Bethany’s first encounter with the ghost
She wasn’t sure what awakened her, but she could sense a presence in the room. She felt the hair on her neck stand on end as she lay on the couch holding her breath and listening. There was no sound, except for her heart ponding in her ears. As she strained to see in the darkness, she could discern an indistinct form gliding down the stairway. It appeared to be a man holding a candle in his hand. She let out a gasp and sat up on the couch. He was an older gentleman, with reddish hair and beard, dressed in turn-of-the century style clothing. The specter appeared to be equally alarmed at seeing them too. All three were frozen in time for a moment as if in a tableau vivant, then, the man slowly began to fade and disappear.
She shot up from the couch, turned on the lamp and stood. Jude went over to the staircase, sniffed the carpeted step and then walked back and curled up at her feet. Could I have been dreaming? She was cold and shivering. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms nervously as she contemplated the possibilities. Jude yawned up at her, apparently satisfied there was no threat. It was just a dream she assured herself and forced herself to lie back down. She waited until she felt calm enough to turn off the lamp.
It wasn’t easy for her to control her racing thoughts, let alone relax enough to get back to sleep. At one point, she turned on the lamp to check the time on the grandfather clock—it was half-past three. She got up, rummaged around and found a baseball bat in the corner near the fireplace. No sense in taking any chances. She returned to the couch, turned off the lamp and with the baseball bat clutched to her chest, soon fell back to sleep.
The next time it happened she was prepared. This time she heard a distinct scraping noise coming from the direction of the hallway. She carefully slid off the couch bat in hand and silently made her way toward the front door. She could hear Jude panting behind her, nose on her right calf, clinging to her as if attached by a leash. Then a hand came out of the darkness and clawed at her face. She screamed and lashed out with the bat, flailing blindly in the darkness.
A great roar filled her ears as the dark form toppled back into the foyer. Panic gripped her and she groped madly along the wall until her hand found another light switch and snapped it on. On the floor of the foyer lay Griff, propped up on one arm and staring at her with glassy eyes. He was rubbing his right shoulder.
“Beth?” He tried to make sense of the spectacle of the blonde-haired girl, back-lit by the hall light, standing over him, baseball bat in hand.
“Griff?” She dropped the bat and ran to him. “I’m so sorry.”
“S’fine,” he replied, floundering around on the floor.
“I feel so bad—I could have killed you.”
“Naw, you couldn’t—you swing that bat like a klutz.”
She held out a hand to help him up and he glumly managed to get to his feet. She helped him over to the nearby sofa chair.
“Lucky for you, I grew up in the country and never played baseball.”
“Yeah, lucky me,” he hissed, as he tried pulling his coat off his sore shoulder. He was having no luck, so he stood up and tried pulling harder.
“Let me help you with that. I’m so sorry—I thought you were an intruder. ” She gently lifted the coat off him.
“An intruder—what made you think that?”
“I saw an old man on the stairs earlier—at least I think I did. Maybe I was dreaming. Anyway, when I heard a noise again in the hallway, I thought it was him.”
He stood dumbly staring at her glassy eyed and then burst out into hysterical laughter. “You tried to kill George?”
“Who the heck’s George?”
“S’okay, don’ worry ‘bout it. My fault. Lost my door key—always do that.” He wavered unsteadily on his feet.
She realized not only was he slurring his words, he was stinking drunk.
“Need to sleep,” he muttered and started to curl up on the sofa chair.
“Wait, you can’t sleep down here—it’s freezing. Let me help you up to your bed.”
“Sorry babe, don’ feel like foolin’ round—just want to sleep.” He turned over with his back towards her.
“How dare you! What do you think I am—one of your cheap dates?”
“Gotta sleep now,” he murmured, putting a cushion over his head.
She was so incensed she had to struggle against the urge to plant a kick directly into his backside—which offered a very tempting target at that moment. Instead, she threw both hands in the air and uttered, “argh!” grabbed her jacket and stormed out of the house.
All the way back to her apartment, she was suppressing the urge to swear. Such a frustrating night! First, the dream, and then Griff. It was four thirty by the time she got home, stomped up the stairs and slammed the door in a fury. Samantha looked up dreamily and leapt off her window perch, rubbing up against her. She bent down and swept her into her arms. “Sorry, Sam, I should’ve spent the evening with you—it would have been much more pleasant, I’m sure.” She headed off to bed.
The Ghost is an excerpt from Epiphany by John J Geddes Reply w/ #AmazonCart for a free sample http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H6VBUS2/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_oJ8Hub16S9FWE via 