Just Ghostly

Helen gasped when she saw the figure, dropping her mug of tea to the floor. She looked on in disbelief as the ghostly figure of a woman, walked through the kitchen. The figure wore a flowing white dress under a blue denim jacket. The vision had a spectral quality, both there and not there at the same time. Helen could see the kitchen counter through her torso. While Helen looked on, the figure walked right by, as though she wasn’t there.

The figure then vanished, as quickly as she had appeared. 

Helen bent down to clear up the smashed mug but there was no mug, no spilled tea, no mess to clear up.

Helen paced up and down, trying to process what she had seen, and what it could mean. Was it a ghost? An apparition? You heard about hauntings, but you never thought it would happen to you, in your own home. 

Helen was still in the kitchen when her husband Richard arrived home from work. He shrugged out of his coat, and placed his work bag on the side. 

‘Helen? Are you okay, love?’ He asked gently.

‘I saw something, a ghost. I think the house is haunted.’

She glanced around the kitchen, eyes wide. Richard looked around, following her gaze.

‘It’s okay, love. Just relax. You’re okay. Everything’s alright. I’m here.’ Richard said. 

Helen turned to her husband. Richard held her gaze, nodding reassuringly. While he soothed her and comforted her, Helen insisted that she really didn’t like it. 

‘You’re okay, Helen.’ Richard said.

That night, something disturbed Helen. She crossed the dark bedroom, and listened. She could definitely hear something. It was coming from downstairs. Voices talking, laughing. Had they left the television or radio on?

She held her breath and listened intently. She turned to where her husband was sleeping, and called his name. Richard!

Richard sat up in bed, he peered in the darkness.

‘What’s the matter?’ He asked.

‘I can hear something, strange noises. Can you hear that?’ Helen said.

Richard listened for a moment, then shook his head.

‘Can you hear the voices?’ She asked.

‘The only voice I can hear, love, is yours.’ Richard shrugged. 

‘I’m telling you, love, we’re not alone. There’s someone downstairs. I can hear them talking.’

‘Helen, please. Chill out. It’s late.’ He said.

She said nothing. The noise did seem to have stopped. 

‘Let’s get some sleep. Things will seem better in the morning.’ Richard insisted.

Helen nodded. She gave one last look around the shadowy bedroom.

A few days later, Helen was pottering in the kitchen, giving things a good tidy-up, when she was startled by blaring music. Tinny pop music seemed to be coming from the living room.

Was there someone else in the house with her? Richard wasn’t due home for a couple of hours.

She walked slowly down the hallway, towards the living room, careful steps. Had someone broken into their house? She paused, listening to the music coming from the room. It sounded like someone was having a party. 

She took a deep breath, and charged through the door, yelling, calling out at the intruders.

‘What are you doing in my house?’ She shouted.

She stared around in confusion. The room was silent and empty. 

Later that evening, Helen was explaining to Richard about what had happened that day, detailing the music blaring out, followed by the creepy silence and the empty room.

‘There had been somebody there, I’m telling you.’ She insisted.

Richard said nothing.

At that moment the figure appeared once more in the doorway. Helen screamed and pointed in utter terror. She was there, the spectre in the white dress and blue jacket.

‘It’s her, it’s the ghost. Tell me you can see her.’ Helen said. 

The figure stepped forward. Helen looked on in horror. 

Richard turned to the figure. Helen gasped, he was looking straight at the apparition. 

‘You can see her, can’t you? You can see the ghost’ Helen said.

Richard nodded.

While the figure looked on, Richard turned back to face Helen, sadness in his eyes.

‘I’m sorry, love,’ Richard said to Helen, ‘but you are the ghost.’

‘What? That’s not possible.’ Helen said.

She shook her head. That just couldn’t be right. Her head had been fuzzy recently, but surely that couldn’t be the case. 

‘There was an accident.’ Richard insisted. 

‘That’s not true. I think I’d remember something like that.’ Helen scoffed.

‘I am sorry, love, but it’s true. It’s coming up to twelve months since it happened.’ Richard said.  

At his words, Helen suddenly remembered everything, like dozens of Polaroid snapshots appearing before her eyes. She could see it all.

The stormy night, the tree falling in the road, the accident.

As Richard wiped the tears from his eyes, Helen faded away to nothing.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom