Disconnect - A Short Ghost Story

by John Gaffield

he decided to a get drink of water from the sink.

  With the glass in his hand, he walked out of the kitchen. He paused in the hallway and gazed into the living room across the hall from the kitchen. Through the windows, he could see the waves lapping against the shore in the moonlit sky. Drawing him in, he carefully ventured into the darkened room and took a set near the front windows. After another drink, he set the glass down on a nearby table and sat back into the chair. A bead of sweat streamed down the side of his face. This made him realize that with the power being out, the house was warming up in the summer heat. To remedy this, he decided to open some of the windows in the room. So he rose up and moved toward the front windows.

  After they were open, he returned to the chair again. He continued looking out the window and listened to the mesmerizing surf that was coming through the open windows. His breathing slowed and his eyes became heavy.

  A ringing phone awoke Will. Upon realizing what was happening, he reached for the phone on a table near his chair. The room was still dark.

  “Hello,” he answered slowly.

  “Will, we have a situation at the plant now. The bracket stock on-hand is suspect and we cannot use it. So the line has stopped due to this damn bracket,” Greg said.

  “What’s wrong with the bracket?” Will asked.

  His heart rate quickened. He stood up from the chair.

  “Menson checked the validation history and the stock at Down River shipped after the last part validation,” Greg replied.

  “Do they have certified stock on the way to Down River yet?” Will asked with a raised voice.

  “Don’t know. Nobody has been able to contact anyone from Menson yet,” Greg answered.

  “Yeah, my phone died before I could call and my power is out here is the cottage,” Will said.

  “Down River’s pretty mad and this is getting a lot of attention,” Greg said.

  “Let’s see, Menson is a few hours away from here. Maybe I should just head there now,” Will suggested.

  “Well, I suppose you are closer . . .” Greg started.

  “No, you stay here!” a loud voice yelled at him from behind.

  Will’s eyes opened and he was sitting in the chair in the living room. The lights were still out and the phone receiver was resting neatly on the table next to him. Puzzled he reached over and picked up the phone. There was no dial tone. A light breeze brushed across his face from the open windows. The waves lapped against the shore outside the window.

  “Holy crap. What is going on here?” Will said to himself.

  After thinking for a moment, he stood up from the chair.

  “I’ll just head to the Menson plant. This is ridiculous,” he said.

  He headed back to the bedroom so that he could change for the trip. In the dark hallway, he had to feel his way along the walls again. The sound of footsteps could be heard from behind. He looked back, but it was too dark to see anything in that direction. When he got to the bedroom, he noticed the door was shut. He was puzzled, since he did not remember closing it earlier. After feeling around for the door knob, he tried to open it. The knob would twist, but it did not budge when he pushed on it.

  “Great, now this is locked!” he said aloud.

  He moved away from the door slightly and then leaned into it with all of his might. The door gradually opened, but it kept pushing back on him. He was able to enter the room once it had opened enough.

  “Now, I have to fumble around for some clothes,” he said as he made his way to the dresser.

  Finally dressed, Will planned on heading back to the kitchen to get his laptop bag and keys. The bedroom door was closed again. He did not hear it shut, but he moved toward it wanting to get going. The door was very hard to open, but with a few tries, he was able to pass through into the hallway. Once in the hallway, he looked back and saw the door slowly swing open. Puzzled, he moved back and pushed on it. It moved freely without any resistance. After a few seconds of staring at it, he turned toward the kitchen and started feeling his way back down the hall. The footsteps could be heard once again.

  When he reached the entrance to the kitchen, he looked in before stepping into the room. The laptop bag was resting on a chair by the kitchen table. He walked in and retrieved the bag along with the keys on the table.

  After heading back into the hall, he moved to the door to the driveway. Something bumped his shoulder, causing it to twist backwards a few inches. He paused in the darkened hall and felt around with his free hand. Nothing was near his shoulder. Puzzled, he slowly continued to the door. The floor shuddered as his hand reached toward the door handle. This caused him to freeze and look to the floor. As he grasped the handle, the door rattled violently. After he unlatched the door, he pulled on it, but it would barely budge. Like the bedroom door, he tried pulling with more force. It only opened an inch or so before slamming shut.

