My Biggest Fear
By Gary Anderson
As I stare at the picture in the frame, I exhale a sigh of frustration. It's hard to describe what I'm feeling. Pain, of course. Sadness, to be sure. Longing, yes, but it's more than that. As cliched as it sounds, I feel as if something has been ripped away from inside of me. As if she just grabbed my heart out of my chest, and just held it in front of me, forcing me to watch her squeeze it.
The whole time I dated her, I feared this would happen. Call it immature inadequacies, but it was there. Lingering in the back of my mind. I just knew that someday she might leave me for some guy. It wasn't something I was proud of, my fears, but it was something that I had thought of. I'd entertained thoughts of catching her and some stud.
Walking in on them, perhaps. Maybe finding evidence of him on her clothes.
She drifted away from me after awhile. She never said it, but I was sure that it was because of my fears. Of my inability to realize that she wanted me, and not someone else. I wanted to believe her, but I always felt that she was out of my league to start with.
The occasional joke of her finding someone better and leaving me in the lurch, grew to infest my brain, and turned her away.
So now she's getting engaged to some real estate asshole and I'm here alone. She's out wondering what kinda ring he's gonna surprise her with and here I am drunk and longing for the old days, and wondering what it was she wanted that I couldn't give her.
I doubted it was the old "wrong equipment" cliche. That wasn't it, I was sure that it was something else. Maybe she wanted the typical happy American life. The two kids in suburbia thing.
Maybe she wanted a solid commitment from someone who couldn't commit. And when she couldn't get that commitment, she ran to someone who would.
But I can't help but wonder if she realizes that out of all the things she could have done to hurt me. Out of all the things she could have done to fuck me up, she picked the one thing that I've feared would happen to me since I was a little girl.
That I would be left for a man.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Short Story: The Flame
*NOTE: As usual folks, this is fiction. Not true. Thank you. Enjoy.
THE FLAME
As I sit on the floor with my legs crossed I stare intently at the flame burning on the end of the matchstick. I lower it to the candle sitting in front of me. As soon as the flame touches the wick, a new flame is born. I have created life! Ah, I wonder if this is how God felt while He was creating life. Creating the universe and everything must have been an immensely intense feeling. One I aspire to achieve.
I bring the matchstick back up to eye level and watch as it slowly burns out. A feeling of sadness overcomes me. I feel a kinship to the flame. It is all I have known. All I have understood. It has become like a parent to me. It is why I am who I am. All that I am is because of the flame.
I look around and see the fire licking at the curtains, slowly making its way up to the ceiling. My head slowly turns the other way to see furniture and paintings on the wall engulfed in flames. It was beautiful.
I remember the first time that I experienced the flame. My world mother killed my world father when I was very young. She claimed self-defense because he would get liquored up and slap her around. She was acquitted and soon began dating again.
She didn't seem to really take to being a mother. She didn't seem to have time for me. She'd leave me with the TV and go out to find someone to take her ex husband's place. I didn't really mind. I didn't care for her either.
One night she punished me for something that I don't remember. She tied me to the radiator and then left for her night out on the town. She left a cigarette burning in the bedroom, and the house went up in flames. By the time the fire truck got there and rescued me, I was unconscious from the smoke and burned badly all over my body.
When I woke up and saw myself in the mirror I didn't cry. I didn't say a word, I just stared. It was like something out of a comic book. Scars spread all over my face. I wasn't sure what to feel about it. I was more intrigued than anything else. I opened my mouth to speak and quickly shut it. My skin stretched when I did so. It hurt, but the doctor said I should slowly try to open my mouth a little at a time so I didn't do any damage.
My mother was found a couple days later in some low rent motel. She had been beaten and raped by some drifter who she had picked up at a bar. Or rather he had picked her up. Didn't matter. My world parents were dead and I had been reborn. Reborn to the flame.
So as I stare at the flames all around me I smile. It is all so beautiful. I have created all of this. I turn my head slightly as I hear a firetruck's alarms in the distance.
I feel at peace. I am finally ready. Ready to return to the flame, from which I was born.
THE FLAME
As I sit on the floor with my legs crossed I stare intently at the flame burning on the end of the matchstick. I lower it to the candle sitting in front of me. As soon as the flame touches the wick, a new flame is born. I have created life! Ah, I wonder if this is how God felt while He was creating life. Creating the universe and everything must have been an immensely intense feeling. One I aspire to achieve.
I bring the matchstick back up to eye level and watch as it slowly burns out. A feeling of sadness overcomes me. I feel a kinship to the flame. It is all I have known. All I have understood. It has become like a parent to me. It is why I am who I am. All that I am is because of the flame.
I look around and see the fire licking at the curtains, slowly making its way up to the ceiling. My head slowly turns the other way to see furniture and paintings on the wall engulfed in flames. It was beautiful.
I remember the first time that I experienced the flame. My world mother killed my world father when I was very young. She claimed self-defense because he would get liquored up and slap her around. She was acquitted and soon began dating again.
She didn't seem to really take to being a mother. She didn't seem to have time for me. She'd leave me with the TV and go out to find someone to take her ex husband's place. I didn't really mind. I didn't care for her either.
One night she punished me for something that I don't remember. She tied me to the radiator and then left for her night out on the town. She left a cigarette burning in the bedroom, and the house went up in flames. By the time the fire truck got there and rescued me, I was unconscious from the smoke and burned badly all over my body.
When I woke up and saw myself in the mirror I didn't cry. I didn't say a word, I just stared. It was like something out of a comic book. Scars spread all over my face. I wasn't sure what to feel about it. I was more intrigued than anything else. I opened my mouth to speak and quickly shut it. My skin stretched when I did so. It hurt, but the doctor said I should slowly try to open my mouth a little at a time so I didn't do any damage.
My mother was found a couple days later in some low rent motel. She had been beaten and raped by some drifter who she had picked up at a bar. Or rather he had picked her up. Didn't matter. My world parents were dead and I had been reborn. Reborn to the flame.
So as I stare at the flames all around me I smile. It is all so beautiful. I have created all of this. I turn my head slightly as I hear a firetruck's alarms in the distance.
I feel at peace. I am finally ready. Ready to return to the flame, from which I was born.
Short Story: Final Thoughts
*NOTE: Once again, remember folks. This is all fiction. Enjoy!
Final Thoughts
People ask me why I've done the things I've done. Fess up, they tell me. You're at the end of the road anyway. I mean, they've caught you, you're gonna die for what you've done. Might as well tell us why.
Not sure why you want to know. Maybe you think it'll help you sleep at night to know that it's not you. Maybe you think that if I tell you what caused me to do the things I did it'll give you some idea of what to look for in others that might be tempted to kill.
No matter. I will tell you. I figure it's the least I can do. I took your family away from you, so I will tell you. I don't feel good about what I did, I want you to realize. I mean, yeah everyone says that. It's almost become expected, you know? No self respecting murderer, child molester, or overall bad guy would not say that.
