A Ghost's Story | By: Casey Ponciano | | Category: Short Story - Horror Bookmark and Share

A Ghost's Story

When I woke up, I stretched my left hand to feel for my wife. Usually when I wake up, I give her a morning kiss. But she was not beside me. I wondered where she was. Then I heard someone crying. It sounded like my daughter in the next room was having a bad dream. I always told her not to watch scary movies before she sleeps. I got out of my bed and looked around. Where was my wife Grace? Then I looked at the clock. It was ten o’clock in the morning. Dammit, I was already late for work. I wondered why Grace didn’t wake me. I got up, walked to the bathroom, and washed up. Then I heard the weeping again. “Cindy, wake up baby, you’re just having a bad dream,” I yelled to my daughter, but she continued to cry. And me being a father, I knew that it meant daddy would have to come to the rescue. I stepped out of my bedroom and I walked to her room. The weeping then stopped. Her door was closed so I knocked.
“Cindy, I’m here sweetie,” I called to my daughter, but she didn’t answer. I knocked on the door and I called her again. “Cindy, daddy’s here. What’s wrong?” I asked, but she still didn’t answer. I opened the door and Cindy was in her bed asleep. I walked to her and I grabbed her by the shoulders and I shook her. But she didn’t wake up. “Cindy, wake up. You’re just having a bad dream,” I said as I shook her again. She still did not make any movement. Her covers were off of her body and I touched her face. She was very cold. “Cindy, wake up,” I said again, but there was no response. I brought my hands to her hands and I grabbed them. They were icy cold. Then I moved her hair from her face and I noticed that her skin was very pale. “Cindy, wake up,” I yelled at her. But she didn’t move. She wasn’t even breathing. I placed two fingers from my right hand on her left wrist. I didn’t feel a pulse. Something was wrong with Cindy. “Cindy,” I yelled at her as I shook her again, but she still did not respond. “Oh my God, Cindy,” I said as I became hysterical. I picked her up and held her in my arms for awhile. I knew my little girl was dead. I wondered what happened to my little Cindy.
Then the weeping started again. It wasn’t Cindy, so it had to be wife, Grace. Maybe she walked in already and she saw what was wrong with Cindy, but why didn’t she wake me up. “Grace, dial 911,” I yelled. I hoped she heard me. I believed that she was downstairs. That’s where the weeping was coming from. “Grace, something’s wrong with Cindy. Dial 911, okay?” I yelled again, but Grace didn’t respond. I thought that something happened to Grace. If it wasn’t her crying, then who else could it be? I placed Cindy back onto her bed. I tucked her in like I did last night. I knew she wasn’t alive anymore, but I couldn’t believe she was gone. I kissed her on the forehead. “I love you baby,” I said to her for the last time as tears fell down my face.
I walked out of her room and I closed the door behind me. I still heard the weeping from downstairs. “Grace where are you?” I asked. But she didn’t respond. I walked downstairs slowly. I hoped that no one else was in the house. Why didn’t Grace dial 911 already? I reached the bottom of the stairs and I still heard the sobbing. I walked toward the living room and I stopped for awhile to listen for the crying. It started again and it sounded like it came from the kitchen. I walked toward the kitchen. I walked in but no one was there. But I still heard the crying.
“Grace where are you. It’s going to fine baby. I’ll dial 911. Okay?” I said, but she didn’t respond. I tried to comfort her, but I knew Cindy was not okay. And I knew that Grace already knew herself. But why didn’t she answer me. I walked to the kitchen telephone and I dialed 911. An operator picked up.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.
“Please send someone over. My daughter’s not breathing,” I told the operator.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just woke up and I went to check on her, and she didn’t wake up from her sleep. I can’t feel a pulse on her. Please send someone over,” I asked.
“Calm down Mister… who am I speaking to?” she asked.
“This is Tom Phillips. Hurry please?” I said. I tried not to panic, but I couldn’t help it. My little girl was gone.
“Calm down Mr. Phillips. We’ll send an emergency unit over.”
“I can’t even find my wife Grace. I hear someone crying in the house. I think it’s my wife, but I can’t find her. Grace, Grace, where are you?” I yelled. I hoped to God that someone else was not in the house and they weren’t doing anything to Grace.
“Mr. Phillips we’re sending a police car over. They should be there in a couple of minutes. Just stay calm,” she said, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t find my wife Grace. I lost Cindy already and I didn’t want to lose my wife.
“Grace, where are you?” I asked.
“Mr. Phillips please calm down. Now I need your address. Please tell me the street your on?” she asked.
“We’re on the corner of Ave. A, on 1st street. It’s a green house.”
“1st street on the corner of Ave. A? Someone already called about a disturbance in that place. There is a police unit already on their way. Just stay calm Mr. Phillips.”
“What, someone already called. Oh it was probably Grace. Thank God,” I said. I was relieved that Grace already called. I was sure that the emergency unit would’ve been here sooner. I hoped that they would save Cindy. Maybe there was a chance for her. I didn’t want to lose my little girl. Then a scream got my attention. It came from the bathroom beneath the stairs.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” The person screamed. Then I heard some more weeping. I just dropped the telephone and I walked to the bathroom.
