The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  “Just checking up on you,” Sheila said.

  “As fine as frog hair,” Catherine answered. “And that’s damn fine.” Sheila laughed.

  “Then, the Hag’s prophecy didn’t come true.”

  “Oh, it did, but then, it didn’t.”

  “You’ll have to explain that.”

  “Got an hour?”

  “I’m all yours,” Sheila said. “Talk to me.”

  “It helps if you believe in ghosts,” Catherine began.

  THE END

  THE HAUNTING OF STONE STREET CEMETERY

  CAT KNIGHT

  ©Copyright 2017 Cat Knight

  All Rights Reserved

  Chapter One

  “How many more of these do we have?” Lauren asked.

  Lauren, with her red hair, made an unlikely vampire, but she did make a pretty one. At thirty, Lauren had added a few more curves to her high school figure, as people who worked at a desk were apt to do.

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte answered. “Two weeks till Halloween. Two more parties?” Charlotte, “Charlie”, was also thirty. Short, dark hair, striped shirt, whistle, she looked like the referee she pretended to be. That she taught physical education at a local school enhanced her Halloween image.

  “At least two,” Monica said. She was the third member of this threesome that had been together almost since nappies. She was also the prettiest. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, a figure that looked absolutely wonderful.

  In her short, black mini skirt. and apron with white lace trim, her thigh high stockings, and saucy headpiece, she was every man’s fantasy of a naughty French maid. “Maybe three,” she added.

  “Three? I think I’m going to puke.” Lauren weaved to one side.

  “Don’t fight it,” Charlie said. “Better to get it out than to let it bubble up your throat.”

  “Oh, great,” Lauren said. “That’s wonderful advice.”

  A cloud crossed the moon, and the street turned noticeably darker. Monica blinked, checking to see if it was her eyes. To one side, Charlie grabbed Lauren’s arm, steading her. They were coming home late because it had been a good costume party. Plenty of alcohol and snacks and people who thought they were clever, and some of them were. Monica had been particularly captivated by a superhero in tights who had painted a big ‘S’ on his bare chest. At some point during the party, she discovered that the ‘S’ was edible—at least a woman in a nurse costume thought so. Well, maybe the nurse just wanted to lick Superman’s skin. That seemed OK too.

  “Is it getting colder, or is it me?’ Monica asked.

  “If you wore a skirt that covered your arse, you might be a bit warmer,” Charlie said.

  “French Maids don’t wear long skirts,” Monica answered.

  “I need to get home,” Lauren said. “I’m going to be sick.”

  “We’re on our way,” Charlie said. “We’re on our way.”

  Ahead, a single, faint streetlight cast a small circle of light. Despite being intoxicated, Monica could see why the streets were dangerous at night. There was no way to know if something evil lurked in the shadows. A single woman would make a likely victim. For a moment, she wondered how that thought slipped into her mind.

  She was with two friends, and there was no danger within a hundred miles. She shook her head to clear the thought as it started to drizzle.

  “Oh, great,” Lauren said. “Cold and wet.”

  “It’s just a mist,” Charlie said. “We’ll be home and warm before you know it.”

  “Who had the best costume?” Monica asked, trying to change the subject.

  “That’s easy,” Charlie said. “The princess.”

  “The princess?” Lauren said. “Wasn’t she a crossdresser? I thought she was a he.”

  “Not a chance,” Charlie said. “I talked to her. She’s definitely female.”

  “I don’t know how you can tell,” Monica said. “Anymore, the he’s look like she’s and the she’s look like he’s.”

  “Anyway,” Lauren said and burped. “I thought the guy dressed like Dracula looked the best. I thought his fangs were real.”

  “That’s because you’re a vampire,” Charlie said. “Bats stick together.”

  Lauren laughed briefly. “Oh god, don’t make me laugh. My head is spinning.”

  “I thought Superman was right up there,” Monica said. “Pecs and abs, ladies, pecs and abs.”

  “Oh, I’m sick,” Lauren said. “Get me home.”

