caught up now

I hate most of this scene with Gali.  And the second one was a hell of a lot creepier and sadistic in my mind.  I’ll fix it later.  *cackles*


     It was Sunday morning, and Gali was sitting at her desk in her room.  She had already planned out her entire day in terms of what assignments and studying she was going to accomplish.  But for now, in the still quiet hours before lunch, she had time to do what she felt like doing.  A book sat next to her computer, enticing her, but she was doing research.  It bothered her a great deal that she had absolutely no idea what happened to Anthony on Friday night in the graveyard.  She had been reading about ghost hunting for years, saturating herself in the subculture.  What she had been prepared to find in the graveyard, however, was extremely different from the “darkness” that Anthony said he encountered.
     On ghost hunting website on the Internet, and inside of ghost hunting books, nearly all of the stories seemed to involve some kind of apparition.  Photographs often contained “orbs” of light.  Gali was not sure whether or not these orbs were real, or if they were just mistakes made due to film taken by the camera, or tricks of light.  Still, though, finding orbs of light would have been a lot easier to deal with than whatever it was messing with Anthony’s head.  Stories from online submitters often dealt with bad feelings after seeing apparitions, but there was no precedence for ill feelings happening during visitations that lacked apparitions.  Her eyes narrowed as she read.

     My husband and I own an old home in Nebraska that we just recently moved into.  Every night when I put my son Tommy to sleep, he complains that he can see scary people at night.  I used to just brush it off as typical kid-stuff, but one night I told him that I would wait with him until he fell asleep (he was putting up a more valiant fight that night than usual).  As I waited, I started hearing noises that I had never noticed before!  Firstly, I could hear loud noises from beneath his room, as though someone was on a chair with a broomstick in the room beneath us, pounding on the ceiling.  It kept getting louder, and then I saw the outline of a person, right in the room!  He told me many things… which I can not reveal here…  I’m afraid that he might find me again!  I swear all of this is true!

     Ah, yes.  The first bit of that one had almost been believable!

     my friends and me were all standing in my friend’s kitchen cuz we were all there for dinner.  and we were all talking and stuff and then my friend said, hey can you feel someone in here?  and we all said yeah, we could.  my other friend took out her camera and took some pictures and when we got then developed, there were circles of light on them!  i know that it was a ghost!

     And that is definitely enough.  Gali exited the website, leaning back in her chair.  That was the extent of most of the Internet “tales.”  She had seen lots of pictures and read many stories about apparitions or shapes of light.  Who knew, maybe they were real.  But no matter what websites she could think of to look at, none of them described sudden, acute psychological trauma.  Had ghosts ever “attacked” anyone before?  Why was Anthony targeted?  Because he was alone?  Because he was Black in a cemetery of bodies dating back to the Civil War?  Because he walked over a specific grave?
     She didn’t know what else to do, so instead of dwelling on the dilemma, she pulled on her favorite sweatshirt, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and walked outside.  The leaves were in full color now, and would begin to fall to the ground within days.
     Aside from the campus buildings, there really wasn’t anywhere for the students to go during the weekends, unless their parents came to give them a small reprieve.  It didn’t matter much to the students of High Glen.  The school often forced them to participate in small social groups, always to “discuss” things, whether it be a documentary viewed in the auditorium, or talking about “issues in the media.”  Nothing better than getting to meet arrogant know-it-alls at their best…  Because the school provided so many different learning environments for its students, and because it had rigorous participation requirements even outside of the classroom, none of the students ever really had a reason to leave campus to explore the rest of the town.  There really weren’t very many places to go (although McDonald’s did get most of its business from the students, as opposed to the actual residents of Finbell Winter who were forever watching their cholesterol) anyway.
     In fact, High Glen was such a secluded community that Gali often felt like she was somehow breaking rules if she did leave campus.  During her first week of school of her freshman year, Gali had been stopped by her dormitory coordinator, who stopped her.  She refused to believe the idea that Gali had simply gone for a walk around the block for no reason at all.  Gali wasn’t really sure what the woman had thought she was doing, but after brushing her off, it seemed to have become common knowledge around the school that Gali enjoyed her walks of solitude because she was “weird.”  She supposed that it was a rare feat to be outcast as strange in a school of overeager nerds, but such was life.
     She stopped walking at a small gathering of trees, not far from her dormitory.  Walking to the tree with the thickest trunk, she settled down at its base, allowing her back to rest against the rough bark.  She was aware of the smell of the leaves every time she inhaled, so much so that she felt like she was tasting them.  As she opened her book, she allowed herself a small smile of content.  If nothing else, she could at least enjoy the small lapses of peace while they lasted.