Not to compare myself to a child molester. I mean, I'm not THAT screwed up. Ha Ha.
You think knowing why I did this would make others more aware of what to look for, but you're wrong. I mean, my excuse is so overdone, I admit but it's true. It's been said time and time again in articles on serial killers, mass murderers, even perverts. This one paragraph is always seemingly looked over and ignored. Why? This is the secret right here.
They all had overbearing domineering mothers. Most of the mothers were religious zealots. I mean, real Bible-thumpers. And guess who got thumped the hardest? Who were told they were evil, and that God hated them. Told every day that they would rot in Hell with Satan.
Having problems with your mother doesn't make you a murderer. And I don't suppose being verbally abused does it either. Maybe it's the combo. Maybe it's the fact that you're beaten every day for little or no reason. Maybe it's the fact that your father and brothers and sister didn't do anything to help you. Maybe it's the fact that you were adopted and they never considered you part of the family anyway.
Oh, there had to be a reason? Yeah, like I'm in the way when I'm sitting reading a book. That gets a beating, to show me where I stand in life. Put me in my place.
I don't know what you want to hear. I don't know what to tell you. Am I sorry I took your family away from you? Yes. Do I regret what I've done? Well, I don't know the answer to that. Yeah, I know that contradicts my previous statement.
I guess what I mean is I'm not sorry I did it, I'm sorry it had repercussions. Such as people worrying about the person, grieving that they were dead. If I had to do it all over again, what would I do?
Well, I would probably kill you too. No offense, but if I killed you with them, then I would not have to be sitting here trying to satisfy some masochistic streak in you that needs to hear me tell you how I slaughtered your whole family. Maybe then I could get some sleep before they kill me!
That's right, cry! I don't care! You think I need you here telling me all this stuff and making me all jittery? I'm dying in two days! Don't give me this! Yes, I took your family away from you, and you can't ever get them back. Do you think that makes me happy? Do you think I enjoy that?
No, I don't. I have to live with that, granted it's for two more days, but I have to stand up and account for what I've done after dying, and you think I haven't thought about what I'm gonna say in my defense?
Oh for God's sake, get out of here! I can't deal with you anymore. You came here for closure, and I told you I didn't want to hurt you, or hurt your feelings or whatever.
Why do you feel that you need to come here and harrass me like this? Well, it is harrassing. What gives you the right?
Whatever. Just leave. Just realize that you only have to live with the stigma of a son in prison for only two more days. Then you can go around and tell everyone that your son died with your husband and real kids.
Yeah, well live your life. That's all I can say. Now, leave. I want some time to myself.
Final Thoughts
People ask me why I've done the things I've done. Fess up, they tell me. You're at the end of the road anyway. I mean, they've caught you, you're gonna die for what you've done. Might as well tell us why.
Not sure why you want to know. Maybe you think it'll help you sleep at night to know that it's not you. Maybe you think that if I tell you what caused me to do the things I did it'll give you some idea of what to look for in others that might be tempted to kill.
No matter. I will tell you. I figure it's the least I can do. I took your family away from you, so I will tell you. I don't feel good about what I did, I want you to realize. I mean, yeah everyone says that. It's almost become expected, you know? No self respecting murderer, child molester, or overall bad guy would not say that.
Not to compare myself to a child molester. I mean, I'm not THAT screwed up. Ha Ha.
You think knowing why I did this would make others more aware of what to look for, but you're wrong. I mean, my excuse is so overdone, I admit but it's true. It's been said time and time again in articles on serial killers, mass murderers, even perverts. This one paragraph is always seemingly looked over and ignored. Why? This is the secret right here.
They all had overbearing domineering mothers. Most of the mothers were religious zealots. I mean, real Bible-thumpers. And guess who got thumped the hardest? Who were told they were evil, and that God hated them. Told every day that they would rot in Hell with Satan.
Having problems with your mother doesn't make you a murderer. And I don't suppose being verbally abused does it either. Maybe it's the combo. Maybe it's the fact that you're beaten every day for little or no reason. Maybe it's the fact that your father and brothers and sister didn't do anything to help you. Maybe it's the fact that you were adopted and they never considered you part of the family anyway.
Oh, there had to be a reason? Yeah, like I'm in the way when I'm sitting reading a book. That gets a beating, to show me where I stand in life. Put me in my place.
I don't know what you want to hear. I don't know what to tell you. Am I sorry I took your family away from you? Yes. Do I regret what I've done? Well, I don't know the answer to that. Yeah, I know that contradicts my previous statement.
I guess what I mean is I'm not sorry I did it, I'm sorry it had repercussions. Such as people worrying about the person, grieving that they were dead. If I had to do it all over again, what would I do?
Well, I would probably kill you too. No offense, but if I killed you with them, then I would not have to be sitting here trying to satisfy some masochistic streak in you that needs to hear me tell you how I slaughtered your whole family. Maybe then I could get some sleep before they kill me!
That's right, cry! I don't care! You think I need you here telling me all this stuff and making me all jittery? I'm dying in two days! Don't give me this! Yes, I took your family away from you, and you can't ever get them back. Do you think that makes me happy? Do you think I enjoy that?
No, I don't. I have to live with that, granted it's for two more days, but I have to stand up and account for what I've done after dying, and you think I haven't thought about what I'm gonna say in my defense?
Oh for God's sake, get out of here! I can't deal with you anymore. You came here for closure, and I told you I didn't want to hurt you, or hurt your feelings or whatever.
Why do you feel that you need to come here and harrass me like this? Well, it is harrassing. What gives you the right?
Whatever. Just leave. Just realize that you only have to live with the stigma of a son in prison for only two more days. Then you can go around and tell everyone that your son died with your husband and real kids.
Yeah, well live your life. That's all I can say. Now, leave. I want some time to myself.
Short Story: Anniversary
Anniversary
As I walk along the beach near my rented bungalow, the moon illuminates my immediate surroundings. In the distance I can see her approaching me. I don't know that it is her yet, all I see is the exotic red and blue dress. I recognize the dress as one I saw once in an old brochure on Russian culture. She seemingly glides towards me, leaving no prints in the sand. I stop walking and stare at her. The beauty that she possesses, is apparent as the moon casts light across her face.
Soon we are face to face, and I notice then, that I am trembling. I find myself intimidated by her presence. I look down at the sand, and she then reaches out and takes my chin in her hand, raising my head up. I look into her eyes, and feel a calm come over me. She smiles, and then her hand moves up and wipes a tear from my cheek, that I don't even know is there.
