Why Ghosts Haunt

by Wayne Mansfield

  “Have you noticed anything strange?”

  Ellis, still by the fire, furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

  Charlie joined him. “Anything.”

  “It’s damned cold in here,” said Ellis. “That’s something I can tell you for sure.”

  “Ah, yeah. There’s that. That’s probably part of it. Anything else?”

  Ellis hugged him close. “This should warm us up.”

  The flicker of a smile played on Charlie’s lips. “Well...?”

  Ellis, his arms still around Charlie’s waist, leaned back and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know what you want me to say. What do you mean ‘anything strange’? The weather? This bone-chilling cold?”

  “When I went outside just then, the wind tore through me as though…as though I wasn’t even there. And yes, this cold. I’ve never felt so cold in my life, and I’ll bet you haven’t either. What’s more, I can’t remember anything since the night I was shot.” He stared right through Ellis. “Shot.” His eyes returned to Ellis’s. “I think we’re dead. At least, I think I am.”

  Ellis continued to look at Charlie for a moment longer, then released him. He faced the fire and gazed at the flames that flickered and danced and sparked.

  “I know it’s not a very pleasant thought,” said Charlie, placing a hand in the small of Ellis’s back, “but I think that’s probably what’s happened.”

  Ellis nodded slowly. “I guess…I guess I was thinking the same thing. I’ve tried to block out that horrific evening, those police, that shot. And there’s this.” He lifted his shirt to reveal a dark spot on his belly. “I noticed it earlier this evening. It’s not a bruise.”

  Charlie lifted his own shirt and immediately saw a similar, though larger, black mark on his chest. There appeared to be a hole at the centre and tiny bits of shredded flesh decorating the perimeter.

  “Check my back,” he said, hoisting up his shirt and turning.

  He felt Ellis kiss the wound and pull down his shirt.

  “I think you’re right. We are dead.” A look of intense concentration appeared on Ellis’s face, as though he were trying to comprehend the enormity of what that meant. “The bullet meant for you must have got me as well.”

  “Does that mean we’re ghosts? Is that it? We’re actually ghosts?”

  Ellis shrugged. “We must be. I mean, we’re dead and we’re here. We’re talking to each other. I can see you and you can see me. What other explanation is there?”

  Charlie pondered the probability for a long while in silence. It was not an easy concept to come to terms with. There were so many questions. Where were their corporeal bodies? Had they been buried? What was going to happen to their house? Were they going to remain ghosts forever?

  “You know, what they say isn’t true,” said Ellis.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not till death us do part, is it?”

  Seeing Ellis smirk made Charlie smile, and it took only seconds for the smiles to become laughter.

  Ellis held out his arms. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a good deal longer than you bargained for.”

  They stood by the fire, embracing for many minutes, silently enjoying the closeness. Outside, the storm was becoming fiercer, with gusts of wind that shook the house. Thunder cracked, deafening and frightening, while sheet lightning lit up the sky and the room they were in.

  Charlie thought about his parents and his brother. They’d never see each other again. Not that he’d seen a lot of them since telling them about Ellis. But he still loved them, and he knew they loved him, on some level. He wondered whether who he fell in love with meant as much to them now that he was dead. But enough of that. It was a morbid thought and there was no point in speculating.

  Charlie broke away from the embrace and stared into the flames, mesmerised by their flickering dance. “I’ve just realised why it’s so damned hard to get warm.”

  “Why?” asked Ellis.

  “That’s not really a fire at all.”

  Ellis shrugged. “It looks like a fire to me.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I know it looks like a fire. But who lit it? Did you?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t either. That’s because it’s not real. It must be like a memory. But it’s not real and that’s why it’s not warming us. I’m not even sure if we can be warmed.”

  “There’s a lot to get used to when you’re dead.”

  “Right. Like, have you eaten lately? Can’t remember the last time I ate, but I’m not hungry.”

  Ellis grinned. “And if we don’t have to eat, we don’t have to use the toilet.”

  “Or go grocery shopping.”

  “And we don’t have to shower. Or shave.”

  They laughed uproariously, rejoicing at all the mundane tasks of the living they would no longer have to perform.

  “And we don’t have to go to work. We can hang around here all day, making love and—”

  “Driving each other crazy,” interrupted Ellis. He paused. “Can we actually still make love?”

  “There’s plenty of time to find out.”

  Once more, they held each other. This time, their lips came together, and when they did, a slight tingling sensation tickled Charlie’s lips.

  “Did you feel that?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did,” said Ellis. “A tingling. Quite nice, really.”

  They kissed again and the tingling sensation grew, spreading like a warm skin, enveloping Charlie’s body. And when their tongues touched, the sensation grew stronger.

  “Come,” said Ellis, leading him to the couch, where they removed their clothing.

  Naked and erect, Charlie lay down and pulled Ellis on top of him. The second their lips came together again, the sensation returned, made even more powerful by the similar sensation being generated by their erections pressing against each other. And when Ellis began to gyrate his hips, the ecstatic feeling washed over them in waves that had both men writhing in pleasure.

  If this was what it meant to be dead, then Charlie decided he was going to enjoy it.

  At some point, both men gathered up their clothing and made their way upstairs to the bedroom, where they lay together for the remainder of the night, exploring each other’s bodies and discovering what they could and could not accomplish now they were in spirit. The main thing they learned was they could no longer ejaculate, but with the sensations created by their lips and tongues connecting, made more powerful by their cocks gently grinding against each other, Charlie had to acknowledge they had well and truly been compensated.

  And when they’d finished making love, in the hour before dawn, Charlie cupped Ellis’s face. To kiss him one more time.

  Ellis grinned. His eyes twinkled in the scant light.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Charlie.

  “Nothing. It’s just that when you did that, put your hands on my head, I could see what you were thinking.”

  Charlie smiled. “Is that so? Then what was I thinking?”

  “You were thinking how lucky you are to have me and how much you enjoy being with me. I could feel your love. Really feel it. It was warm and strong.”

  If Charlie could have manufactured tears, he’d have spilled a few right then and there. “That’s right,” he whispered. “I don’t mind being dead with you beside me. And if being dead means we can experience each other in these new and wonderful ways, then I’m happy to be dead. Happy to be free of all the constraints that flesh and blood bring.”

  “It is better, isn’t it? I’ve never felt such pleasure. Such closeness. It’s so new and exciting. We get to discover each other all over again.”

  Charlie and Ellis lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Charlie wasn’t the least bit tired, and for all he knew, ghosts never got tired. If they didn’t get hungry, didn’t go to the toilet, didn’t ejaculate, and didn’t cry, then it made sense they never got tired.

  Up to that point, Charlie hadn’t encounter
ed a single disadvantage.

  At least thirty minutes passed with the men recalling times gone by when they’d been alive and part of the world. The sun was drawing closer to the horizon. The storm outside had abated. Only as he noticed the wind dying down and the silence left in the wake of the rain clouds departing did Charlie feel weary. Though it wasn’t the usual tiredness he’d felt at the end of a hard day at work. This was different. Deeper. He felt it in every part of him. Oppressive. Heavy. Weighing him down.

  “What’s happening?” he asked, hearing the note of fear in his voice.

  “I-I don’t know,” Ellis replied. “I feel so weak. I can’t move.”

  Charlie closed his eyes and oblivion washed over him.

  * * * *

  When next he awoke, there was a storm raging outside. It was winter and to be expected, though the storms this year seemed more ferocious and longer-lasting.

  Ellis was already awake, dressed and standing by the window.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Charlie from bed.

  “Energised,” said Ellis. “The rest has done me good. And you, my love?”

  Charlie sat up. “I feel the same. Full of energy and wide awake.”

  He got out of bed, pulled on his clothes, and joined Ellis by the window. He kissed Ellis on the cheek and felt a little tingle in his lips.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Ellis nodded at the window. “The grass is much taller now. And the garden is wild and overgrown. There’s rubbish everywhere.”

  “Probably from the storm,” Charlie suggested. “Blown in from the street.”

  “And look. Mrs. Andersson’s privet has been cut back. And the tree on the verge has been trimmed. Someone has knocked down our mailbox and there’s junk mail up and down the path.” Ellis looked at Charlie. “It can’t have all happened overnight. Not Mrs. Andersson’s privet. Not the tree on the verge.”

  “True.”

  “I think we’ve been asleep for longer than a few hours. And why is it always stormy? When we went to sleep, the storm had passed.”

  Charlie stepped behind Ellis and hugged him. “It’s winter, baby. Storms are not unusual.”

  “It’s not the storms, Charlie. It’s…time.” And as soon as Ellis said it, Charlie knew what he meant. He also knew it was true. “An awful lot of time must have passed since we were last awake. Grass takes a long time to grow that much. And the mailbox, the verge tree, and the privet. I doubt that would have all happened on the same day.”

  “Probably not. What do you think happened?”

  “I think we’re only able to exist when there’s a storm. Think about it.” Charlie kissed the back of Ellis’s neck. “It must have something to do with the electricity in the air during a storm, charging us up. Yes.” He turned, talking excitedly about his theory. “With our hearts no longer beating and our brains and lungs no longer working, how are we able to exist?”

  Charlie shrugged. He didn’t understand much of what had happened to him.

  “It’s the electricity in the air. The same electricity that generates lightning, powers us. Remember how weary we were feeling? Remember? I know you do. Why were we feeling so tired all of a sudden? It’s because the storm had passed. There was no longer anything to power us, or for us to draw power from.”

  It sounded logical. There was no denying it. In his gut, Charlie felt Ellis had hit the nail on the head. “There’s plenty of time to test your theory. Although, if you’re right, I won’t be looking forward to summer.”

  Ellis groaned. “That’s true. One thing, I guess, is that when we wake up, we don’t seem to realise how long we’ve been asleep. And when we have eternity together…”

  Charlie smiled and kissed Ellis on the lips. “I’m so lucky to have you. Good looks and brains. Even if they’re dead brains.”

  “What do you want to do now?” said Ellis. “I wish it wasn’t so stormy out there. It’d be nice to go for a walk. Get out of the house for a change.”

