No,w turn off all of the lights, lock all of the doors, open one window, and light a single candle as you read...
The Duplicitous Ghost
By
Paul Vonasek
I
was in the kitchen when I first heard the patter of her footsteps coming down
the stairs. I stood there frozen as the temperature dropped five degrees. Her
breath on my neck caused my hairs to rise. My eyes slowly turned to peak behind
me but no one was there. Yet, I could hear her aphonic mutter. I tried to
decipher what she said so, I could respond. She must have read the confused
look on my face and she repeated herself. Unclear, about what she said, I
countered with “I’m cooking tofu.”
She
quickly left the kitchen area and opened the front door and the garage
door. Giving any passers by a
clear shot through the first floor of the condo. I heard the front gate open as I continued to seer my blocks
of tofu. The door slammed. Making
sure to hold my wits, I glanced over. I took a long breath inward and check on
the beets in the oven. The mechanical clanking of the garage door closing
crunched on my eardrums while; the whirl of the motor bounced around on my
lobes causing my teeth to slowly grind.
Then everything was closed leaving the echo of her steps. They were
right behind me then, then at the window, which squeaked, open. She pounds up
the stairs and I’m left with my tofu.
I look around and take a deep breath as I lean on the counter. I grab my
spatula and press as hard as I can on the tofu. Squeezing the remaining
moisture out of it.
Not,
five minutes later did she return to open all of the doors again and utter
something in my ear. This time she
managed to crack the window as well. Then I felt her presence behind me as I
continued to ignore her. But, then she muttered something again and I was
forced to come up with a response. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Was all I
could come up with. The doors slammed and she stomped up the stairs again. I
took a deep breath and continued my cooking. The garage door creaked open and I
jumped at the sound. The sweet face of my fiancée Charlotte peaked through. “Why
is the garage door open?”
I
didn’t let out a peep before my face told her the whole story and she nodded.
We dished up quickly and she stole me away to our room. She pulled me onto the
bed and said, “What the fuck is going on?”
“I
don’t know.” I responded.
“What
can we do about this?”
“Wait
it out, I suppose.”
“What
if she doesn’t go away?”
“Then
we move.”
“Really?”
“Why
not? The lease is almost up.”
“I
love you.”
“I
was waiting for you to say that. I love you too. I’m glad you’re home.”
“I’m
not.”
The
doors of the master bedroom slammed open followed shortly by the slamming of
the steps. All of the doors and windows downstairs smashing open. My Charlotte’s
fingers digging deep into my back as she burrowed her head into my chest. “It’s
a good thing Tammy and Roland are up north for a wedding.”
But,
the only response I got was a frantic panting. “Think about it. The ghost has a
clear attraction to their room.” Nothing more than a sob in return. I managed
to squeeze a few bites of lemon tofu along with a few stalks of asparagus into
my fiancée’s mouth before she collapsed in my arms.
It
wasn’t long into the haunting that my fiancée became bed ridden and despondent.
Only bolting out of the condo to go to work or the store. Even then she would return hours later
than promised with cigarettes on her breath. I found her one night while I was
waiting for rice to cook; sitting in her car breaking her golden rule of no
smoking in the car. A mound of cigarette butts collected on the ground next to
the driver’s side door. “What am I going to do about you?”
“Do
I have to come in?”
“I
would like it if you did.”
“Is
she still in there?
“Of
course, she is.”
“Then
I would like to get a hotel.”
“That’s
quite drastic. Considering how easy she is to handle.”
“Easy
for you to say.”
“She
is clearly taking a toll on us. But, I think we can make it until the end of
the week.”
“What
makes you say that?”
“All
she does is open and close doors at random intervals then mutters something
incomprehensible. I say we’ve got it pretty easy especially if we just stay in
our room. Which, she never enters.”
“So…”
“Let’s
give it until Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“Yeah,
just two days of hiding in our room and going to work. I’m sure we can figure
something out in just two days. Even, if it’s a cheap motel room. Let’s go
inside.”
“K.”
When
we returned everything was dark.
THUNK! Went the dead bolt as I tried to open the door. “Your keys.
Bitch, locked the door.”
“No,
let’s go to the motel tonight.”
“ I
have to get in I left rice cooking.”
“No,
it’s dark. She clearly doesn’t want us here.”
“All
right. I’ll bring supper outside. It’s warm out, anyways.”
“But,
it’s cold in there.”
“Keys.”