She leans closer to me, and kisses me softly on the cheek. I close my eyes as her lips touch my skin. When I open my eyes I am alone again. I turn around and see nothing. My breathing becomes heavy and labored Looking down, I notice that in front of me, leading to my bungalow are a fresh set of footprints, but when I look behind me, there are only my own. I sit down on the sand, as I try to wrap my head around what just happened. It isn't her. It can't be her, but it is. She has returned to me, one year later, just as I always dreamed she would. As I sit on the sand, I stare at the newly created footprints heading to my bungalow. It is impossible, but it is true.
She has returned.
Once I arrive at my doorstep, I stand there, hesitating to go in. Closing my eyes I turn the door knob, swinging the door open, to reveal the silhouette of her naked form, moving across my bedroom, twenty feet away from where I stand. I swallow hard as I shut the door. I remove my sweater, and hang it on the hook beside the door.
"Come in here, darling." I hear.
I enter my room, and see her laying on the bed, the moonlight casting over her body.
"I've been waiting for you." She whispers.
I stand in the doorway, not sure what to do or to say. She sits up, peering at me. As I looked into her eyes, I am suddenly reliving the crash. The car running off the road as we made our way from our wedding, mere hours before. The tears that fell at the wreckage as she died in my arms, as well as the tears that have fallen all year since. The depression, the failed suicide attempt, and the seven months of therapy. I absorbed a years worth of pain and anguish in a single blink of an eye.
"Honey?"
I walk over and sit down beside her. Her hands find my neck, as she rubs my skin with her gentle touch.
"I'm here for you baby. Just like we had always wanted. Better late than never, as they always say, right?"
I close my eyes and shake my head.
"I can't." I whisper.
She stops, and rests her chin on my shoulder.
"Why not?"
I feel tears sliding down my cheeks. I close my eyes, hoping to stem the flow.
"Because...because," I stammer.
She climbs around my body and sits on my lap, her bare legs wrapped around my waist. She wraps her arms around my neck, and leans in, kissing her way up my neck, to my ear. I feel her nibbling on my earlobe.
"Why?" she coos. She continues to kiss me. I can feel myself getting hard beneath her, as her ass moves slightly against me.
"Because this isn't real."
My eyes still closed, her beautiful delicious scent almost unbearable, I feel her lips softly against my eyelids.
"Reality is a state of mind, love."
I shake my head slowly. pulling away from her.
"You're not real. No matter how real I want you to be, you'll never be real."
She climbs off of me, and moves over to the head of the bed, her back against the headboard, and stares at me. I can't look at her.
"We never got to express our love for each other. We never consummated our marriage. We were cheated." she said, sadness in her eyes and voice.
I put my head in my hands. "I'm sorry."
I stand up and walk out of the room, away from what I had dreamt of for the past twelve months. Away from the only woman I had ever truly loved.
I stop at the door and turn back to look at her. She slowly pulls the cover up to her neck, covering herself. As I shut the door behind me, cool air sweeps over me. I can hear her crying, as the door clicks shut. A sound I'd become accustomed to since the crash. Her cries had become embedded in my brain. They still haunt me to this day.
The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed, alone. I sit up and looked around. The window is open and the air is cool on my sweat covered forehead. I look out the window, almost expecting to see my bride, twirling in her red and blue dress. Although I knew she wouldn't be there, I nevertheless, found myself saddened.
I lay back down and close my eyes, awaiting sleep to come for me.
"Happy Anniversary, love." I whispered.
As I walk along the beach near my rented bungalow, the moon illuminates my immediate surroundings. In the distance I can see her approaching me. I don't know that it is her yet, all I see is the exotic red and blue dress. I recognize the dress as one I saw once in an old brochure on Russian culture. She seemingly glides towards me, leaving no prints in the sand. I stop walking and stare at her. The beauty that she possesses, is apparent as the moon casts light across her face.
Soon we are face to face, and I notice then, that I am trembling. I find myself intimidated by her presence. I look down at the sand, and she then reaches out and takes my chin in her hand, raising my head up. I look into her eyes, and feel a calm come over me. She smiles, and then her hand moves up and wipes a tear from my cheek, that I don't even know is there.
She leans closer to me, and kisses me softly on the cheek. I close my eyes as her lips touch my skin. When I open my eyes I am alone again. I turn around and see nothing. My breathing becomes heavy and labored Looking down, I notice that in front of me, leading to my bungalow are a fresh set of footprints, but when I look behind me, there are only my own. I sit down on the sand, as I try to wrap my head around what just happened. It isn't her. It can't be her, but it is. She has returned to me, one year later, just as I always dreamed she would. As I sit on the sand, I stare at the newly created footprints heading to my bungalow. It is impossible, but it is true.
She has returned.
Once I arrive at my doorstep, I stand there, hesitating to go in. Closing my eyes I turn the door knob, swinging the door open, to reveal the silhouette of her naked form, moving across my bedroom, twenty feet away from where I stand. I swallow hard as I shut the door. I remove my sweater, and hang it on the hook beside the door.
"Come in here, darling." I hear.
I enter my room, and see her laying on the bed, the moonlight casting over her body.
"I've been waiting for you." She whispers.
I stand in the doorway, not sure what to do or to say. She sits up, peering at me. As I looked into her eyes, I am suddenly reliving the crash. The car running off the road as we made our way from our wedding, mere hours before. The tears that fell at the wreckage as she died in my arms, as well as the tears that have fallen all year since. The depression, the failed suicide attempt, and the seven months of therapy. I absorbed a years worth of pain and anguish in a single blink of an eye.
"Honey?"
I walk over and sit down beside her. Her hands find my neck, as she rubs my skin with her gentle touch.
"I'm here for you baby. Just like we had always wanted. Better late than never, as they always say, right?"
I close my eyes and shake my head.
"I can't." I whisper.
She stops, and rests her chin on my shoulder.
"Why not?"
I feel tears sliding down my cheeks. I close my eyes, hoping to stem the flow.
"Because...because," I stammer.
She climbs around my body and sits on my lap, her bare legs wrapped around my waist. She wraps her arms around my neck, and leans in, kissing her way up my neck, to my ear. I feel her nibbling on my earlobe.
"Why?" she coos. She continues to kiss me. I can feel myself getting hard beneath her, as her ass moves slightly against me.
"Because this isn't real."
My eyes still closed, her beautiful delicious scent almost unbearable, I feel her lips softly against my eyelids.
"Reality is a state of mind, love."
I shake my head slowly. pulling away from her.
"You're not real. No matter how real I want you to be, you'll never be real."
She climbs off of me, and moves over to the head of the bed, her back against the headboard, and stares at me. I can't look at her.
"We never got to express our love for each other. We never consummated our marriage. We were cheated." she said, sadness in her eyes and voice.
I put my head in my hands. "I'm sorry."
I stand up and walk out of the room, away from what I had dreamt of for the past twelve months. Away from the only woman I had ever truly loved.
