3 Ghosts of Our Fathers
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Authors: Michael Richan
Ghosts of Our Fathers
By Michael Richan
By the author:
The Bank of the
River
A Haunting in
Oregon
Ghosts of Our
Fathers
Copyright 2013 by
Michael Richan
All Rights Reserved.
All characters appearing in this work are
fictitious.
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN-13:
978-1492160380
/ ISBN-10: 1492160385
ASIN
:
Published by Dantull
(1481274)
For
Irene and Rhoda
Steven sat bolt upright in bed,
frightened.
Someone was in the house.
He grabbed his robe and walked out
of the bedroom. He’d done paranoid patrols before, awakened by a sound only to
find the house was fine. This time was different. It felt different. He
felt
something was in the house.
The large windows that overlooked
Lake Washington were covered with thin blinds that let moonlight into the
house, and it was enough to navigate without turning on lights. He walked down
the hallway that led from his bedroom towards the living room, wiping the sleep
from his eyes and straining them to let in as much light as possible.
Steven rounded the corner of the
hallway and slowed, scanning the living room from the hall. There was just
enough light to make out all of the furniture as dark shapes. He felt a chill
go up the back of his neck; there was a man sitting on one of the chairs.
He froze, unsure of what to do. He
couldn’t make out any features on the man. He was as dark as the shadows in the
room, more of a silhouette. He watched him for several seconds, hoping more of
him would be exposed, but he sat still. He was beginning to wonder if it was a
mannequin or a statue.
Steven blinked, and the man was
standing. He’d gone from a sitting position to a standing position and Steven
hadn’t seen the movement.
What do I have to defend myself?
Steven thought.
I can backtrack to the kitchen and get a knife.
He walked backwards into the hall,
keeping his eyes on the standing silhouette in the living room, watching for
more signs of movement. A few steps and he was out of sight of the figure, so he
turned and walked back down the hallway. At the end was a turn into the
kitchen.
As he entered the kitchen he
glanced right to look down into the dining room and living room, to see if the
figure was still there. It wasn’t.
Shit
, he thought.
Where’d
he go?
He looked around the kitchen and
his eyes fell on the knife block on the counter. He walked toward it,
determined to secure a weapon.
The windows in the kitchen were
large and without blinds, as they faced the private backyard. There was a
wrap-around deck outside them. More moonlight streamed in here, and Steven
could clearly see the knife block and the knife he selected. As he pulled it
from the block he glanced up to the window. The man was standing on the deck,
just a few feet from him on the other side of the glass.
How did he get out there?
Steven
thought.
There are two of them!
Steven backed away from the window,
holding the knife. He watched the figure. It didn’t move. As in the living
room, it looked like a statue. Since it wasn’t moving, he stared at it, trying
to make out facial features so he could give an accurate description to the
police. He couldn’t make out any. All of the image was dark. Where the
moonlight hit it directly, it was shiny.
He’s wearing some kind of body
suit,
Steven thought.
He blinked, and the figure was
gone. He turned to scan the rest of the kitchen, and it wasn’t there. He turned
to the right to look into the dining room. It was standing three feet from him.
Steven jumped and an involuntary
yelp escaped his mouth. He brought the knife up and walked backwards towards
the hallway. The figure did not move to pursue him.
Steven’s heart was racing a
million beats a minute. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He felt his
mouth suddenly dry, and he licked his lips in response.
I’ll back into the bedroom,
he thought.
My cell phone is in there, I can call for help.
When he reached the bedroom door,
he opened it from behind and slipped into the room, shutting the door. When he
turned around, he saw the figure sitting at the foot of his bed.
He instinctually reached out to
turn on the light switch. The room filled with light and the figure vanished.
But Steven could still feel it. It was still there, on the bed. He turned the
light back off and as his eyes adjusted he saw the dark shape come back into
view. It was still sitting at the foot of the bed as still as a statue. It
hadn’t moved.
It’s not a man,
Steven
thought.
At least, not a normal man.
