The Spirit of Ravenshom House

Chapter 7: The line was static

Daphne couldn't forget the look on Ephra Andrade's face as she lay in the motel room bed that night. Ephra's bony face, puerile and mocking. Was he challenging her? Taunting her to prove him wrong?

She turned in her bed and met with Jerry's open lips. He was fast asleep, one hand behind his head. His torso made a perfect outline against the olive-green wall. The hand-made lamp that Jerry had insisted stay on throughout the night did nothing to shed light but whizzed like a disgruntled bee.

She touched his lips, soft and plump. She could feel his breath on her hand. "We won't go to the house, not until you feel completely safe," his words rang through her overthinking head which should have been comforting. But it only added to the challenge Ephra Andrade had put forward.

The only reason Inspector Rodriguez had entertained the idea of a stalker was because he saw the blood, dark and drying in the office room. Also he desperately didn't want to believe in ghosts. Rodriguez didn't have any reason to look out for a stalker, not in a quiet town like this where nothing much happened more than drunken fights over some bet in the town bar.

Things didn't add up, didn't make sense. The more she thought about it, the more she was forced to believe that she was the one creating trouble for everyone. She tossed in bed, waiting for the morning to arrive.

Waking up the next day she saw sunlight stream in through cream tinted shutters in slits, weaving zebra patterns of light over her. The storm last evening had vanished, having mocked them. It was all sunshine and brightness for now.

Her personal sunshine, strode in out of the shower, a towel slung over his shoulder. Jerry was wearing a dark blue jeans that he had thrown into a bag among other things when they had left Ravenshom the day before. Drops of water painted over his upper body made for a perfect sight in the morning and she almost drooled when he leaned in to peck at her forehead.

She had taken a much needed leave of absence from work for a few days but had to go in today if she wanted to keep her job. She had only joined the offices of Branks Design Co. nine months ago and she was practically new there.

Her old place from whence she had resigned hadn't been in good terms with her after the stunt she had pulled with them her last day there. Even today she didn't know what had happened. Her designs had been altered without any seeming explanation at the time of presentation and she almost came to fist fights with the technical team when a cartoon stick figure danced around speaking profanities on the white screen for an ad about an old age home. When the anger had subsided, she reasoned that she must have been the victim of some silly internet hack and it was her fault in the first place to have saved the designs in the i-cloud where anyone with a internet connection and technical skill could get to it. But the damage had been done and she couldn't blame her employers. Honestly, she was surprized that they had even let her resign rather than throw her out.

She sloped into the shower, washed, scrubbed and gathered herself to confront Jerry's chamomile tea which he pushed into her face as she propelled into her red plumps. The vapour wafting from the honey brown liquid cooled her mind and she gulped it down dangerously swift. She kissed him vigorously tasting of sugar and waved the car keys at him.

"Maybe I will actually get some writing done," his words gave Daphne a reprieve that she didn't know she needed.

At the office, she had work pent up and plummeted into it graciously. The bustle of the city and the thrum of the office kept her mind occupied. Her teammates bristled in and out asking her opinions on the colour of a logo, or whether to add an 'a' or 'the' in a tagline. Her hands flew over campaign schedules that she had set up, checking and rechecking there wasn't a crossover. She loved her work and she was glad she was one of those people who said it and meant it.