Haunted

When I left the city for the country life the first thing I thought of was shelter. I wasn’t wealthy by any means but I knew without any regrets that I did not belong in the city and this was the place for me. I found an old farmhouse that had been abandoned by the owners when the family refused to take possession after their last remaining parent passed away. The county had taken it for back taxes and I was able to buy it for the unpaid balance. I thought that was the greatest bargain I had ever gotten – until I realized how much a neglected house could fall to ruin after only a few years.

I finally got the water going with a little help from a neighbor and the roof patched until I could start a new job and pay for better repairs. The old furniture was still there but it was so dusty I had to throw out anything with upholstery and the mattresses. After many weeks of sleeping on the floor before I could buy a new mattress I was nearly exhausted so when I started hearing things and finding the furniture moved around in the living room I thought I was imagining it. The floor creaked at night and I chalked it up to the house settling, even though it should have been settled years ago. I thought I heard the front door open, but it was closed when I checked it out. 

Many months passed and I still did not sleeping any better in spite of the new bed. Many repairs had been made and the furnace had been declared in perfect working order. It had apparently been new when the old man died. The house was still freezing in the living room. 

I came home one evening to see lights on all over the house. I knew I had not left them on. It was fall and it got dark early and light later, but I absolutely knew those lights were off when I left. I installed a timer on the lights to turn them off if I forgot and they still were on when I got home. The sheriff’s office couldn’t see any signs of a break-in and nothing was missing. They suggested there might be a key somewhere I hadn’t found and someone was pulling a prank it being so close to Halloween. I changed the locks. It didn’t help.

At last I asked my neighbor if he had seen anyone entering the house when I was gone and he just laughed and shook his head. I went home, uneasy at the way he had laughed. It was one of those knowing laughs; as if he knew what was happening but was unwilling to share. 

Unable to sleep, I went for a glass of milk and had to stop in my tracks. The old rocking chair was rocking all by itself. There were no breezes blowing through because the window was shut, the furnace had never made it move it before, so that wasn’t it either. As I walked up closer to the moving piece of furniture I saw the faintest of images of an old woman. Her hair was gray and put up in a bun on the back of her head. She had reading glasses pushed down almost to the end of her nose and a book lay open on her apron covered lap. Her eyes were closed as if she was dozing, but her feet moved slightly causing her to rock. I shivered and backed away slowly, slipping out the back door with as little sound as possible, then I ran – all the way to the neighbor’s house and pounded on his door.

He took one look at me and helped me inside. “I see you finally met Edna. She’s been a fixture for years in that house; it’s why the kids didn’t want it.” He handed me a strong shot of brandy. “You see, she was their mother and one night while she was waiting on their father, as she did most nights, sitting in that chair reading, she had a stroke and died, but she didn’t know that. Their father never left the house at night again. He stayed there talking to Edna every night until he died.”

“He’s gone,” I said. “Why didn’t she go then,” as if this weren’t the strangest thing I had ever heard. 

“She probably thinks he’s started going out nights again; that’s why your lights are on all the time. 

She used to leave them on so he could find his way. He was usually drunk and it was the only way he could. The kids knew it was haunted; they wouldn’t even stay there when their father died. You stay here tonight,” he said. “Get a good night’s rest for a change.”

The next morning I went cautiously home. I sat down on the new sofa. “Edna,” I said, hoping the ghost, or whatever it was could hear me. I looked directly at the rocking chair and it rocked. I shivered and started shaking so hard I thought I would die of fright. “Edna, you have to go. Frank died a long time ago and he’s at the cemetery probably wondering where you are. I own the house now and I just can’t have you here.”

The apparition came to view, eyes looking wildly around before coming to settle on me. Her mouth moved but I could not hear her. I read her lips as best I could. I repeated what I had said.

“Go find Frank,” I told her at last. “He’s been waiting for you for years.”

She smiled and mouthed, “About time he waited on me for a change; don’t you think?”

I laughed in spite of it all and told her yes, but she needed to go now. And just like that – she faded away and the chair stopped rocking.