Steven was terrified, but this
wasn’t the first time he’d encountered strange things. Over the course of the
past year he’d learned how to deal with ghosts and a variety of manifestations
that haunted the house. The first thing to do was to enter the River and see if
it would tell him more about who – or what – was sitting on his bed. He kept
the knife at arm’s length, pointed at the figure.
The River was a moving flow,
intangible and invisible to most people, but for those with “the gift” it was
something to jump into and exit at will. It offered a different perspective and
allowed him to see things that normally weren’t visible. He entered the flow,
and the light and images in the room changed around him. There was a loud
repetitive clicking sound, like the ticking of a clock.
The figure on the bed was now a
man, staring at Steven. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties. He had
steely blue eyes, a small beard on his chin, and hair that was cut short. He
was completely naked. He didn’t move. Steven noticed something shiny covering
him.
He took a step toward the man. He
could see the lips of the man moving, but he couldn’t hear him. Steven noticed
the man was behind something; something was covering him. Steven realized with
horror the man was trapped inside a glass shell shaped like a body.
He walked closer to the figure,
and as he did he could begin to hear the man’s words. The man couldn’t move his
body inside the glass shell; it held him rigidly in place at the foot of the
bed, but the man’s eyes and facial features moved, and his lips. He appeared
angry. He was clearly trying to say something to Steven.
Steven put his ear next to the
man’s lips, listening.
“You’re a dead man,” the man said
from inside the glass shell.
With no observable moment, the
man’s hand was now around Steven’s neck, squeezing. He felt his windpipe being
crushed; he couldn’t breathe. He reached to the hand to pull it away. It had a
smooth surface that wasn’t moving, but inside the fingers were shifting, trying
to increase the hold. Steven couldn’t get a grip on the hand; its surface was
too smooth, his fingers would simply slide away from where he was trying to
grab. He raised a foot to the glass figure and pushed. He couldn’t gain a
foothold against the figure either, his foot merely slid off. He felt his head
begin to grow light and his vision begin to blur. In desperation he exited the
River.
He felt a familiar slicing pain
shoot up the back of his skull. The pain often accompanied departures from the
River. In this case he had left so abruptly he’d not managed the exit very
well, and the pain was particularly sharp. It added to the pain in his throat.
The dark figure was still there,
but now he was able to push it away with his foot. It fell back onto the bed,
motionless, its arm still raised as though he’d kicked over a mannequin. As
Steven held his throat, checking to see if everything felt normal, vertical
shafts appeared in the figure exposing the bed covers underneath him. The
shafts appeared, disappeared, and shifted, but they kept occurring until the
figure was completely gone.
Steven was breathing heavy,
wincing from the pain in his head and throat. He stumbled to the bathroom next
door and swallowed aspirin. He looked in the mirror to inspect his neck where
the figure had grabbed him. It looked OK but it hurt like hell. The clock in
the bathroom read 4:30. There was no way he was getting back to sleep considering
the adrenaline in his system and the pain he felt.
He walked into the kitchen and sat
down on a chair at the kitchen table. In a moment he’d get up and make some
coffee, but for now he held his head, waiting for the pain to leave, and
thinking through what he just saw.
-
Steven was too unnerved to go back
into his bedroom that morning, but he did manage to fall asleep on the kitchen
chair. He awoke around seven, determined to call Roy now that it was a decent
hour.
Roy was Steven’s father. Roy had
the gift too, and he’d been showing Steven how to use his latent skills to deal
with some problems that had popped up in his life. Through most of his childhood
and into his adult years Steven hadn’t been close with Roy, but that all
changed when Steven found himself living in a house that was severely haunted;
Roy had stepped in and helped Steven resolve the problem. Since then they had
become much closer, relying on each other in new ways and building a new
relationship.
After the fifth ring Steven
remembered that Roy wasn’t at home – he’d gone sailing with his friend Dixon
and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. Roy didn’t have a cell phone and he
didn’t know if Dixon did either. He felt abandoned. Roy would know what they
should do about the figure that threatened him last night, but Roy wasn’t going
to be able to help for a while.
Eliza
, he thought.
