A Ghost or....is it?

A Short Story

The pale green curtain blew with the whiplash from the fan for the hundredth time this week. A few weeks ago, the fan wasn’t strong enough to bother anything in the room, but now, I never see the curtain not flowing in the wind. Though, nothing else, not papers, not the other curtains, not anything else seems to change or be bothered in the least bit.

Which brings me to my point, there must be a ghost in this house. But I’m so confused and don’t have a clue of who it could possibly be. You see, I live in a new house. I’m fairly young, and haven’t had anyone close to me die in the past decade. And if it was that one person, my Aunt who died over ten years ago, then wouldn’t she have shown herself by now?

So that concludes that idea, it cannot be my Aunt.

So who else?

I decide to count off the list in my mind of anyone, if anyone, has died in my past.

Chris, the boy from college. Oh he was a hotty alright, and he died in a terrible accident. But no, I didn’t know him that well, and most definitely could not definitely yes, NOT be him.

How about the girl at work? Hmmm…maybe. I did work with her for two years, and we did hang out a lot in the lounge, and I did steal her yummy Italian lunch one time, but no. It most definitely could not be her. I don’t even remember her name, I called her Jane, but I’m pretty sure that was short for something else.

As I try to keep counting dead people on my fingers, which really isn’t many, my dog decides to bark at the UPS guy that just dropped off my husband’s package for work, at the front door. Which then in turn starts a repetitive bark from my other dog, the old deaf border collie. They bark back and forth and then growl a little when I walk into the room.

“Shhhhh! Stupid dogs, you’ll wake the baby!” I shout though not too loud as to wake him myself.

I swear sometimes I don’t know why we have dogs. As much as I love them, I think I loved them way more before we had children. Now I just feel like I’m taking care of a house full of kids, though there’s really only one.

***

It’s late, and my evening was rather boring, my husband is already in bed snoring so loud that he’s about to make the dogs start barking again.  I swear, since that curtain has started moving, they’ve been much much more jumpy. Normally, they’d be asleep by now, not a care in the world.

One of them, the aussie, has these dreams at night that cause her to run in her sleep and make a half bark half whine noise out the side of her mouth through clenched teeth. I literally have to rub her back and shake her a little to wake her out of it. I wonder what dogs even dream about anyways? Especially, when they’re inside most of the day and don’t get much action outdoors. 

I decide to finish up a few chores around the house, the usual drabby stuff like sweep and mop.

There’s that damn curtain again.

Moving and Flowing.

I even just got a chill across my arms and neck, and the air isn’t running in the house right now. So now, not only is there a moving curtain and jumpy dogs, but I can also add spontaneous chills to the list.  And I still cannot think of anyone that it might be, the ghost I mean.

I decide to work on the dishes, they’re piled over the right side of the sink and falling into the left side. Which truly drives me nuts.

I reach over and turn and pull the faucet handle up and to the left, turning it on full blast. Water spews out from the middle, where the two parts of the handle connect, and I gently pull the handle down a bit to fix the problem.

I put my fingers underneath, waiting for the water to become warm. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the water is steaming hot.  The steam fogs up the window in front of me, and I stare at it waiting for some message any message to appear.

“Who’s there?” I continue staring at the foggy glass.

“Please, I know you’re there. Just say something, or do something.”

I wait for a few minutes, letting the window stay fogged a little longer. I start feeling a chill run over my neck and across my back, and then I feel something in my ear.

“Hey baby.” I JUMP and turn around.

It’s my husband.

“John! Uggh,” I laugh and backhand him on the chest.

“You know you’re crazy right?” He says mocking me.

“Go back to bed will ya,” I smile.

“I am, I just need a glass of water.” After he grabs a drink, he kisses me on the cheek goodnight.

And I go back to doing the dishes.

There are more bowls and cups than the normal couple uses in a week. But I have this thing, a habit. I never use the same glass twice, I’m not sure why. I know it’s okay to drink after myself, but something about reusing glasses grosses me out. It always has, ever since I was little. My habit drove my parents insane when I was younger.

After I put the last plate in the washer, I looked down and saw my usual puddle of H2O that I always make when doing the dishes. I leaned over and grabbed one of the red kitchen towels from the island next to me and BANG! I slipped hitting my head on the counter and landed on the open washer. I grabbed my head and started to call out for John.

I tried to at least.

My voice wasn’t working and as I grabbed my throat, I felt something sticking out the side of it.

My fingers touched what it was, the black handle from one of the knives that I had just placed in the holder for cleaning was protruding from my flesh.

I laid there unable to move in my own personal pool of blood, and looked up.

A man dressed in black with long black hair and nails was standing over me. He wasn’t translucent and he wasn’t a ghost. He started to say something to me, and surprisingly I understood him.

He reached out his hand for me to grasp and helped me up. I looked down, and there my body was, dead and not yet cold.

“Hello Sarah, I’ve been waiting for you. I’m DEATH," he said.