I stop at the door and turn back to look at her. She slowly pulls the cover up to her neck, covering herself. As I shut the door behind me, cool air sweeps over me. I can hear her crying, as the door clicks shut. A sound I'd become accustomed to since the crash. Her cries had become embedded in my brain. They still haunt me to this day.
The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed, alone. I sit up and looked around. The window is open and the air is cool on my sweat covered forehead. I look out the window, almost expecting to see my bride, twirling in her red and blue dress. Although I knew she wouldn't be there, I nevertheless, found myself saddened.
I lay back down and close my eyes, awaiting sleep to come for me.
"Happy Anniversary, love." I whispered.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Short Story: If I Woulda Known
If I Woulda Known
by Gary Anderson
As I sat down on the loveseat, I felt extremely nervous. I did not want to be here at all, right now, however I knew I couldn't leave.
"If I had known you would been here..." I began.
She waved me off. "It's no problem at all. I hardly ever have guests here. Not since Lesa was taken from me." Her voice drifted off, as if the mention of her daughter's name had caused her mind to wander.
"Lesa..that was your daughter?" I volunteered, knowing that it was.
"Yes," she said, snapping out of it. Her eyes blinked a few times and she looked over at me and smiled. "She would have been twenty four today. It's amazing how you tend to forget birthdays when you have them there in your grasp, but once they are taken from you...you never forget them. It's almost a sadist type of thing where we're cursed to never forget. You know what I mean?"
I nodded my head. "More than I care to remember." We were silent, as we both tried to ignore the unintentional pun.
"Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Lorber? I mean, now that I am actually here." she chuckled a bit, and I tried to return the laugh, but it came out fake. Which it was.
"I um...this is probably a bad time, and all..I should -- " I stood up, but she stood up and held her arms out.
"Please don't go. I don't get many people here, as I said. I mean, Lesa used to have boyfriends and her little girlfriends come over all the time. It was never a dull moment here. Now...it's just me. And I can't see, since the glaucoma took my sight away. You see what I mean? I have nothing. The war took my Herbert, and now it's just me."
I ran my fingers through my hair and cursed myself silently.
"Sure, I'll stay."
"Oh thank you. God bless you, Mr. Lorber."
I sat back down and she did the same. We both sat there in an awkward silence.
"You were gonna say something?" she inquired.
"Oh. I um. I kinda forgot. I feel dumb for that, but I had what I was gonna ask you all in my head and then it just flew away."
"You know," she said, "I'm the same doggone way. I will sit there and be thinking, "I have to call my sister in Kalamazoo, and then a couple seconds later, I'll be wondering who I had to call. Maybe it's Old Timers setting in, who knows?"
"Who knows, indeed?" I offered, laughing in my fake tone that I knew she could see right through.
"So," I said, "It's just you now that...It's just you?"
"Yes. I have a few neighbors that come over and help me out. I think it's a pity thing, but I find that I don't really feel guilty because they never really were there for me before. They never would have helped me, but now they feel obligated. So screw them, I say." She laughed nervously and covered her mouth almost as soon as the words escaped her lips.
"Oh Jesus forgive me for that."
"I'm sure He does, ma'am."
"Thank you. You're such a nice man. But, to answer your question, yes it's just me. It's going on a year now, you might have heard of what happened. Last Spring Break Leza and some friends were driving down to Daytona and this car just came out of nowhere and slammed into her. Killed her and her friends. They never found the people who did it. Probably a woman driver. We can't drive worth a damn, I'm afraid."
I leaned back in surprise that she would say such a thing.
"They say that it was a little blue hatchback that hit them. There was some blue paint on the car that Leza was driving, and supposedly there was a witness but he was drunk, so who knows?"
"I'm sorry for your loss." I said. I couldn't think of anything else TO say. I mean, what do you tell a woman who lost her daughter, and her only real source of company?
"Look, I ..I have to go. I was actually coming over just to introduce myself. I'm new in the neighborhood and ..well, I just wanted to say hello to my neighbors."
"Oh well Mr. Lorber, you'll have to come back sometime."
"I'm sure I will, ma'am. I have a feeling I will."
I stood up and gave her a hug, and then made a beeline for the door. I opened it and was nearly out the door when I heard her voice. "It's okay you know?"
I paused on the porch, my hand still holding the door as it was swinging shut.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, it's okay. Mr. Lorber...whatever. I just want you to know it's okay."
I closed my eyes and tried to fight the tears. I slipped my tongue out and wet my lips. "I--I -- "
"I said it's okay."
I couldn't stop the flow of tears and I let go of the door and ran down the sidewalk and got into my car. I sat in the driveway and just sobbed for about ten minutes. God, what had I done? Oh what had I done?
I wiped my eyes and looked in the mirror. My face was puffy and my eyes were red. I looked on the seat beside me and noticed I had left my Alcoholics Anonymous book open to steps eight and nine. With my blurred vision I could make out the word "Amends".
I turned the key and started the engine, and drove off in my blue hatchback.
by Gary Anderson
As I sat down on the loveseat, I felt extremely nervous. I did not want to be here at all, right now, however I knew I couldn't leave.
"If I had known you would been here..." I began.
She waved me off. "It's no problem at all. I hardly ever have guests here. Not since Lesa was taken from me." Her voice drifted off, as if the mention of her daughter's name had caused her mind to wander.
"Lesa..that was your daughter?" I volunteered, knowing that it was.
"Yes," she said, snapping out of it. Her eyes blinked a few times and she looked over at me and smiled. "She would have been twenty four today. It's amazing how you tend to forget birthdays when you have them there in your grasp, but once they are taken from you...you never forget them. It's almost a sadist type of thing where we're cursed to never forget. You know what I mean?"
I nodded my head. "More than I care to remember." We were silent, as we both tried to ignore the unintentional pun.
"Well, what can I do for you, Mr. Lorber? I mean, now that I am actually here." she chuckled a bit, and I tried to return the laugh, but it came out fake. Which it was.
"I um...this is probably a bad time, and all..I should -- " I stood up, but she stood up and held her arms out.
"Please don't go. I don't get many people here, as I said. I mean, Lesa used to have boyfriends and her little girlfriends come over all the time. It was never a dull moment here. Now...it's just me. And I can't see, since the glaucoma took my sight away. You see what I mean? I have nothing. The war took my Herbert, and now it's just me."
I ran my fingers through my hair and cursed myself silently.
"Sure, I'll stay."
"Oh thank you. God bless you, Mr. Lorber."
I sat back down and she did the same. We both sat there in an awkward silence.
"You were gonna say something?" she inquired.
"Oh. I um. I kinda forgot. I feel dumb for that, but I had what I was gonna ask you all in my head and then it just flew away."
"You know," she said, "I'm the same doggone way. I will sit there and be thinking, "I have to call my sister in Kalamazoo, and then a couple seconds later, I'll be wondering who I had to call. Maybe it's Old Timers setting in, who knows?"
"Who knows, indeed?" I offered, laughing in my fake tone that I knew she could see right through.
"So," I said, "It's just you now that...It's just you?"
"Yes. I have a few neighbors that come over and help me out. I think it's a pity thing, but I find that I don't really feel guilty because they never really were there for me before. They never would have helped me, but now they feel obligated. So screw them, I say." She laughed nervously and covered her mouth almost as soon as the words escaped her lips.
"Oh Jesus forgive me for that."
"I'm sure He does, ma'am."
"Thank you. You're such a nice man. But, to answer your question, yes it's just me. It's going on a year now, you might have heard of what happened. Last Spring Break Leza and some friends were driving down to Daytona and this car just came out of nowhere and slammed into her. Killed her and her friends. They never found the people who did it. Probably a woman driver. We can't drive worth a damn, I'm afraid."
I leaned back in surprise that she would say such a thing.
"They say that it was a little blue hatchback that hit them. There was some blue paint on the car that Leza was driving, and supposedly there was a witness but he was drunk, so who knows?"
"I'm sorry for your loss." I said. I couldn't think of anything else TO say. I mean, what do you tell a woman who lost her daughter, and her only real source of company?
"Look, I ..I have to go. I was actually coming over just to introduce myself. I'm new in the neighborhood and ..well, I just wanted to say hello to my neighbors."
"Oh well Mr. Lorber, you'll have to come back sometime."
"I'm sure I will, ma'am. I have a feeling I will."
I stood up and gave her a hug, and then made a beeline for the door. I opened it and was nearly out the door when I heard her voice. "It's okay you know?"
I paused on the porch, my hand still holding the door as it was swinging shut.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, it's okay. Mr. Lorber...whatever. I just want you to know it's okay."
I closed my eyes and tried to fight the tears. I slipped my tongue out and wet my lips. "I--I -- "
"I said it's okay."
I couldn't stop the flow of tears and I let go of the door and ran down the sidewalk and got into my car. I sat in the driveway and just sobbed for about ten minutes. God, what had I done? Oh what had I done?
I wiped my eyes and looked in the mirror. My face was puffy and my eyes were red. I looked on the seat beside me and noticed I had left my Alcoholics Anonymous book open to steps eight and nine. With my blurred vision I could make out the word "Amends".
I turned the key and started the engine, and drove off in my blue hatchback.
Short Story: 5 Minutes
5 MINUTES
by Gary Anderson
5:00
Pain. At the moment the only thing that is in my world is pain. There’s noises, I think. I mean, I know there are noises but I can’t distinguish any of them from one another. It’s all a huge amalgamation of voices and a car alarm somewhere. I feel as if I am moving, but I don’t think I really am. I’ve had this feeling before, when I had a concussion playing football in high school. If I move my head to the left or right, everything seems to speed up around me as if it’s the little brother struggling to keep up with their bigger sibling in the mall. I blink my eyes a few times trying to get some semblance of balance to my world. All I can think is where am I?
The Noises begin to separate now, and I can begin to identify them. The alarm is coming from our car. Why is the alarm going off? Shouldn’t it have been deactivated if we were in the car? Wait. We. Allison. I turn my head quickly and am rewarded with a gigantic shock of pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life. My eyes are clenched shut as I scream out in agony and surprise. That’s when I hear her.
4:45
I open my eyes again -- slowly. I turn my head a little at a time in an effort to avoid the pain and I see her. Oh Allison. I lean forward, and realize as I do that the seatbelt is not around me. It snapped during the crash. So much for safety. My legs are useless. I look down and blink a few times. There’s a strange disconnect as I stare at someone’s mangled legs where mine should be. I couldn’t feel them at all. I scoot over to her, and try to open her door, but it’s smashed against a tree. I look up and the roof has been caved in and I suddenly realize that the roof smashed into the top of Allison’s head. She is looking at me. Her mouth is moving, but nothing is coming out.
4:15
Breathing is near impossible. I have to try to get some air in small gasps. Her breathing is very rapid. I reach over as far as I can and pull her towards me. She doesn’t move. I look down and see that her body is pinned by the steering wheel. I lean over and grip the wheel by the top and push as hard as I can, but in my weakened condition it won’t budge. Tears form in my eyes as I feel frustration and futility set in. I move over as far as possible and wrap my arms around her. She looks into my eyes and I bite my lip in anguish, to stop myself from breaking down in front of her, but despite my best efforts, the tears engage in a free fall down my cheeks.
3:55
I lean my head back and close my eyes. “Please God, save her.” I whisper. “Please”. I open my eyes and look back to her. Her mouth is moving again. “Baby” she manages. “I –“ I place my finger against her lips gently. “Shhh. Save your energy. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be –“ I choke back tears. In the distance I hear sirens. Oh please hurry. For the love of everything Holy, please hurry.
3:30
Her eyes begin to close and I gently tap her chin with my thumb. “Allison…just hold on. They’re almost here. Can you hear them? They’re almost here”. I couldn’t think of what to tell her. I knew in my hear to of hearts that she wasn’t gonna make it. Just like I knew I wasn’t gonna make it. Just looking at my legs told me that I would not see another sunrise. The legs were filled with blood and I could feel something inside my chest was broken. I could feel my own life slipping, just as I knew she was slipping away from me. I held her closer and placed her head on my shoulder. “God, please. I’m begging you, don’t take her. Take me, just leave her be.”
3:00
The sirens seem to be closer and farther away at the same time. I see the ambulance lights in the distance. I look down at Allison and she’s gone. How long? 10 seconds? 25? 30? How long has she been gone? How long do I hold her? Can I let her go? Not just physically but…can I let her go? Will I have the chance to have that option? I’m suddenly blinded by a bright light shining through the cracked, busted up windshield and I cover my eyes.
2:45
I’m alone, but… not. I look around and everything seems vaguely familiar. I’m standing on the dock of a lake. I look over the water, and there’s nothing. No movement. No boats, no movement in the distance, on the other side. I turn around and see her. I cock my head to the side in surprise. What’s going on here? “Allison?” I ask, stupidly. She smiles and nods. “Where are we?” I ask her.
2:30
She takes my hand, as we sit down on the edge of the dock. Our feet dip into the cold water. I look around and then to her. “I know this place”, I said. “I know” she replies. I slowly turn my head as I take in the beauty of our surroundings, trying to place it. Then it hits me. “Where we first met” I say matter-of-factly. “You always wanted us to have time alone here, but it never worked out. Our parents kept interfering. Then we moved away, and …” her voice trailed off.
2:00
We sit in silence as we look out over the calm water. “I wanna stay here forever” I said. “We can’t” she says. I look at her with confusion. “But…why not? “ She looks at me with a sad look. “You’re not ready. It’s not your time.” “But…we’re dead…aren’t we?” I asked. She shook her head. “But I held you…I saw you…you’re…” “No.” she said. “I had to leave early to set this up. We have to move on now.” I sighed, suddenly realizing my breathing was normal again. “But…where?” “Home” she said.
