Haunted

Chapter 1:

Ashley

Ah, the Appalachians.

The last place I wanted to be, yet here I was anyway, by myself, on a so-called "vacation". When Zach and I talked about traveling, we dreamed of somewhere warm and tropical. Someplace where we could lounge on the beach all day, drinking cocktails out of tiki glasses with those little umbrellas in them.

Of course, we never made it to those island paradises we'd dreamed of. We were both workaholics, spending long hours in our respective office jobs. It didn't help matters that I spent my free time taking classes at the community college in the hope that one day I could find a better occupation. It wasn't that I disliked my job, but I didn't want to be stuck behind a desk for the rest of my career.

Looking back, I guess it wasn't hard to understand Zach's motives when he hit on the skinny brunette in the pencil skirt who worked in the copy room at his insurance office three years ago. "Chelsea gets me," Zach explained, attempting to justify his actions as he loaded the last of his things into the back of his truck. "She understands that I have needs. That I want attention, too."

I had nearly bit off the end of my tongue, trying to keep from snapping back that I couldn't keep up with his selfish and egotistical desire to always be the center of attention when I, in turn, was not afforded the same courtesy from him. But whatever. Let him go off to sow greener pastures with Chelsea. I didn't need him, anyway.

And just like that, six years of marriage went up in smoke. What followed was a bitter and ugly divorce, during which both of us left our dignity at the door and proceeded to hurl insults at one another as we unleashed months of pent-up resentment and frustration.

Fast forward 36 months, and here I was; a 25 year old, divorced college dropout still trying to put the pieces of my life back together.

I downed my coffee, and reluctantly decided to get up and clean the house. I was actually just renting it while on this vacation. I started on the second floor and worked my way down. While cleaning, I had a sudden desire to listen to music, so I turned on my iPad and listened to Brahms's Lullaby, also known as Wiegenlied, or Cradle Song, playing in the background.

As I finished cleaning the kitchen and moved down to the cellar, I was struck by the sudden change in air temperature. It was colder in the cellar than in the rest of the house.

All of a sudden, the recording on my iPad was joined by the ghostly sound of an unseen violin. It played along with the recording for several minutes, then abruptly changed tune, getting slightly louder and drowning the recording out. The new tune it played was from the 1954 romantic comedy film Three Coins in the Fountain, and was the main theme. Then, some unseen voice started singing the lyrics softly, almost in a whisper.

"Three coins in the Fountain;
Each one seeking happiness.
Thrown by three hopeful lovers,
Which one will the Fountain bless?

Three hearts in the Fountain;
Each heart longing for its home.
There they lie in the fountain,
Somewhere in the heart of Rome.

Which one will the Fountain bless?
Which one will the Fountain bless?

Three coins in the Fountain;
Through the ripples how they shine.
Just one wish will be granted.
One heart will wear a valentine."

Zach had owned a violin, and he used to play old show tunes each evening for us. This particular song was our favorite. I willed myself not to cry, shivered slightly, and called out, "Who's there?" No one answered. The violin played one last long, lonely note, then fell silent. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and swept it through the darkness, but nothing showed. As I moved to clean up the cellar, my flashlight beam landed on something that sparkled in the darkness.

I moved toward it, unsure of what it was. It was a gold ring, half buried in the hard packed dirt floor of the cellar. Using my index finger, I dug it out and wiped it off on my jeans. It wasn't anything fancy, just a small, plain, gold wedding ring. My stomach flip-flopped. One of the owners must have lost it the last time they came down here.

I stood up to leave. In that moment, I could have sworn that I heard someone sigh. The sound made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I let out a yelp and hastily shoved the ring into my pocket for later. Then I hurried up the steps into the main part of the house.
—•—•—•—•  ~~  •—•—•—•—

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully enough. If I was being honest, I was glad. It had been a busy, albeit fun, couple of weeks, and I was tired. That, and my experience in the cellar had left me feeling oddly out of sorts.

Once inside after my evening walk, I put my phone on the charger, kicked off my shoes, and went into the bathroom to start a bath. WhileI waited for the tub to fill, I walked around the room and gathered all the clothing and other items I had strewn about. If I got a head start on packing now, it would leave me with less to do in the morning.

I rummaged around in the pockets of my jeans for anything breakable, and my fingers closed around the ring, which I'd completely forgotten about. I took it out and looked it over, noticing that it looked a little tarnished and worn. I rubbed it with my thumb absentmindedly, looking at my tired expression in the mirror. I was starting to look like I hadn't slept for a week. Then I set the ring to the side and went in to take a bath.