     Approximately one week after the High Glen Paranormal Research Team had its first ghost hunt, the group had gathered at the small home of Adrian Rhodes.  Everyone had gotten through the first bout of studying in his living room, which had been followed by mugs full of apple cider.  They were almost through their second session of quiet study time.  Under Gali’s militant watch, everyone was forced to be productive.  Mr. Rhodes was going over a paper with Perry in hushed voices at the coffee table, while everyone else had sprawled out in chairs.  It had been a productive afternoon thus far.  And Mr. Rhodes had chocolate chip cookie dough waiting to be formed into small balls and put into the oven.  Samantha smiled as she rested her head against the back of the chair, feeling her sweater warm her neck.  It hadn’t taken long at all for her to feel as though she was a part of this circle of people… her friends.
     “Okay guys,” said Mr. Rhodes, “I think it’s time to make some cookies.”  They followed him into his kitchen, which also opened up into his dining room.  Gali squatted on the floor, at eye level with the row of books he had in the room.  She had been fascinated and impressed by the quantity of literature that he had amassed inside his home.
     “Hey, no fair eating the dough!” cried Samantha to a guilty Perry, who was sucking the end of his finger.
     Anthony picked up a clump of dough in his hands and rolled it into a smooth ball, placing it on the metal cookie sheet.  It did not take long for the five of them to fill up two sheets with the dough balls.  Mr. Rhodes carried the mixing bowl and spoons to the table and set them in the center, returning to the refrigerator to pour milk for everyone as they all sat down.
     “So,” said Anthony, “What do you guys think about what happened to me?  Do you think that it will happen again?”
     “I don’t even know what happened to begin with,” said Gali.  “I’ve been looking at a lot of different groups and stuff, and I can’t find anyone else that this has happened to.  So…. I don’t know.  Maybe next time, it won’t happen to you.”
     “Yeah,” said Perry.  “I really don’t know what the hell happened…I guess none of us do.  But… I mean, you’re okay now, right?  So even if it does happen again, we should be with you.  It’s not like it happens out of nowhere – it’s when you’re looking for them.”  
     “Speaking of which,” said Mr. Rhodes, “When are we going to hunt ghosts next?  Have we decided that?”
     “No,” said Gali.  “But we could hunt ghosts right now, if we really wanted to.”
     “Here?” asked Perry.  “Why would there be ghosts in Mr. Rhodes’ house?”
     “Well someone lived here before Mr. Rhodes, right?  And probably someone before them?  It’s a small house, but it appears to be pretty old.”
     “It is,” said Mr. Rhodes.
     “Let’s do it,” said Gali.  “It would be cool if we could do the entire town of Finbell Winter by the end of the year.”
     “Yeah, that’d be great,” Anthony said venomously.  “You’re not the one who’s going to start freaking out if weird shit starts going down again.”
     “Do you want to do this, Anthony?  We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Samantha.
     “No, no – this is fine.  Let’s go.”
     “Hold on a tick,” said Mr. Rhodes, rising from his seat and retrieving the cookies from the oven.  He set them on top of the stovetop to cool.  Perry looked at them a bit forlornly as Mr. Rhodes slid back into his seat.
     “Okay,” said Gali.  “This time, I think we should all focus really hard on the prayer – maybe that’s part of what messed us up last time.  Try to put yourself in a positive state of mind, and open yourself to God’s protection.  …Or something.”  She closed her eyes and bowed her head.  The others followed suit, this time with no hesitation.  “Christ, be my shield
from whatever foe may lie lurking in wait.
I humble myself before thee
On bended knee, begging thy mercy
And blessing on me,
So that I may be protected
from whatever forces Satan may send my way.
…That I may be given the power to smite them,
in your name, oh Lord, Amen.”  Around the table, heads rose up.  
     “New prayer?” asked Anthony.
     “Yeah…. That one was all me, actually.”
     “I liked it,” said Samantha.”
     “Yeah, okay,” said Perry.  “Where are we going to hunt ghosts in Mr. Rhodes’ house?  Do we get to check out where he sleeps?”
     “Uhhh…. no,” said Mr. Rhodes.  “I was thinking of going into the attic.”
     “Attic it is,” said Gali, “and if that doesn’t work out, then we can look around down here.”