  The rain fell harder, more than a drizzle but not yet a downpour. Monica knew her pigtails would soon look like drowned rats sticking out from her head. And she would be soaked through to the skin. If she hadn’t been mostly drunk, she would have been upset—that and the fact that she didn’t have to work the next day.

  “Well,” Monica began. “If you want to get home as fast as possible, we can take our old route.”

  “Through the cemetery?” Lauren asked. “That one?”

  “That one,” Monica answered.

  “It’s dark,” Charlie said. “We never went that way in the dark.”

  “It’s a cemetery,” Monica said. “Dead bodies buried under six feet of dirt. I don’t think we have to worry.”

  “I don’t know... Kahil warned me to be careful what I did around Halloween. She said everything ramps up.”

  “Charlie. COME ON. You don’t really believe that!”

  “I’ve got an open mind. Just because you don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “I know about your psychic,” Monica said to Charlie, “and I’m guessing she talks to the spirits all the time. But, frankly, I don’t buy it. I mean, I’ve done some research.”

  “You didn’t do any research, your assistant did,” Charlie said.

  “Well OK, but I read what she found. And trust me, she didn’t find any evidence of the afterlife.”

  “You’re like all the others, mind closed to what are infinite possibilities.”

  “Stop arguing,” Lauren said. “Get me home. God, how many streetlights are there?”

  “One,” Charlie answered. “Why?”

  “I hate double vision.”

  Monica reached out and grabbed Lauren’s arm. “Come on, we’ll cut through the cemetery, and we’ll be home thirty minutes earlier.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Charlie said.

  “Nonsense,” Monica said. “It’s raining and cold, and Lauren is about to pass out. Want to carry her home?”

  Charlie glanced at Monica but said nothing as Monica turned into an alley, Lauren on Monica’s arm.

  While the street had been dark, it was like a neon-lit arcade compared to the alley. Monica was half thankful for the cold rain as it probably kept the rats at bay. Not that she was particularly scared of rats—as long as they maintained a proper distance. The alley was theirs. She was willing to grant them ownership. If they didn’t run over her toes, she was happy.

  “What’s that smell?” Lauren asked. “It’s making me sick.”

  “Rubbish,” Charlie answered. “Breathe through your mouth.”

  “We’ll be through this soon,” Monica added. “Hang on.”

  They moved quickly through the alley.

  Her TV station had run a program about muggings, and she knew alleys housed almost as many muggers as rats. They walked along another street with a distant streetlight, Lauren moaning and Charlie silent. Monica asked herself why she hadn’t left with Superman when he had asked. She would be home by now. But she wouldn’t be with her friends. They had developed a kind of pact. No one could leave with someone new. Phone numbers were fine. Arranging a date was fine. But if the women arrived together, they left together. Monica was thankful for that. Just before they left the alley, they stopped as a wet, black cat scampered past.

  “Was that a rat?” Lauren asked.

  “A cat,” Charlie said. “A black cat.”

  “Come on,” Monica said.

  “It’s bad luck, isn’t it?” Lauren asked.
<
br />   “We’re not going to worry about bad luck,” Monica said. “The rain is unlucky enough.”

  The arch over the path announced their destination

  STONE STREET CEMETERY.

  A yellow light shone on the name, reminding Monica of her school days.

  The three of them had often giggled their way through this entrance. Sometimes, they ran, and if they did, Charlie always won. More often, they walked, chatting about school and boys and teachers and homework. Rain, sun, fog, they used the path often. But never at night.

  Charlie had been right about that. They had never walked through the rows of headstones and graves in the dark. Monica wasn’t sure if that was because they had been scared or because they hadn’t really had the opportunity. In those days, perhaps Charlie had purposely steered them around the cemetery. If she did, Monica never noticed. Avoiding a dark cemetery seemed like a bright idea.

  “Why is it so effing dark?” Lauren asked.

  “It’s night,” Charlie answered.

