GHOST

BeaDragonia

The closing credits for “The Ring” scrolled across the screen. Flipping off the TV, he laid the remote down. “That’s enough of that scary stuff.” He chuckled, “Nothing better than a scary movie, though. He definitely loved horror films. October was his favorite month for watching movies. Slasher films, nightmare films, and even the oldies like Hitchcock graced the airwaves.

He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard the white noise of the TV not being on the air like when he was a kid. Before, there were twenty-four-hour stations on the air. When at midnight every night, the station told you they were signing off for the day, a screen showing the stars and stripes and playing the “Star Spangled Banner” before going to an image of a black and white Indian head test pattern, then the white snow, and the whooshing sounds of nothing but dead air.

Opening his eyes, he could see the white glow from the set illuminating the ceiling and walls in his room. “That’s weird.” Throwing back the covers as he rolled over, he slipped his feet into his slippers. “Nothing worse than cold feet on a bare floor in October.” He muttered as he shuffled into the living room.

“Oscar? Where are you? How many times have I told you to stop walking on the remote!” Picking up the handheld device, “Stupid dog anyway.” He muttered.

He pressed the button, but nothing happened. Still, that white snowy screen, and that swooshing sound. He slapped the remote on the palm of his hand and tried again. “Hmm, batteries must be dead.” Setting the thing down, he rummaged in the drawer beside the lazy boy recliner, “Ahh, there ya are.” He pulled out two AAA batteries. After what felt like forever, he managed to pry the back off and replace the batteries. “Sure, don’t make these things easy for old farts.” He grumbled as the back finally clicked into place securely.

Pointing it at the TV, he pressed the button. Still, nothing happened. “What the…” He screamed as a face appeared in the snowy screen. Then bulged out into a three-dimensional spectre. “You can’t just push a button and get rid of me, you old curmudgeon.” Sophie’s voice said. “You used to try and mute me. Now… Now I get the last word, Robert.” The spectre laughed. Oscar began barking and growling, placing himself between his Master and the figure trying to escape the TV. He lunged at it, snapping his strong white teeth. Glancing down at the remote, then back at the face emerging from the screen, he nodded and then threw the remote as hard as he could at the TV screen. “Shut up, woman! I don’t miss the sound of your grating, complaining voice.”

The sound of shattering plastic filled the air, and the swooshing white noise stopped. The remote was firmly embedded in the center of the TV screen. “Guess I’ll be going to the movie theater from now on.”

Oscar rubbed against his leg, panting. “Let’s get some sleep, buddy.”

Oscar followed him, sticking almost too close to him. Although he usually slept on the floor in his bed, the golden retriever climbed into bed with him. Whining softly as the master wrapped his arm around him.

“It's ok, Oscar. I won’t let her get us. She has to leave at midnight.” He patted the dog comfortingly. “She can’t stay on All Saints’ Day, she’s too damn mean.” Oscar licked his face and snuggled closer. But he still kept an eye on the dead TV set. He wasn’t so sure.

Robert opened his eyes, staring at the clock that projected on the ceiling, the red digital numbers informing him it was 10:59 pm. He wasn’t sure what woke him this time. He listened and heard nothing that should’ve awakened him.

His hearing wasn’t as good as Oscar’s, though. Who suddenly stiffened and jumped from the bed. Barking as though the hounds of hell were after him. A shimmer in the room caused him to growl and bare his teeth as he lunged at it. Then he yelped as though he’d been hit, or stung.

“Damnit, Sophie! Leave the dog alone! He never did anything to you. You hateful old witch.” Robert yelled as he threw back the blankets and ran to the fireplace. A cackle filled the room, coming from all directions. Robert grabbed the poker and swung it around, trying to find her. “Why are you acting like this? I paid for a wonderful funeral, put a nice obituary in the paper, and I even cried when I read your eulogy. What else could you possibly want now?”

“Revenge! Revenge! Revenge for the way you belittled me in life. Refused to allow me to work, to do anything more than a normal housewife.” Came the reply from in front of him.

He swung the poker wide and saw the air spark. “Now I know where you are.” He said, still swinging the poker before him as he went into the kitchen. Grabbing the big box of salt with the little girl holding the umbrella upside down on the ground, he ran around her until he had completed a circle that he hoped would hold her inside.

A flickering of the lights in the house, and she appeared, in the clothes he’d buried her in. Her favorite blue dress with the white collar, and the blue shoes to match it. “Look at yourself, woman. I even dressed you in your favorite clothes.” He shouted as he took a swing at her again with the poker. More sparks flew as it passed through her shimmering image. “And for your information, you never ONCE said you wanted to work outside the house!”

“I did too! I used to beg you.” Came Sophie's whine.

“You may have thought it, woman, but you never spoke it aloud to me. Hell, I’d have been thrilled to let you get a job and help out with the expenses; your makeup was outrageously priced. And those damn night creams to keep away the wrinkles.” He rolled his eyes up in disgust. “Total waste of good, hard-earned money, you had wrinkles the day I met you. Didn’t stop me from asking for your hand in marriage.”

“Why do you have me trapped? What is this?” Sophie screeched as she tried to cross the salt circle.

“To keep you in one place. You already scared Oscar; my TV is ruined. Do you think I want anything else destroyed because you are a confused and crazed ghost? What are you doing here in the first place? You never answered me.” Sophie stood still, looking down at herself. “I’m see through!” She screamed. “How did I get to be a ghost?”

Robert hung his head as he sat down with a thud in the kitchen chair, setting the box of salt and poker on the table. He stared hard at Sophie. “Cause you stupid old woman, you’re dead. D E A D dead. As a doornail. It’s Halloween night, the night the dead walk, and soon it will be All Saints Day, and you will be gone. Again.” He sighed.

“I’m… dead?” she stuttered at him. “I thought I was just mad at you.”

“Well, you sure know how to hold a damn grudge. You've been dead 7 years.” He shook his head. “Seven long years. It took a bit to get used to you not being here, and learning to cook and clean for myself after you took such good care of me. But me and Oscar managed.”

“Seven years?” She stared at him as though trying to decide if he was lying to her. “It can’t be. I just lay down for a nap.” She stared around the kitchen. “Why did you move the table against the wall instead of the middle of the room? You know it makes it harder to clean.”

“There ya go again. It doesn’t matter. I do what I want now. You’re dead; you aren’t here to complain at me. I loved ya, Sophie, but damned if you weren’t hard to live with when you were alive. And harder to live without when you died.” He wiped away a tear as he sniffed.

Sophie started to shake; her transparent figure began to shimmer and fade in and out. “I loved you too, Robert.”

Oscar was peeking around the corner of the door, his head bare inches off the floor. Whining, he slowly approached his master.

Robert reached down, petting his head. “It’s ok, boy. She’ll be gone in a minute.” He glanced down at his watch. It was 11:59pm.

“Take care, Sophie, I’ll see you on the other side.” He said as she disappeared from the salt circle.

He got up slowly, taking the broom and dustpan, and he swept up the salt, tossing it in the trash can. “Let’s go to bed now, Oscar. Happy All Saints Day, buddy.”