Ghost Kiss

Lily

     I stare at the mattress for a minute trying to figure out how to do this with my bum wrist. I guess I can use my right hand and my body to bear most of the weight. "Ok, I can do this," I say with conviction. I grab the mattress and prop it against my body and start walking forward to push it and steady it with my right hand. It's slow going and awkward because the mattress keeps wanting to bend but I use my leg to keep it from bending as much as possible.

     I slowly get it to the top of the stairs. Now here's the tricky part. I begin guiding it down the stairs because I don't want to crack or break any of the banisters. It's working! I've gotten down three steps so far and if I just stay focused and go slow this should work perfectly.

     I celebrate too soon. Suddenly the corner of the mattress touching the floor catches on a step. I don't realize this and push. My leg catches and I start to fall forward.I squeeze my eyes closed as I brace myself for the impact and hope I don't get too injured from falling down these stairs. I start work tomorrow.

     The impact never comes. Instead, I feel my chest getting colder. I open my eyes and I'm stunned. My body is vertical. I'm staring at the steps that are now in front of me. My toes are the only thing touching the ground. I look around wide-eyed. "What's going on?" I start to move. I'm being pushed up on my feet.

     As soon as I'm standing on my own the coldness on my chest disappears. I'm frozen in place. I start shaking. I'm looking around trying to find an explanation for what just happened. But I'm coming up empty-handed. "Who's there?" I say to the empty hallway. No! That's impossible. Ghosts don't exist. There has to be another explanation.

     Suddenly the mattress moves. Unwedging itself with ease and gliding down the rest of the steps. "Oh my god!" I feel an overwhelming need to get out of the house. But I can't move. I've never been this scared. "This is impossible." Knock. Knock. Knock. That's the same knocking I heard on my bathroom door. It's also what snaps me out of it and run down the stairs, grab my keys and wallet, and fly out the door to my truck. I pulled away, panicked. I don't know where I'm going but I'm going nonetheless. I drive around trying to think of some rational explanation for what happened. What could possibly logically explain how I was basically floating in mid-air and the mattress moves down the stairs on its own?

     I can't think of anything. Except, is there a ghost in my house? No, that's ridiculous. I drive by a public library and decide to pull in and do some research. I walk inside and fill out the sign-in sheet and go to the computer center. I sit down and turn on the desktop and then wonder what I'm searching for. Hauntings? Ghosts? What am I even thinking?

     But then I decided to research the grandmother and grandson that lived in the house all those years ago. Maybe if I know exactly what happened I can better understand things.

     I type "Murdoch house" into the search and a picture of my house comes up along with a few articles. I click the first one. It's a news article about the accident. I read it carefully making sure I absorb all the information. I move to the next article and keep reading. When I run out of information to read I realize I've been sitting here for about two hours.

     I've learned all about what happened though. A drunk driver. He was only 26 years old. Had just joined the Army. He lived with his grandmother his entire life. His dad died on active duty and his mom died giving birth to him. No doubt he joined the Army to follow in his dad's footsteps. It's so sad he never got the chance.

     His grandmother, Doris, lived another 7 years before passing away in her sleep. She was found the next morning by Earl. I'd heard him mention he used to be his neighbor. He must've been checking on her regularly knowing that she was alone.

     So who is in my house? The grandmother? I don't think so. It just doesn't feel grandmotherly. It must be the grandson, Deacon. As much as it all makes sense, the feelings of being watched, the blasts of cold, and of course floating in the air, it still just seems ridiculous to me.

     Wait a minute...MY KEYS! He hid my keys and was the one slamming the drawers, and trapped me in that bedroom. And led me to hurt my wrist. Was all that intentional? Is he trying to hurt me? Should I even go back? I have to go back. Too much of my savings are invested in that house and I can't bring myself to go crawling back to my parent's house. They would welcome me back, no doubt, but my mom would never believe I could make it on my own after that.

     No, I have to go back. I wonder if he will talk to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I'm considering this. But I see no other option to try to find some common ground. I get up and go back out to my truck. I pull out of the library parking lot and head to the store. Unbelievable.