  Lauren fumbled through her purse until she found her phone. Blinking, she tapped the screen until the torch app came up. Suddenly, a beam of light shone ahead of her.

  “That’s better,” Lauren said.

  “Your battery is going to die in like a minute,” Charlie said.

  “I don’t care,” Lauren said. “I hate to walk in the dark.”

  They were halfway through the cemetery when Monica felt the urge. “Oh god,” she said suddenly stopping and crossing her legs. “I have to stop.”

  “What?” Charlie asked. “We can’t stop, not here.”

  “I can’t wait,” Monica said as she stepped off the path into the dark.

  “I’m going to puke,” Lauren said.

  “I can’t believe the both of you. You can’t be doing this,” Charlie said. “This is a graveyard!”

  “It’s not like I’m not going to wee on a grave,” Monica said from out of the dark.

  She moved around a headstone and onto some grass. The problem was that in the rainy dark, it was impossible to know exactly where she was. She hoped it wasn’t a grave, and she hoped she could hurry up and finish what she was doing before someone else came along. All she needed was some Bobby or caretaker coming by. How long would she have her job if that story got into the tabloids? Not long. She tried to hurry, but she was not a practiced camper.

  “Hurry,” Lauren said. “My phone is dying.”

  “Smile,” Charlie said.

  Monica looked up, and Charlie’s phone flashed.

  “You took my picture?”

  “Hurry up, or I’ll sell it to the Guardian.”

  “You wouldn’t dare. Of course I wouldn’t Ms Stanford.”

  “At least, not tonight. I’ll save it for when I need a favour.”

  Monica heard Charlie move off giggling.

  “Want to see a picture of our esteemed telly friend?” Charlie said.

  “That’s Monica,” Lauren said. “But why is she squatting on someone’s grave?”

  “Oh god,” Charlie said yelled. “Monica, get out of there!”

  Monica came sheepishly around the headstone to find Charlie and Lauren looking at Charlie’s phone.

  “Show me,” Monica said.

  Charlie showed Monica the photo, and the headstone behind Monica was clearly visible.

  “Delete it,” Monica said. “Delete it now.”

  “I will, I will,” Charlie said.

  “OUCH!” Lauren’s voice sounded from the dark.

  Charlie and Monica turned to Lauren who had stepped off the path and tripped over a low grave marker. They hurried over and helped Lauren to her feet.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Charlie said. “This is getting eerie.”

  Charlie took Lauren’s left arm, and Monica took Lauren’s right. Even though Monica didn’t feel scared, she agreed with Charlie. It was time to leave the cemetery. Weird things begat weird things. Or, as they said at the station—bad luck comes in threes.

  It was raining harder as they exited the cemetery. Monica was soaked and cold as a brisk wind arose. Why hadn’t they called a cab? They would be safe and warm and not worried about bad juju or karma or whatever people called retribution for weeing on a grave. Luckily, Lauren’s house was only a block away. Actually, it was her parents’ house. Lauren had bought it from them so they could retire to the north. Lauren lived alone which was fine since it was a small house.

  “I’m going to be sick,” Lauren said as they reached the house.

  “Inside,” Charlie said. “Be sick inside. The neighbours will thank you.”

  Lauren closed one eye and tried to smile. “Thanks, mates, I don’t think I could have done it without you.” Then, she started giggling. “You two look so funny. I want a pic.”

  Monica and Charlie watched Lauren fumble with her purse…and fumble with her purse.

  “It’s not here,” Lauren said.

  “What’s not there?” Monica asked.

  “My phone. It’s not here. I lost it.”

  “Check your pockets,” Charlie said. “You probably misplaced it.”

  Monica watched as Lauren checked the few pockets in her vampire costume. “It’s not here,” Lauren said.

  “Then, you lost it,” Charlie said.

  “We have to go find it,” Lauren said.

  “You’re in no condition to look for anything tonight. Tomorrow is soon enough,” Monica said.

  “You don’t understand,” Lauren said. “My client list is on that phone. I can’t lose it.”

