by Lotta Smith
I was still covering my ears, but I somehow knew the footsteps had stopped. I could feel the air around my barrier had stopped moving. It was unbelievable that the situation had changed just like that. I was bracing myself to feel another bout of aggressive movement, but that didn’t happen.
Instead of letting out a sigh of relief and finally breathing normally, I grew even more nervous. It could have been that the spirit had given up on me and left, but the silence might have indicated that the ghost was preparing to assault me with full force. Things I’d heard in the past about the sky being the darkest before dawn and the silence before a storm came to mind, and I braced myself for whatever might come next.
I froze and visualized the worst-case scenario with the energy barrier destroyed by the ghost’s full force and yours truly suffering from a tragic demise. I knew the law of attraction recommended one never imagine bad scenarios as the grim ideas would attract undesirable results. So, I tried to keep hoping for the best and truly convincing myself that everything was going fine. Then again, I was only a human, and humans tended to think and act according to their previous experiences. The law of attraction believers would say that a person who had a track record of bad luck and tended to prepare for the worst was the same thing as hoping for the worst. But, in my universe, that was called damage control.
With my eyes shut tightly and holding my knees, I went through my nightmarish worst-case scenario over and over. I thought I could come up with some good ideas to cope with the situation by preparing myself for another attack. Nothing good or useful popped out of my not-so-genius brain. The ghost was fast and furious when she—or maybe it—chased me, and it was ice cold. Perhaps, the ghost might have its weaknesses, like the cross, garlic, and holy water for vampires, but I didn’t know what her weaknesses would be. Holy crap. I should have requested garlic and Gorgonzola pizza for dinner instead of those cold deli meat sandwiches. The ghost might have stayed away from me if I were sprinkling stinky breath.
I’d just intensified the creepiness by going through the worst-case scenario again and again—until I was absolutely sure I would end my life as the ghost’s midnight snack.
At this point, I got confused with what I’d been dealing with, and I’d almost convinced myself that ghosts would be as greedy and bloodthirsty as ghouls, but no one was there to point that out to me.
“I’m not yummy. I’m not good food. You’ll suffer from cholesterol issues if you’d dare to eat me—so, don’t eat me, pretty please with sugar on top?” I repeated those phrases like some mantras, hoping the ghost would heed my messages.
CHAPTER 8
A while after going on and on with my attempt to convince the ghost about the bad taste of my flesh and blood, the ghost had not bothered me, and I was still alive.
I felt like I had been holding my breath practically forever, and I took a deep breath.
I didn’t know how long I’d been hiding in the darkness. It could have been night still, or it could have been morning. Having been deprived of visual and auditory info, I’d lost track of time.
I opened an eye ever so slowly. Okay, so, the situation wouldn’t have been different if I’d opened both eyes, but half of me dreaded facing reality. What if the ghost had turned into a monster with a mouth in her face and an additional giant mouth in the back of her head and was getting ready to eat me? I’d be badly, seriously traumatized if that were the case. I’d rather die without noticing my grim ending rather than go with a ton of fear and horror.
Anyway, nothing painful, scary, or creepy happened to me when I opened my eyes, and all my body parts were still attached to me. Phew… What a relief.
For a moment, I thought I was alone, but I was wrong. The whitish shadow was still in the same room I was stuck in.
The shadow was standing by the window. My heart made a huge thump the moment I’d recognized that. Instinctively, I was in a defense mode—except, I hadn’t figured out how to defend myself in this situation.
Eyes wide open, I watched the shadow. Even though the only part visible from the energy barrier was her back, I didn’t feel the creepiness and the aggressiveness from her anymore. From my point of view, the ghost’s back looked sad rather than sinister, and for some reason I couldn’t quite fathom, I felt a little bit teary as I kept observing her.
As my eyes adjusted the dark room with dim lights coming from outside, I saw the ghost’s shoulders trembling and her neck sagging. Compared to living humans, the ghost’s shadow was blurry, and it was harder to recognize each body part, but I could tell that she was crying.
The shadow seemed to be trying hard to keep the crying as subtle as possible, but her shoulders were heavily heaving. I couldn’t hear her voice, but she was in the middle of a full-blown sob.
As for me, in spite of all the moments of freaking out and regretting my decision for taking the exam, I found myself wondering why she was crying.
My fear for encountering the ghost was real and serious, but when I was simply scared of her, I didn’t bother to think that she used to be a living human like the rest of us. Just like anybody, she must have had her share of happiness, joy, sadness, and everything life had offered. I was a little taken aback when I found myself wondering why she was staying in this unit after she’d lost her body.
The ghost kept crying while looking out the windows. Occasionally, something shiny and crystal-like fell to the floor. It took a while for me to understand they were the ghost’s tears.
“Hello?” Without giving it much thought, I found myself talking to her. “What’s happened?” The longer I watched her cry while I hid in the safety of Jack’s barrier, I started to feel as if I were the cold-blooded monster.
The ghost’s shoulders twitched, and she froze for a moment.
