Ghost Stories - October, 2009

Loved to Death

The sun hung high in the midday sky. Family and friends had gathered under a large canopy tent to attend the grave side service for Jonathan Hill’s mother. The pastor conducting the service was reading from John 14:27 “Let not your heart be troubled…” when his words began to trail off, leaving him staring toward the back of the tent.

“Can I help you?” The pastor asked a man; a doctor, standing just at the edge of the tent. The doctor was garbed in his surgical scrubs from head to toe. Those in attendance- including Jon and his father, who set at the front nearest to the open casket- turned down the aisle to look at the sudden arrival.

“I would like to say a few words.” The doctor stated as he made his way down the walkway toward the front of the service. He stopped just at the casket and positioned himself behind it, facing the family- Jon and his dad.

“I’m so sorry… There wasn’t anything more I could do…” The doctor reached into the casket, pulling from it slowly a slimy, bloody, screaming new born baby girl. He held it toward the two.

“I’m sorry!”

Jon shot upright from the couch. His breathing was deep, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “Just a dream,” he breathed a sigh of relief. The same dream had been plaguing his sleep ever since the move.

“Change is healthy; it’ll help to start somewhere new, somewhere to make new memories,” His father had told him.

“Help who?” He wished he had asked him then. It was hard enough for a fifteen year old to cope with the loss of his mother seven months ago but to ask him to up and move, leaving behind everything he'd ever known? That was too much.

Jon knew better, though. He knew the move was more for his father- he had been looking for a way out long before his mother’s death. Jon could still hear their late night fighting in his head- his father going on about how this wasn’t the life he wanted and his mother calling him a coward, among other things. Nevertheless, no matter what was said, screamed, or thrown his mom always came into his room after the situation had matured- sometimes her eyes red from crying or her voice hoarse from yelling, but she would assure him the same thing every time: “We’ll always be a family,” and sealed it with a kiss.

Suddenly there was a boom of thunder and a flash of lightening, that sent Jon jumping out of thought. The storm had been raging on all night and showed no sign of letting up. From up stairs, he could make out his baby sister, Melissa, crying- likely brought on by the weather. Jon looked to the clock on the wall. “Nine-seventeen; Dad should be home soon,” he reminded himself thankfully. Like most teens, he despised babysitting.

Jon sprang off the sofa and headed to the stair case near the foyer. He reluctantly began to ascend the stairs, and with every step he took, his sister’s crying became more and more audible over the unwavering storm outside. Just as he reached the second floor, the lights cut off- freezing him where he was- only to flicker back to life a moment later. “That was close.” He told himself as he continued into the hall towards his sister’s room.

Standing at Melissa’s door, her shrieking was even worse: the kind of noise that made your teeth hurt- like nails to a chalkboard or dry sand crunching beneath your bare toes. Jon reached for the knob. “What the…?” He wondered puzzled as to why the door wouldn’t open. He tried the knob the other way then both ways again but with a bit more force- it still didn’t budge. The door was locked. “But how?”

Just when Jon thought the situation couldn’t get any more difficult, the lights cut out once more- this time without powering back on. In the pitch black, things seemed heightened- silence twice as quiet and the slightest of noises amplified. His sister’s crying was no exception, going from ear throbbing to ear piercing. Jon had to get to her for her sake and his sanity’s. “The window!” The thought suddenly crossed his mind. There was a trellis under the window that he could climb. It seemed to be a good enough idea- to a fifteen year old boy at least.

Pushing through the dark, he cautiously made his way back down stairs- away from the maddening, dominating sounds of his sisters crying, back to where the storm’s rage ruled. Jon followed along the wall, across the living room, and into the kitchen where he found his way to the rear door that led to the backyard. He opened it to a strong gust that swept it from his grasp, slamming it against the wall. Wind and rain rushed inside in frenzy, sending Jon in a panic to quickly get the door closed, which he did.

“Maybe I’ll just wait for Dad to get home,” he thought, second-guessing his ingenious plan. As if Melissa had read his mind, her screams seemed to erupt tenfold, batting back his most recent idea. Jon huffed, shaking his head in frustration at what he was about to do. He halfheartedly opened the backdoor once more- this time bracing it to hold the weather at bay, as he stood behind it like a shield peering out into the night. The storm was relentless: wild winds tossing the rain madly in all angles.