  “We don’t have any idea where you lost it,” Charlie said. “And it’s raining. Go to bed.”

  “The cemetery, I lost it in the cemetery. Remember, I was using the torch, and then, and then…”

  “We’re not going back to the cemetery in the dark,” Monica said. “But I promise we’ll be back in the morning. Then, we’ll all go find your phone. All right?”

  Lauren began to cry. “I need my phone.”

  “Not tonight, Lauren. You’re not making any deals tonight.” Charlie gently turned Lauren and helped her up the steps and in through the front door. “Go in and sleep. We’ll be back in the morning.”

  Monica waited on the walk as Charlie coaxed Lauren into the house. Since she couldn’t get any wetter, Monica didn’t mind too much.

  “I’m guessing she won’t remember losing her phone,” Charlie said as she re-joined Monica.

  “She never does,” Monica said. “Next time, we dump her in a cab.”

  “Along with you and me.”

  They laughed as they trudged through the rain. Luckily. Charlie’s flat wasn’t far, and the rain didn’t get worse.

  The two-floor climb to the flat tired Monica more than she wanted to admit. She felt the effects of the alcohol.

  “When will your new house be ready?” Charlie asked as she tossed a towel to Monica.

  “Monday, and I can’t thank you enough for the last week.” Monica undid her pigtails and vigorously dried her hair.

  “You’re welcome, and I’m sure you’ll find a way of paying me back. Good night.”

  Monica watched Charlie disappear into the bedroom before she went to the loo and stripped off her wet clothes. She draped them over the tub to dry and slipped into her PJ’s.

  As she brushed her teeth, she wondered if she had really done a wee on someone’s grave. That thought made her shudder. That was really bad luck, wasn’t it? Like walking under a ladder or opening an umbrella indoors? Although, she would have paid a pretty penny for an umbrella before she left the party.

  After making her bed on the sofa, Monica turned out the light and closed her eyes. Then, she opened them as a cloud moved, and the moon shone through the window. For a moment, Monica swore she saw a figure looking into the room, a face but not really a face. She blinked and the face was gone. She shivered as she watched the window for a full minute.

  The face didn’t appear, and she presumed she had imagined the entire episode. That wa
s the last thing she remembered before Charlie shook her awake.

  “Come on,” Charlie said. “Get dressed. Lauren’s not answering her home phone.”

  Chapter Two

  Monica was up and dressed in a flash. While they had walked the night before, this being Sunday, they drove Monica’s car to Lauren’s house. When they found the front door unlocked, Monica frowned at Charlie.

  “Lauren usually locks it, doesn’t she?”

  Charlie nodded and pushed open the door.

  “Should we go in?” Monica asked. “I mean, if something happened, shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “The door’s unlocked. She’s our friend. We don’t have time for Bobbies.”

  The house was exactly as Monica remembered, nothing was out of place, but she was still surprised to find the lights on.

  “She’s probably passed out,” Charlie said as she led the way to the bedroom.

  But Lauren was not passed out. In fact, she wasn’t in the bedroom. More importantly, her bed had not been slept in.

  “Check the house,” Monica said. “Let’s see if we can find her.”

  It took less than five minutes for Charlie and Monica to look into every room and closet. When they met back by the front door, they frowned at one another.

  “She’s not here,” Charlie said.

  “She wasn’t here all night. You don’t suppose…”

  “As drunk as she was, she wasn’t going out to meet some chap.”

  “Where are her clothes?” Monica asked.

  “Her what?”

  “Her wet clothes. She was as soaked as we were. Her wet vampire costume should be here somewhere.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “Neither did I.”

  They nodded at the same time.

  “Her phone,” Charlie said.

  “The cemetery,” Monica said.

  They hurried along the street, not bothering with the car, but cutting across the backstreets and passing through the alley way.

  “That dumb skirt,” Charlie said as they entered the back gate into the cemetery “In the dark and rain, what could she hope to find?”