Fair warning: things are going to be a little short for the next few days (likely). Fern and I are going on a… working vacation. Yeah, that about sums it up. More later, but between working and being out of communication, not sure how much writing is going to get done. Still sticking with my commitment for a ghost story a day, just likely not going to write a haunted War & Peace. Let’s start off with a short one so I can finish packing (camping in Big Basin tomorrow night!) —Jordy

I admit it, I’m a heavy sleeper. I didn’t wake up when the noise first came from downstairs. Lydia shook me awake. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

I knew she wouldn’t wake me unless it was serious, so I snapped from sleep to careful, quiet attention in zero seconds flat. I listened hard… There it was again. Footsteps. “When did it start,” I looked over at Lydia.

“Just a moment ago.”

“Did you hear the front door? Broken glass?”

She shook her head. “They just… started.”

We listened as the footsteps moved to the kitchen and paused long enough for me to wonder if that was it. It wasn’t. They started back down the hallway. Then they started up the stairs slowly. “Shit,” I whispered as I opened the drawer of my night stand and pulled out my Glock 19 and as quietly as I could racked the slide. The footsteps kept their slow movement up the stairs. I crept out of bed and stood next to the closet with a clear line of sight of the closed door when the door knob started to turn. Then the door inched open slowly, creaking.

“Lydia? Are you awake?” a voice from behind the door whispered.

“Tina?” Lydia said out loud.

The door opened and a tall woman with long black hair cascading down the back of her scarlet blouse. She stepped in and her chunky wedges made the tell-tale steps we were listening to. She looked over and saw me. “Oh! Eric, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you!”

“You didn’t, she did,” I said, unchambered the round in the gun and put it back in the nightstand.

Lydia shrugged innocently, “How was I supposed to know it was just a ghost?”

Lydia looked confused. “Why didn’t you check yourself? Even if it wasn’t me, what? Like a burglar is going to hurt the dead?”

“I was… scared,” she said sheepishly.

Both Lydia and I rolled our eyes.

“Girl, you’ve been dead how long?”

“Three years,” I said, climbing back into bed. “If you ladies will excuse me, the living still need sleep.”

Lydia leapt out of bed and started out of the room with Tina. “So, how’s Maria doing with the new baby?!”

“Oh, dios mio! Never. Stops. Screaming!” They started down the stairs and I rolled over to rest.