Michael sat down. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need to find your murderers. What’s your name anyway?”
“Sharon. Sharon Hartman.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Michael grabs a laptop from a small table next to his chair and boots it up. “Let’s see what we can find on here about you, Sharon.” He grabs another pizza slice and munches on it whilst the load up screen flickers to life.
I move closer, but the laptop flickers again. “Sorry, forgot about that.” I step back. “For some reason electrical items don’t like me much.” I explained. Michael nods and logs himself in, and immediately hits his browser icon, a search engine appearing on his homepage. He types in my name.
There were plenty of hits. Most to do with social networking sites, but another popped up to do with the local news. Michael clicked on it and a page appeared with three men in cuffs, being taken from what looked like a courthouse. Further down the page, was a photo of me. Crap, they could have used a nicer one, I thought.
Michael looked at my photo then at me. “Well, they could have used a nicer one of you. Certainly doesn’t do you justice, Sharon.” I grinned.
“So, what’s happened? Why is there a picture of my attackers on here already? It’s hardly been enough time to catch them already has it?”
“Well, like I told you, it’s been three months since your murder. Check the date here. See?” I leaned over and saw he was right.
“But I don’t understand. How has it been three months already? It doesn’t make sense.” I shook my head in frustration.
Steve was watching Michael with interest, not hearing both sides of the conversation but getting an idea what was being talked about. He tries to contribute. “What is the last thing you remember, Sharon?” he asks.
I think a moment. Zipping along through energy currents springs to mind. I speak to Michael, who relays my reply. “She remembers going into her blog on a forum site, and going to one of the other forum users’ houses to find out what was happening with them. She then made herself explode, shutting down the electrical machinery that was causing distress to the forum user.” Michael nods as he listens. “She then felt tired, and came back here, and went to sleep. Then she woke up here. That’s it, she says.”
Steve nods. “So, Sharon, who is now a ghost, can manipulate electrical currents, yet her ghostly form apparently can only handle so much it seems. Sounds like she wore herself into oblivion, yet she returned.” I nod frantically, Michael joining in.
“Sounds plausible. After all, we’re havin’ a conversation with a ghost, so what isn’t any more, right?” Michael said.
“True” Steve replies. “But this also means that even though her murderers have been convicted already, why is she still here? You would have thought this would be what is keeping her here, to get revenge or something? But that’s no longer necessary. Is there anything else that could be keeping her in this world any longer?”
Michael looks to me, shrugging. “What he said.”
I thought for a few moments, focusing on my life up to my untimely death. Well it went pretty shit for a couple of years, losing my job, neighbour from hell. I wonder if that might be it. I relayed my thoughts to Michael who then repeated them to Steve, looking thoughtful.
“Maybe you are here to get revenge on your neighbour?” Steve began. “After all, she made your life hell for two years, why not make hers hell. I gotta admit, her parties are loud, and it’s annoying me and Michael here no end too. What do you think?”
I shrugged. “Anything’s worth a go I suppose. Plus it will be fun scaring the crap out of her next door, haha!” I sat down and leant up against the sofa. “But how do I do that? I’ve not been dead that long, I’m not really sure what I can do, or how.”
Michael turned to Steve. “We need to give Sharon here some lessons in haunting. Steve, you watch a lot of horror movies mate, give her some tips and we’ll go from there.” He rubs his hands together with glee. “This is gonna be awesome!”
As I glanced between Michael and Steve an idea was already forming in my mind. “That would be a good start, but I’m thinking maybe I should torment her with her own game, right? After all, she gave me hell for two years with her parties and loud music. But, learning the basics would be useful too, of course.”
Michael nodded again. “Ok, so we need to get the basics. Steve, is there anything on the internet about hauntings and stuff?” Steve opened the laptop back up, and opened the search engine.
“So”, Steve began, “We know you can affect electricity. You can move objects, as we’ve seen by the pizza. What else can you do?”
“Well I can create an EMP by exploding, though I don’t really want to do that again”, I laughed. “It seems to have taken me a few months to get over it, clearly.” Michael relayed what I said and Steve made “uhuh” noises.
