31 Ghosts – Crossing Over with John Edward

My friends ask me why I go see John Edward whenever he comes to town. They figure as someone who sees and hears ghosts, I would be outraged by John Edward’s cold reading masquerading as psychic ability.

Well, okay, I am outraged.

But I decided I needed to see him for myself when he started touring and I saw he was coming to our town. This was more than a decade after his show was cancelled and the whole South Park “Biggest Douch in the Universe” episode. Frankly, I figured he dropped out of public consciousness and, I don’t know, was living large off fake ghost money. I pictured him shirtless (way scarier than a ghost) lounging by a massive pool saying to his butler, “I’m sensing my next cocktail… I’m getting…. A woman’s name…” And the butler sighing and rolling his eyes as he replies, “Sir, you can just ask for another margarita, you know…”

So I figured when he was touring I owed it to my colleagues who actually communicate with ghosts to see what it was all about. Did John Edward come up with some new angle? Did he cash in the whole cold reading thing for something more… authentic?

No, it’s exactly the same old schtick but for the poor ticket buying audience instead of a television studio audience.

But the hardest part of going to see John Edward is not laughing because it is hands down the most hilarious thing I have ever experienced. No, not John Edward — the audience.

Let me take you through this… I don’t care what my seat number is because I’m not going to sit there. I always sit as far back as I can get the ushers to seat me. We all know the show is barely half sold out, so there’s going to be a pretty substantial ring in the back of unused seats. That’s where I go and watch everyone file in.

There’s the living, and then there’s their ghosts. Not everyone inadvertently brings a ghost with them, but most do.  There are dead parents, dead siblings, spouses, even kids. They sit in the back with me. A lot of them don’t get out, so this is a big deal and eavesdropping on ghost socializing is part of the fun.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but did you get hit by a train? You look like you did? Oh, a bus? That thing must have been really moving to do that kind of damage!”

Or “that head wound looks bad, but it doesn’t look fatal. Oh, it was? My mistake!”

Or “Have you tried talking to Alexa? That scares them every time!”

Then the show starts, and John Edward is introduced and comes out and talks about how he gets feelings about things and a name may be close but… yada yada yada, no one cares. Finally, he gets on to what everyone bought a ticket for!

“I’m getting pulled this way…” he moves towards the left side of the stage. “Is there someone whose loved one died… on an operating table? …I’m getting routine surgery that didn’t go well…?”

A woman two rows back says, “I lost my father in appendectomy surgery.”

John Edward nods thoughtfully, then continues, “he was very close to your daughter…”

The woman looks confused for a moment then shakes her head. “No, my daughter was born well after he died.”

“Yes, but she favors him… she looks like him in some way…”

The woman smiles, “She has his eyes.”

“He wants me to tell you he’s always with you and your daughter’s eyes are just a way to know he’s always there.”

The crowd “aww”s, then applauds. And John is pulled to the other side of the audience.

But that’s not what I see…

“I’m getting pulled this way…” John Edward moves towards the left side of the stage. “Is there someone who’s loved one died… on an operating table… I’m getting routine surgery that didn’t go well…”

A woman two rows back says, “I lost my father in appendectomy surgery.”

Her father, standing behind her, yells, “Are you kidding? My appendix ruptured when I was on a camping trip. When they got me off the helicopter, I was pretty much already dead! That’s not routine surgery! Don’t talk to this guy!”

John, oblivious to the real father, nods thoughtfully, then continues, “he was very close to your daughter…”

The woman looks confused for a moment then shakes her head.

“Ah, you’ve gone too far this time, you yutz! I was long dead by the time Marcy was born. You tell him, Janey, you tell this fraud!”

“No, my daughter was born well after he died.”

“Suck it, Edward!”

“Yes, but she favors him… she looks like him in some way…” John Edward pivots.

“What? No! Favors him? What kind of crap is that? Janey, tell him he’s full of it!”

The woman smiles, “She has his eyes.”

“What?!” her father bellows. “What are you talking about?” He’s turned beat red now and I’m wondering if he can have a heart attack when he no longer has a beating heart. “Marcy has green eyes! I have blue eyes! Blue eyes” He’s pointing at his own eyes as if she could see him.

John Edward says, “He wants me to tell you he’s always with you and your daughter’s eyes are just a way to know he’s always there.”

“Like hell I do!” he yells. “What kind of Hallmark Card crap is this? Janey, are you buying this? Oh my god, you’re buying this crap!”

