring out the window – nothing came remotely close to the NFC pad right next to her…

“Ah!” she shrieked as Ohmi tapped her on the back, indicating the bagged order.

“Ohmi, Ohmi, look at this!” She pointed at the car. Ohmi rolled his eyes and walked away without paying attention.

“Something wrong?” the voice came from the empty car again.

“N–No,” Lacy said. “Your order is right here.” She reached the back out the window. She felt something take the bag. She let go and the bag floated down into the car. Lacy held out the soda with a straw. It left her hand and floated down into the car. She stared slack-jawed.

“Have a nice day!” the voice said as the empty car navigated the curve into the parking lot and then out onto the street.