“How about noise?” he suggested. “Can you make yourself heard?”
“Well apart from you Michael I haven’t been able to talk to anyone else.”
“I don’t think he means talking to us. Can you make noises with objects, or hitting things maybe?” Michael suggested. I looked about and walked over to the wooden cabinet that held a gaming console. Focusing on it, I tapped my fingers against the wood. “Anything?” I asked Michael, who shook his head. I tried again, focusing harder on how I remembered what it should have been like to feel the wood beneath skin.
Tap, tap, tap.
Steve’s head looked up from his laptop. “Was that Sharon or someone at the door?” he asked Michael.
Michael smiled slowly. “That was her; that was Sharon! Do it again.” I grinned and tapped the cabinet again, but this time I scraped a fingernail across it too, so there was a tapping and scratching noise.
Steve was still tapping in the engine searches, as I tapped out a tune for Michael, who clapped and whooped with encouragement.
“Ok, guys, erm and ghost. We need to find out if we can get Sharon to actually make a noise herself. This website says about strange noises, like moans and groans made by ghosts. You think you can do that?” Steve was looking to the corner where I had been tapping earlier, but not really seeing me. I shrugged. Michael urged me on with arm gestures.
I feigned a cough, as though clearing my throat ready for a performance and made a “wooOOOOooooo” noise that I assumed a ghost would sound like. Michael burst out laughing, one hand covering his face as though he was embarrassed for both of us. I could feel myself twitch. Blushing now was obviously not going to happen, so I shifted my feet. “Hey, don’t laugh! You’re so mean!”
“Hahahaha, sorry, that was just brilliant. Shame Steve couldn’t hear it, haha!” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Try again”, he said.
“Sorry Michael but I can’t look at you and do this, it’s embarrassing!” I spun around so I was facing the large window at the front of the house. Seeing the world outside I watched as a cat jumped onto the outer wall of the small stamp-sized garden. Its lithe body balanced perfectly on the narrow wall, and looked to the window, sensing my presence. Its brown eyes pierced through me, then rubbing its ear with a front paw, it continued on its way. I took a deep breath, and tried to emanate a moan from deep within me.
It started off deep and quiet, but as I focused more on the depth, my form shivered and flinging my head back, I let out a striking wail, getting higher pitched then dropping as my arms stiffened at my sides, fists clenched.
“HOLY SHIT!” Steve shouted, covering his ears. “STOP! STOP!”
As I screamed, Steve’s cry was a voice in the background. This was exhilarating. Who knew that being dead was going to be so interesting?
“SHARON!” I heard my voice and spun around, still making a wailing noise, I faced Michael. He jumped back from me, fear spread across his face, hands on his ears trying desperately to block me out. I stopped abruptly, seeing the look on his face bringing me back from the excitement.
Both men, suddenly dropped their hands, and sunk into their chairs. �
��Dammit, Sharon that was loud, a bit too loud.” Michael scolded. Steve just nodded. “That was good, but let’s try and keep our hearing thanks.” He laughed nervously.
My hands clasped together in a nervous gesture. “God I’m so sorry, I, I, it was so amazing I didn’t realise what I was doing to you both.”
Michael shook his head slowly, side to side. “It’s ok. This is what practise is all about, eh?” I glanced over to Steve, who was wiggling a finger in his ear. “Seriously though, let’s not do that again in close proximity”, Steve grumbled. “Got ringing in my ear now” he complained poking his finger around in it, as if that would help.
“Alright”, I began, “What next?” Steve tapped again into the laptop.
“Well now”, he spoke slowly. “Can you become an apparition? That seems to be a common haunting occurrence.”
Pondering, I wondered how to do it. How on earth am I supposed to make myself seen? Michael can see me, and we still don’t know why he can and not Steve. Michael could see I was confused. “Don’t overthink it Sharon. We don’t need you to become a full form like I can see you, just the hint of something there, you know?” I tilted my head to one side. “Steve, give us an example, a picture or something so she can see.”