She
stiffened her arm and the keys jangled. She dropped them into my open hand,
coldly. I rammed the key into the lock and gave it a hard turn. My hand entered
first finding the light switch next to the door, turning on a small light. Just
enough light to get to the kitchen. Creeping through the darkness, tracing
whatever light falls on the ground with my feet. I find the switches next to the
sink with my hand. The grind of
the disposal nearly shot me out of my skin. The rustling that came from
upstairs finished the job. I hit the switch again and then the proper switch
next to it. Even in the brassy warm light I felt a chill coming over me. I
turned to the stove to find that it was off and my rice undercooked. But, I
dished it out anyways. Luckily, the fish finished cooking an hour ago. I sprang
out of the condo with two dishes of cold fish and undercooked rice at the sound
of footsteps from upstairs. I slammed the door behind me and took my seat at
the table with Charlotte. “What happened? She asked.
All
I could let out was a sigh as my fork rattled on the plate. She looked at me as
I attempted to catch my breath. “Why?” was all I let out, then I shoveled a
forkful of cold cod into my mouth. She broke her gaze from me and poked at her
plate. Breaking off small bites. I chewed as I watched every light in the
kitchen turn off through the window behind Charlotte. I barely heard her ask, “What’s
happening?” in my daze. Then the
light over the door turned off and I dropped my fork. Charlotte peered up
towards the missing light. The door opened and I could feel ghostly eyes on me
as my fork began to rattle involuntarily against my plate. Then I felt
Charlotte’s eyes on me, searching for a calmness to latch onto. SLAM! Went the
door and the deadbolt clicked into place. My fork clunked onto my plate as
every muscle released and I collapsed into my chair, breathless. The AC fired
up breaking me from such my wicked state.
Then I stared into the eyes peering across at me from across the table. “Where
are the keys?”
I
patted my pockets for the keys and responded “Shit, they’re inside.”
“The
spare?”
“Under,
Cthulhu.”
She
lifted the bizarre twisted succulent and slid the key into the palm of her
hand. She gave me a look of uncertainty and handed me the key with even more
doubt than before. We gathered ourselves and entered as silently as we could,
leaving our half eaten meal on the table. The dim blue light of our cell phones
lit the way to our room. I could feel Charlotte’s hand on my belt the entire
trek as she cowered behind me. We stopped before our door and stared across the
hall at the stolen room. Little rays of light edge around the door creating a
soft yellow outline. I heard movement from behind the door and from the way
Charlotte pulled me into our room, I could tell she heard it too. Before I
could lock the door she was pulling her suitcase out of the closet. “I’d feel
safer at the Bates Motel at this point. I’m leaving tonight!” She whispered and
shouted at the same time.
“You
have to fight with me. It’s fight’s like these that will make us a stronger
couple.”
“Listen
you corny fuck! It’s fights like these that are going to get us killed by some
entity and I’m not interested in those kinds of fights.”
“I
understand that. But, we shouldn’t cede to intruders.”
“And
we shouldn’t negotiate with terrorist. No matter how many lives in are in
danger.”
“Well
she is terrorizing us and talk about riding the cliché train. Look, I don’t
know how many times I have to go over this but we have to stay and fight. We
shouldn’t quit fights that we can win and that’s just the way it is.”
“Why?”
“Because,
this place is technically ours for two more months and we can get rid of her
before she can get rid of us. We’re stronger than you think.” I finished as I
opened my arms and she fell right in. “I’ll call one of my friends in the
morning. He’s a self proclaimed ghost expert and maybe he can give us some tips.”
“Okay.
I love you.”
“I
love you too.”
We
sat in our bed petrified until two o’ clock. When her light went out and the
noise settled down. Our lids dropped once the silence hit.
In
the morning our dishes were clean and sitting in the drying rack. The front
door was wide open. I quickly
scrambled some eggs and dropped two slices of bread into the toaster. I closed
and locked the door. Grabbed my food and brought it our room. With Charlotte
lying next to me I placed a phone call to my friend Ryan. It rang for a while
then he answered. “Hey this is Ryan!”
“Ryan,
it’s Stephen. I need your help.”
“What
with?”
“Ghost.”
“Oh,
damn. What kind?”
“A cranky one.”
“A cranky one.”
“Salt.”
“Salt?”
“Yeah,
it keeps them out somehow. I can’t remember how it exactly works. But, it works
for me.”
“Salt,
anything else. Were trying to get rid of this ghost.”