  “In this weather? Especially tonight. Listen. It’s like World War III out there. Maybe another night.”

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  “I think this is the thing I’m not going to like about being dead,” said Charlie.

  “What’s that?”

  “The boredom.”

  “Thanks,” said Ellis, feigning offence.

  “You know what I mean. Even the mundanity of eating a meal, or cleaning the house, or watching television, seem like welcome distractions now.”

  “I suppose the electricity’s been cut off. No more television for us.”

  “Anyway,” said Charlie, trying to sound perkier. “Let’s go downstairs and try to think of something to amuse ourselves with. And if we can’t find anything, we can always get naked again.”

  Chapter 3

  They returned to the lounge room. Charlie had always felt more comfortable there. It was the centre of the house, as far as he was concerned.

  “We could tidy up. The place is all dirty and dusty.”

  He ran the tip of his finger through the dust on the coffee table, leaving a faint line in its wake.

  “Maybe not,” he said, realising that any cleaning would be a wasted effort.

  Suddenly, he thought he heard a noise. It was difficult to tell over the screaming winds and driving rain outside.

  “Do you hear that?” He cocked an ear. “I think there’s someone at the door.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Ellis. “I can’t hear anything. I’m surprised anyone can hear anything over the racket out there.”

  Charlie moved towards the door. He glanced over his shoulder at Ellis, following close behind. “Who’d be out on a god-awful night like this?”

  At the door, Charlie could see immediately that someone was jiggling the handle from outside. Then he heard voices, making his heart race. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to talk to anyone who wasn’t Ellis.

  “Come on, arsehole.” A man’s voice. “I’m soaked through.”

  Another man replied. “You wanna have a crack at it? No? So shut up and let me get on with it.”

  Charlie looked quizzically at Ellis, who shrugged and returned his attention to the door.

  “Watch this,” Charlie whispered as he pushed down the handle and flung the door open, revealing three youths.

  Ellis chuckled.

  “Whoa, man,” said the man who stood stooped where the door handle had been a moment earlier, a horrified look on his face. “Did you see that, Rick?”

  “See what?” asked the tall, thin male directly behind him.

  “The door opened by itself.”

  “Don’t mess around, Matt,” said the girl standing midway between the men.

  “Hey. I’m telling you. I didn’t open it.”

  Rick pushed by the others. “Well, it’s open now. Let’s get out of this bloody rain.”

  Charlie and Ellis stepped out of their way. “Help yourself,” Charlie muttered.

  They looked to be in their late teens. Early twenties at the most. They were dressed for the weather in long, thick coats, boots, and beanies. Each of them carried a flashlight. The girl had something tucked under her arm, under her coat, making it stick out at odd angles.

  Rick turned to the girl. “What did you say?”

  She shrugged. “Didn’t say anything.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You coming, Matt? Or are you happy to stay out there getting soaked?”

  Matt pulled a face and followed the others inside.

  Immediately, three beams of light filled the dark space, temporarily blinding Charlie and Ellis.

  “They’re not shy, are they?” said Charlie.

  Ellis had a look of utter disdain on his face. “No, they’re not.”

  “So where were they shot?” asked the girl. “On the porch, wasn’t it? I remember reading something about it.”

  “No way. It was in the kitchen,” said Matt. “They made a break for it and got as far as the kitchen. L
et’s take a look. It must be down here somewhere.”

  One after the other, the trio of trespassers walked down the narrow hallway, which would take them directly to the kitchen and dining room.

  “Nessa, tell us what happened,” said Rick from behind.

  “Why ask me?” asked Nessa sulkily. “Matt’s the expert.”

  They arrived at the kitchen doorway.

  “Careful,” said Matt. “This is it. Don’t be surprised if there are still bloodstains everywhere.”

  “I’m telling you, they got killed on the front porch,” insisted Nessa. “But don’t listen to me. What would I know?”

  Charlie and Ellis had followed the three intruders, Ellis gripping Charlie’s arm.

  “There might be more bloodstains by the end of the night,” hissed Ellis.

  Matt, aided by the beam from his flashlight, moved around the chipped and scratched table. “One of them was here,” he said, indicating a position by the head of the table. “And the other”—he walked towards the back door—“was here. Trying to get the door open. He was the first to go. Got shot in the back from the hallway.”

  Nessa rolled her eyes and three beams of light converged on the area by entrance.

  “By the time the other dude knew what was happening, the cops had shot him in the chest. Dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, splattering blood all over the place.”

  Charlie realised he was grinding his teeth. And that his hands had become fists, clenching and unclenching. To talk about his death in such a disrespectful way was one thing, but doing it with such enthusiasm was practically sacrilege.

  “Okay, are we gonna do this or not?” Nessa pulled out a chair at the head of the table. “I’ll sit here.” She removed her coat and hung it on the back of the chair, while putting the object she’d been carrying on the table.

  “A board,” whispered Ellis.

  As Matt and Rick took a seat on either side of Nessa, she opened the board, then reached into her coat pocket and extracted a small wooden object.

  “I know what that is,” said Ellis. “I know what they’re doing.”

  Charlie knew also.

  “Now, everyone, put your fingers lightly on the planchette.”