And it goes on like this for every audience member John Edward “reads”. He genuinely may be the “Biggest Douche in the Universe” but I think it’s wonderful he has no idea how hilarious his show really is.

31 Ghosts – The Woods

The gig I worked tonight was supposed to be over by 11, and lately they’ve finished earlier. I figured I had plenty of time! Except it ran long for once and I got in the door at 11:45. I got it in. I leaned into short and creepy! Hold your loved ones close!

We came home to our house in the woods after the funeral. Marian was a wreck and I told her to go ahead into the house – I’d get her bag and the pictures from the trunk of the car. That’s when I heard the laughter. Jared’s laughter. We had just watched his little coffin with his tiny, cancer-wracked body lower into the earth a few hours ago and now I could hear his laughter coming from just beyond the tree line at the edge of the woods.

The tinkling laughter cut like glass and turned my blood to ice. “Daddy,” Jared’s voice came from the woods. “Daddy, come play! Come play with me!”

I knew it wasn’t Jared. But it sounded like Jared.

“Daddy, please! I miss you! Come play with me!”

I didn’t think I had tears left after the last few days. Apparently, I still had plenty. Through bleary eyes I closed the truck, the box of pictures and mementos of our son in my arms.

“Daddy! Please?”

“You’re not Jared!” I screamed towards the woods.

The cicadas stopped their hum in the hot evening air, and everything went deathly quiet.

A moment later a voice rang out from the woods – this time it was almost Jared’s: “I can be,” it said.

I ran for the house.

31 Ghosts – Late Night Visitor

So, my process is I write my story on my PC and then I emerge from my office and read the story to Akilah from my eight year old MacBook Pro where I usually catch my careless typos and such before saving, and then posting using my PC. Tonight I came out and started reading and just as the ghost shows up… the power goes off. Seriously, it was perfect. This, being a laptop, still stayed on and I kept reading on to the end of the story. When I finished, I went back to the office in the dark to grab my phone, then reached for a battery powered lantern… and the power came back on. Oh my god, the timing could not have been more perfect! That’s a little more inside baseball than I usually share, but, I mean… it was dark here, the ghost showed up in the story… *chef’s kiss*. Anyway, here’s the actual story…

“Do you want to watch the next episode?” Ty asked as the credits for Andor rolled. “I think we’ve still got one more to–”

“Shh,” Amanda cut him off. She pressed mute and listened hard. The only sound was the rain outside. She slowly turned around to look down the dark hallway behind them. As she watched a small blonde haired three-year-old peeked around the corner grinning.

“Luna, you little chicken! What are you doing up?” the little girl giggled as Amanda strode around the couch and picked her up.

“Jesus,” Ty said, “You gave me a heart attack!”

“What?” Amanda said as the little girl clung to her neck. “This little chicken?”

“I thought you saw a ghost or something.”

Just then three knocks came at the door. Amanda and Ty stood still and stared at the door. “Were… you expecting someone?” Amanda asked.

Ty shook his head, “No… you?”

Amanda shook her head. No one moved. “Are you going to see who it is?”

Ty fumbled for his phone in his pocket and managed to drop it. “Shit,” he cursed as the phone clattered on the hardwood.

“Ty!” Amanda admonished, inclining her head towards Luna.

“Daddy said a bad word,” Luna said.

“Sorry, babe,” Ty said as he retrieved his phone.

“Are you going to call the door?” Amanda asked confused.

“I was going to look at the Ring doorbell,” he said.

“Did you recharge the battery for that thing?”

“Sh…” he started to curse but turned it into, “Shoot! No.”

Three more knocks at the door, this time more insistent.

“Mamma, who knock?” Luna asked.

“Don’t know, chicken,” Amanda said. “Daddy’s about to find out.” She widened her eyes at him as if to say, “go!”

Ty walked towards the door haltingly. “Who is it?” he asked loudly. No response. He unbolted the dead bolt, put his hand on the door knob, and took one more look back at Amanda who nodded for him to check.

He opened the door slowly, the sound of the rain outside instantly magnified.

“I’m sorry,” a woman’s voice came from outside. “I need help! Please help me!” Though Amanda couldn’t see the woman who was blocked by the door and Ty she could plainly hear the desperation in her voice over the rain.

Ty didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he quickly shut the door and turned and walked quickly past Amanda down the hallway towards their room.

