THE GHOSTLY CHRONICLES

by D T Yarbrough

  "So. I make you nervous?" Jack said with a smile. "I was there to try to find a way to help Gloria. Her friend Richard Nash asked me to help her. What do you do for a living when you're not a dancehall gal?"

  "I help ghosts. Just like you, I expect. If you can see them, you have to help them," she said.

  "And what does your husband think about your choice of vocation," Jack asked, noticing the ring on her finger.

  "My husband was killed in the war," Rita said. "What does your wife think about your line of work?"

  "She died about six years ago. I still wear my ring to remind me that I once had something worth living for," Jack said. "Let's get back to Gloria. How are we going to help her?"

  "We? Did I ask for your help?" Rita asked.

  "I don't usually ask for help either, but I think we could make a good team. Our special skill makes us unique. Wouldn't you like to have someone you could share your experiences with that can truly understand," Jack said.

  "I don't know you that well. This is all so sudden," she said.

  "Hey. I didn't ask you to marry me ... just work with me," Jack said. "Just what are your plans for helping Gloria?"

  "I've been trying to find out if they really know Gloria's relatives and how closely they are watching them. I want to get her family hidden so the crooks can't find them," Rita replied.

  "That shouldn't be so hard. From what I've seen, they couldn't find their butts with both hands tied behind their backs. But what about the next ghost they intimidate. We've got to put them in jail where that can't do any more damage," Jack said.

  "Do you have a plan?" Rita asked.

  "Yes ... but it will require your help. I'll tell you all about it over dinner," Jack replied.

  The following week, Jack arrived at the poker game a few minutes late. "Sorry I'm late fellas, I stopped for a couple of drinks to get ready. The last time y'all were so stingy with the liquor that I couldn't enjoy myself," Jack said as he stumbled through the door. "Now where's my seat."

  "Right here, Jack," said one of the suckers from last week.

  Jack staggered over to the table and flopped down heavily into the seat. "Anybody ready for a round of drinks?" he asked. "Where's Gloria with the drinks?"

  "Her name isn't Gloria. Vito ... go tell Rita to bring in some drinks," said the man at the head of the table. "Are we ready to play? Jack, where's your money?"

  Jack pulled out his wallet, opened it, and hundred dollar bills went flying all over the table. "Oops. There it is," Jack said. "Did I bring enough?"

  "That will be fine, Jack. Sit down and we'll get it all together for you. Rita, put down those drinks and gather up Mr. Weston's money. The rest of you sit back and let Rita take care of this."

  In a few minutes the game began. Jack was getting a drink from Rita when the man said, "It's your turn, Jack. Call or raise?"

  "You keep those drinks coming, Gloria. Oh ... that's right ... You don't like to be called Gloria. But I thank it's such a perty name ... ma'am," Jack said as he patted her on the butt.

  "Keep your hand to yourself and cut the cowboy crap," said Rita as she brushed his hand aside.

  "Now Rita, be nice to our guest," said the man. "Call or raise, Jack?"

  "All this money makes me think of banks," Jack said. "I hate banks. You won't catch me putting my money in a bank."

  "Where do you put your money, Jack?" asked the man.

  "Under my bed in a special safe. No combination lock, I had it made special," Jack said.

  "Aren't you afraid someone will steal it?" asked the man.

  "I have the only key," Jack said as he stood up and reached into his pocket and pulled out a large pocket knife with a keyring at the end of the handle, "and if anyone tries to take this from me ..." Jack fumbled around opening the knife and the knife went flying and landed in the middle of the table point first, putting a hole in a couple of the discards. "Did someone say CUT THE CARDS?" Jack asked as he flopped back into his seat.

  "Vito, get over here and do something with this before Mr. Weston hurts someone. You know what to do, and get us a new deck of cards," the man said.

  Gloria had just come into the room and was standing behind Jack. "Brrr. I feel a chill. This is just like my apartment. No matter how warm I make it or how much scotch I drink, I keep having these chills. Night or day, morning or evening, every day," said Jack.

  "Sit still Jack, and tell me more about these chills. You say they happen all the time?" the man asked.

  Vito came in with the new deck and Rita entered with more drinks. As she went around the table she walked right through Gloria as if she didn't see her. "Brrr," she said as she spilled the drinks all over Jack, "I just felt a chill too."

  "I'm gonna ketch a cold fer sure," Jack said. "You guys will have to excuse me. I've got to go and get out of these clothes. Where's my key?"

  "Vito, give Jack his knife and show him out. Rita, clean up this mess. If the rest of our guests will excuse us, we've got a lot to discuss," the man said.