1:30
Tears filled my eyes. “But Why?” I ask, anger filling my voice. “Why show me this and then take it away?” She turns and puts her back against the large pole supporting the dock. “Better things are in store. If you want it” I stare at her with confusion. “Who are you?” “Your girlfriend”. I shook my head. “No you’re not. “ She smiled. “I was brought into your life to save you..”
1:15
“Save me? Save me from WHAT?” “Yourself” she said simply. “You have many things to do. But you are not a believer. You have said God’s name twice in the last three years. Both of them were to ask a favor. This awaits you…” she waved her arm over the landscape. “…if you accept Him.”
1:00
I’m silent as I try to wrap my head around what I’m hearing and seeing. “And If I don’t?” More silence. Then. Pain. Immense pain fills my head. Then screams. Voices from my past, everyone I’ve ever known and loved. Everyone I’ve ever cared about. Screaming in pain and unadulterated agony. And the most intense heat I’ve ever known. All in the blink of an eye. I stare at her with not a small amount of fear. “I don’t know you” I say. She smiled sadly. “That’s the point”
0:30
“No, I mean. I – I – I don’t know you. You’re not my girlfriend are you?” She is silent and then she takes my hand back and holds it lovingly. “She’s fine. When you get back, she’ll be there waiting for you. “ “You aren’t her?” I ask. “No.” “Well…who ARE you?”. A smile. “I would have thought that would be fairly obvious.”
0:10
“You have to go now.” “But I don’t understand. I – I need more time, I need--"
0:00
“—more time”
“Hey buddy. You’re back. Man, I thought we were gonna lose you for a second there.”
I look up and there’s a light in my eyes but nothing like last time. I close my eyes and feel the light disappear. I open them slowly and there’s an EMT kneeling over me. I’m in an ambulance and I can hear the siren. “Allison” I managed.
“She’s fine. She’s in the other ambulance. You’re both pretty lucky if you ask me. Your seat belt broke and her airbag never deployed. Somebody upstairs must love you two.”
I closed my eyes and had a vague memory of a lake. Kinda like a dream I could remember certain things but not others. But I remembered enough.
0:30
“How long before I see her?” I asked.
The man looked at his watch, and looked through a small window between us and the driver. “How far out are we?”
A voice from the front came back and said something I couldn’t make out.
“We’re five minutes out from the hospital. You’ll be able to see her in no time. Just lay back and take it easy. You got your whole life ahead of you man. It’s just past midnight. It’s a brand new day man.
“Yeah.” I mumbled. “I guess it is.”
by Gary Anderson
5:00
Pain. At the moment the only thing that is in my world is pain. There’s noises, I think. I mean, I know there are noises but I can’t distinguish any of them from one another. It’s all a huge amalgamation of voices and a car alarm somewhere. I feel as if I am moving, but I don’t think I really am. I’ve had this feeling before, when I had a concussion playing football in high school. If I move my head to the left or right, everything seems to speed up around me as if it’s the little brother struggling to keep up with their bigger sibling in the mall. I blink my eyes a few times trying to get some semblance of balance to my world. All I can think is where am I?
The Noises begin to separate now, and I can begin to identify them. The alarm is coming from our car. Why is the alarm going off? Shouldn’t it have been deactivated if we were in the car? Wait. We. Allison. I turn my head quickly and am rewarded with a gigantic shock of pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life. My eyes are clenched shut as I scream out in agony and surprise. That’s when I hear her.
4:45
I open my eyes again -- slowly. I turn my head a little at a time in an effort to avoid the pain and I see her. Oh Allison. I lean forward, and realize as I do that the seatbelt is not around me. It snapped during the crash. So much for safety. My legs are useless. I look down and blink a few times. There’s a strange disconnect as I stare at someone’s mangled legs where mine should be. I couldn’t feel them at all. I scoot over to her, and try to open her door, but it’s smashed against a tree. I look up and the roof has been caved in and I suddenly realize that the roof smashed into the top of Allison’s head. She is looking at me. Her mouth is moving, but nothing is coming out.
4:15
Breathing is near impossible. I have to try to get some air in small gasps. Her breathing is very rapid. I reach over as far as I can and pull her towards me. She doesn’t move. I look down and see that her body is pinned by the steering wheel. I lean over and grip the wheel by the top and push as hard as I can, but in my weakened condition it won’t budge. Tears form in my eyes as I feel frustration and futility set in. I move over as far as possible and wrap my arms around her. She looks into my eyes and I bite my lip in anguish, to stop myself from breaking down in front of her, but despite my best efforts, the tears engage in a free fall down my cheeks.
3:55
I lean my head back and close my eyes. “Please God, save her.” I whisper. “Please”. I open my eyes and look back to her. Her mouth is moving again. “Baby” she manages. “I –“ I place my finger against her lips gently. “Shhh. Save your energy. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be –“ I choke back tears. In the distance I hear sirens. Oh please hurry. For the love of everything Holy, please hurry.
3:30
Her eyes begin to close and I gently tap her chin with my thumb. “Allison…just hold on. They’re almost here. Can you hear them? They’re almost here”. I couldn’t think of what to tell her. I knew in my hear to of hearts that she wasn’t gonna make it. Just like I knew I wasn’t gonna make it. Just looking at my legs told me that I would not see another sunrise. The legs were filled with blood and I could feel something inside my chest was broken. I could feel my own life slipping, just as I knew she was slipping away from me. I held her closer and placed her head on my shoulder. “God, please. I’m begging you, don’t take her. Take me, just leave her be.”
3:00
The sirens seem to be closer and farther away at the same time. I see the ambulance lights in the distance. I look down at Allison and she’s gone. How long? 10 seconds? 25? 30? How long has she been gone? How long do I hold her? Can I let her go? Not just physically but…can I let her go? Will I have the chance to have that option? I’m suddenly blinded by a bright light shining through the cracked, busted up windshield and I cover my eyes.
2:45
I’m alone, but… not. I look around and everything seems vaguely familiar. I’m standing on the dock of a lake. I look over the water, and there’s nothing. No movement. No boats, no movement in the distance, on the other side. I turn around and see her. I cock my head to the side in surprise. What’s going on here? “Allison?” I ask, stupidly. She smiles and nods. “Where are we?” I ask her.
2:30
She takes my hand, as we sit down on the edge of the dock. Our feet dip into the cold water. I look around and then to her. “I know this place”, I said. “I know” she replies. I slowly turn my head as I take in the beauty of our surroundings, trying to place it. Then it hits me. “Where we first met” I say matter-of-factly. “You always wanted us to have time alone here, but it never worked out. Our parents kept interfering. Then we moved away, and …” her voice trailed off.