     After figuring out where the entrance to the attic was, the group had made its way up to the darkened room, made gray by the vast quantities of dust and cobwebs.  After the old couple who had lived here before Mr. Rhodes had died, all of their boxes and trinkets had been removed.  When he had moved in, however, he had found a lot of old furniture waiting for him that he didn’t need, and had thus brought it up to the attic.  
The kids sat down at the table while Mr. Rhodes turned toward the window.  Light was filtering in, shining on the dust particles that hung suspended in the air.  Nobody was speaking.  They were all silent, straining, probing with their eyes and also with their hearts, to see if anything out of the ordinary was happening inside of their minds.  Mr. Rhodes’ head cocked to the side, suddenly.  Anthony lifted an eyebrow while Samantha looked to the others for guidance.
His voice, which was usually smooth and speech perfectly annunciated, suddenly became gruff.  It was like it was imitating a rasp, blowing air through the vocal chords between words.
“This… is my house.”
“Yeah, no shit,” said Perry.
“Shut up,” hissed Gali, scarcely audible.
“This is my house, but I know she brought him here.  I know she did, I can smell him in the sheets.  I can smell him in the fucking sheets that I paid for.  I went away for a couple of days with the fellas to go fishing and I come back and she got herself fucked on my sheets.  On my side of the bed…. Why?  Honey, you love me, I know you dooo…” Mr. Rhodes had been pacing back and forth, slowly.  He turned slowly to face the kids.  His eyes were rolled so far backward that they could not see his pupils – just whiteness, punctuated by red lines.  Samantha let out a garbled half-moan in disbelief.
“Shit,” hissed Perry, “What the hell is up with him?  Is he going to jump on us and start hitting us?  Shit.  What if he’s fucking crazy now?  What the hell is wrong with him?!”
“Shut.  Up.” said Gali, watching Mr. Rhodes carefully to see what he would do next.

Adrian’s consciousness, and indeed, very identity, had faded into blackness.  Inside his mind, there was a whirlwind of words, of thoughts, of feelings.
She never knew.  I knew, I knew from the second I stepped back in that house, but she never found out that I knew.
“Sweetie, I made you a sandwich.  Here you go,” she leans over the side of the armchair, putting the plate in my empty hand.  I continue to stare at the television.  She kisses me on the cheek.  I flinch.  Hard.  “You always do that.  Whenever I touch you, you always do that…”
“…your wife, to have and to hold, for the rest of your life?  I do.  I do.  I do.  I do.”
This is me, lying in bed.  Looking at the ceiling.  She’s gone to work and I’m still here because I can’t make myself get up.  I can’t make my goddamn arm move, let alone get up.  What kind of a pathetic bastard can’t satisfy his own wife?  I thought I was good, I thought I was doing everything she wanted me too.
“Have a good day at work, honey.”  She kisses my cheek.  My head snaps back.  Her smile falters, but she holds it.  I leave the house and from the car, I can see her silhouette in the living room.  Standing still, hand clutching at her face because she thinks that I don’t love her.
I love you, I really, really do.  Every time you touch my face, there’s a brief, split second when all I can think about is that one weekend, when I was thirty-six years old, I was gone for two days and our marriage was not good enough for you.
Stop crying, I can see you, will you please stop it, damn it.  Stop acting like it’s me who doesn’t love you
Please love me, please love me.  Please hold me, please.  Please tell me you love me.
I will never, never tell you that I know.  You are so sweet, so beautiful.  I know that if I told you, you would never forgive yourself for the pain you have caused me.
You know that I love you, don’t you?  How can you not know?  I am so disgusting… I can’t even show you that I love you.  I have become your overweight, drunken husband.  Repulsive, disgusting,
blood.  i need to end this, to stop this.  i can’t wake up every morning wondering if you wish you were next to somebody else, knowing that you think i don’t love you.  i am such a piece of shit for letting you think that, i am such a
blood, it’s running down now.  down, down, trickling down, pooling now.  pooling here on the floor here next to me, look, that’s me!  I love you, and surely you must know that.  i have to leave because i know i’m not good enough.
actually, that’s a lie.  i’m leaving because this pain that i cut into my wrist is what’s been cutting me, here, inside of me, every day for the last thirty-one years and now that we are old and grey it has become too much and now I’m gone
look, that’s me, pooling on the floor

“‘Smee, ‘smee, ‘s me, it’s me, that’s me, there,” his voice was a faded whisper now, overlapped with the rustling of his clothing as he clawed viciously at his forearms, itching at the phantom razor cuts.  His eyelids closed and then opened and his eyes were back where they were supposed to be.  He sat down, suddenly, hard, on the floor.  His voice was now his own again, although shaking.  “…What just happened?”