There was a point not so long ago that I lived with four cats, a dozen fish, ten chickens, and a dog. The chickens and fish started going first. Then Shurik died and Amaya ran away and it was just Kione and Clementine along with Winston. Clementine died last year, and Winston died a little more than a month ago. So, now it’s just Kione (or Kiki) and me. She’s become a very different cat. When Clementine was around, Kiki treated her like her kitten and was very maternal and reserved; Clementine was the “perma-kitten” to Kiki’s quiet resolve.

Not anymore. Kiki has found her voice. Just this morning I was trying to eek out a little more sleep and Kiki very vocally let me know her wet food was not down at the proper time. When I do feed her (FYI, Fern, bless her soul, got up and fed Kiki this morning to let me sleep) Kiki mews and rawrs and meows like she’s grumbling that I’m not fast enough. At around 16, She’s settling into her golden years and feeling herself and her single-cat-ness. Okay, Kiki, I get it. This one’s for you.

I’m not a cat person. I’m not a dog person. No, I’m just not a pet person, full stop. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like cats or dog – I absolutely love them… so long as someone else is doing the feeding, the cleaning, and the maintenance. If I can pet them, hug them, play with them and then give them back? Perfect.

Talking to my friends it also makes finding a new place a lot easier. It took Susan three months to find a place that would allow her to have her three cats. Alan’s rottweiler required him to have a special codicil on his renter’s insurance in case the dog went mental and mauled someone.

Me? I got this tiny little detached house behind a bigger apartment unit. I think it used to be the caretaker’s cottage back when that was a thing and housing prices were such that you could afford to have a whole place just for that. It’s 400 square feet of adorableness as far as I’m concerned – I even have a little garden with a little café table between me and the apartment block. It’s my Eden.

It’s perfect. At least it was, that is, until I found out it was haunted.

Four a.m. and I’m dead to the world… until the meowing starts.

“Mew, mew, mew” came quietly into my dream. Then, when I clearly wasn’t taking the hint, full on “Meow! Meow! Meow!”

“The hell?” I wondered if I left a window open or something. I peered over the edge of the bed loft and sure enough, prowling around down there was a lanky gray and white cat.

“Meow!” it crowed as it rubbed against the ladder. “MEOW!” it insisted as it brushed against the tire of my bike.

“How in the hell did you get in here?” I asked as I started down the ladder. The cat walked towards the front door as I got down.

“Meow?”

“Yeah, you! How’d you get in here?”

“Meow!”

“That’s helpful,” I said. Then grumbled to myself, “I don’t know what I was expecting…”

I reached down to pick the cat up and my hands went right through it. “What the?” I staggered backwards in shock.

“Ghost cat?”

“Sounds like it,” Carrie said at lunch.

“Definitely,” Susan agreed. “After Muffin died last year, I swear I could hear him sometimes.”

“Okay, yeah, but this isn’t a ‘sometimes I hear my beloved pet.’ This is some damned cat is haunting my new house.”

“Look on the bright side,” Carrie said. “At least you don’t have to change its litter box!” She crinkled her brow. “Unless… you don’t think it leaves some kind of… spooky dookie around?”

We all laughed. “No, thankfully no spectral turds. Just a loud wake up call at 4am all weekend.”

“It’s hungry,” Susan said.

“For my soul,” I intoned menacingly.

“Seriously,” Susan continued. “Cupcake and Cheeto let me know if I haven’t fed them straight away after I get up. Cheeto will go so far as to walk on my face.”

“Cheeto? Cupcake? And Muffin?” Carrie said. “Girl, you should not name your cats when you’re hungry.”

“So, I just need to get some ghost cat chow…” I started.

“I don’t know, maybe start with real cat food,” Susan offered.

I thought about it. “Eh, couldn’t hurt.”

I picked up a small bag of cat chow on the way home. Next morning, like clockwork the phantom gray and white cat started its 4am serenade. “Meow! Meow!”

“Hold your ghostly horses,” I said coming down the steps. I got a bowl out of the kitchen and set it down next to the fridge and filled it with kibble. “There,” I said and started back to the ladder.

“Meow! Meow!” It demanded.