“You
could pray-“
“Like
a couple Hail Marys?”
“Sure,
or you could forcefully ask it to leave. But, I have to warn you most of the
time they don’t leave peacefully.”
“Thank’s
man. After all of this is done do you want to grab a drink?’
“Sure.”
“Cool,
I’ll talk to you later.”
“Text
me, let me know how it goes. Bye.”
“Will
do. By-‘ the cold tone came through my earpiece. I glanced at my phone then set
it on the bedside stand swapping it for my breakfast. I sat there for sometime
taking small bites of my breakfast lost in the thought of evicting this ghost.
Charlotte moaned then turned around. I stared at her longingly. Then the alarm
clock sounded startling me back to reality. That’s when I heard the other door
open and waited until I heard it close again. I rushed downstairs the second I
heard the click. I tossed the plate in the dishwasher and began searching for
the salt. Flipping over boxes, pushing aside bottles, and opening every closet
door. Where could this simple blue canister be? The door opens again. Footsteps
follow. I shuffle more objects about, frantically. I’m about to put my hand on
the salt when I realize I’m cornered. I feel the back of my shirt being tugged
from behind. Being wrapped in a fist. Slowly pulled away from the counter, I
fight for traction. I try to grasp on but the title is to smooth and my
petrified grip too weak. My feet drag. I try to grab on to anything I can lay
my hands on. My fingers dig into the squishy couch. I flip my right arm over
and it grabs hold as well. I pull myself on, spinning out of her grip. The door opens behind me, the rush of
air propels her towards me. I feel her on my neck as I grab that blue little
canister. I make a frenzied turn and push through her. She feels like a wall of
spider webs crawling with spiders. I try to shake them all off as I trounce up
the stairs. But, I soon realize it’s a feeling, I’ll never get rid of. I spill
as much salt in as straight of a line as I can make as fast as I can as I
tumble into my room. I fall backwards and the salt hits the opposing wall
waking Charlotte. I can feel her concerned look as I kick the door shut and
pull myself by the handle locking it in the process. I crawl over to her open
arms and curl up in them. I exhale curses as I try to catch my breath. “Call my
work.” Is the last thing I say before I slip away.
I
spent the day in her arms, catatonic. When I awoke at dusk there were two
suitcases packed. Charlotte was stroking my hair and staring deep into my
eyes. Everything was peaceful until, the sounds of the cabinets in the hall
violently opening and slamming closed startle us. Steps pounding like hammers
cycling up and down the stairs. Every cabinet door squealing like pigs being
slaughtered as they opened with such brutal force. Then we heard her clearly
for the first time. “Where is it?! Where is my painting?!” Echoed through the
house and our ears.
“Is
she talking about that hideous painting we took to down when we moved in?”
whispered Charlotte. The pounding came back up the stairs.
“Maybe
she the artist?” I could sense her ghostly ear tuning into our hushed
conversation.
“A
possibility. Where did you put it?”
“I
put it in the garage.” The hammers blasted down the stairs and the door to the
garage screamed open. “But, I cracked the frame putting it away.”
“Shit.”
There
was a vehement thud outside of door. Then the crashing of something that sounds
like a painting hitting a hardwood floor. “I’m getting mad!” a series of
impetuous bangs cause us to push ourselves into the wall. “Why is there all of
this salt on the floor” More hysterical bangs followed by the scraping of
bristles on the hardwood floor. Our defenses swiftly swept away. The broom
dropped and clattered on the hardwood floor. There was a pounding at our door. “I
know you are in there! I want you out now!” She tried to turn the knob but it
was a no go. There is a long pause where we hear just our breaths and our
thoughts of climbing out the window. A rattle came from the doorknob. Charlotte
and glanced at each other knowing it has come to this. The clank of each pin in
the lock being pushed aside crawled into our ears. It’s louder than our
breaths. The final click reached our ears and we grabbed the suitcases. All of
the lights in the place went out and we saw her frail white frame for the first
time. Then she screeched, “My name is Magaline and I own this place!”
“Fuck! It’s our landlandy!” panted Charlotte.
We
grabbed what we could in a hurry and never looked back. The next day we looked
her up on our laptop using the motel’s wi-fi. Sure, enough Magaline Penny our
landlord died the week before. We also found our place for sale. Fully
furnished, only $750,000. I hope that condo rots on the market and is never sold.
(C)June 2012 Paul Vonasek
