The Ghost's Harp

Chapter I

I am telling this story from pure and absolute experience. I am a college professor and well educated in matters of natural science and the way things go about for Earth. Practical and sensible in every way ever since I graduated from the university about 7 years ago then with my masters degree.

During my time in college I've always had a group of friends who'd tell me various tales they've read on the Internet about sightings of creatures in the woods, haunted houses in neighborhoods or local legends about ghosts and goblins from history.

I'd always laugh and scorn them for having such silly notions. I was raised by a practical and sensible family who didn't believe in such supernatural myths and legends. Never in my life back then, had I ever encountered such a paranormal phenomenon or remotely heard a groan or creak that couldn't be solved and rationalized by everyday occurrences and natural science. A creaky floorboard for phantom footsteps, old foundations that rub together to cause ghostly groans in the night.

"Anything that's unnatural", as I always used to say, "can be solved with natural explanations."

Going back to what I said before, though. I am telling this tale of absolute pure experience. My whole reason has shifted. And I'd like to start this story off by apologizing to my friends, whoever of you may be reading this, of all the judgmental prejudices I had against you for believing in the paranormal and unnatural.

It was little more than a year ago in early October, or probably late September, when I came up to Massachusetts from California to visit my old college buddies. The weather couldn't have been any finer in such an autumn as an autumn in New England during my visit.

The hills dotted with trees of scarlet, gold, violet and orange. The crispness of the air and brisk winds that would scatter leaves here and there all over the streets. The robin blue sky above a person's head could make anyone feel cheery and entice an individual to take a brisk walk through the streets of Massachusetts; marveling at the old buildings from the colonists which still stand today. And many could find themself in a trance gazing and learning of the ancient history of our ancestors merely over 300 years ago.

This trip, as I said, was to visit my old college buddies. We had studied hard and well in the university and after graduation had broke apart, but kept in touch fortunately. I believe it was one of my friend's birthday. Daniel was his name. And I had been a guest of his home during the week of my vacation. He was actually my dorm roommate during my years in college, and we had shared a special bond of science and physics. Of course the one thing we disagreed on was of the paranormal.

How ironic, I always thought, of a physics scientist to believe in such tales of ghouls and ghosts. Nevertheless of this disagreement, we were as close as brothers.

The trip couldn't have been any more wonderful than it was. The birthday was a success; we toured Massachusetts and even visited the legendary Salem Witch Museum. Ate the finest foods at the grandest restaurants. I made sure to ask for the recipes so that I might share these with my boyfriend back home.

However the last day of my trip had arrived and I was making sure to pack up my belongings in my one suitcase; as I didn't really need to pack much. Daniel came into the guest room and leaned against the doorway with a smile.

"You know Maxwell, I'm glad you came here. It's been quite a long time since we had hung out. If I didn't have to give this room back to my sister tonight; I'd let you stay with me like back in college in our dorm."

I merely laughed. "It would be a nice thought. But I'd rather be in a prison than to have to hear your silly ghost stories everyday."

"Maxwell Jameson, are still on that whole shtick?" Daniel rolled his eyes. "Just will never believe that maybe there is a metaphysical world beyond ours?"

"I am allowed to believe in what I believe, Daniel" I remarked rather sharply; closing the top of my suitcase.

"Alright, alright. Its a free country. You're allowed to believe whatever you want" Daniel shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands dramatically, as if he had offended a king in his court.

I rolled my eyes but saw my phone go off with a notification. I checked the screen and my face of amusing teasing turned to utter shock. "Oh god damn it all!"

"What's the matter?"

"My flight! I was supposed to be leaving at 7pm tonight but it's been delayed to 10am tomorrow!" I had cried in annoyance.

"Oh no...and with my sister coming back, she'll want the room back. And certainly I don't think you'd like to sleep on the couch" Daniel groaned at this sudden predicament.

"Well I'm certainly not gonna sleep in the airport on those uncomfortable chairs. I guess I gotta find a motel to at least spend the night" I said as I pulled up my phone again to look for nearby hotels or motels.

A sudden flash came before Daniel's eyes as if an idea sprung up in his head. "Oh! I've got it! I know of a cheap motel not far from the airport at all!"

"You do?"

"Sure! Take I-95 down to Boxford. On Lawrence Rd look for The Dreamy Inn; it's a motel I heard that's for real cheap" he said; having walked over to me and had put the directions in my phone's map app.

Normally I'm not one for staying in cheap motels. Who knows what weirdos or bugs could be lurking in those god awful rooms which I can only imagine haven't been cleaned for at least a year.

But it was near Boston and not far from the airport. I sighed an irrepressible sigh and saved the location on my phone.

"Beggars can't be choosers", I muttered.

Towards 4:30 as the sun was setting, as it usually does set early around this time of year; I bade my host and dear friend goodbye and promised I'd text him once I got off the plane tomorrow. And after packing my stuff in my rental car; I made my way off to Boxford.