Tuesday, February 4, 2014


Earlier tonight, on Twitter, I said I'd try to get some ghosts on the 'panel' tonight and I did. One, we know. He's Johannon, Tomas' (also known as Jonathon) old servant from his mortal days. The other refuses to identify himself (herself?). But that one certainly has a lot to say. 

Had to burn a few aroma candles. Paranormal entities certainly enjoy certain smells.... often the scent of flowering plants.... blossoms from trees. I find apple and magnolia works best.  A few like orange blossoms, but they're just show offs. 

We did this, the communicating thing, I mean, in a little office/den downstairs at the townhouse. Like the kind of space the housekeeper has in Downton Abbey. The ghost of the polio victim kid goes in there to play with his Match Box cars. Died too soon for Hot Wheels, God damn it.  But he wasn't around tonight.  Edith set him up with an old record player in the living room. not the family room, but the cozy sitting room off the vestabule when you first come in. Leo (when he's here) calls it 'the quiet talkin' room.' Nobody ever goes in there. Well, they do, but not much. Gave him two records, the albums of Candide and Les Miserables. Kid's got good taste.  She'll go in to turn 'em over and switch records and all. He's got some telekinetic powers, but they're still too iffy. So he's in there all snuggled in a corner of the love seat, with one little lamp on. Drapes are all shut. He doesn't like to see out at night. Says it makes him feel cold. Now I told him he could come in, if he wanted to, but he said - Uh uh. Found some old pictures of him in a box once. Cute kid. Guess he wasn't so sick when they took 'em. Asked him if he wanted us to hang them up so he could see them all the time. Couple had his mother and father too. But he said - No. We didn't press him.

Un-named ghost manifested first. I knew, because a wax candle shaped like one of the hippo ballerinas from Fantasia vibrated and spun around on a shelf. Looked like it was staring right at me. Then I felt it . Room didn't feel cold. Room didn't feel hot. Just felt different.  Shadows from the small desk lamp took on a certain edge. And even though the lamp never moved, the dim, pool of light seemed to shift a little. That's when I heard it. An old Teddy Ruxpin (Sarah collects vintage toys) sitting in a real cushy armchair in the corner, turned its head, blinked its eyes and spoke.... It said - Are you the one who called me?..... I just looked. I didn't open my mouth. Our own paranormal entities and night-folks are one thing, but this was a stranger. And around here we know how weird they can be. Anybody remember Johnny Jump Up? {you can google him... Johnny Jump Up by Billy Kravitz... he's in there}... But the ghost thing (in that talking teddy bear voice) just went on. It said - I can see your body change. I can see minute lines snaking across your skin. I can see your organs slowly dying. Mortal time is strange to me. Sometimes it flies and sometimes it flows like stone. Once I haunted a stairwell for fourteen years staring at a small, little light bulb that never went off. Another time I whispered in the ear of a troubled, young man on a subway platform. It was late. He was alone. The train was coming. And I said - Step off. You're dead already... Two heartbeats later he did and I felt his body shatter and the meat rip off his bones, as the sharp, hard, crushing wheels ran up his spine... What's death to me? I did it and I'm here. Let that bastard take care of himself.

For the longest time I just lay there, wedged in what used to be my body, in a tight, narrow coffin... no light... just a putrid, moldering corpse... my corpse... I thought. I slept. I dreamed. Sometimes I forgot I was dead and 'screamed' for someone to help me. Then I'd remember and laugh and laugh and laugh. But I was still locked in a grave. 

Then one cold dark autumn night some young people broke my tombstone. They pushed it over and cracked it. I heard it. I felt their thoughts. I smelled their hate. And I rose up through the viscous remnants of what used to be my body, through the lid, through the dirt, til they saw my ghostly form prone on the grass. I reached up and grabbed one by his windpipe. What you call 'telekinetics is a thing with me. And my fingers wrapped 'round his slimy gristle and crushed it til he died. The girl, his sex partner, screamed and ran, but she tripped on a low, granite boarder and cracked her skull on a small, cement bench. ... They writhe in pain to this day..... What year is this?.......... Twenty fourteen - I said... as I sunk back into my seat....... This happened in nineteen twenty four - he said. So you do the math.

The stuffed, mechanical 'talking' bear lowered its head and stopped. Then the eyes rolled up and looked right through me. I gripped the arms of the chair, afraid to move, til blood dripped out from under every nail. ... The possessed automaton went quiet, tipped over and tumbled to the floor. The battery compartment was open.... and it was empty.

And the little, hippo, ballerina candle was turned back the other way... I raced up those old, narrow, cellar steps so fast it's a wonder I didn't break my neck.

Next time I'll tell 'bout Johannon...

Oh, one more thing. Later that morning, after a gray, cold dismal dawn, they found a dead girl laying in the street, not twelve feet from the door,.... No obvious sign of injury.... Yet her face was twisted with fear and the eyes, though dry and opaque,  stared from this world to the next...

Check the knick-knacks at your place. which one's looking at you?


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