“Grace, are you in there?” I asked. I knocked on the bathroom door. “Grace are you in there? You’re scaring me. Open the door. For Gods sake, please?” I asked, but she didn’t respond. Then, by the bathroom door, I noticed an envelope covered in blood. I picked up the envelope and checked what was inside. There was a letter and I read it. It was a confirmation letter from a life insurance form that was filled a week ago. It read that if anything happened to my wife, we would receive twenty-five thousand dollars. We would receive twenty-five thousand dollars if anything happened to my daughter and one hundred thousand dollars if anything happened to me. I don’t remember ever filling an insurance form for this. Did Grace do this behind my back? I held the letter in my hand and I pounded on the bathroom door. “Grace, what in the hell is this letter about? Did you do something to Cindy? Answer me Goddammit.” I told her. I felt I didn’t know who she was now. Did she do something to Cindy? I hoped she didn’t. But I had to hear her word. “Answer me Grace?” But she never did. She just continued to cry.
“I’m so sorry Tom. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry Cindy. I’m so sorry baby.” She kept yelling aloud. It gave me a strange feeling. I hoped that she didn’t have anything to do with Cindy’s death. I hoped that the insurance form was not connected with Cindy at all. Maybe she had an explanation for all of this.
“Grace open the door,” I said again as I pounded on the door. “Honey, everything’s going to be alright. Please open the door. The police are already coming over,” I added. But she didn’t listen. She continued crying. I pounded on the door again, but there was no response. Then the sobbing stopped. I heard the door unlock. The doorknob twisted and the door opened. And I stood by the door, staring at the reflection on the mirror of Grace as she stood by the sink. The shower was running. I became stunned at what I saw. Her gorgeous long-brown hair was covered in red blood. The white T-shirt and jeans she wore was red, as if she was a painter and she had gotten through painting a red house. My lovely wife’s face was covered in blood. But I didn’t know where the blood came from. Cindy wasn’t bleeding. Maybe Grace didn’t have anything to do with Cindy’s death. Then where did the blood come from? I looked at her brown eyes, but they were not blood-shot, as people’s eyes usually are when they’ve been crying for quite awhile. Then she cried again, but tears did not fall from her eyes. I stared at her as she tried to wash the unknown blood from her face.
“What in the hell is going on Grace?” I asked her, but she didn’t answer me. She ignored me. “Answer me Goddammit,” I told her, but she still didn’t listen. Then what gave me the chills was the way her expression changed. Her weeping turned into a horrible laughter as if she were proud of doing something great. “What in the hell did you do Grace?” I asked as I reached for her. But I couldn’t grab her. I didn’t even touch her. Then I heard another voice.
“Babe, that was some great acting. The police ought to fall for that,” the voice said. I looked to the right of the bathroom, toward the shower. The shower curtain moved to one side and a strange naked man stepped out. “That was just great honey,” he said again and he laughed. I looked at him as he looked toward me.
“Who in the hell are you?” I asked, but he didn’t answer me. He just walked toward me. I made a fist and I threw a punch at him, but I missed and I fell in the shower. I got back up and walked behind Grace. I looked at her through the mirror. “I can’t believe you Grace, you’ve been cheating on me. Why? What did I do wrong?” I asked, but she never answered. “Why don’t you want to answer me?” I asked. Then I turned around. The strange man was there. He was looking toward me again. Then all of a sudden the front door burst open. Police officers ran in with their guns pointed.
“Alright, everybody, put your hands in the air.” One of the officers said. And I did. I moved to one side of the living room so the officers can do their job.
“I’m Tom Phillips officer. I called awhile ago. Arrest him. I don’t know who he is, but I think he had to do something with my daughter’s death,” I said to one of the officers as I pointed to the strange man. He ran to the strange man and handcuffed him. “You bastard.” I said to the strange man.
“No, I’m sorry. Please don’t arrest me. Tom please forgive me.” It was Grace’s voice. She walked out of the bathroom handcuffed. An emergency team walked in.
“She’s upstairs guys. Please help her,” I said. They went upstairs. Then I looked at Grace. “I’m sorry baby. I don’t know what happened. I promise we will work everything out. I will get the best help you need baby,” I told her. I still loved her. She had to have an explanation for all of these. Maybe she was stressing. We did have a lot of money problems. My face filled with tears. Then one of the men in the emergency unit from upstairs came down. And he spoke.
“They’re dead. They’re both dead,” he said. Both, dead. I only have one daughter. Who was the other person? Then what confused me was what the police officer said, who was holding Grace.
“Grace Phillips you are under arrest for the murder of your daughter Cindy Phillips and your husband Tom Phillips,” he said.
For the murder of your husband, but I can’t be dead. I’m here. Alive, am I?
“I can’t be dead officer, I’m right here,” I said as I grabbed his arm, but I didn’t touch anything. I didn’t have any feeling when I touched him. My hand went through his arm. He didn’t even respond to me being there. I ran upstairs, to my bedroom. And I became terrorized at what I saw. There, laid my bloody body on the bed. My arms and legs were decapitated. There was a chainsaw lying on the bed, right by my neck. The chainsaw was covered in blood. It was my blood. The same blood that my trusting wife’s face was covered in. I looked at my hands and I felt for my face, but I had not feeling. I was a ghost. I was a spirit. I was my soul. “Damn you Grace, damn you,” I yelled knowing that she couldn’t hear me, knowing that no one could hear me. I couldn’t save my little girl’s life; I couldn’t even save mine. I was already dead.
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