“You have food!”

It walked to the front door. “Meow!”

“You want to go out? Just go through it! You’re a ghost.”

“Meow!”

“Fine!” I opened the door. The cat just looked at me like I was stupid.

“MEOW!”

“What?!” I asked. Then I got it, “Oh, you want your food outside. Okay. Whatever.” I retrieved the bowl from the kitchen and set it just outside the front door.

The cat sauntered out, stood by the food, and mewed what I took to be a contented “better. That’ll do, human.”

I went back inside and got another couple hours of blissful, meow-less sleep.

When I opened the door and wheeled my bicycle out to go to work, the cat food was empty. “Hungry little ghost,” I said but knew that couldn’t be right. I shrugged, locked my door and headed out.

The next day was the same 4am wake up meow. Fed her – I’ve decided my ghost cat is a she – and went back to bed. Food was empty when I went out at seven.

Lather, rinse, repeat, and by the time I had to buy a new bag of cat chow, I decided to get one of those video monitors to see if, I don’t know, the ghost cat ate the food. More likely, I though, I’d see a giant, plump racoon snarfing down on ghost cat’s breakfast.

But that wasn’t what I saw.

A few days later I was reviewing the video on my phone. There I am, all sleepy girl in my ratty bathrobe and slippers, setting out a bowl of food and new water (yeah, I figured even ghost cats get thirsty). No ghost in frame, though, seriously? I expected be the first person to catch a ghost on film? And it’s a cat? Yeah, don’t think so…

Anyway, food and water down, I can be heard telling ghost cat, “Bon Appetit,” and closing the door behind me. A few minutes later, a little emaciated black kitty comes out of the brush tentatively. It’s looking at something near the food. It was looking at the ghost cat. It tilts its head and rubs it against something in midair—the ghost cat! Then it starts purring so loudly that the camera picks it up as it hungrily starts eating the food. When it finishes, the kitty curls up on next to one of the rose planters and damned if I couldn’t make out the impression of a ghost kitty tongue grooming the contended little kitty.

4am the next day, the meowing wakes me. “You’ve got a friend!” I tell the ghost cat as I get the food ready.

“Meow!”

“That’s why you’re here! For her!”

“Mew!”

“You’re a good little ghost cat, aren’t you!” I said setting the food down. “Say hi to your living friend, and Bon Appetit,” and closed the door.

The next day after I closed the door, I went to my computer instead of back to bed. I pulled up the live video and waited until the kitty was well into devouring the food. I padded quietly to the door and slowly, quietly, opened it. The kitty was too busy eating to notice me at first, but as the door opened wide enough for me to step out, the kitty’s head popped up, and it spun and started back to the hedges.

“MEOW!” I looked down and the ghost cat was by my ankles. “Meow, meow, meow!” it said and the kitty stopped by the hedge and turned around warily.

“Meow!”

The kitty started back towards the food, slowly, eyes focused on me.

“Meow.”

The kitty resumed eating, but eyed me.

“Mew!” Ghost cat said to me.

I stepped out and the ghost cat moved to stand right next to the eating kitty. “Mew,” it said again.

I reached out a hand and the ghost cat meowed comfortingly to the kitty. I touched the kitty’s soft black fur. It tensed. “Mew!” Ghost cat said again. The kitty relaxed and started eating again and let me pet her. And started purring. Her little motor was humming! She finished eating and instead of retreating, let me pet her more. She had no tags or collar and she clearly was too skinny to be taken care of by anyone.

“I guess I have a cat now,” I said as the black kitty rubbed its face against my hand insistently.

“Meow!” the ghost cat said.

“Sorry, I guess I have two cats now.”

When last we left our intrepid ghost fighters, they’d managed to irritate their resident specter. Now, they’re going to make it really angry…

“I’m going to make a quesadilla,” I said walking to the kitchen, iPhone flashlight illuminating my path.

“I’m good” came Jessie’s voice in the darkness.

“Cool,” I said as I opened the dark fridge for the cheese. The light from the cooking flame under the cast iron skillet caused little shadows to dance eerily on the walls. Still, I wasn’t as nervous as before. Sure, I was still acting as bait, but at least I had a task to accomplish – and there would be a tasty quesadilla to toast our victory over the specter.

