31 Ghosts – Tenant Repeating

This is the second part of last night’s “Repeat Tenant.” But I want to warn you before you go any further: this is probably the darkest thing I’ve ever written. I’d say “trigger warning,” but I genuinely think trigger warnings can be triggering in and of themselves. Suffice it to say, this is dark. If you want to skip to tomorrow I won’t hold it against you.
In fact, I’ll do you one better. Here’s the first line of the last paragraph, “Andi slept soundly that night.” So, you know, you know how it ends now!
😉

Andi threw the front door open and ran screaming from the house. She tripped on the top step and fell the remaining three steps, landing hard on her shoulder. Pain exploded through her but that barely touched the terror she felt. On the ground she looked back over her shoulder and saw the dark shadow figure standing in the doorway. She staggered to her feet, holding her shoulder as she stumbled backwards towards the driveway, not taking her eyes off the shadow figure. She shuffled back into the car in the driveway, her shaking hand finding her keys and managed to press the unlock button on the fob; she never took her eyes off the shadow figure.

Door open, she let herself fall into the car and slammed the door closed.

The shadow figure let the front door close slowly.

Andi didn’t remember how long she lay in the car crying. She didn’t remember driving to the emergency room. She did remember waking up the next day when the pain killers wore off and her arm throbbed painfully in the sling as the sunlight broke her sleep in the front seat of the car still in the hospital parking lot.

With the sun up she returned to the house. Even in the daylight it had felt ominous, like it was waiting for its time to pounce. That day, though, it didn’t feel ominous. It felt like it was gloating. It had won.

Later that day she would meet with the owner, Daniel, and, well… that was that…

Until now.

She sat on the couch in the family room thinking about her previous ignominious exit from the house. Fifteen minutes earlier she had just basically called the ghost out.

“I will make you wish you never came back,” it had said.

She came face to shadow with the thing. “You’re the ghost I know,” she smiled. “I’ll take that any day.”

The shadow figure laughed and retreated back up the stairs. “I will make you regret that…”

The house was quiet – for now. Her hand reflexively rubbed her shoulder – mostly healed. The ghost would come back any time now. She felt strange – she was unafraid. Completely unafraid. She ran over that memory of fleeing the house again. She remembered the cold petrifying terror. She remembered being terrified of losing her life – or worse, her sanity. She remembered feeling insignificant and powerless before the shadow figure. She remembered all these things perfectly clearly, but it was like she was remembering a movie she’d seen – it wasn’t her. Not anymore.

She stood up, picked up a backpack and slung the bag holding a camping cot over her shoulder and walked back into the foyer. She didn’t see him, but she had the uncanny feeling of eyes watching her. She started up the stairs when she heard the sound of running water upstairs. She saw water begin pouring down from the top of the stairway, but as it got nearer she realized from the metallic smell what was verified in the red sheen as the liquid came pouring down the stairwell. Blood. It coursed down over her feet, splashing crimson onto her jeans as it flowed down. A deep rumbling laugh filled the room.

Andi kept walking.

A few steps further and the blood vanished. The laughing ceased.

As she crested the stairs the energy in the house changed – she knew it was frustrated and angry. She didn’t care. She turned left at the landing and walked towards the closed door ahead. She reached her hand out to turn the doorknob but then stopped. She couldn’t.

The doorknob turned on its own. Andi stepped back. The door opened. A lithe woman wearing a deep purple satin chamise and nothing else stood in the doorway framed by candle light flickering inside the room. She looked Andi up and down slowly and said, “I was waiting for you to get off of work.” She smiled. “Rough day?” Andi didn’t say anything. The woman tilted her head to the side slightly and said, “Come on, babe. Let me make you forget about the day…”

Andi closed her eyes hard. When she opened them, the woman was gone. The door was still closed. That, she knew, wasn’t the ghost that did that. That was a genuine, pure memory. No ghoul could be that cruel. She winced, then reached for the doorknob, opened the door and walked inside.