Steve bought up some ghost images on the laptop, and he spun it around so it was facing to me. I stepped closer to see the photos, the monitor flickering slightly as I neared.
The image I could see was of a ghostly white figure on some steps. Oh these, I nodded understanding. To scare people, you would see a hint of a form, a ghost, a shadow, a movement in the corner of your eye. I looked over at Michael who was relaxed in a chair eating a slice of pepperoni.
“Try it on Steve” Michael spluttered around a mouthful of pizza.
I shook my hands at my sides as if loosening up for something sporty, which never happened even when I was alive. I bought an image of a ghost to my mind and waited. Nothing appeared to be happening so I waved an arm in Steve’s direction. No response. I sighed and scratched my head thinking. Well I can move objects, I can moan loudly so I can be heard, if not coherently. I can manipulate things. Mmmmm. Can I manipulate whatever this place I am in, this plain of existence? It was a long shot but I scrunched up my face in sheer concentration, staring at Steve. Still nothing. I’m missing something. Maybe I need to physically make this void move? I looked up at the ceiling, hearing the crunching noise of Michael still eating pizza, and watching me as entertainment. Who needs a TV or games when you can have your very own ghost in training! I mused to myself.
Trying again, I focused on the air around me. I could see the swirling movement of it, tiny molecules floating this way and that, with dust motes clinging on, on rollercoaster journeys across the room, being breathed in by the living, moved about by the spinning of the earth itself. I steeled myself, and started to imagine the air around me, shimmering. My ability to manipulate objects and energy coming into play. Steve looked up from the laptop, and squinted in my direction. “Whatever you are doing, keep doing it!” he cried. I tried harder, making the air vibrate faster around me, and causing my own form to shimmer rapidly. Steve sat up straight and was staring intently.
“I don’t bloody believe it! I can see something but it’s so weird. Michael you seeing this too?” Michael was sat upright.
“Dude, I could see her perfectly before but now she is moving so fast it’s making my head hurt.” He closed his eyes. “Ugh”.
I could see Steve staring at me, so I attempted to move closer at the same time. I was still shimmering in and out of focus for him but he was tracking me. Yes it’s working I thought and moved across the living room to the front door, Steve still watching, disbelief written across his face. “It’s like a floating apparition”, he spoke to no one in particular. “It was weird, shimmering in and out, like a phase. Really freaky man!” He had a smile plastered across his face. “Dude, we clearly have seen way too much freaky stuff, we ain’t even phased by this!” he gestured to the room. “What if it don’t work on others?”
Michael opened his eyes, and found me standing by the living room door. “That’s a good question. I guess there’s only one way to find out.”
A banging noise was heard as the neighbour from hell returned from dropping the kids off at the ‘possible dad’s’ house. The weekend had started. Sure enough, a booming beat began to vibrate the house walls slightly, as the woman started getting her house organised for her party guests again.
“Well, I know who we can start with.” I grinned.
CHAPTER FIVE
Revenge is sweet
For two years I wanted to get revenge on my neighbour for making my life hell, and now, I could get my chance. Shame I had to die first to be able to do it, though.
“So how do I get in there?” I asked the guys, gesturing to the neighbours’ wall.
Michael barked out a laugh. “You’re a ghost, how do you think?” Oh geez.
“But I’ve never done that before, do you think I can?”
Michael nodded. “All ghosts can walk through walls. That’s a fact. And it has to be factual now, as we have you as proof!”
I considered his point. “Ok, what do think I have to do? Just walk into it?” He shrugs slightly and gives me a faint nod. “Good luck” he says.
Ok Sharon, you can do this! I readied myself, walked into the hallway and at the party wall. The sensation was strange, like my body becoming full as I walked into the wall. I instinctively held my arms out in front of me, as though feeling my way through the wall would help. I saw brick, woodwork, and cavity wall fillings. So there is something between these walls then. Damn she must be playing that crap loud. As my head popped out the other side, I found myself in the complete reverse layout of my own house. I was in the hallway, stairs going up to the bedrooms and bathroom, living room in front of me, kitchen to the back of the house.