I felt a slight change in the room’s vibes, and a rational part of me warned me it could be dangerous to attempt communicating with the ghost, but something demanded I keep talking. I didn’t care about the test anymore, but I felt like I was equivalent to those stone-hearted bystanders who wouldn’t bother to intervene while a defenseless child was being assaulted by a thug.
So, I kept talking. “Do you want to tell me why you’re crying?” My voice was trembling.
I could see the ghost sucking in air. She raised her head ever so slightly. She turned back, as if she was looking for me.
I gulped.
I’d be a big liar if I insisted I wasn’t scared at all. I was frightened big time, but no one could blame me. I’d never looked a ghost eye to eye. I might have done that with that ghost from Quest Realty, but I wouldn’t cherish that moment as a fond memory, so that didn’t count.
My heart raced. In my head, Vince Neil was singing “Shout at the Devil” and I was seriously tempted to look away from her, but after spending so much time in this apartment, running away from her didn’t seem like a good option.
Holding my breath, I waited for the ghost’s response. When she turned in my direction, most of her face was covered by her long hair. I didn’t know whether to be glad or scared. I felt a set of dark eyes gazing at me in the darkness. I was still in the barrier, so she must have had a hard time grasping where I was.
I gulped once more. I’d seen a horror movie in which the ghost showed some kind of vulnerability just to fool the stupid main character into having sympathy toward the evil spirit. Of course, I’d suspected this scenario. “Watch out! The world is full of bloodthirsty lunatics ready to kill you!” was what the media had been teaching us since when our parents and grandparents were little.
Fully aware of that risk, I looked her directly in the eye—from the inside of the barrier—and said, “If there’s anything I can do for you, I’m here for you.”
I was still invisible to her, but she was listening to me. After a pause, she nodded in my direction, turned on her heels, and took a step toward the interconnecting room.
As she kept the door between the two rooms open, I could see what was going on inside. The next room
was devoid of furniture, just like the one I’d been staying in. So far, I couldn’t see anything noteworthy—unless something important was stored behind the closet.
Pat, pat, pat—
Her footsteps echoed. Initially, they signified the mother of all the creepiness, but now they sounded sad and melancholy. Was it me who changed? Or, was it the ghost? I didn’t know.
The ghost proceeded as I watched her holding my breath. When she reached the edge of the room, she turned back, like she was making sure I was watching her.
“So, what’s with the closet?” I said, letting her know I was still with her.
She nodded, indicating the closet’s sliding doors with her hand.
I was going to obtain some more information from her, but before I could ask anything more, she went inside, going through the closed doors.
At this point, I expected her to come back with something, but that didn’t happen.
Still, I waited for her for some more time, imagining the ghost needed some space. Okay, considering that all the horror-movie-worthy terrorizing and paranormal activities were both scary and spectacular enough to make a buzzing video of a lifetime, the ghost needing some space was highly unlikely. Still, sometimes, people changed their minds, and I wouldn’t be shocked if that happened to the hosts. After all, they used to be living humans sometime in the past, and I didn’t believe their behavioral patterns changed much just because they died.
But, before she emerged from the closed closet, the lights in the whole apartment unit buzzed on, and my phone came back to life.
“Hello?” I called for the ghost, but she didn’t pop up. With my head tilted and eyebrows knitted, I muttered the obvious. “So, she’s disappeared.” Thank God, nobody was there with me to point out that I’d just uttered the lamest possible comment.
After spending hours in the darkness, it took my eyes time to adjust to the bright lights. Before blackout, I’d switched on every light in the apartment unit, and I was finally beginning to regret my decision for that.
I stood up in the energy barrier, but I hadn’t collected my guts to step out of it. With full disclosure, I was still confused with the situation, and my first impression for the ghost wasn’t all that nice. If she’d decided to slam her ice-cold body against me, just for fun, I had a hunch that I’d be joining her soon, dying from a heart attack.
I looked around the room. Not that the room had much furniture, but everything looked normal. No bloody handprints on the walls. No wallpaper torn down. And no pool of suspicious liquid.
So far, so good. Everything looked calm and peaceful. Under normal circumstances, I’d have convinced myself that I’d had another silly dream. In retrospect, I had chalked almost all the experiences involving paranormal activities in my life up to my imagination. In spite of Great Mama Jane openly admitting her witchy side, my life with my loving parents had been normal and ordinary—perhaps a tad bit too much so.
Great Mama Jane was known to cast spells and communicate with people and things others couldn’t even feel, but since the rest of the Valentines were lacking such skills, they often felt that their godmother was just telling jokes. Everybody said they loved her dearly with respect peppered with awe, but that didn’t mean all the Valentine clan had full understanding of her skills.
As for my parents’ continuous and successful endeavor convincing myself with scientifically and logically plausible reasoning, I had a hunch they honestly believed their explanation to be accurate. When Jack Adams rescued me from the ghost on the bridge, I was absolutely sure he was playing with me. Back then, I was an ordinary jobseeker with no such skill like seeing dead people, much less communicating with them. It took me more than twenty years to admit ghosts and paranormal activities were real while I had a skill to see and hear people and things most people wouldn’t notice. Considering that, I could easily imagine how impossible it would be not to blame my experiences for a little kid’s overactive imagination.
