The Red Skeleton: Part One

Greetings friends, 

               It’s getting closer to Halloween, or Samhain as the ancestors used to know it. 

              Now is the time to celebrate the fruits of our labors as the wheel of the year turns again. We have so much to be thankful for, & I, for one, would like to focus on the gratitude I have. I revel in the knowledge of all the inspiration and support from those who have come and gone, and perhaps have come again. 

               And as we build towards the thinning of the veil, I have hopes that my experience will grow and continue to become richer in my ability to communicate with those who have gone before. And I hope that all of you are counting your blessings, and are having a very cozy spooky season. And also that you might enjoy this, my literary offering.

This story is based upon real events…

                                   The Red Skeleton 

                                         Part One

            The day had finally come! I thought, as I sat on the front stoop, taking my last looks out into an overgrown field. That view greeted me on most mornings as I would head out for work or a walk down by the river. This morning would be the last. Moving day! I had been looking forward to this day for what felt like a millennia. Even though my move had come about in a truly short span of time. The anticipation made every second stretch into infinity. 

            I made my way back upstairs, reminiscing about the rustic surroundings that would no longer be mine; and began pacing around the stacks of boxes. The fact that today was my last day to stand in this strange place. I took a deep breath in. Just think! I can finally get away from all of the drama of this silly little apartment. My mind stacked all of the lists of reasons that lead to my flight. 

           The sound of the creatures that lived in the walls, scurrying their little hearts out, while they nibbled on the wiring that eventually ruined half of the outlets. Or the sound of the couple who would argue so violently, from their first floor efficiency, that no one in the building could ignore it. And the one feature, that took the cake, as it were; that creepy closet in my bedroom… The one that had a secret staircase at the back, that gave way to my second exit, in case of fire. 

            I’ll never forget the time that I went into the closet to put away my winter coat, and I had discovered that the door at the bottom of the hidden stairway had been mysteriously unlocked. Or the night that I woke after having a dream of a shaggy looking man and his small daughter, standing at the foot of my bed asking politely, if it was ok if they lived in my closet. 

           That dream had woke me so abruptly into complete sobriety in the middle of the night, I had little choice but to acquiesce to my circumstance; and I took to gathering myself up and moving out to the living room. My hope was to chase away the eerie feelings of someone living unknown to me, in that strange closet, just beyond the foot of my bed.

            I grabbed my pillow, some cozy pants & socks, and I started to turn to leave the room. As my gaze in the dark room moved from the foot of the bed, across to the closet door; my assumption was that I would continue turning my body and my eyes the full 180 degrees to the door that lead outward to the kitchen. I froze. Fully in the daze of a racing mind, hopelessly calculating, and desperate to find a reasonable explanation for what I had just witnessed.

            A shadow, dark, yet transparent, crossed from the far side of the bed, over to its end. And as the swath of darkness met with the frame of that closet door, it dissolved. Gone, just as soon as it had appeared, and just as I had locked eyes on it. Now, I thought, with my full attention on trying to make out the vague shapes of the room, so that I could exit without the danger of stubbing my naked and vulnerable toes. Now, I thought, for a moment, what do I do with this information? Was that the man from the dream? The shadow matched the frame of the shaggy figure from my dream. Did he go into the closet? Did I want to know? Should I go look? No, not advisable, nope. Not at all something that I want to address, right at this very moment, I thought to myself. 

            I couldn't spend any further thought on this, for fear that panic would set in. A deep breath, grasp my pillow tighter, I now managed to tear my eyes away from the closet door, and resume making my way to the next room. Turning to my right, I took care with my steps, to avoid tripping, which had been tricky on most nights in this tiny, oddly set up apartment. 

            There was one step up to the door that led out of the bedroom, and my goal was to carry my comforting goods up that step, open the door with one hand, & make my way into the kitchen, finally. With my heart racing, and my body feeling like it was moving in slow-motion, I went to lift my leg to take the step, and my fully loaded left arm stopped. 

            I bumped into something solid; I paused. I joked in my head, thinking, its fine, it was probably the fluffy pillow I'm carrying, obviously its so big that it hit into the side of the tall dresser nearest to the edge of the doorway. I looked, to make sure, although, maybe now feeling the need of a faster pace to get to the safety of the living room couch. My visual told me everything I both needed to know, and didn’t want to know. I had had plenty of room to proceed. In fact, there was what felt like miles in between my armful of goods and the dresser...

            My eyes, having grown uncomfortably wide, my breath stolen; I rushed into the kitchen beyond the bedroom door and proceeded to turn on every light in the open kitchen that led into the living room. I plopped my pillow on the couch, quickly threw on my cozy socks & pants that had been in the white knuckled grasp of my left hand, and planted myself firmly in the corner of the tufted oasis. All that remained doing, was to bury myself, in further comfort, by pulling all of the throw blankets from the backs of the furniture. Once that had been done, I endeavored to take all of my attention away from the room just beyond the kitchen.

            The television helped, and my cat came up to cuddle; that never failed to soothe me. At moments, though, even still, that room beckoned. Catching peripheral movement from time to time out of the corner of my left eye. Trying not to focus on it into the early morning hours, that had felt difficult & ridiculous in it’s unreasonable activities. 