Walking into the living room, I was greeted to kids’ toys stacked high in one corner, no form of children’s storage anywhere, two worn sofa’s in cream, with brown and cream cushions’ to match. My neighbour was currently reclining in one, listening to the music whilst taking a long satisfying drag on her cigarette. I decided to have a snoop about before I started, so I left the living room and headed to the kitchen. It was similar to my own; however this room was in need of a deep clean. I spied the grease stains in the grout around the plain tiles, as well as the yellowing from the nicotine everywhere. Bottles of alcohol were lined up ready on the sides, with glasses set out on the table for whomever was about to turn up. I could probably guess who, as they were always the same people every weekend. Many slept over; I say slept, more like party all night until five or six in the morning and then pass out. Well this weekend was going to be a whole lot different. I cheered inwardly.
Snooping about someone else’s house was interesting, and apparently, according to many TV documentaries I had seen over the years, you could find out a lot from somebodies belongings and their housekeeping. I wasn’t so interested in the ins and outs of this woman’s life, I already knew much of it and it had impacted on mine in ways she didn’t even care. After tonight though, she will change her ways or so help me, she’ll be institutionalised along with all her so-called friends. I headed for the stairs, and found myself amidst the clutter of dirty laundry left on the landing, and clean laundry drying on the top banister railing. I picked my way around the filth, still believing it might touch me and bite me or something, and entered the first bedroom. It was the children’s room. Two small beds were pushed up against opposite walls, both decked out in blue Toy Story duvet and pillow sets, with matching curtains. The carpet was blue, the walls were blue. Everything that could be blue was blue. Toys were scattered about the floor, clothes strewn across the beds, and hanging out of the wardrobe. Even for kids, this is a bit much blue! I thought.
I stepped back into the landing and headed for the master bedroom. I was quite surprised to find it mostly clean and tidy. Everything had a place,
it seemed, cupboard doors were properly closed, and there was even a vanity unit next to the double bed. Curious, to never having a vanity unit myself, I decided a little snoop around in it wouldn’t hurt. Carefully, I slid open a drawer to find boxes of earrings and other jewellery placed snug and neatly in their own sections. I closed it and tried the next one. My mouth became a silent O as I spied what looked like sex toys. Let’s not touch those Sharon. I quickly shut the drawer and opened another one. Now this is interesting. Inside, were some small wrapped up parcels? I had seen such things on day-time TV when I was too ill to go to work, cop stuff came on, and I ended up watching drug raids, car chases and what the law and the justice system ultimately handed out to the evil villains. Got to say, most of the time the sentences were pretty disappointing. No wonder the country is such a soft touch and the most inviting place for anyone wanting to commit crimes. You basically could get away with murder. Well apart from those idiots who killed me, they had left their DNA all over, and inside me. I grinned slyly. Fools!
I took the wrapped drugs, and walked out of the bedroom with them. An idea popped into my head and I quickly headed downstairs to the kitchen and placed the small bag behind a table leg, out of obvious view. The doorbell rang, and Shelby answered it with a display of double cheek kisses and fag fumes. A young girl must be mid-twenties with a bump of a belly heaved herself through the door and headed straight toward me and the kitchen.
“Seriously Shelb, I hate being pregnant, I don’t even want this kid. It was a mistake with some drunken guy. Just wish I could get rid of it.” She helped herself to a glass and grabbed the vodka bottle. Holy hell, is this girl stupid or something? That poor kid of hers is going to be so messed up in the head. I felt sorry for the poor soul who was coming into this world. No sense at all. I shook my head in disgust. I hadn’t had time to have my own children, but there was no way in hell I could let that child be brought into the hell it would no doubt be in if she continued. I focused on the glass in her hand and made it shatter as she went to take a swig. The vodka spilled over her lap to the floor. “SHIT” she gasped, and clutched her hand as it started to bleed where the glass was embedded.
All Hope Lost Page 3
