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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/bobturn/day/1-4-2021
Rated: 18+ · Book · Horror/Scary · #2222317
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
What I'm fired up about

January 4, 2021 at 7:51am
January 4, 2021 at 7:51am
#1001389
Daily SCREAMS!!! win

It all happened so quickly. One moment, Jeremy stood on the ladder with his paintbrush and the next he lay dead with a broken neck. Things do change rather without notice most of one’s life, he supposed.

Like, for instance, he hadn’t realized his wife, Juliette, had been having a torrid love affair for years with his brother, Jack. “I would have thought living day to day with someone that long, I would have felt something amiss,” Jeremy ruminated to himself at his own funeral.

It was less pomp and ceremony than a gay affair. Few showed up from work. Apparently they were not notified nor where his set of friends. Juliette sat hand in hand with Jack comforting her in a most decidedly more than friendly set of caresses under the widow’s black dress. “Couldn’t wait an hour.”

Jeremy trembled with pent up growing rage. No sentiments were expressed at his passing to the great beyond. His body was tipped, slid with no fanfare, into the crematorium fire. With a wrench of parting sorrow the ghost was cast adrift and the body once vibrant with health was gone.

Again, there was no greeting from loved one’s across the vast beyond. Jeremy floated alone, following the couple he had thought trusted companions back to what he had been his own home. “Must be a reason I am being kept here instead of gaining my heavenly reward. I wasn’t a bad bloke, neither was I a black hearted demon.”

Forgotten, misplaced? Whatever the reason, Jeremy was on his own, except for the company of Juliette and her lover making whoopie next to him, in what had been Jeremy’s bed. Hearing the comparison the widow was making of his own sexual prowess compared with her lover’s, set the ghost on a new other worldly path. “How do I haunt these two into meeting as an item in a lover’s suicide pact?”

Ghost tales were not a common theme of movies or books Jeremy had read. Vague thoughts of rattling chains, throwing things around rooms and taking over bodies came to mind. “I suppose I’ll have to experiment. I wonder if Jack’s wife has a suspicion of these goings on.”

Mind travel happens instantly. He found himself drawn to the presence of Mary Anne, hovering as close as her next breath. “I wish I could read her thoughts. She looks a little worried and depressed.”

And just as suddenly, not only could he do so, but in a strange way, he became what she was thinking about and a part of her. “Poor Jeremy. At least, now that he is gone, my Jack won’t be over there constantly helping him and that bitch of a wife with another home improvement project.”

The ghost felt startled into realizing the inner disposition of this neighbor. He had an ally. With a gentle nudge, Jeremy seeped into the woman’s next thought, “I wonder what’s keeping Jack?”

There was a resistance from Jack’s wife, into going over to Jeremy’s house. This haunting business was different than how Jeremy thought it should work. All he could do is enhance a settling feeling of unease. Being a ghost, he was mere suggestion. This took work.

It would be lovely if the woman walked in on her husband and Juliette mourning his passing while comforting each other in bed together. He knew Jack was a gun nut. Surely there must be a pistol close at Mary Anne’s hand, there for protection from who knew what.

The thought brought a flash of memory to the fore. There it was, a pearl handled .32 short nose special in the drawer next door by the bed. Now, how to bring it to the woman’s attention and to her hand?

The wish faded into impossibility as Mary Anne shivered, rubbing her arms as if they were frightfully cold. Jeremy was thrust out of her consciousness. It had been nice not feeling alone. Still, it was better this way, he realized. Only a bad sort would turn an innocent bystander into a murderer.

“I wonder what Juliette is up to now?”

Jeremy had never gotten her to try ‘that’ position. From a distance across the bedroom, it looked quite humorous and a little disgusting. The moans coming from Jack proved it was otherwise from his best friend’s vantage point. “My, God,” Jack shouted along with Jeremy the ghost.

A vortex of swirling rapture captured Jeremy and drew him in. The release of Jack’s orgasm spun the man’s soul fancy free. For an instant the two met before Jeremy swept in place and battened down the hatches, locking his best friend out. “Well, hello.”

“Strange, you sounded, like Jeremy, just then, sweetheart,” Juliette struggled to free herself, rising up for air.

“Jack. How could you?” Mary Anne’s voice cracked along with the sound of the pistol raised in her hand.

Dying the second time, was much like the first. The change happened fast. The difference was in finding himself not alone. The tableau reverberated in Jeremy’s soul. Watching Juiliette’s ample breasts blossom with a fresh red rose shaped hole between them was followed by feeling the jerk of Jack’s body react to a bullet through its skull.

Jeremy, free as a ghost once again, flung himself into Mary Anne’s next thought. “No. it is what they would have wanted.”

The woman’s trigger finger twitched where it rested the pointed gun at her own head. The gun fired on an empty chamber and Mary Ann began to sob. “They deserved it,” Jeremy thought, letting the sweet feeling of revenge wash through them both.

A foreboding darkness filled the room with the scent of death. Jeremy watched in horrified consternation. The spirits of Jack and Juliette pulsed in fear as the darkness scattered into the shapes of demon shadows jerking and tearing at the two’s lost souls, tearing them apart.

Jeremy fled within Mary Ann’s heart of hearts, a quiver of a gasp sucked in where the woman bit her fist thrust against her mouth. “She saw it, if only for an instant, the visage was shared through my ghostly presence, just long enough.”

Mary Ann had saved Jeremy’s soul. He resisted her impulse to call the police. “Look in Juliette’s bottom drawer.”

There was more to the sordid truth than a lover’s knot. Jeremy directed Mary Ann to paw through the revelation of Juliette’s intimate attire. There at the bottom was a sealed envelope. “Jack’s fleeting regret told me what to look for,” Jeremy licked Mary Ann’s lips in anticipation. The woman seemed barely conscious of what she was doing.

There was the evidence of Jack’s taking he and his wife’s life savings, of Juliette rifling the same with Jeremy’s and her own. The couple’s plan to knock off Jeremy and Mary Ann before Jeremy’s untimely death were all written down in the finest detail. Nothing had been left unplanned. “Poetic justice,” Mary Ann and Jeremy’s thoughts became one.

Mary Ann’s future was plain to see. The documents revealed hers was the combined fortune. The plan to get away with murder needed only minor instant changes to make it real. The lovers had quarreled. A suicide murder was the result. “Just so.”

Jeremy found it an easy existence prodding Mary Ann through what to say, how to act when the police got involved. No, she hadn’t known a thing. She’d been home on the phone wondering what was taking her husband so long when the police came knocking at her door. She had no idea about the plans the couple had made. It was all so devastating how so many lives had been torn apart. “I think I will have to move. I can no longer live here.”

To Mary Ann, she felt like a guardian angel guided her through the passing events. She sold her home. Sbe felt a new spirit inside her at times. There would be new haunts for her to explore in the coming days, new wrongs to right, The item in question? The dark deeds quivering for release in the hearts and souls of those she came into contact with.

A rather ridiculous figure, you may have seen her wearing sackcloth and ashes, haunted by her thoughts, standing on a park bench with a sign reading 'Repent' and shouting herself hoarse about sin beckoning dark demons wanting to tear you apart.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/bobturn/day/1-4-2021