“Ty? Where are you going?”

“Ghost!” she heard him squeak from the bedroom.

“Are you coming back?” Amanda called.

“Fuck no!” he said.

“Daddy said…” Luna started to say.

“Shh, chicken. I know. Daddy’s not doing well right now. We’re going to have to see what’s going on.” She sighed and hoisted Luna onto her hip and walked to the closed door. With her free hand she turned the knob and opened the door.

On the step stood a young woman – early twenties – with dark hair and big sad eyes that darted around like a frightened animal. She wore a white shawl over her shoulders and shivered. Amanda noticed that she was slightly translucent and though she was outside in the pouring rain, she didn’t look wet at all. “I need help,” she said pleadingly. “Please help.”

“Hehwo,” Luna waved at the ghost.

The young woman’s face creased in a wan smile which quickly evaporated into the terrified expression almost immediately.

Amanda stared at the ghost for a long moment, thought about her daughter on her hip, and then realized that, ghost or not, this woman needed help. “Come in,” she said and immediately wondered whether she should have just literally invited a ghost into her house.

“Thank you!” the woman said with palpable gratitude. Amanda stepped aside for the woman to move into the foyer and then closed the door behind her.

“What’s your name, hon?” Amanda asked.

“Cyn… cyn… Cynthia,” she stammered.

“Cynthia,” Amanda started, “I’m Amanda. This is Luna. Give me a moment and let me put this one to bed.” She stepped past the ghost and moved down the hallway to the master bedroom where the lump under the covers told her exactly where Ty was. She sighed in frustration and lifted a corner of the comforter. Ty let out a little cry of surprise.

“Tyson Alexander Leifson!” she used her mom voice and his full name for emphasis. His saucer-wide eyes met hers. “You are going to watch Luna while I deal with this.”

“It’s a ghost!” he whispered.

“Yes, she’s a ghost,” she acknowledged. “And she’s a scared girl who’s asked for our help.”

“Ghost!” he whispered again frantically.

Amanda rolled her eyes and bit back a curse. “You just watch your daughter!” she hissed as she set Luna down on the bed. “Chicken,” she told the little girl, “You stay here with daddy, okay?”

“What about the wide woman?”

“Is she fat?” Ty asked.

“White, Ty, White. Figure it out!” she left the room and went back to the foyer where Cynthia stood, her eyes looking everywhere.

“Sorry, Cynthia,” Amanda said.

“It’s okay…” Cynthia gave a hesitant smile.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and why you’re here. But,” she hastily added, “I feel like I need to first ask… you know you’re a ghost, right?”

The sad girl looked, somehow, even more sad and deflated and stared at her feet. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Amanda blinked at the change in the girl and asked, “Is that part of why you’re here? How you became a ghost?”

The woman nodded without looking up.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

The woman nodded again and raised her eyes to meet Amanda’s. Amanda could see the ghost’s eyes were filled with tears. “We lived here,” she said looking around. “Well, not here-here, but… here.”

Amanda nodded in understanding – their house was relatively new, this subdivision having been built in the last few years. She didn’t know what was here before, but knew that this was the outskirts of town until about ten years ago, so whatever was out here wasn’t exactly prime real estate.

“Michael and I moved here and things were really good,” she said with melancholy.

“But,” Amanda prompted. She had a feeling where this was going.

“But Michael lost his job… he was angry. All the time. He… he hit me.”

“Oh, baby,” Amanda said stepping closer. She had the impulse to hug the woman but realized that was probably either a bad idea or physically impossible, or both.

Cynthia sniffled. “And then one day, he… I don’t even remember what set him off…” she was sobbing. “He… he…” she stared into Amanda’s eyes, “He stabbed me,” and Amanda could now see blood stains appear on the white shawl, spreading as if they were fresh and Cynthia was bleeding out again.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” Amanda said not knowing what to say when someone confesses they were stabbed to death.

“Then he,” she sniffled, “he shot himself.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Amanda said.

The girl nodded quickly as she cried, her tears falling from her cheeks but never actually touching the floor.

“How can I help?” Amanda asked.

“He’s coming for me,” she said, her eyes wide and full of fear. “He’s… he’s coming,” she said again, eyes darting around. “He’s going to kill me again. You have to help me!”