Tortilla down on the melted butter, shredded cheese on top and the second tortilla on.

The door to the garage opened slowly, the hinges creaking a warning.

I swallowed hard as I flipped the tortilla with the spatula.

The temperature in the kitchen plummeted. I hoped Jessie had gotten into position.

The kitchen filled with a deafening howl that made my blood run cold and forget the entire plan. I spun in time to see a white shape streak from the garage into the kitchen and straight for me. I didn’t have time to think. I did have time to scream – which I did – and grabbed the cast iron skillet to defend myself.

Unfortunately, I neglected to use an oven mitt when I grabbed the bare iron handle and the pan came up, the quesadilla fell to the floor, the pitch of my scream turned from terror to searing pain as I let go of the hot pan. It arced through the air as the ghost shot towards me and the two collided, the pan ringing with contact and ricocheting off into the darkness. The white streak veered off and seemed to stagger and fall into the counter by the fridge.

“Jessie!” I yelled, instinctively running my hand under the cold water in the sink.

The door to the back patio flew inwards as Jesse rushed in, “JT, you okay?”

“No!” I said, one hand under the water, the other reaching for anything on the counter as the ghoul’s two red eyes resolved within the white shape and turned towards me. My hand grasped something and I threw it at the figure. “Suck garlic, ghost!”

“That’s vampires!” Jesse yelled, moving around the kitchen table.

The garlic sailed right through the white mist and bounced onto the counter behind it. The red eyes looked down at where the garlic passed through it, then tilted at me like it was saying, “Really?” before the red eyes narrowed and it started towards me with my hand still in the sink.

It didn’t see Jesse round on it and throw two handfuls of roofing nails at it. The nails that struck it impacted like they hit something solid and the ghost shrieked a high pitch wail of pain and then seemed to melt into the floor and disappear.

The only sound was water in the sink.

“You okay?” Jessie crossed to me.

“I burned my hand,” I said experimentally flexing it under the water.

“Is it bad?”

“Not too bad,” I said.

“Okay,” he said going to the fridge and taking out a bag of frozen peas which he wrapped in a kitchen towel. “Hold onto this.”

I shut the water off and took hold of the peas in my burned hand. The coolness felt better than the water, but it still hurt.

“A little better, JT?”

I nodded.

“Okay, I don’t think we have much time…”

“You don’t think we got it?”

“No, I think we really pissed it off. Let’s set up for the coup de grace.”

“The cootie gah?”

“Coup de grace – it means the finishing stroke.” He looked at my hand holding the peas. “I think we’re going to have to reverse our roles, but that should be okay. I think it’s super mad at me right now.”

…

Jesse sat on the couch in the family room playing “Call of Duty Mobile” on his phone as I stuffed myself in the awkward space under the stairs next to the love seat. My leg cramped from waiting, and I rubbed my calf to get blood back into it, but that was the most movement I would spare. My hand still throbbed, but it definitely felt better after we put aloe on it and wrapped it up.

I shivered and realized the room just cooled unnaturally quickly. I wanted to say something to Jessie, but he tapped his right foot twice indicating he felt it too. I flexed my legs to make sure I could move when I needed to, because Jessie warned the ghost might be fast. I mean, if it was only moderately angry when it came at me in the kitchen and now it’s righteously angry?

The rocking chair in the corner by the fireplace started to rock on its own. That was the only clue we had before the ghost erupted from the dark fireplace. I saw the red eyes first, flaring like hot embers. The white misty shape appeared even more defined and I could see whispy arms and hands tipped with claws extended as it shot towards my brother.

Two feet away it crumpled hard against an invisible wall.

“JT! Now, close it!”

My legs sprung and I launched from my hiding place, my hand already upturning the cylinder of salt. The white crystals fell to the floor in a stream overlapping a semi-circle. I hurriedly traced the other side of the circle with the salt. As the stream crossed the other side of the semicircle a barely audible click came from the circle.

The ghost mist whirled and launched towards me, slamming against the invisible barrier that extended upwards from the now-closed circle inches from my face. I fell backwards from the sudden shock.