2:00
We sit in silence as we look out over the calm water. “I wanna stay here forever” I said. “We can’t” she says. I look at her with confusion. “But…why not? “ She looks at me with a sad look. “You’re not ready. It’s not your time.” “But…we’re dead…aren’t we?” I asked. She shook her head. “But I held you…I saw you…you’re…” “No.” she said. “I had to leave early to set this up. We have to move on now.” I sighed, suddenly realizing my breathing was normal again. “But…where?” “Home” she said.
1:30
Tears filled my eyes. “But Why?” I ask, anger filling my voice. “Why show me this and then take it away?” She turns and puts her back against the large pole supporting the dock. “Better things are in store. If you want it” I stare at her with confusion. “Who are you?” “Your girlfriend”. I shook my head. “No you’re not. “ She smiled. “I was brought into your life to save you..”
1:15
“Save me? Save me from WHAT?” “Yourself” she said simply. “You have many things to do. But you are not a believer. You have said God’s name twice in the last three years. Both of them were to ask a favor. This awaits you…” she waved her arm over the landscape. “…if you accept Him.”
1:00
I’m silent as I try to wrap my head around what I’m hearing and seeing. “And If I don’t?” More silence. Then. Pain. Immense pain fills my head. Then screams. Voices from my past, everyone I’ve ever known and loved. Everyone I’ve ever cared about. Screaming in pain and unadulterated agony. And the most intense heat I’ve ever known. All in the blink of an eye. I stare at her with not a small amount of fear. “I don’t know you” I say. She smiled sadly. “That’s the point”
0:30
“No, I mean. I – I – I don’t know you. You’re not my girlfriend are you?” She is silent and then she takes my hand back and holds it lovingly. “She’s fine. When you get back, she’ll be there waiting for you. “ “You aren’t her?” I ask. “No.” “Well…who ARE you?”. A smile. “I would have thought that would be fairly obvious.”
0:10
“You have to go now.” “But I don’t understand. I – I need more time, I need--"
0:00
“—more time”
“Hey buddy. You’re back. Man, I thought we were gonna lose you for a second there.”
I look up and there’s a light in my eyes but nothing like last time. I close my eyes and feel the light disappear. I open them slowly and there’s an EMT kneeling over me. I’m in an ambulance and I can hear the siren. “Allison” I managed.
“She’s fine. She’s in the other ambulance. You’re both pretty lucky if you ask me. Your seat belt broke and her airbag never deployed. Somebody upstairs must love you two.”
I closed my eyes and had a vague memory of a lake. Kinda like a dream I could remember certain things but not others. But I remembered enough.
0:30
“How long before I see her?” I asked.
The man looked at his watch, and looked through a small window between us and the driver. “How far out are we?”
A voice from the front came back and said something I couldn’t make out.
“We’re five minutes out from the hospital. You’ll be able to see her in no time. Just lay back and take it easy. You got your whole life ahead of you man. It’s just past midnight. It’s a brand new day man.
“Yeah.” I mumbled. “I guess it is.”
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Short Story: A Ghost Story
A Ghost Story
by Gary Anderson
As he walked along the balcony that overlooked the street, Grant Joche tested the railing by gripping it and pulling on it. It seemed secure.
"This is a beautiful place" he commented. The woman walking behind him, stepped to his right, and leaned on the railing, looking down. The real estate agent was professionally dressed with a power suit on. Diamond earrings adorned her ears. There were several people walking along the sidewalk and coming in and out of various stores. A little boy rode his bike, directly under Grant.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Loretta Martin said. "You'd be a fool not to take it."
"This is the perfect place for me. I've been out of the area for awhile, and I am just getting back, you know? I left in such a hurry. Family matter. I just picked up and left, and have just now returned to the area. I love this town."
"Well, you should definitely love this place. Equal distance from the university, and downtown Charlottesville, this is a great location. The local transit goes right in front of this place, twice an hour."
Well, this is what I want to know." Grant said, turning around, and leaning back against the railing. "With such a great place, and a killer price why is this place still on the market? I mean it's been up for what, three months?"
Loretta sighed. This was always the rough part, where everything fell apart and hopes were dashed.
"Well, it is a great place, and as you said the price is unreal."
"But..."
"Well, a lot of people have been driven away because the place is reputed to be haunted."
Grant stared at her, his face betraying no emotion. "Really?"
"Yeah..I'm not sure if it's true, and it might be just a bunch of garbage, but it's supposedly been haunted by the ghost of a woman that died on her honeymoon."
"Wow...spooky."
"Hey, I'm not saying it's true, that's just what I'm told. And when people ask, I have to tell them, otherwise it gets out that I'm not a truthful real estate agent. And my rep is all I got, you know?"
Grant clicked his tongue and nodded. "In a world like this in which you can't trust anything, your word IS all you have. I'd like to hear about this ghost business a bit, if you don't mind."
"You're not buying are you?" Loretta asked, her voice already sounding sad.
"Never fear, I don't make snap judgments. I want to hear all of the case, before layin out my verdict."
Loretta walked with Grant back into the loft and shut the balcony doors. "Well, it supposedly happened, like, ten years ago. A couple had just gotten married, and had come back here for their wedding night. The guy had everything planned out, from what I hear. Candles were lit, the over sized mattress on the floor, rose petals, soft music, the works."
"Hmm..romantic."
"Wish I could find a guy like that," Loretta lamented. "So, they came back here and apparently surprised some burglars. They walked in, him carrying her and there are these guys going through their belongings."
"That had to be an uncomfortable meeting." Grant said.
"To say the least. From what I was told, the guys attacked the groom, and left him near death in a coma. The woman they had their way with and then killed her."
"Why leave the guy alive? I mean, a comatose witness is still a witness."
"I don't know, I just know what I'm told. The guy was in a coma for nearly six months. His wife had been buried shortly after the incident. The guy wakes up and freaks out. He starts attacking anyone he can grab. Of course after six months in a coma, the guy wasn't much of a threat. They tie him down, and after a week ship him to Eastern for some thorough studying if you know what I mean."
"Pretty much."
"So he can't accept his wife's death. He doesn't believe it, he thinks she's still out there at home waiting for him, or something. The doctors of course realize this guy is nuttier than a fruitcake and decides he needs to have some vacation time. On them. So he's admitted and from all I know he may still be there. If he hasn't died, I hear weird stories about what goes on in those places."
"So this couple gets married, before they can consummate their relationship he's beaten half to death, she's raped and killed and now her ghost haunts this place? What, does his ghost haunt Eastern?"
"Look, laugh all you want, I hear it's true. I hear she walks around here and scares the bejeezus out of the last four or five tenants. One guy didn't even mind. I hear they played cards together, or something. If that's even possible. Supposedly it's always at eight pm she shows up."
"Eight pm every night? At least she's punctual. So what happened to the guys? The attackers I mean. Did they catch them, or did they skip free?" Grant asked.