Jon frowned before braving into the darkness where he was instantly drenched. Wasting no time, he moved across the porch- his eyes squinting in an attempt to look through the night and rain on his way towards his purpose. He kept running, off the patio, and onto the flooded grass until he stopped under Melissa’s window. The eager teen leapt onto the trellis, scaling it as quickly as possible. Reaching the ledge, he pulled his top half up to look into the glass. There was nothing but blackness and his reflection staring back at him. Just when Jon made an attempt for the window, right before his very eyes, his own reflection seemed to fade into a pale woman’s- his mother’s. He gasped at the sight which startled him backward and sent him falling from the ledge. He hit the wet ground head and back first with a thud.

--

Jon’s eyes blinked open. He was lying on the couch, completely soaked, with a throbbing headache. “How?” He questioned as he sat up, noticing the lights were back on. The teen remembered making a try for the window and slipping off the trellis, but “How did I get back in…?” His sister’s screams interrupted the thought. It had gotten to the point where he wanted to scream back at her, tell her to shut-up. Instead, he took a deep breath before rolling off the couch, and marching towards the stairs with purpose. Jon meant to get in that room if he had to kick down the door to do so.

Just as he reached the foyer the distinct sound of metal crunching sounded outside, stopping him where he was. It abruptly dawned on him his dad wasn’t home yet, and it sent his heart plummeting into his gut, causing a sickening feeling. Jon hurriedly averted his course towards the front door where swung it open. The storm had let up- yet the boy hadn’t noticed, for his eyes were fixed across the street on his father’s car wrapped around the base of a large tree. Jon took off through the doorway, sprinting past the driveway, and across the street.

“DAD!” He screamed as he arrived at the scene. The car had t-boned the tree on the driver’s side. His dad was motionless within the vehicle, and there was a splat of crimson where the tree and driver’s side window had met. “DAD!” Jon screamed once more- his mind now on one track- making sure his father was okay. Tears brought on by fear had already begun to pool up in the corners of his eyes. He frantically scrambled around the car, making his way to the passenger side but suddenly halted. Something had caught his eye.

Looking down at the end of the street- the direction his dad had been coming- there was woman in a hospital gown standing in the rain- an apparition of his mother. Jon couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t speak or move. It felt like an ice cube had melted down the arch of his back and had frozen him in place. The tears; however, continued- now streaming down his cheeks. There was a crack of lightening that lit the sky, and she was gone, leaving Jon powerless to move, sobbing while trying to grasp exactly what he had seen. His mind was a blur of mass confusion: of panic, terror, and uncertainty- it reached out for one thought. “Get help.”

“Get help.” Jon told himself again. The thought forced him to move, making for a mad dash back to the house. He didn’t dare look back at the wreck; he could only attempt to convince himself, “He’s okay… He’s okay… He’s going to be okay.”

The teen nearly ran through the door on his way inside. He went for the kitchen where the portable house phone was mounted. “Nine, one, one.” Jon recited the numbers as he punched them in and brought the receiver to his ear. There was nothing- the lines were down. He was on the verge of tears once more when he noticed the silence. It was a silence he would have welcomed earlier but now dreaded. Jon listened closely- there was only the faint sound of the storm rolling on in the distance outside. His sister’s crying had ceased.

The boy placed the phone back on the base and warily began to walk from the kitchen toward the stairs. Gradually, he made his way up to the second floor, pressing forward through the silence, down the hall, and stopping at Melissa’s door that was now eerily ajar. Jon carefully eased it open, stepping past the threshold and into the room. Bit by bit he closed the distance between him and his sister’s crib until he was standing over it looking into it... Melissa was lying there unmoving, voiceless, lifeless.

“Oh, God.” The words rolled weakly from his trembling lips.

From behind him, a tranquil humming washed over him like a wave - it was a familiar woman’s voice, one he could have never forgotten. The hairs on his neck stiffened, his heart pounded, threatening to punch from his chest, and breathing became difficult, each breath seeming more feeble and unable to appease his lungs.

“Jonny…” The haunting voice whispered, calling to him. It felt like a gentle, chilling breeze.

“Jonny…” It welcomed the teen again, urging him to turn and face her.

Jon gulped and slowly turned to the voice- to his mother sitting in the rocking chair, gently swaying back and forth- Melissa in her arms, and his father standing beside them. His eyes went wide; he was instantly fear stricken, incapable of releasing the scream of horror bottled up in his throat.

“Come see your sister.” The ghost smiled.

Jon remained unable to blink or speak. He had begun to inch toward the door and was soon easing himself out of the room in reverse- his eyes never once leaving the three. Jon backed out of the room, down the hall, and was just about to turn to make it down the stairs when the lights cut out one last time. The power immediately flickered back on only to reveal Jon’s mother within kissing distance of his face. He threw himself back, stumbling before tumbling down the stairs.

The boy lay dead at the bottom of the stair case, his neck broken from the fall.

They were a family again…