“We got it!” Jessie cheered.

The ghost spun and rammed every angle of the five foot diameter cell it found itself in. It twisted its mist like a tornado, spinning upwards testing the cylindrical barrier all the way up to the roof.  It settled back down to the floor and stalked back and forth turning the red eyes on Jessie and then me. Sure, it looked like we had the thing trapped, but it emanated a pure hatred.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“Tell us who you are and why you’re bothering us,” Jessie demanded.

The ghost’s reaction surprised me. The mist coalesced into a quite distinct hand extending a middle finger.

“Suit yourself,” Jessie told it. And so we started messing with it.

We sat on opposite couches and tossed a football back and forth right through the ghost.

Jessie retrieved a battery powered work light from mom’s tools in the garage, turned it on pointing it at the wall and urged the trapped ghost, “Go towards the light!” It spun with fury.

We collected the nails from the kitchen and took turns bouncing them off the ghost. It screamed with each nail.

My quesadilla wasn’t too dirty (1 hour rule, FTW!) and I took a bite and offered it to the ghost, “Hungry ghost?” Jessie laughed at least.

“Look, just tell us who you are and why you’re bothering us and we’ll let you go,” Jessie told it again after a while.

The finger again.

We tried burning sage to really set it off, but we couldn’t find any in the kitchen. For the record, burning oregano has no effect on a trapped ghost and smells terrible.

Jessie tried reading passages from the Bible, but it didn’t react. However, when he started reading old Eminem lyrics from his phone the ghost went nuts.

Eventually we actually got bored tormenting the thing. Jessie yawned, “I’m going to bed. You can stay trapped there until the sun come streaming in this window,” he said, opening the drapes. “I’m just guessing, but I don’t think that’ll be good for you.” He turned to me, “You coming, JT?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, and followed him up the stairs.

We were almost to the top when a voice floated up to us. “Fine.”

“Was that you?” Jessie asked me. I shook my head.

“It’s me, you stupid kid!” The voice came from the red eyes and the mist trapped in the circle.

Jesse sauntered past me back down the stairs. He drew up just opposite the ghost and said, “my name is Jessie. My brother’s name is Jacob. Neither of us is named ‘Stupid kid.’”

“I don’t care what your names are,” it said with vehemence. “You’re in my house and you’re annoying as hell!”

Jessie took in a breath and let it out slowly. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and said, “Show yourself.”

“Go to hell,” the ghost said.

“Funny, by my watch…”

“Jessie,” I whispered, “You don’t have a watch.”

“By my phone,” he corrected himself, “You’ve got about five hours to reconsider before those hills out there start to get pink and soon after that it’ll be you going to hell.”

The mist swirled and coalesced into the translucent bent figure of an old man with a deeply wrinkled face. “I moved into this house fifty years ago,” it said. “My wife died in this house. I died in this house. My stupid kids didn’t visit either of us. Then they up and sold this place to your mom. My house!” It bellowed. “And I’m not going to put up with two kids,” he spoke the word like a curse. “Not in my house. Not after my own kids did us so wrong.”

“Look, mister,” I said coming down the last steps. “This was your house. But it’s ours now. I don’t know your kids, but I’m sorry that they were jerks. We can’t do anything about that.”

“So?!” he yelled.

“So, do you know where our mom is tonight?”

“A bar? Trying to find you brats a new daddy?” it laughed a wheezy laugh.

“JT, get some more nails, I’m going to get that cast iron pan.” The old man’s eyes widened and he stopped laughing.

“No, jerkface,” I said. “She’s at her mom’s, our Nana’s. Our grampa died last summer and she’s scared to be alone in the dark after fifty years together. So, our mom is over there comforting her.

“We can’t do anything about your awful kids, but that’s not how our family works. We live here now. We’re not your kids. And we all need to get along.”

The old man thought for a few minutes then said, “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” Jessie said. “Just to leave us alone.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Stop messing with us. If there’s something you don’t like, come to us and we’ll see what we can do to make it better.”