  "See y'all next week," Jack said as he staggered down the hall.

  Vito returned to the room. "Guys ... take that copy of Jack's key and go to his apartment tomorrow and rob his safe," the man ordered.

  "But Boss, you know the other guys are afraid of ghosts. Maybe you should come with us," said Vito.

  "The others, huh? Well, you're probably right. We need a new ghost to replace the one that got away," he said.

  The next morning Jack left his apartment and drove off in his truck. Not even a hangover, thanks to those watered down drinks Rita had given him. The crooks immediately broke into his apartment. The boss cornered the ghost and began questioning and intimidating him. "Hey Boss, the key doesn't work!" yelled Vito.

  "You guys are hopeless. You can't even make a good copy of a key," the boss yelled. "So let's bring the safe with us. Let's go."

  As they walked back into the living room they heard, "Hands behind your heads. No funny moves. Cuff 'em fellas."

  "Let me do this," Jack said. "You have the right to remain silent ... Anything you say will be too stupid to repeat in a court of law....Maybe you better do it. I forgot the rest of the words."

  MEDIUM AT LARGE

  Jack Weston didn't want to admit it, but this one had him stumped. He had spent hours trying to get some answers, but this one didn't seem to have any. It didn't even have any questions. Jack had helped many ghosts before and even though it was obvious this one needed help, it hadn't asked for it. Jack couldn't believe he was actually volunteering, but there was something so forlorn about this one that it reminded him of himself not so long ago.

  Jack's life had turned around since he started seeing ghosts. He had been too busy solving their problems to think about his. And then he met Rita. Rita was like Jack. She also saw ghosts. Maybe Rita could help. She had been doing this a lot longer than Jack. Besides, any excuse to see her again made Jack tingle with anticipation.

  The ghost just sat there on Jack's sofa, staring into space. She was still quite lovely, but there were some things different about this one. Besides the obvious loss of memory, she seemed to be more transparent than other ghosts Jack had dealt with. She looked exhausted. If Jack didn't know she was already dead, he would have sworn she was dying.

  Jack decided to call Rita. "Hello ... this is Rita ... How may I help you?" the voice at the other end of the line said.

  "It's Jack ... Jack Weston ... I hope you remember me."

  "How could I forget. How are you doing ... cowboy?"

  "Not so good. I've come upon a real puzzler. I need your advise. Can you come over?" Jack asked. "I'd come over there, but I had enough trouble just getting this one to my place and I'm afraid to leave her alone."

  "Sure ... I'll be right over as soon as I finish up a few things here."

  Jack decided to tidy up the place a little, maybe even tidy himself up. Jack wasn't a slob, but he was far from being a neat freak. The years of being a hermit and hunter had taught him that c
leanliness was important but scented toiletries were unneeded. Shaving was also optional. It was hard to get back to the old ways and he wasn't even sure he wanted to except when he was going to see Rita. His apartment wasn't tiny, but it wasn't a large apartment either. It didn't take long to straighten up.

  Jack sat down and watched the news on TV for a while and then there was the knock at the door. Jack quickly ran his comb through his hair and rushed to the door. But it was just the paper boy coming around to collect. Jack gave him the $5.00 and went back to the couch. Where was the ghost? How long had she been gone? Jack ran to the door and opened it. Rita was just starting to knock. "So now you're psychic," she said.

  "No ... I'm looking for the ghost ... it just vanished. Did you see one as you drove up," Jack asked.

  "No, but tell me about your problem. Maybe that will answer some questions. What's so special about this ghost?" Rita asked.

  "She doesn't remember her name or anything about herself. She can tell me what she did last week or last month, but her memories don't seem to go back farther than that," Jack replied. "I want to help her, but I've got to find out more about her."

  "Did she ask for your help?" Rita questioned.

  "No. But I know she needs it," Jack replied.

  "That's not like you, Jack. Our last conversation made me think that you considered your gift a burden. Have you had a change of heart?" Rita asked.

  "There was just something about her that reminded me of myself," Jack replied. "I had to try to help."

  "You are changing. Well, that's a good sign. Did she seem different in any other way?" Rita asked.

  "Yes ... it's as though she's dying. I know she's already dead, but if you saw her you would see what I mean," Jack said.

  "Where is the nearest mirror?" Rita asked.

  "In the bathroom. This is no time to fix your makeup. We've got to find her," Jack said.

  "Come with me. I think I know where she is," Rita said as she walked towards the bathroom and looked inside.

  The ghost was standing in front of the mirror looking at her reflection.

  "What's she doing?" Jack asked. "How did you know?"