Amanda quickly reviewed the situation in her mind. A young woman ghost was in her foyer because her abusive spouse stabbed her to death and is apparently coming to kill her again (that’s even a thing?). Meanwhile her own husband took one look at a ghost and freaked and ran. She knew intellectually she probably should have been terrified – especially at the prospect of an angry abusive ghost that’s supposed to make an appearance. But she realized she wasn’t terrified.

Amanda was pissed.

When the pounding came at the front door a moment later, and Cynthia moved in close putting Amanda between her and the door, Amanda said, “He’s not going to hurt you again, honey.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Amanda thought of her own abusive boyfriend years ago.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She thought about the terror he caused her and how powerless she felt.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She felt tingles as Cynthia huddled against her back.

Amanda simmered with a righteous anger that rolled through her like thunder.

The front door flew open and a giant of a man stood framed in the doorway. He wore jeans, a dirty tank top, and a scowl of hatred on his face.

“You bitch,” he said venomously. “You thought you could get away from me…”

Cynthia reflexively scooted backwards. “No… no…” she stammered.

“I’m gonna show you not to disobey me…” his face creased into a vicious sneer.

“Don’t you move a goddamn muscle,” Amanda commanded.

“Who the hell are you, bitch?”

“You’re done,” she said quietly.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“You’re done,” she repeated. “You’re going to leave Cynthia alone and you’re going to hell.”

“Oh, bitch,” he smiled cruelly, “You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into…” He took a step towards her and threw a massive right hook.

The fist connected with Amanda’s face and erupted in pure white light.

“What the…?” Michael staggered back, cradling his hand as if burned. 

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Amanda said, stepping forward. “You’re not welcome here. You’re leaving this place and you’re going to hell. That’s not a metaphor,” she said.

Michael tried to punch her with his left hand but it, too, blossomed into white light as it impacted her. And he reeled back against the front door frame, panting. His eyes were furious and desperate as his burned right hand plunged into the pocket of his jeans and came out with a metal object. With a snick, the knife of a switchblade snapped into place. He smiled and seemed to regain his composure as he looked at the knife in his hand. “Now you’re going to die, bitch.” He lunged at Amanda with the knife. She held up her bare hand as if to block the knife point. When the edge touched her hand it exploded into searingly bright light that sent Michael lurching backwards out the front door.

Amanda stood on her doorstep as Michael struggled to get his balance. She regarded him with all the anger and fear that she had felt years ago and all the terror she imagined Cynthia had in her last moments and said, “Where did I say you would go?”

“What?” Michael asked as he tried to get his bearings. A hand shot out of the ground and grasped his ankle. “What the?” he said as another hand shot out and grabbed his other ankle. Both hands started to pull and his feet seemed to sink into the lawn. More hands reached out from the grass and grabbed his calf and knee, pulling him down. More hands grabbed at his arms that flailed and he lost is balance and fell to one knee. Bony fingers clutched at his tank top as he fought to stay upright. “No!” he screamed as a hand seized his neck and pulled him down into the grass. As Amanda watched the hands collectively pulled him down into the wet earth.

Amanda stood outside and regarded the spot that Michael had just been pulled into. The rain had subsided, and the crickets had started their night song.

“Oh my God,” Cynthia stood behind her. “Oh my God. Did he just…”

“He got pulled down to hell,” Amanda said, both shocked and completely unsurprised at what just happened. She stepped back towards the doorway and Cynthia. “I’m pretty sure you won’t have to deal with him again.”

Relief filled Cynthia’s face. “I… I don’t know how to thank you,” she started. Then stopped as a bright light erupted outside behind Amanda. She turned to see what Cynthia was staring at.

The light hovered just off the walkway, bright as the sun but looking at it didn’t hurt – it was overwhelming but not painful.

“Is that…?” Cynthia started.

“Yeah,” Amanda said. “I think it is.”

Cynthia didn’t wait. She bounded off the stoop hurried towards the light. She stopped a few feet away and turned. “Thank you!” she said. “I don’t know how to express my gratitude!”

“You’re going home,” Amanda smiled. “That’s enough. Be safe. Be well.”

Cynthia smiled and nodded at Amanda then turned, regarded the bright light, then walked into it. The light brightened for a moment then dimmed quickly out of existence.

Amanda blinked against the sudden darkness. She looked over to where Michael had been dragged down and saw that the ground looked singed and actual smoke wisps rose from the blackened grass. She sighed and walked back into the house. She thought of Ty’s response to seeing Cynthia and thought, “We’re going to have a big talk tomorrow.”