Jessie came next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. “Jacob’s right. We’re all in this together here,” he said kindly. “If you want to be a jerk and make our lives miserable, we can play right back.”

The ghost harrumphed, but seemed to soften.

“You don’t terrorize us and we’ll treat you with respect,” I said. “Do we have a deal?”

The old man stood still for a long moment. Then, finally, said, “Alright… I can give it a try.”

“Thanks, Mister,” I said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jessie said as he stepped forward and deliberately scattered an arc of the salt with his foot. An audible snap crackled in the air and the old man put his hands out experimentally. When they didn’t come into contact with anything he stepped back and relaxed.

“You kids need to clean this place up before your mother comes home!” he chided.

“We will. I’ll get the magnet for the nails. JT, get the broom?”

“You got it,” I started to move.

“Hey,” the old man said.

“Yeah?” Jessie replied.

“You kids are pretty clever. And fearless.”

“No,” Jessie laughed, “We had plenty of fear.”

“Still,” the ghost said. “Thanks for making my afterlife interesting.”

“Thanks for coming around,” Jessie said.

The old man faded from view and we started cleaning up.

He’s still here. If we’re doing something he doesn’t like, he definitely lets us know – sometimes it’s a cold breeze. Occasionally it’s a stern word. But we know we deserve it. We told Mom, but to this day she doesn’t believe us, but when she comes home from work and finds we did the dishes unbidden she declares, “Thank you, ghost!” to the ceiling. I saw him behind her in the doorway to the garage smiling once after she said that.

Sorry to split up another story. It’s been a really busy week and I need to get some sleep. Until then, what happens when you’re ready to go to war against a ghost..

The garage is usually drafty, but it was a warm Autumn day and even though the sun had already started to set I should have more than comfortable folding laundry, but instead a shiver went down my back.

I knew something was wrong.

I threw on a windbreaker that I had just pulled out of the dryer and that helped… until the cold breeze blew across my neck like icy fingers. I whipped around and verified again I was alone.

I hate this haunted house. Last time I complained to my mom she said it was just in my imagination and to ignore it. Easy for her to say – the ghost (or ghosts?) never bugged her. Just me and my older brother, Jessie.

“It’s nothing,” I said aloud, a little comforted by the sound of my voice. “I’m fine. Almost done. Just some more shirts… There’s nothing here that can hurt—”

A box fell with a crash off the top of one of the storage racks.

“Laundry can wait!” I said as I hurried for the door. One of my dog Spooky’s Kong chew toys flew right past my face and bounced off the wall. “Ah!” I let out a little scream and sprinted for the door, leaping through and closing it behind me with a slam.

“Jacob, don’t slam the door,” my mom said evenly as she browned ground beef for Taco Tuesday. “Did you finish folding your laundry?”

“Mom,” I panted. “Mom! The ghost! It threw Spooky’s Kong at me! It knocked a box off the rack!”

“Jacob, really? You’ll do anything to get out of folding the laundry!”

“Mom! I’m serious! I was, like, almost done! I just had a couple shirts!”

“Uh huh. Look, there’s no such thing as ghosts, Jacob.”

“Mom!”

“If you’re not going to finish your laundry then go work on your homework. The news says we’re probably going to lose power tonight – you won’t have the computer.”

“Mom, why won’t you believe me about the ghosts?”

“Would you like me to check the garage for you? Here, stir the meat,” she handed over the wooden spoon as she walked to the garage door. “Oh my god, Jacob!”

“Do you see the ghost?!” I said, abandoning the sizzling taco meat and running to the garage where there was no ghost, but instead all the clothes I had just folded were strewn everywhere like a tiny tornado touched down in my laundry basket. “Wha?” was all I could manage.

“Just a couple of shirts, eh?” my mom stared at me with that Disappointed Mom look. I withered under it.

“Mom! I was almost done! The ghost did this! I’m not joking!”

“Honey, we’re not having this conversation again. Go upstairs. Homework!”

Knowing a lost cause, I let out a huge sigh and headed upstairs.

“Ghost?” Jessie asked when I got to our room.

“Yeah. Knocked over a box! Threw Spooky’s Kong at me!” Spooky raised his head off the carpet at the mention of his name, then set it back down. “Then it tossed my folded laundry all over!”