I’ll
call her.
Steven picked up the phone and
called Eliza, remembering her smile from the last time he’d seen her. Eliza
lived in Northern California and had helped Steven and Roy deal with a ghost
problem in Oregon. She was a strong woman, a little intimidating, but Steven
had liked her the moment he met her, and now she was a good friend.
“Eliza?” Steven asked when the
phone picked up.
“Yes, this is she,” Eliza replied.
“Eliza, it’s Steven. How are you?
“Oh, Steven! It’s good to hear
your voice!” She sounded as if she was groggy.
“Did I wake you?”
“Being honest, yes, you did. But
it was time I got up anyway. How are you?”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I
had a rather strange visitation last night.”
“A visitation?” Eliza perked up. “That
sounds interesting and a little ominous. Tell me about it.”
Steven recounted the events of the
previous evening, trying to give her as many details as he could remember.
“Steven, I’ve never heard anything
like it,” Eliza said. “It’s disturbing. I really don’t have any idea what to
tell you, I’m a little stumped by it.”
“Damn, I was hoping you’d have
some insight on it, or know what I should do about it. Roy’s not around, and I
feel a little out of my depth.”
“You said you heard a ticking
sound once you entered the flow?”
“Yes, it sounded like a loud
metronome.”
“Well,” Eliza said, “I might know
someone who could give you more advice. The metronome makes me think of time,
and when I think of things time-related, Daniel’s the guy. He’s a kind of
expert on time. He lives in Spokane. I could give you his number?”
“Would you?” Steven asked. “I’ve
got a pen, go ahead.”
Eliza relayed the number and
Steven jotted it down.
“Do you think it’s too early to
call him?” Steven asked.
“Let me give him a call first,”
Eliza replied. “Let me explain some of what you’ve told me, and I’ll tell him
you’re going to call him yourself within the hour.”
“Thank you,” Steven said. “When
you say he’s a time expert, what does that mean exactly?”
“He’s like you or me,” Eliza said,
“he’s got the gift, and he practices. But when he was younger he was drawn to
aspects of it that related to time, like shifting time, time signatures, time
anomalies, that kind of thing. He focused on it over the years, became a sort
of expert. It may not help at all, but running it past him won’t hurt.”
“Great, you’re going to call him
as soon as we hang up?”
“Yes, I will, and Steven?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get this figured
out.”
“Thank you, Eliza. Roy is out
boating with Dixon and I really didn’t know where to turn. I feel better
knowing you’re in on this.”
“I’m with you one hundred percent
Steven. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Thanks,” Steven replied. “I’ll
call you after I talk with Daniel?”
“Please do.”
“Goodbye.”
As he hung up Steven realized that
having Eliza supporting him lightened him, as though a heavy weight had been
removed from his shoulders. Her innate confidence and spirit made him take
courage in his situation. He felt lucky to know her.
-
He waited the full hour before he
picked up the phone to call Spokane, hoping that would give Eliza enough time.
The voice on the other end of the line was deeply masculine and had a low
rumble to it that made Steven want to clear his throat.
“Is this Steven? Eliza said you’d
be calling.”
“Yes, it’s me. Thanks for taking
my call.”
“Eliza told me a little bit of
what’s going on, but why don’t you start from the top and fill me in. Don’t
leave anything out.”
“Sure,” Steven said, and began to
recount the events of the previous night once again. He tried to relay every
detail he could remember, hoping something would give Daniel a clue that might
help.
“Was the glass shell clear or
translucent?” Daniel asked.
“It was clear,” Steven replied.
“Were there any markings on the
glass?”
“I don’t recall any. I didn’t
inspect it all, and I really only saw it for a few seconds.”
“Did you notice any smells?”
“Smells?” Steven said. “Yes, there
was a smell, it smelled like rope. I’ve only ever smelled it once or twice
before, but I remember the smell from when I was a kid. It smelled like a
length of rope my father used to keep in his garage for tying up boats.”
“You mentioned vertical shafts,”
Daniel said. “Can you tell me anything more about them?”