A single chair stood in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

Andi walked in and immediately set about putting together the camping cot and covering it with blankets that would suffice until she had time to properly move in. When she was done, she sat on the chair and regarded the empty walls.

She closed her eyes remembered the room as Zoey had decorated it. Four poster bed. Lavender sheets with big green flowers on the duvet. Round white shag carpets next to the bed sparing feet moving from the warm bed to the cold hardwood. Fairy lights offering a soft light alternative to the harsh overhead. Andi remembered how happy they were for a few weeks. It was their first place on their own.

She remembered the nightmares Zoey had told her about. Andi said they weren’t anything but bad dreams.

They were more than bad dreams.

And they got worse.

And Andi started experiencing the torment around the house – screams, footsteps, blood on the stairs (that was a nice reminder the shadow thing threw her way). Andi remembered being scared, but also angry and determined. This was the place she and Zoey had made for themselves and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin this. The outside world had tried to beat them down. This was their sanctuary and she would kick some ghost ass if it tried to ruin it.

And as Zoey started to unravel, Andi tried to get the house blessed. She invited a shaman in. Some self-proclaimed demonologists. Holy water was sprinkled, salt lines were laid down, sage was burned. The haunting would go away for a day only to return worse – more violent noises, more blood. And what Andi didn’t see was they came harder and quieter for Zoey.

Andi came in from work and froze. Zoey stood at the top of the stairs, standing atop the railing, her too-thin arms braced against the ceiling, while her legs shook trying to balance up there, tears streaming down her face. “Zoey! Whoa, baby, what’s going on?!”

“I… I can’t, Andi,” She wept. “I can’t. They won’t leave me alone. The voices. The ghosts. They… I can’t, Andi. I can’t…”

“It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. I’m making headway,” she said moving slowly towards the stairs. “I’ve got this paranormal investigator crew coming Friday. They’ve have a lot of success…”

“No, Andi. No, it’s going to be like last time… and the time before…. They won’t stop. They won’t stop! I’m done. I can’t!”

Andi made it to the top of the stairs. She had wrapped her arms around Zoey’s bony frame and eased here off the railing. She helped her down the stairs and out the door. The shadow figure closed the door behind them and turned out all the lights but the light in the bedroom. As Andi helped Zoey into the car, she saw the silhouette of the shadow thing in the bedroom window. Then that light winked out.

She checked Zoey into an inpatient facility. “You rest,” Andi told Zoey as she tucked her into the bed. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Zoey looked up at her sadly. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what, Z?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.”

“We’re facing off against ghosts and demons, Z. None of us are strong enough.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Sleep.”

Zoey nodded and was asleep in moments.

Andi left the facility, but she didn’t go home. She hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten for Zoey. While Andi thought she was fighting the good fight, the ghost had come for her love and almost succeeded.

That was the first time Andi slept in the car.

The next day the doctors said it would be best if Andi let Zoey get some rest; maybe the next day. The next day the doctors said Zoey didn’t want to see her. They weren’t married, so Andi had no way to press the issue.

Zoey’s mom called Andi the following day. “Andi, Zoey needs rest. She’s afraid of the house. And she doesn’t want to see you right now.” Andi protested, but… what could she do? “She’ll call you when she’s ready,” her mom assured.

Only she didn’t.

Andi went back to the house, which remained suspiciously quiet. Sure, there were footsteps, some banging, but compared to previous behavior, it was downright peaceful.

Andi was at work when Zoey’s mom called and told her Zoey had killed herself.

Andi went numb. She expected grief to overcome her, but instead she felt pure, hot rage. She didn’t remember driving. She remembered throwing open the front door. She remembered yelling, “I’m here for you, you fucker!” at the top of her lungs. She remembered the shadow figure at the top of the stairs. She felt it grin. She bolted towards it up the stairs…

At the ER the doctors reset her dislocated shoulder and explained the sling would help for the hairline fracture of her elbow. They were more concerned with the bruising all over her body. They said it looked like she’d fallen down stairs. She didn’t remember that, but it was reasonable. There were bite marks. She didn’t remember those. But, again, she wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t explain the burns either. Again, though, not surprised.

