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ivyunrested · 9 months

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"ghostie." <3

This is my first story I'm posting to this blog, so I'm open to critiques or reviews! It's a little short story that I wrote because I am craving Halloween despite it being mid-July (this happens every year). I hope you enjoy reading!

word count: 2870 words

not proofread!

☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Another Halloween alone, I thought to myself, watching the popcorn bag sizzle and pop in the microwave, spinning slowly with a dull hum. I sat back against the counter, folding my arms over my chest as I picked at my lips absentmindedly. How long has it been since I spent Halloween with a date? A few years at least. I hadn’t had a long term relationship since college.

I started as the microwave stopped with an alarming beep, opening the microwave and pulling out the hot, steaming bag, the leaking butter burning my fingers slightly. I quickly set it down on the counter, opening it with a tear. I picked up the hastily written list on the counter, glancing at the horror movies I had promised myself to watch during October. I smiled, it looked like tonight’s was Wes Craven's Scream. One of my favorite slasher films.

I glanced at the dial clock on the stove, noting the time–10:28 PM. I walked over to the couch, falling onto it and setting the popcorn next to me before frantically digging through the cushions to find the remote. With a sound of triumph, I wrenched it out of the couch, flicking on the DVD player. I pulled myself up from the couch, stumbling over a blanket on the floor before catching myself.

My head whipped to the window on my left. There, a flash, gone in an instant. A pang of fear shot through me, dropping my heart to my pelvis. I shake my head, before walking over to the window and pulling down the blinds.

“Probably just a bug or something…”, I mumbled to myself, swallowing hard. I shook my head again, turning back to the DVD player. After taking the tape out of its plastic covering, I slip it into the player, processing it with a series of mechanical clicks before a faint whirring begins, and I sit back down on the couch. I start the movie, and it’s only a few moments before Drew Barrymore’s face appears, her blond hair swaying with her movements.

I watched her as she makes her popcorn and goes through the scene where she talks on the phone with the stranger, cozy on the couch, covered in blankets as I nibble on the popcorn. I watched entranced, despite having seen this movie many times before.

Then, as the murderer drags her body across the lawn, my own phone rings. My heart pangs with fear and I freeze, hand still in the popcorn bag. For a split second, I think it’s the movie, but that hope is short lived as I look towards the kitchen, my own phone sitting on the receiver and ringing loudly.

I laugh to myself, about how psyched out I am about a stupid phone ringing. I wrestle out of the blanket and place the popcorn to the side, walking towards the phone as the movie continues to play behind me. I pick up the phone gingerly, placing it to my ear and leaning against the counter.

“Hello?”, I say into the phone, watching the tiles of the kitchen floor as I wait for a response. One doesn’t come.

“Mom? I don’t know how the reception is, but I can’t hear you.”, I say, vaguely making out static on the other end of the line. I glance out the window in the kitchen, watching the rain patter harshly against the glass.

“Call back later. Bye.”, I say, clicking the END button and setting the phone back on the receiver. I walk back to the couch, throwing myself on it before resuming my earlier position, curled up in the blanket and munching on popcorn.

About fifteen minutes later, the phone rings again. I think to myself that it must be Mom calling back, or maybe one of my friends trying to prank me. Either way, I stand up, sighing as I do, and walk back to the kitchen. Pulling the phone off of the receiver.

“Hello?” I say, a small note of annoyance in my voice as I place a hand to my hip, listening for a response. Once again, there is none. I wait for a moment, about to hang up, before I hear a noise.

It’s not a voice, per say, but more of a combination of voice-like sounds, along with faint metallic noises, all brushed over with static. I listen for a moment, not saying another word. It sounds like the voice-like sounds get closer to their end of the line, and I make out something that is almost words.

“D…door…door…pl…ease…door…” It says, amongst the metallic sounds and odd vibrations. It sounds like someone far away, and the voice is small, distant. The voice is barely audible, and sounds almost like a whimper.

“Hello?”I called out again, this time louder, as if they didn’t hear me the first time. I glance at the television, briefly wondering if I’m hearing things. The voice continues, and I sigh, hanging up the phone with a click. I didn’t know if it was a lame prank or not, but either way, there was no use in staying on the line.

I walk back to the couch, this time holding a pillow to my chest as I sit, watching the screen. Despite the movie, my ears listened to the room around me, waiting for something. My own anxiety grew as the silence besides the television persisted. The only other noise was the patter of the rain and the occasional smack of a beetle hitting the window, drawn by the light. There was no way I was turning the lights off now, I thought to myself.

