The Ghost's Diary 👻 ✓

64. Currents

A sudden gush of air explodes through my lungs-- hurling me to awakeness. My feet fly off the mattress and onto the smooth wooden floor-- while my hands grip the said bed.

I jerk my head about at the surroundings. But then have to steady the sudden dizziness with the base of my left hand. The soft golden rays from the mint-green curtains aid in lessening the ache.

There's a picture in a golden frame next to the door in front of me. An old lady smiles while a young couple and two children surround her. She looks a lot like the young man behind her.

The couple is Mr and Mrs Ingram and the children are Allison and Ethan.

There... after being put in the car... I, I came here, at the Ingrams'.
I awoke... only to be gladly ushered to the guest room.

Dylan... I had a dream... I need to...

I snap my head above, while my body jerks away the blanket from me. There's a dressing table at my right that catches my eye. Because of the white lace caressing the pinkish brown wood and glass knobs like Gran's desk.
But also because of something red placed on it.

My hand slips at the short distance to get the journal, like a beginner skater trying directly on ice.

The journal on the table is the same withered red with yellowed pages that's grown on me. The one with 1890 written with a vanishing gold.

How did it...

"It was Henry's job to find loopholes in the curse and he's been doing that for the past one hundred and twenty-five years. My job was more in the field."

Oh Kathy...

I find a small smile playing on my face that doesn't last for long.

A sudden realisation strikes it down-- making me take a few steps back and bouncing a bit as my rear end touches the bed.

I place a hand behind my neck and look down at my toes.

"Marietta... Meredith's middle name is Marietta. And you being here is no, no coincidence either."

Why would he tell me her middle name? Unless...

My back straightens-- as if the lid of an awaiting piano has finally been opened.

"Every being with the art has to answer a question or summon."

"Shit..." Just as the profanity comes out, the pages of the journal start whirling about in my palms.
My eyes blink in small glimpses before they(and the pages) settle down.

"I shan't ask you to never curse; but please keep profanities away from my journal, thank you."

I roll my eyes at the familiar slant writing.

"Give her a break, mate."

The magnificent Kathy writes back.

"Guys, please..." I sigh while rubbing my nose bridge. Though, something settles in my chest at looking at these two. Something akin to playing an old piano piece that you thought had forgotten.

I expect for their counter to come quicker, but then I find myself staring over at the little wall clock just above the table.

The shorter finger is about to touch seven.

Five and seven... twelve...

Only after these two numbers combine that...

For only one...