Now, back in the house she stood up and moved back to the hallway and stood at the railing and leaned heavily on it.

That’s when she saw the shadow figure enter the foyer from the kitchen. It turned coal-red eyes up to her and she could feel the hatred and malice coming off of the figure as it moved slowly but deliberately towards the stairs. She could feel its gaze boring into her as it moved up one stair at a time, but she didn’t return the gaze. She stared straight ahead, unfocused.

The ghost reached the top of the stairs and started towards her step by step. When it was feet from her, it spoke quietly with hate-filled words. “I killed your girlfriend,” it said. “I beat you within an inch of life last time.” She felt the cold evil move within inches of her, “Tonight I will finish you.”

She felt an icy coldness envelope her in a surge. It constricted and writhed and smothered the light. The deep voice laughed as it held her tight in its deathly embrace.

And then it released her. The shadows slithered back into the person form and stepped back. “What? How? You should be dead!”

Andi straightened and swiveled her gaze towards the figure and focused on it. “This,” she said evenly, “Is why you cannot harm me. You can’t touch me.” She stared hard at the shadow figure. “I’m already dead inside. There’s nothing for you to take,” her face broke into a smile that made the shadow figure flinch back a step. Without another word, Andi turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. The shadow figure stared at the closed door. Then it turned and descended the stairs, walked into the kitchen, opened the door to the basement and started down those stairs, slamming the basement door like a sullen teenager.

Andi slept soundly that night. She dreamt. It was a fragment of a scene – a lithe woman in a deep purple chamise leaned in to her and said, “I don’t blame you,” then smiled brilliantly, vibrantly, and said, “I will always love you,” before she disappeared.

31 Ghosts – Repeat Tenant

While it’s not technically there in the title, there’s an implicit “Part 1.” I like where it is in its short for here, but I also kind of want to see what’s next for Andi and the house. We’ll see…

“I just want to be clear before we go any further, the last time we met you said to me, and I quote, ‘I want out of that hellhole house! If I stay one more minute I feel like I will be murdered brutally or possessed.’”

Andi coughed nervously at the recollection. “Okay…” she started, “That’s true, technically…”

“And now you’re here intending to rent the place again?”

Andi sighed, “I am. But, to be fair, you’re here entertaining the possibility of renting it to me, so that says something as well.”

Daniel let a smile escape, “You’ve got me there. The Dillard place is haunted. It’s no secret. Finding – and keeping – tenants is nigh impossible.”

“I can understand that…” Andi mumbled under her breath.

“Which is why  I’m wondering why you’re sitting across from me. I don’t know exactly what you went through in that house for the three months you lived there, but based on what you said the last time we met it sounded pretty traumatic.”

“Oh, it was…”

“And yet,” he spread his hands out, “here you are again.”

“Here I am again.”

“Why?”

Andi raised her gaze to look him in the eyes. “Because while it was hell in that place… honestly, it’s a different kind of hell everywhere else.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s worse.”

Daniel sighed, “I imagine it is. But I want to be open about this: six month lease, it explicitly states paranormal activity is not a valid reason for breaking the lease.”

“Same rate?”

“If you sign on for this six-month lease, I’ll knock a hundred dollars off a month.”

Andi’s eyes widened.

“I want someone living in that house.”

“You’ve already got someone dead in that house.”

“That wasn’t what I mea—”

“I know. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Yes, I recognize the terms. Six months. No getting out of it.” Andi raised her hand to shake his.

***

Andi raised her hand to the doorknob. She took a deep breath remembering the last time she slammed this door behind her as she fled in the dead of night. Was she really ready to do this again?

She let the breath out slowly.

She was.