  "They all do this when they get to this stage. Maybe she's trying to recognize the reflection, or maybe she just wants to be around another ghost. Maybe she knows she's vanishing and is checking on her condition," Rita answered.

  "What do you mean .... this stage?" Jack asked.

  "She's losing her ectoplasm. They all do ... over time," Rita answered. "They don't take in energy like we do when we eat. Fortunately they don't need much. Only their minds continue to require it, and their minds require far less than ours because they don't have to control bodily functions. Their long term memories are the first to go."

  "Is there any way to restore their ectoplasm?" Jack asked.

  "Only one way that I know about. You've heard of mediums channeling the spirit of a ghost. Their minds link and the medium can share the ghost's memory," Rita said.

  "So ... let's get a medium," Jack suggested.

  "Not so fast. If the ghost and the medium are awake during the contact, it doesn't do anything for the ghost. It actually weakens them as well as the medium. Subconscious contact is what's required," Rita said.

  "What do you mean?" Jack asked.

  "You have to sleep with her, literally," Rita answered. "You'll have to take a sleeping pill, of course. Otherwise the despair she is feeling will prevent you from getting to sleep."

  "Now wait just a minute. You talk like I'm going to do this. I don't want her memories. Isn't there some other way? Couldn't you do it? You seem to know all about it," Jack said.

  "She seems to trust you and this is your problem. You only asked for my advice. If you do this, you must help her finish her business and get her on her way to the afterlife. We can't have her hanging around and telling other ghosts how to restore their ectoplasm," Rita said.

  "So that explains it," Jack said. "That's why I've seen ghosts following drunks around at night. They're waiting for them to pass out or fall sleep. Looks like they already know."

  "If you're going to do this, I'll stick around and help you. I'll make sure the ghost lies still while you are connected so we can get it done in one shot. You'll not want to do it a second time," Rita said.

  "Okay. But I don't have any sleeping pills. How about you?" Jack asked.

  "No. But I have a prescription that will work even better. It's for an eye condition I have that causes me to see ghosts," Rita said.

  "I'd been meaning to ask you how it is that you can see ghosts," Jack said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "Maybe some other time ... some other place," she said.

  Jack took one of the pills and swallowed. "How long before this takes effect?" he asked.

  "About a half hour and you'll be sleeping like a baby. Tell me about some of your other adventures with ghosts while we wait," Rita said.

  They talked and compared experiences. Jack lay down on the bed while they talked. Rita sat in a chair beside the bed. The ghost stared at her image in the dresser mirror. Gradually Jack nodded off. Jack began to have feelings of sadness and despair. Familiar feelings but with a hopelessness Jack had never known. The pain ... it was like an abcess in his very soul.

  Jack awoke to find Rita standing over him, calling his name softly. That voice. It wasn't Rita's voice. Jack knew that voice but was still too dazed to put a face with it. "Where have you been, Jack. I've been looking every-where for you. You disappeared a week after my funeral and I was afraid you were dead," the voice said.

  "Linda ... Is that you?" Jack asked.

  "It's me, Jack. I've missed you so much. I thought I'd never see you again," the voice said. "You've forgiven me. That makes me so happy. I couldn't move on until I knew."

  "Of course you're forgiven, but how did you know?" Jack asked.

  "Our minds were linked. I know how much you've always loved me," the voice answered.

  Jack suddenly realized he knew how Linda felt. He took her in his arms and kissed her. Linda began to unbutton his shirt. He looked into her eyes and realized they were Rita's. "We can't do this. We can't use Rita this way." Jack said.

  "I know how you feel about Rita. I understand," Linda said.

  "And I know you're all right with it. After six years, it's time for me to get on with my life. I'm so glad you feel that way," Jack said.

  "Goodbye, Jack. I've got to go. Be happy," Linda said.

  "Is she gone?" ask Rita.

  "Yes, she's gone. Thank you so much for making that possible," Jack said.

  "It's the least I could do for the man I love," said Rita.

  "You're confused," said Jack. "Those are Linda's feelings. Maybe we shouldn't see each other until they wear off."

  "If that's what you want," Rita said with a tear in her eye. "But I know how I feel."

  "I hope you still feel that way the next time we meet," Jack said. "With all my heart."

  DO YOU SEE WHAT I HEAR

  "Oh. It's you," Rita said as she opened the door half way. "What do you want?"

  "I'm sorry I made you angry. I'd hoped you would understand. I wouldn't bother you if there was anyone else I could go to. You wouldn't answer the phone and I didn't want to discuss this with your answering machine," Jack said.