"Well," Loretta said, "I think two of them had been arrested, and the third guy killed himself before they could get a hold of him. Seems he didn't wanna go to prison."
"Well, hopefully they don't have bars on his suite in Hell."
The two sat there for a few moments not saying anything. Grant looked around and sighed.
"Look," Grant said. "I'll take the place. Do I get a ghost rate? I mean you can't sell this place to save your life. How bout throwing in a toaster or something?"
Loretta smiled, "Not a chance Grant. Take it or leave it. I know you want it. I can tell it by looking at you."
"Yeah, I want it. It's nice, great location, hell of a good price, and let's face it...ghosts are hard to come by."
They chuckled a bit at that, and then Loretta stood up. "I'll draw up the papers and bring them by in the morning." She reached into her bag and pulled out a manila envelope. "Here are the keys, and some information about the area. Little something to help you get around, you know?"
"Much obliged, m'lady."
"No problem. I'll see you in the morning." Loretta said, walking out the door. Grant heard the door close and sat back on the sofa. He stretched his legs out and exhaled. He looked at his watch. 6:30. Beside the watch, he noticed the white plastic band that bore his name and a seven digit number after it.
He stared at it for a few minutes, before pulling a pocket knife out and slicing it off. He held it up and looked at it before tossing it in a garbage can that sat beside the end table. He then rubbed the red mark around his wrist where the band had been for the past six years. It was good to have it off.
Another hour and a half. He exhales again, as he begins to sing. "Reunited, and it feels so good."
by Gary Anderson
As he walked along the balcony that overlooked the street, Grant Joche tested the railing by gripping it and pulling on it. It seemed secure.
"This is a beautiful place" he commented. The woman walking behind him, stepped to his right, and leaned on the railing, looking down. The real estate agent was professionally dressed with a power suit on. Diamond earrings adorned her ears. There were several people walking along the sidewalk and coming in and out of various stores. A little boy rode his bike, directly under Grant.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Loretta Martin said. "You'd be a fool not to take it."
"This is the perfect place for me. I've been out of the area for awhile, and I am just getting back, you know? I left in such a hurry. Family matter. I just picked up and left, and have just now returned to the area. I love this town."
"Well, you should definitely love this place. Equal distance from the university, and downtown Charlottesville, this is a great location. The local transit goes right in front of this place, twice an hour."
Well, this is what I want to know." Grant said, turning around, and leaning back against the railing. "With such a great place, and a killer price why is this place still on the market? I mean it's been up for what, three months?"
Loretta sighed. This was always the rough part, where everything fell apart and hopes were dashed.
"Well, it is a great place, and as you said the price is unreal."
"But..."
"Well, a lot of people have been driven away because the place is reputed to be haunted."
Grant stared at her, his face betraying no emotion. "Really?"
"Yeah..I'm not sure if it's true, and it might be just a bunch of garbage, but it's supposedly been haunted by the ghost of a woman that died on her honeymoon."
"Wow...spooky."
"Hey, I'm not saying it's true, that's just what I'm told. And when people ask, I have to tell them, otherwise it gets out that I'm not a truthful real estate agent. And my rep is all I got, you know?"
Grant clicked his tongue and nodded. "In a world like this in which you can't trust anything, your word IS all you have. I'd like to hear about this ghost business a bit, if you don't mind."
"You're not buying are you?" Loretta asked, her voice already sounding sad.
"Never fear, I don't make snap judgments. I want to hear all of the case, before layin out my verdict."
Loretta walked with Grant back into the loft and shut the balcony doors. "Well, it supposedly happened, like, ten years ago. A couple had just gotten married, and had come back here for their wedding night. The guy had everything planned out, from what I hear. Candles were lit, the over sized mattress on the floor, rose petals, soft music, the works."
"Hmm..romantic."
"Wish I could find a guy like that," Loretta lamented. "So, they came back here and apparently surprised some burglars. They walked in, him carrying her and there are these guys going through their belongings."
"That had to be an uncomfortable meeting." Grant said.
"To say the least. From what I was told, the guys attacked the groom, and left him near death in a coma. The woman they had their way with and then killed her."
"Why leave the guy alive? I mean, a comatose witness is still a witness."
"I don't know, I just know what I'm told. The guy was in a coma for nearly six months. His wife had been buried shortly after the incident. The guy wakes up and freaks out. He starts attacking anyone he can grab. Of course after six months in a coma, the guy wasn't much of a threat. They tie him down, and after a week ship him to Eastern for some thorough studying if you know what I mean."
"Pretty much."
"So he can't accept his wife's death. He doesn't believe it, he thinks she's still out there at home waiting for him, or something. The doctors of course realize this guy is nuttier than a fruitcake and decides he needs to have some vacation time. On them. So he's admitted and from all I know he may still be there. If he hasn't died, I hear weird stories about what goes on in those places."
"So this couple gets married, before they can consummate their relationship he's beaten half to death, she's raped and killed and now her ghost haunts this place? What, does his ghost haunt Eastern?"
"Look, laugh all you want, I hear it's true. I hear she walks around here and scares the bejeezus out of the last four or five tenants. One guy didn't even mind. I hear they played cards together, or something. If that's even possible. Supposedly it's always at eight pm she shows up."
"Eight pm every night? At least she's punctual. So what happened to the guys? The attackers I mean. Did they catch them, or did they skip free?" Grant asked.
"Well," Loretta said, "I think two of them had been arrested, and the third guy killed himself before they could get a hold of him. Seems he didn't wanna go to prison."
"Well, hopefully they don't have bars on his suite in Hell."
The two sat there for a few moments not saying anything. Grant looked around and sighed.
"Look," Grant said. "I'll take the place. Do I get a ghost rate? I mean you can't sell this place to save your life. How bout throwing in a toaster or something?"
Loretta smiled, "Not a chance Grant. Take it or leave it. I know you want it. I can tell it by looking at you."
"Yeah, I want it. It's nice, great location, hell of a good price, and let's face it...ghosts are hard to come by."
They chuckled a bit at that, and then Loretta stood up. "I'll draw up the papers and bring them by in the morning." She reached into her bag and pulled out a manila envelope. "Here are the keys, and some information about the area. Little something to help you get around, you know?"
"Much obliged, m'lady."
"No problem. I'll see you in the morning." Loretta said, walking out the door. Grant heard the door close and sat back on the sofa. He stretched his legs out and exhaled. He looked at his watch. 6:30. Beside the watch, he noticed the white plastic band that bore his name and a seven digit number after it.
He stared at it for a few minutes, before pulling a pocket knife out and slicing it off. He held it up and looked at it before tossing it in a garbage can that sat beside the end table. He then rubbed the red mark around his wrist where the band had been for the past six years. It was good to have it off.
Another hour and a half. He exhales again, as he begins to sing. "Reunited, and it feels so good."
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