Jessie lay on his back bouncing a tennis ball against the far wall and catching it. “Huh,” he said, “This isn’t good,” he bounced the ball off the wall and caught it. “Sounds like they’re escalating their activities.” Bounce, catch.

“Who?”

“The ghost,” he said bouncing the ball again, catching it, and sitting up. “This is starting to get serious. We’ve got to do something…” He squinted like he did when he thinks. Like really thinks. Only a year and a half older than me, he was way more devious. If anyone could come up with a way to deal with this ghost thing, it would be him. He stopped squinting, and a smile lit his face. “I got it, JT.” He was the only one who called me JT, and I thought it was the coolest thing. Still do, actually. “Operation: Blackout.”

“What?!”

He looked around conspiratorially, then opened the window. “Where’s mom?”

“Making dinner.”

“Alright,” he removed the screen and crawled out onto the roof of the first floor. “We’ll stay on the roof – we can still hear her call when dinner’s ready. Are you coming?”

“What? Why?”

He cast suspicious glances at the bedroom walls. “The Ghost, man. The walls have eyes! Or at least ears. We can’t have them overhearing. Let’s go!”

I followed him. He was my brother and he had a plan, of course I followed him.

…

During dinner my mom’s phone rang. She picked it up, “Hi Mom… Already? I didn’t think they were supposed to turn the power off until tonight… Well, sure, okay. Really? Mom…okay… hang on…” she pressed mute on the phone and said, “I told her not to watch ‘The Purge’ on HBO! Your Nana’s power was already shut off and she wants me to come over.  Sounds like that dog-sized racoon got into her trash can again and she’s convinced it’s a vigilante out to steal her prescriptions. Can you boys take care of yourselves tonight? She wants me to bring Spooky… and an axe handle, but Spooky will suffice. You boys will be okay, right?”

Jessie waggled his eyebrows at me. “We’ll be fine, mom. Go take care of Nana.”

“You sure?” she asked him again. He nodded. She looked at me.

“Yeah, we’re good, mom.”

She hesitated for a moment then unmuted the phone and stood up. “Okay, mom, I’m on my way over… no, they’ve still got homework. Yes, our power is still on.” She slung her purse over a shoulder as she cradled the phone with the other. “No, they’ll be fine on their own.” She kissed Jessie on the forehead and then kissed me on the forehead, too. “Be good” she mouthed to us. “Spooky!” she called and our Australian Sheppard bounded down the stairs. “Sure, mom, what do you need from the store? No, I don’t think our Walmart carries bear mace…” she headed out the door with Spooky in the lead.

An hour later the power went out.

I was actually working on an essay due the next day and, of course, hadn’t saved it when the room plunged into complete darkness. Jessie was downstairs. I was alone. In a haunted house. I fought down the panic rising fast.

“I’m here, JT.” I heard a voice in the darkness. “Just chill, man.”

“Okay,” my voice cracked a little.

“This is perfect,” his voice was closer. “We are go on Operation: Blackout. We take care of this tonight. ”

His emphasis on that last word steeled my nerves. “Yeah,” I said with bravado laced with real resolve. “We got this.”

…

I heard the footsteps start coming up the stairs and my courage flagged. One creaky step. Then another. Then another. Then another.

I balled my fists to keep my fear in check. I was in our bedroom reading by my iPhone’s flashlight. Another step…. Another step. I knew what it was going to do. This was going to be like the garage, but with my mom gone, it knew it could torment me in any room it wanted to. Like our room. Our frickin’ sanctuary. My fear hardened into anger as the footsteps kept coming up the stairs one… by one…

“RAWR!” Jacob bellowed as he charged up the stairs letting loose with the Super Soakers he was dual wielding.

There was a huge thump on the floor, like the ghost vaulted the banister to get away. Then quick footsteps through the kitchen and the door to the garage slammed.

“Holy crap, Jacob! That worked!”

“Cut the light, JT!” he said shielding his eyes with one of the Super Soakers. “Told you they didn’t like water. Phase two now, buddy. This is about to get real!

To Be Continued!