The movie continues, and I start to relax, sinking into the familiar storyline and characters. I yawn, moving into a horizontal position on the couch, pillow and popcorn long forgotten. My cat even comes to watch with me, curled up next to me warmly.

While the characters arrive at the house where the ending will take place, I briefly notice the lights in the kitchen flicker. I sit up, now on guard as I watch the light, almost challenging it to flicker again when I’m watching it. I sit there for a moment, my breath coming out quick, short, and quiet as I watch the light. It doesn’t flicker again, and I turn my eyes back to the television.

I try to focus on the movie, but my attention is elsewhere, the heat rushing in my ears as my body stays still, waiting. Suddenly, my cat jumps up from her spot on the couch, dashing to the front door and meowing. Which is something she only does when someone knocks on the door or is coming inside.

“No way…” I mumble to myself, hiding myself as I look over the back of my couch at the door. I listened for one, but there was no knock at the door. The only thing to be heard was the movie in the background, the voices rising as the killer started their rampage, and my cat, who had started pawing at the door along with meowing loudly.

I slink from the couch, watching the door as I move to the window next to it, peeking through the blinds warily, but also familiarizing myself with the umbrella sitting next to it, in case there was an issue. Not the best choice of self defense weapon, but it would do in a jiffy.

I don’t see anything but the wet driveway and wind-blown trees when I look through the window, but my cat won’t let up. For my own sanity and hers, apparently, I was going to have to open the door. I pick her up gently, her black fur soft against my skin as I hold her to my chest. She strains away from me, trying to get to the door.

I peek through the peep-hole, still seeing nothing, before unlocking the deadbolt and door lock, gently opening a crack in the door.

“Fuck!” I let out a scream, dropping my cat and slamming the door, the former rushing towards my bedroom, a black flash escaping the frantic note of my voice. There, outside, was a man. Cloaked in clothes that looked like he had found them in a costume shop for the 1800’s, completely soaked to the bone, and standing at my door, shivering, was a man.

How had I not seen him before? I checked through the window and the peep-hole and saw nothing. Also, he hadn’t knocked, and he was just…standing there. I grabbed the umbrella, readying myself to threaten him with it if he didn’t leave. I pulled open the door again, this time wider than a crack, but not by much. Only my face could be seen on the other side.

“Hello? Do you need something?” I asked him, fear evident in my wavering voice. What I really wanted was to run and hide in my room, but I did not want him just standing in front of my door either. I watched him closely. He looked down, as if ashamed of his wet clothes, before looking at me. I squinted at him–he looked fuzzy around the edges. I briefly wondered if my glasses were dirty and that’s why he appeared that way, but quickly dismissed that thought.

“Hello…I am sorry to disturb you at this hour. May I come in? It's quite cold out here.” He asked, his eyes pleading.

Honestly, if he wasn’t a strange man in Victorian clothing appearing at my door in the middle of the night on Halloween, I would find him attractive. His voice was smooth and deep, with a barely noticeable British accent, and his dark curls were swept across his forehead in such a way inclined me to believe that he hadn’t had a warm place to stay in a while, and the dark circles under his darker eyes only solidified that notion. But I wasn’t insane, and I wasn’t about to let this handsome, fuzzy-around-the-edges stranger come into my home. I looked at him hard, my gaze taking him in.

“I don’t think so, sir. I don’t know you. Do you need to use a phone? I can bring you mine if you need to make a call for someone to pick you up or something. And I can bring you a towel…if you would like.” I say, feeling slightly guilty at my words as I glance down at his white shirt, sticking to his skin and transparent with water. Maybe it was the lighting, but he was so pale, almost gray, as if there was no warmth in his body. He seemed very innocent, and very tired, but I had heard too many true crime stories about this sort of thing. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he looked away before letting out a small chuckle, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I wouldn’t have anyone to call. Though I would appreciate that towel very much.” He said, looking at me with a faint smile in his eyes, his voice light with laughter, despite the situation. He shivered and brushed his wet curls back before wrapping his arms around himself, obviously trying to gain some semblance of warmth, and I felt another pang of guilt, this time strong enough for me to do something about it. I nodded, before taking a breath.

“Okay, you can come inside. But only to the foyer, so don’t go snooping around the house. I don’t want the floor to get wet.” I said, opening the door a little to let him inside and placing the umbrella back into it's basket. I was praying that I wouldn’t regret this later as I closed the door behind him, his wet, leather boots squeaking as he entered.

