It's Probably Haunted

Chapter 22

To be honest, I was a little more impressed with their discovery than I had let on. I still didn't grasp the grand implication that was on display but I felt comfortable enough with my assumptions to put them to test. If the camera could cause the lamp and table to remain shattered, then it was possible it could cause the staircase to remain seated in the corner where it belonged. It could also cause the black plastic and dirty windows to stay clear of their inconsistent cluttering habits.

I probably should have let Mina have the pleasure of presenting me with these ideas, but she had tried to kill me, so I felt like she owed me one or two moments of stolen delight. Calvin didn't seem to care that I had stolen his moment in the sun, and I didn't care if he did, so it all worked out.

I was desperate to try my experiment on the stairs but first I needed to find a way to summon them. I recalled that Mina and Calvin had thought it was funny that I was missing a set of stairs before. I hadn't put much thought into it, since they seemed to think most everything in the world was funny after dying, and I assumed they were just happy to be dead. It was obvious that they knew more than I did about the house. It seemed plausible that they would know exactly how to summon the staircase and, the house willing, I would be able to get into the rooms born without keys upstairs.

My plan would have probably worked and I would have been able to set everything in motion within a few minutes, if I hadn't been an asshole to Mina about the camera I was now waiting to use. She was far from sympathetic to my cause and I knew that not even my saddest puppy eyes would going to get me out of the dog house.

Calvin sat near us, amused at the situation, and puffed on his finger to pass the time. I felt like a kid asking his parents to go outside but knowing I was grounded indefinitely. No matter what I might say, there was no way Mina was going to let me go play with my camera until I proved I could be a good little boy and learn to behave.

I was down on one knee, considering my next proposal to the girl who once haunted my dreams. Having her haunt my house had turned out to be much more nightmarish than I could have ever imagined. I decided to start cleaning the windows again and let her calm down before trying again.

The process took longer than I had anticipated and it was nearly dark again by the time I had finished. Mina and Calvin had drifted off on another one of their haunted holidays and I prepared to dump the bucket of dirty water outside. As my hand twisted the knob, my brain twisted my head to look at the camera. I stooped to place the bucket at the door and went to pick up the camera. I took a few shots of the room, attempting to click an image into place of each window. I took care not to overdub the sections. Mina had said something about taking a picture of the same spot but hadn't been clear on the implications. Leaving nothing to chance, I arranged the photos in front of me, scanned the room for sufficient similarity, then went out the front door and kicked the bucket.

I don't mean that metaphorically. I kicked the damn bucket I had set near the door before taking the pictures. Nasty, smelly water poured over the porch and trickled down through the cracks like a Republican wet dream. I kicked the bucket again and sent it fleeing into the yard.

Entering back into the house, I was relieved to find that the room had remained unchanged. The camera seemed to be doing what it had alluded to and I wanted to show Mina and Calvin my accomplishment but they had yet to return. With night coming quickly, the light fading inside the house, I slumped into a corner and waited for the darkness to settle around me. I fell into a dense sleep and found a new girl waiting to visit me in my dreams.

Her hair was the color of leaves turning in the fall. Branches of brown wrapped through the darkened red bush propped on her head. She had brown eyes that shied away from the public behind a pair of large framed glasses and a smile that, at best, registered as sheepish. Her crimped off-white dress swayed around her ankles; which were encased in tan dress shoes that had seen better days.

She was standing at what I realized to be an old train platform; she held no luggage so I assumed she was there to meet someone. The only thing in her hands was a sleek gold necklace that she seemed to be unsure what to do with. She looped her fingers around the jewelry and passed it from hand to hand; never once stopping to watch herself work. Her hands froze in place as a train came into view, stopped to let off passengers, and a platoon of soldiers piled out onto the platform.

Women and children stampeded forward, grabbing their loved ones for a long-awaited embrace. I stepped closer so I wouldn't lose sight of the redhead and ignored the people ignoring me. She remained alone. I thought she looked deaf to the cacophony of cries and laughter swirling around her. Her frozen gaze stayed faithfully on the opening in the train that promised to fulfill her fantasy until the last passenger departed.

As the train pulled away, the families began to file back to their homes, husbands holding wives, fathers kissing children, smiles on all the faces but one. The autumn haired woman stood her ground; afraid or unable to move, she stared at the empty space where her husband should have been. She faltered while playing with the necklace and it slipped onto the platform before sliding down into the track.

I watched her wipe her eyes on the hem of her dress; checking first to make sure no one was looking. She then put one foot off of the platform, as if dipping her feet into a pool, before pulling it out again and looking around at the families; most of which had already left the immediate area. I continued to watch, with rising suspicion, as the woman hopped from the platform and crouched down in search of her necklace.

I walked to the edge of the platform and looked down at the woman digging in the dirt. The whistle of an incoming train let its shrill howl fill the air and the woman looked up in horror. Failing to decide upon safety, she continued to search the ground for her fallen necklace. I attempted to warn her of the immense danger she was in, but she didn't seem to hear me. If she had, she was refusing to listen, so I watched on in morbid curiosity to see what would happen.

The woman jerked upright suddenly following the second whistle, much closer now, but was pulled down just as fast by the jewelry she held in her hand. It had somehow wrapped itself around one of the railroad ties and was wedging itself in more with every tug. Her head pivoted from the train, now in view, and the stubborn necklace threatening her life. I stepped away expecting the worst, and realizing I didn't want to see it happen, when I heard the squeal of the woman and the train grinding to a stop.

The sound following was not what I had been preparing myself for. Laughter broke out followed by more squealing and what sounded like an awful lot of publicly displayed affection for the 1940s that I assumed I was dreaming about. Arcane PSAs aside, the sound forced me to turn and face the facts that the woman hadn't died. Instead, I found her dangling from the arms of a soldier. His right hand was caressing her stomach as his left held her head up; she seemed to love every second.

I stepped closer, wanting to better hear their conversation and took a better look at the soldier. The woman had started gesturing to the tracks and then to her neck. As I closed in on their position, the soldier seemed to perk up like he was aware of the invasion. I almost fled, but then he pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to the redhead. She reluctantly let go of him and took the package from his hand. Flipping it open, she put her hand to her mouth and hugged him tightly.

After they broke free from each other, the soldier helped her put the new necklace around her neck and they kissed again. I was standing just a foot or two from them and was holding my gaze on the soldiers' chest. Placed there, like it should be no surprise, was a pinned badge that said Sgt. Belleflower. Thinking more of Sgt. Pepper, I watched them walk away; leaving me as the last remaining member of the Lonely Hearts Club Band.