Then again, the situation was different. The vision of the female ghost who had been crying was stuck in my brain. Indeed, the memory was practically haunting me.
I couldn’t pretend that I’d had another ridiculously wild dream anymore.
My mind was set, and I stepped out of the comfort of the energy barrier. If I said I wasn’t afraid at all, I’d be a big liar. Of course, I was still afraid, and ninety percent of me was still panicky. So, when I didn’t feel any sense of danger outside of the barrier, I let out a deep sigh of relief.
Thanks to hours and hours of panic, hiding with the worst-case scenario continuously playing in my head, and sleep deprivation, I was beyond tired.
Glancing at the brightly lit room and then at the main door, I assumed that I could leave this apartment unit this time, if I tried. Now that I didn’t care about joining Quest Realty, I couldn’t care less about passing this test after all.
Still, I knew I couldn’t leave this apartment without looking at the closet. I had a gut feeling that ignoring the ghost and leaving here for good wasn’t beneficial for my karma.
Turning my back to the door, I took a step toward the connecting room with the closet. I wasn’t a mind reader, and I happened to be on the dense side for most things. But I was sure the ghost had wanted me to understand something. The previous residents fled from this apartment unit, thinking it was a creepy unit hexed by something sinister—because they couldn’t understand the message the ghost wanted to tell them. Now, I sort of got her message, and it was obvious I was responsible for fulfilling her wish as much as I could.
“Hi there!” I said, standing in front of the closet’s closed doors. The closet doors had an Asian flavor with washi paper décor. “Now, I’m opening the closet. I want to make one thing clear. Never, ever, jump out of the closet’s door to freak me out and have a little laugh, okay? First of all, that’s not funny. Secondly, it’s rude to play with an innocent visitor who is being kind enough to help you with something. And, third, if you’d really freaked me out, I might die from shock and join you here as another resident ghost. In that case, you won’t get what you want, and I’m sure that’s not in your best interest. So—”
I reached for the sliding doors. When my hand touched the part to move the doors, my heart was thumping, and my fingers were sweating like mad and oh so slippery. It was like my fingertips had sweat glands that were suddenly turned on high.
I took a deep breath once more and repeated the process several more times. Thank God, I didn’t pass out due to hyperventilation. I rolled my shoulders. And then, I opened the closet.
The door slid open with the crisp sound of the right-side door running the rail and going behind the other. In a wetter area, I might have caught a stench of mold, but I was in southern California. Thanks to dry weather, the closet smelled dusty, but nothing disgusting—such as a dead rat and dried roaches—were in my sight.
I squinted at the sight, but it was just an empty closet.
“Hmm… I thought there should be something inside.” Muttering to myself, I illuminated the empty closet with my phone’s flashlight. Glad to see my phone’s functions fully restored, I checked every corner, but I had no luck finding anything.
There weren’t even any personal items in the closet, and I guessed someone from the company must have checked to make sure no personal belongings of previous residents were left and removed anything that had been left behind.
Head tilted and eyebrows knitted, I slid a door to shut the closet.
The crisp sounds of something being crushed filled my ears.
“How!” I yelped, jumping off the floor about as high as a foot. Eyes wide open, I looked around. “Is anyone out there?”
No response.
“Hey, if you want me to do anything for you, you can just tell me.” I raised my index finger in the midair, hoping the ghost would follow my request if she was still hiding somewhere in the unit. “Like I said, I’m not good at handling surprises.”
“Hey, why don’t you try
moving the door again?” a familiar voice said. It was the same voice that told me to apply for Quest Realty.
“Pardon me?” I squawked. But again, no one was there, and the voice didn’t answer me.
I rolled my shoulders again, like Mr. Monk did in the show, and I slid the door. The crisp sounds echoed again, and this time, I thought I recognized the sounds. It sounded like wads of paper rubbing against each other.
The rubbing sounds were muffled, and I suspected whatever making those sounds was stuck between the two sliding doors. I tried moving the doors again. This time, I made my moves a little more rhythmical than the previous time.
I was right. The rubbing sounds were heard only when I moved the doors, and they made noises in the same rhythm I moved. Carefully, I lifted one door off the rail and leaned it against the wall so I could take a better look.
When I leaned the door against the wall, I noticed its side facing outside was clean, but the opposite side had something attached to it. “What’s this?” I asked, almost convinced someone would answer me. But this time, I didn’t get a response.
“Okay, you’re not answering me,” I muttered, furrowing my eyebrows. I wasn’t okay, but I was compelled to put on a tough façade. Sometimes, a girl had to play it tough and cool—it was a golden phrase, but I couldn’t recall who said this quote.
For ten seconds or so, I stared at the piece of craft tape attaching what looked like an envelope to the back side of the door. Keeping my eyes on the attachment, I wished I’d suddenly developed a new skill—such as clairvoyance—so that I’d be able to look inside it without opening the envelope.