She opened the door and stepped inside. She reflexively reached for the light switch but realized that the lights were on already. Despite the brightly lit entryway, she could make out the distinct form of a shadow in the shape of a man on the stairs ahead of her. She could feel its malevolent gaze on her as she closed the door behind her.

“You’re back?” the voice seemingly emanated from the whole house, but she knew it was this figure.

“I’m back.”

“This is going to be fun…” It laughed menacingly.

“First,” Andi said, “I appreciate the welcome. Last time you lulled me into a false sense of security with a few weeks with no activity. This,” she gestured to the lights, “and you, I mean… thank you.”

“I will torture you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“I will terrorize your dreams.”

Andi nodded, “I fully expect you will.”

“Why?”

“Because I just parked my car in a driveway. My driveway! In a house I’m paying half of market rate for. There’s a washer and dryer inside! There’s no mold! You’re the loudest thing in the neighborhood. No one comes knocking – even the Jehovah’s Witness stay the hell away!”

The shadow figure took a step down towards her.

“I am going to invade your psyche and make your every waking moment more terrible than you can possibly imagine.”

“It’s ten pm and 90 degrees out there,” she said. “Thanks to you it’s 64 in here,” she stepped towards the figure. “And I know there’s no AC in this place.”

“I will make you wish you never came back.”

She came face to shadow with the thing. “You’re the ghost I know,” she smiled. “I’ll take that any day.”

31 Ghosts – Don’t Answer The Phone

I’ll come out and say it up front: I’m not a nice ghost. Not by a long shot.

I was a pretty lousy guy when I was alive, too, but my post-living career would make the alive-me blush.

When I started, I did the whole footsteps-and-no-one’s-there bit. I made rooms cold. I made people feel like I was watching them (because I was). Yawn. No, the fun started a few years later when I realized I was energy or some shit like that. I don’t know the physics of it. I don’t care. What I learned was that I could turn a light on and off. That was scary shit for the living, but for me? Lightbulb moment. Literally.

See, once I figured out I could control electricity it was only a matter of time before I started manipulating real electronics.

Like phones. Phones are my favorite because once I make a connection… then I’ve got you. You pick up the phone and no one’s there? Or you hear a distant voice? Or you’re wakened by the phone ringing in the middle of the night, you pick it up and it’s just the sound of someone screaming. And they sound like one of your loved ones….

Hahahaha! Can you see why I live for this shit? Or die for it, I guess?

Sometimes, though, I think I’m too clever for my own good. That’s how I got trapped.

There was an old lady. Her husband died a year or two ago. The first time I called her I didn’t know that. But I heard an old lady’s voice and bet even odds she’d lost her mister.

“Hello?” She said.

“I’m so cold…” I said in my best generic old man’s voice. Well, take that voice and add a little echo, some static, and count on the fact that she can’t hear so good…. “So cold…. Help me!”

“Arthur?! Is that you, Arthur?”

Arthur? That was his name! Gotcha, lady. “Yes, it’s me Arthur. I’m so cold… I can’t see you… Why? Whyyyyyy?” Static and….click. Line goes dead (pun intended). She’s freaking out over there. And I’m loving it.

What am I getting out of this, you ask? I told you already — I’m a bad guy. Scared old lady? Heh, that’s a good day for me.

Only, I might have laid it on a little too much. I called back and she didn’t pick up, her answering machine did. I could tell by the click when it answered it was a genuine, you-can’t-buy-these-anymore tape-based answering machine. Vintage! I waited a while, called back. Same thing. “I can’t come to the phone right now” blah blah blah “Leave a message at the—“ I know the details. I hung up and waited. Did I kill her? I mean, I’m good, but that good? Because, damn, that’d be good! I call back. Answering machine again. I’m just going to take a look… “…at the beep…” Beep.

The machine is recording sound. Sound is energy. I am energy. Now I’m on her machine, in her house. This is so much better than having to break and enter when I was alive. Her machine picks up and, poof, I’m in!

