The Beetle Bride (ON HOLD)

Chapter Two; The Harsh Reality

Patiently he had sat waiting. Silently seething but feigning indifference. Patience was not one of his strong points, but he had no alternative other than to wait his turn. The crowded waiting room growing increasingly busy, bordering on being claustrophobic. It was a good thing he was used to enclosed spaces, having spent plenty of time in the dark, dank, confines of his coffin.
In truth, he would've actually preferred to be back there, rather than stuck here amongst a bunch of stiffs that he looked down upon with contempt. Each of them were reluctant to even make eye contact, let alone engage in conversation with him. Smirking to himself he revelled in their awkwardness, the way they squirmed when he invaded their personal space, provided him with some entertainment. But once he'd exhausted all the pranks he could pull on them, he was growing increasingly bored and agitated.

And it was then he heard it. Just as he was losing the will to live his afterlife. A distant, muffled voice that seemed to cut through the noise of the bustling hellhole, yet it was still barely audible. And only audible to him, because it was his name.
Like many higher level ghosts, Beetlejuice was able to hear voices if he concentrated hard enough. But it had been a very long time since he'd bothered to focus and 'tune in' as it were, to the incessant ramblings of dabblers in the occult, trying to make contact with spiritual entities via ouija boards or a séance. Only when his name was called did he pay any attention, for one reason and one reason only. It meant freedom, however brief. And dare he hope, a fresh opportunity to wreak havoc amongst the living. Confusion and surprise quickly gave way to curiosity as he listened intently, straining to hear as the soft voice resounded in his ears a second time. Leaning forward on the edge of his seat, he could barely contain his excitement as he willed the speaker to call his name one third and final time.....

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tossing and turning in her large, four poster bed, Lydia's sleep was fitful. Lost in her dreams, she writhed in twisted sheets as she slept. She was searching, searching for him. She had lost him. He had disappeared without a trace and she desperately needed to find him. Panic gripped her and her small hands balled into fists, clutching at the bedclothes until her knuckles showed white.
She was lost now. Lost without him. Frantically she called out to him, her breathing growing increasingly hampered as his name, that unusual name, that forbidden name, came tumbling past her teeth, falling from her mouth without her even realising.

And then all at once he was there. Right in front of her, as if he'd been there all along yet for some inexplicable reason she hadn't been able to see his familiar, yet unfamiliar face. He looked different somehow, and as he leaned forwards, until their noses were almost touching, the breath caught in her throat. And then he spoke, his guttural voice causing the small hairs to rise at the nape of her slender neck,
"Honey....I'm home."

She felt the coolness of his breath against her face, which was enough to make her eyes snap open, and her to sit bolt-upright in the bed. Feeling startled by the incredibly real sensation, she heard herself screaming before she even realised what she was doing. Although it came out as more of a startled, eardrum-perforating shriek, it was still loud enough to wake the dead.....quite literally.
Within a matter of moments the Maitland's were there. Calling out to her, voices filled with concern.
"Lydia? Lydia is everything alright?"
Barbara's voice rang out from behind the thick oak-panelled bedroom door.

Sucking in a deep breath, Lydia exhaled shakily. Taking a moment to compose herself before she responded,
"It's okay Barbara, I just had a bad dream that's all."

There was a brief pause before Barbara replied,
"Are you sure sweetie? I can keep you company for a while if you want?"

"No honestly, it's fine. I'm going back to sleep now."