“You have a very nice house here.” He said, glancing around the room, but keeping his feet rooted in the foyer like I had directed him to. I walked past him, lowering the volume on the television before taking one last glance at him, and walking to the bathroom. I practically speed-walked, not wanting to leave him where I couldn’t see him for very long. I quickly reached into the bathroom, grabbing one of the soft, white towels from the shelf near the door.

I turned back into the hallway, watching him poke around at the trinkets lining the shelf in the foyer. As I walked back to him, my cat followed, rushing ahead of me to rub against his legs affectionately. I passed him the towel eagerly.

“Here you go. Sorry about her, she loves guests. I hope you’re not allergic.” I said, crossing my arms as I watched him dry his hair, slowly working his way down. The more I stared at him, the more I started to question his appearance.

“Ah, Thank you. I’m not allergic. Not anymore at least.” He said with a smile, placing the towel around his neck before stooping down to pet my cat gently, scratching her head as she began to purr loudly. She flopped down on his feet, eliciting a chuckle from the strange man. I worried for a moment, but I had to admit, to myself of course, that it was pretty cute. I had no idea what he meant by ‘not anymore’, but I brushed it off.

“If it’s not awkward to ask, why are you dressed like that?” I asked, tilting my head slightly as I leaned back against the back of the couch, curious. I had been wondering about that for a while. Maybe it was a Halloween costume?

“These are just my clothes, I’m afraid.” He said with a shrug, unbuttoning his shirt. I had expected him to only unbutton the first or maybe second button, but he kept going, exposing his pale–almost gray–chest. I turned away, placing a hand to my face to shield from looking at him.

“I didn’t realize that you planned on undressing…By the way, I didn’t catch your name.” I said, still avoiding eye contact despite hearing him laugh at my prudence. I played with the hem of my nightgown, silently cursing myself for not wearing something more conservative.

“I’m not getting fully undressed, and you’ve limited me to your foyer, but I apologize for my indecency. My name is Claude Archer Ellington, at your service.” He said, bowing slightly. I thought, with the manner that he was speaking, that he was about to try and kiss my hand or something, but he did not. I didn’t know if I was relieved or disappointed. I glanced at him, moving my hand away from my face. He was shirtless, his skin a light gray color. It was even more difficult now to see the outline of him, and his chest had a large scar across it. My heart sunk down in fear as I watched him–there was no way he was a normal human. Not with that color of skin. I gulped, anxiety coursing through me, before I opened my mouth.

“What are you?” I blurted, immediately regretting saying it. I covered my hand with my mouth and backed away from him slightly, watching him with uneasiness. He continued wiping himself with the towel before pausing, thinking for a moment.

“Well, I am a human, of course. But I suppose the answer to your question is…well, dead. I am dead. A ghost, last I checked.” He said nonchalantly, looking up at me with eyes that slowly stared at me, waiting for a response. He didn’t smile or frown, just remained neutral, placing the towel around his neck. I blinked rapidly, backing away from him.

“What? A ghost? How?” I stammered, my eyes rapidly taking in every inch of him. He was clothed in Victorian era clothing, spoke like a Victorian gentleman, had gray skin that I couldn’t quite make out, and now that I listened harder to the cadence of his voice, there was a slight static tone to it, immediately making me think of the phone call I received earlier.

“Were you the person who was calling me earlier?” I asked, rapidly firing questions at him as he stood there, not advancing towards me at all. He scratched the back of his head, looking upwards with a sigh before making eye contact with me again.

“Yes, that was me. I was trying to encourage you to open the door, but…I’m not very good with your modern technology,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down bashfully, “And yes, I am a ghost. Have you…never seen one before?” He asked, looking back up at me, tilting his head slightly as if genuinely surprised.

“No, I have not seen a ghost before.” I said, trying to calm down. From what I could tell, he didn’t seem to be a dangerous ghost, but I wasn’t going to ask him that. I had a better question in mind.

“Why did you come here? To my house, I mean.”

“Why wouldn’t I? It was once my house too, long before it was yours. I’ve been traveling, and decided to come home. You’ve kept the place up nicely, dear.” He said, smiling in that secret way, behind his eyes. I stepped towards him warily, as I was still unsure of him, but his story seemed plausible. I offered him a hand to shake, swallowing hard before speaking.

“Well then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Claude. From one tenant to another.”

#writing #creative writing #ghost #Halloween #spooky #short story #oc #first story #i cant think of any more tags

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