Only I realized I made a mistake. Digital answering machines are always on, warm, waiting. I can get in and out by manipulating the energy. But once I was in, I was on that tape. The recorder stopped, the tape head disengaged and I? I was trapped as magnetic material on that tape.

That sucked.

Because, yeah, I did scare her to death. She was lying right there by the table with the machine on it. She wasn’t going to be getting her messages any time soon — okay, at all. Did I mention I was trapped? Well, I figured it was a matter of time before someone checked on her, found the stiff, saw the blinking light on the answering machine… let’s play it… tape head engages and I’m out. But, hey, what’s with no one checking in on this lady? Days go by. Soon enough we’ve got a decomp all up in this place. For once I was glad to be trapped and not able to smell. A week… two… the power gets turned off.

Shit. No one’s going to see that blinking light when it’s not, you know, blinking.

Eventually someone noticed because the place was suddenly a hive of activity. Body gets squeegeed into a bag, and her kids — at least I presume it was her kids — who didn’t check on mom in a timely fashion when she was alive get to deal with a house full of shit where including the tape-based answering machine I was trapped in. My answering machine is unceremoniously unplugged without anyone bothering to listen to the messages. Cord wrapped around the machine and dumped in the Goodwill pile.

At the sorting facility the guys going through the box of crap – I’m including myself here – and don’t even bother putting me out for sale! The indignity of it! No, they literally throw around the answering machine, laughing like “Did you get a load out of this antique?” Whoa, buddy, easy on the ancient phone machine! Then dumped into yet another box. I saw the label on this one as the machine dropped in: “Electronic Recycling.” Ah, shit.

It’s dark. I’m trapped. But I’ve got nothing but time on my hands… well, if I had hands, that is. It reminded me of when I was fresh dead. No where to go, nothing to do – which is just as well because when my ghost sheet was still white as the arctic snow, I couldn’t do shit. There’s no manual. There’s no helpful ghost you can look up to and learn. I thought growing up on the streets of Chicago was cold. Then you just think you’re invisible. I got a knife, then a gun, and I made people see me. As a ghost…? You don’t even get that. You are invisible and you can’t do anything about it. But like growing up as a white kid in the Chi, I found a way. First to make noises, then… I already went over this.

So, it’s like that all over again. Trapped on the tape in this damn machine. I’m sure someone would have come for my plastic carcass sooner or later, but I don’t think thirty-year-old answering machines are exactly brimming with rare earth metals waiting to be melted down, you know? I tried this. I tried that. I tried this again a thousand goddamn times, and on the fortieth damn time I tried that… I made it off the tape into the electronics of the answering machine! I figured out how to wiggle the cord. I untangled myself. I slung that plug up over the edge of the box like a grappling hook in some awesome ninja movie. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, I’m by a wall. Oh, what’s this? An outlet? Don’t mind if I do!

Glorious electricity flows into the answering machine, and I surf that wave of electrons right on out of that plastic prison and into the electrical system. This I was familiar with, and I took advantage of the opportunity to show my displeasure by blowing out every light bulb in the freaking place. How do you like that? Boo-yah!

But I knew I’d find what I was looking for… And sure enough somebody had plugged in an old decrepit Nokia probably just to see if it worked. You know what? It does. It’s a Nokia, of course it does. And miraculously, it’s still got a SIM card. I’m back in business! I start calling… How the hell long was I in there? I’m getting nothing but “The voicemail for this customer has not been set up” to “The user’s voicemail box is full.” I’m even getting “This caller does not accept calls from unknown numbers.” The fuck? That’s the whole point! You’re supposed to answer unknown calls! Without that I’ve got… Wait a sec… the phone rings. I mean I’m used to calling out, but someone’s calling in? It’s not one of the numbers I’ve dialed… I pick it up.

They want to know if I’m interested in extending the warranty on my car…?

Let me extend myself your way, robo-babe.

And, holy hell… look at this database. Millions of numbers! Millions of people to call and scare. I’m a bad dude. But this just made me a hell of a lot worse!