  “Come on, what is going on here!” he frustratingly said.

  Trying again, he pulled on the handle. From the darkness, he could hear the sound of running footsteps quickly getting closer.

  “Stay . . .!” a disembodied voice screamed.

  A blunt force struck him from the side knocking him down and causing the laptop bag to fly out of his hand. His body slammed into the floor and the bag crashed against the opposite wall. Though there was padding in the bag, it sounded like it may not have been enough. His head throbbed from striking the floor and he started fading. He then became unconscious.

  “Dad, can we go out in the boat and fish?” a young Will asked.

  His father was reviewing some papers while sitting in the cottage living room, but did not look up.

  “Dad, can we go in the boat?” Will asked a little louder.

  Without looking up from the papers held near his face, his father responded “Maybe later, but not now, Will.”

  “That’s what you said yesterday,” Will protested.

  “I’ve got to finish this up. Why don’t you go throw some stones into the lake again,” his father suggested.

  “Okay,” Will replied in a lowered voice.

  As he walked away, his surroundings turned a cloudy dark gray and the scene disappeared.

  The gray clouds cleared. He was pulling the row boat up onto the beach and he looked up toward the cottage. After putting the oars into the boat, he started walking back up to the door to the living room. His father was in the same chair with more folders and papers spread out in front of him. Will paused before he opened the door, but then went into the living room. His father did not look up from the stapled report he held with both hands.

  “Dad, are you going to get outside today? It is really nice out today,” Will asked.

  “Maybe later,” he replied remaining focused on the papers in front of him.

  “Dad, you need to take a break. I know after losing mom, I sure need to clear my head,” Will reminded him.

  His father set the report in his hands down and looked at him.

  “Will, we both miss her, but we deal with her loss differently,” his father said.

  His father raised the papers to look at them again and said “this is how I cope.”

  “Are you sure getting counseling wouldn’t help?” Will asked.

  “Will, I know you will be starting eleventh grade in fall. Soon you will go off to college then get a job. You have to find what helps you through times like this,” his father said.

  “Well, for now it’s not work,” Will replied.

  “Not yet,” his father told him.

  Will did not respond. The room started fading to a gray cloudy background again.

  From the gray cloudy surrounding, he was aware of organ music as the scene formed in front of him. Dressed in a suit that he had seldom worn, Will stared into the casket. The still body of his father was resting peacefully inside of it. It had been at least a month since he had heard from him. Though he was looking forward to retirement in three months, he had been engrossed in his work. As he looked at
his father’s face, he could see the deep wrinkles and his hair appeared to have more gray than he remembered. He was very good at his job, but the years of the constant stress took a toll. Will did not have much of a chance to talk to his father about the job that he had started about six months earlier.

  Knowing this would be the last time he would see his father, he put his hand forth to touch the folded hands of his father. The cold lifeless hand was not like he remembered. He closed his eyes as his hand lightly touched the strange skin.

  “No!” a voice screamed as something clutched his hand.

  Quickly opening his eyes, he could see his father’s hand tightly gripping his hand and he was staring into his father’s eyes since the head was turned and lifted toward him. Totally shocked, Will let out a guttural gasp. As he lay on the ground, his head ached from where it had hit the floor. The lights were out and he realized he was back alone in the cottage. Or was he alone? It occurred to him that the voice he had heard in the cottage was the same as when he dreamed of his father yelling “No!” from the casket.

  “Dad?” he asked, still lying on the floor.

  No answer, but after a few seconds the floor squeaked.

  “Dad, are you in here?” he tried again.

  “Yes,” answered a voice from somewhere in the hallway.

  The footsteps came closer, but he could not see anything in the hallway.

  “Was that you that attacked me?” Will asked.

  “Yes,” was the answer.

  “Why would you do that to me?” Will asked.

  “I had to stop