The After Life: A Ghost Adventures FanFic

Chapter One: 1948

The year was 1948 and my fiancé had just arrived home from his job. The look on his face was pure evil, and I had no idea why. Jimmie Mile was his name.

We were fighting a lot in the past few weeks, mostly because I was expecting. He said he didn’t want a child just yet, but I don’t see the real problem…

“What you doing, girl? Just standing around? No food?” Jimmie said.

“N-no. You said you were gonna be home late so I didn’t think to start supper yet.” I stammered. The look on his face was making me nervous.

“Em, Em, Em. What am I ever going to do with you?” Jimmie said, getting up from his seat at the table. He took a long stride toward me, and I backed into the counter. Where my back had hit there was pain, so I winced. He laughed.

“Emily Marla Jones. So pathetic. So... So… Vulnerable.” Jimmie said, as he leaned into me. His face was inches from mine, and the smell of alcohol coming from his face was so strong I could almost taste it. He leaned in to kiss me, but I stopped him.

“Jimmie- You’re drunk.” I said to him. He looked hurt.

“I am not. You would think that spending a few years with me would teach you the difference between drunken Jimmie and sober Jimmie, but clearly, I’m not worth that amount of your time.” He said, slurring some of his words.

“No no no! You are worth my time!” I said to him, with pleading tones in my voice. He laughed.

“Worthless bitch.” He said to me.

I don’t like Jimmie when he’s drunk. He makes no sense.

He reached past me, and grabbed the cutting knife out of the knife holder. My eyes grew wide, and I tried to back away, but only ran into the counter. He pulled back his arm, and as he was swinging it forward, I ducked, and ran under it. I ran down the small hallway, and into the bathroom. I locked the door, and tried to calm my heavy breathing. I heard the pounding of footsteps, and shut the light off, hoping he would be too drunk to realize I had gone into the bathroom. I said a quiet prayer. I then heard the thud which indicated that the knife made contact with the door. I let out a small scream and covered my mouth. I heard his sadistic laugh coming from the other side of the door. I heard him walk away, then come back.

There was rattling in the key hole. I then realized that he must have found some of my hair pins, and was attempting to pick the lock. I backed up as far as I could, and waited for Jimmie to come in.

The door flung open and the light turned on. Jimmie was standing, holding a knife and hairpins. I pressed myself to the wall as he ran at me. I was able to dodge the first blow.

But not the second.

Or third.

Or fourth, fifth, six, seventh, eighth, ninth or tenth.

Jimmie walked out of the bathroom, and I was spread across the floor with stab wounds in my stomach, chest, and one in my neck.

I could feel the blood leaving my body with every heartbeat.  I attempted to slow my heart rate, but it was slowing due to the fact that I was dying. I looked at the blood-stained tile that was in front of my face. I stared at it until I was looking at it from above.

That’s not the only thing I could see. I could see myself- my body, rather. I could see each individual stab wound, and all the blood that pooled around my lifeless body. I could see how the blood stained my blonde waves, and the white of the floor, counter, wall, and my dress.

No doubt, the baby had died.

I began to walk to the door. I went to reach for the handle, but my hand went through it.

“What the-“ I said to myself. I tried again, and the same thing happened. I decided to test my luck, and I walked through the door. I was now standing in the hallway.

I was so confused. Didn’t I just die? How in the Lord’s name am I walking around? I looked down, and the bloody knife was there. I walked away from it, and to the kitchen. Jimmie was sitting at the table, with his head in his hands- which were covered in my blood- crying hysterically.

“Jimmie.” I said calmly. No answer.

“Jimmie!” I said louder. Still nothing.

“JIMMIE!” I yelled harshly. His head jerked up, and he looked around, stunned.

“Emily?” He called. His eyes passed over the spot that I was standing, but he didn’t see me.

“Right here, Jim.” I said, but he didn’t notice.

“Oh Lord! Now I’m hearing things!” Jimmie moaned, as he got up, and walked down the hallway. He picked up the knife, and I watched from behind as the knife blade appeared in his back.

Jimmie had just murdered me, then himself.