I never heard a peep again and my lights quit coming on unless I turned them on. Now, this is my house and I love it here; but that chair had to go.

Funeral Bells

“Where am I?” I muttered, coming awake. “Man, my head hurts.” I shook it to clear my vision only to discover I was in fact in total darkness and shaking my head only made it hurt worse. 

“Am I blind?” I wondered. My eyes darted around wildly, but nothing, not one ray of light was to be found. 

“It feels like I’m moving. Why am I moving?” I have to think. I remember that I was driving home. Damn! My head hurts. Why is it so hot in here and why am I having such a hard time breathing?” 

Although I’m trying to move, my arms are crossed over my chest for some reason and it feels like there is some sort of belt over my waist preventing me from moving. “Why would someone put so many blankets on me and strap me down no less?”

“Let’s see. Think Greyson. There were bright lights in my eyes. Someone was in my lane coming right at me. I tried to swerve but they hit me anyway – hard. I must have hit the steering wheel or the windshield and blacked out. That’s all I remember. I must be in an ambulance, that’s why I’m strapped down. But, we aren’t moving that fast and the siren isn’t running; at least I don’t hear one. Why not? Maybe I burst my eardrums when I hit my head and that’s why I can’t hear it. No; my ears would hurt too, and they don’t, although my face and neck feel wet.”

“I’m struggling again, but my arms are immobile. Why would they make the straps this tight?”

“Why does it stink back here? And why is no one checking my vital signs or trying to talk to me? Don’t they talk to the patient in all the television shows? My breath is coming back at me and it’s hotter and hotter. It feels thin like there isn’t much oxygen. What the hell? They have something on my face. Is that a zipper going up my nose?” 

“Oh God! That’s not a blanket. I’m in a body bag. I’m in a freaking body bag! They think I’m dead. Am I? I can hear myself talking? Or, am I just thinking and it’s the voice in my head? Do dead people think? Of course not; I wouldn’t notice how hard it is to breathe if I was dead anyway; right?”

“Hey!” I must fight to get out of here. “Can anyone hear me back here? Let me out?” I can feel the zipper now, but it only has a pull on the other side –the outside. “I guess they aren’t used to people just unzipping and walking out of these things.”

I am using too much air. “Slow your breathing; conserve your oxygen.” 

Suddenly it occurs to me that I have a knife in my pocket, but I can’t get to it because of the damn strap. I wonder…If I wiggle just right it might fall out and I can get to it. My wife complains all the time about my change falling out of my pockets on the couch and then it gets between the frame and the cushions and gets caught in the vacuum cleaner. “Just a little more,” I remind myself. “Wiggle a little more. I can feel it inching towards the opening. Now, if I could just reach it with my other hand since they have my arms ridiculously crossed.”

“Yes! There you go man. Got it. Just pull your arms back into a praying position and you can open it. You’ve done it a million times; you don’t even have to see it to do it.”

“Now, where is that tip? Ouch; there it is. Push it through the bag. A little harder now. Man this stuff is tough; they made it to reuse- a lot.” Groan. “There. It’s through. I have some air. Glorious air!” 

Breathing deeply I saw away at the fabric until I can get a hand to the zipper. “Down you go.” Free at last, I sit up and unhook the strap holding my waist and finish the job of the zipper until my feet are free as well. No one has bothered to check on my back here. They’d probably go off the road and kill me for sure if they did. I feel my forehead and sure enough there is a lot of blood, but I can see. It is dark, but only because there are no lights on back here. I can see out the windows at the wonderful night sky. The stars are bright and the moon is shining like a beacon in spite of the street lights.

Oh, we’re here. Let’s see how they react now.

The doors to the ambulance opened to the morgue bay. A solemn attendant stood waiting, clipboard in hand to check him in. He looked up and turned pale.

“This,” Greyson said pointing to the gurney and mangled bag. “This is why they used to always put a string with a bell on it when they buried people,” he said. “I nearly suffocated in that awful thing.” 

The attendant radioed for help. “We got an actual live one here,” he yelled into the mic as the ambulance driver and the EMT stared with their mouths agape.