               Just as I can recall those moments so strongly and clear today, I had wondered why, clearly, why nothing further had occurred. Despite some incidents of feeling like I had not alone. And there had been times in the evenings, as I would be settling into bed, an odd sensation would arise. I would be setting my small fan by the bed on low, & placing my arms under the covers; only to have the breeze from the fan cease. The blades would be spinning, but the air from it was not reaching me.

              I read something about similar things happening, in a book that I had once that was all about ghosts, & what to do if you have one lingering in your home. The solution was to explain out loud that in your emanation, this, was a place that belonged to you, and that sharing was cool, but interacting was to be had only by permission. Mutual respect was, as far as that book was concerned, the way to go. 

            I tried the short respectful explanation methods, and for the most part they would work. And sometimes not, and this, upon the other mountain of reasons and inconveniences was why I needed to make the move. Onward and upwards, right? Well, at least that's what I thought.

            This was so exciting! I had never hired movers before! I only had to pack everything into boxes and write the name of the room that was to be its final destination on it. So much easier than that last move; maybe I should have known it was going to be an odd journey, just by the difficulties experienced in the shuffling of items. 

            Rain and snow, driving that boxy truck myself, and the cardboard boxes melting into uselessness in the torrents. Lost items; I have no idea how that happens if you are the only one to handle all of your own stuff. Does that really happen to people? One pair of summer shorts, a mirror, a plastic container full of old handbags: that I had been moving from one apartment to the next, as if they were some sort of important family heirloom, not to be parted with, & absolutely not to be used. Fate, I guess, had other plans for those objects. Wherever they are now, I hope they're living their best lives. I mean, you have to laugh at the scale of "missing sock from the dryer" syndrome that that whole episode was.

            I enjoyed all of these memories, knowing that these things were all in the past, as I drove my cat and myself to our next home. A big sigh for the leaving of old oddities in this case; the apartment in a renovated barn. The slanted ceilings at either end, the step up and the step down, sunken living room, etc... And the strange happenings, even beyond the ghostly things. There was an incident once, as I was arriving home from work; I climbed the stairs to find the front door being wide open. Approaching the situation carefully, & looking around to see if someone was there, or if anything had gone missing. I found nothing. No disturbances of objects, not a soul to be seen. 

            Only after a few days of wondering what all that open front door business had been about; I found myself about to make dinner. On most nights nothing strange would occur as I gathered my ingredients and began the process of assembling something edible. This evening though, my reaching for ingredients in the refrigerator, would give way to new considerations. Items that I had bought just the week prior, I was finding, that they were not there... 

           I had passed it off as a fluke; the tv, still there, the computer, stereo, everything else, not touched. Someone must've been very hungry. And I guess, thanks for not taking anything that I wouldn't be able to replace right away...? I wasn't too fearful that they would return, because, I had noticed just after I found the door open; that my spare key; that was carefully hidden outside the door was gone. It was then, that I promptly changed the locks.

            "This next apartment is going to be so different" I looked over at the cat carrier next to me in the front seat, and my kitty mewed back. She was never phased by anything odd, as long as she had her food and toys, and me to sleep next to, she was good to go, no matter where we lived. 

            We pulled into the parking area behind the old, expansive Victorian that was to be our new home. There were 5 other apartments in the sprawling antique building. Nicely landscaped, in a small neighborhood on a street off of a side street, that was not far from the town center of a small Historic New England village.

           "Maybe we will get Trick or Treaters here!!!" I swelled with the idea. It hadn't occurred to me, since this had all manifested in such a short span of time. The consideration of any holiday related enjoyment had not even entered my mind, until our arrival. Its really starting to sink in, we were going to have real life moments here, I thought. Meals, Holidays, Movie Nights, slow Sunday mornings with breakfast in bed. The biggest bathtub full of bubbles just waiting for the finest candles to be lit and settling in for a relaxing soak; this is going to be good.

            As we settled into our assigned parking space, I could  see a figure on the back porch; and as I turned off the car, I noticed that the person is waving. I couldn’t see them entirely, the porch was covered in plants, top to bottom, like a shaded jungle. It was one of my new neighbors, and I could tell by her appearance that she was an eccentric, which means we should get along fine, as long as she's not an overstayer. I love having guests, but I absolutely adore my solitude, hopefully, fingers crossed, she has decent perception of boundaries. 

        "Hellooo..." She waved as I scooped up the cat carrier and made my way to the back entrance way. As we got closer, she left her stoop at the edge of the jungle/porch, and approached us with her arms out, her long every-which-way hair a deep shade of burgundy red, and a floaty gait. She was wearing a dark, multi-patterned Kaftan, still waving at us as she got closer. I greeted her, placed the kitty carefully down, at the doorstep and offered my hand to shake. 

          This Blythe creature, that looked to be an amusement to interact with, would prove to be fun to riddle out. I knew the second that she told me that her name was Maxine: 'not her natural name, but one given thru experience; because she never does anything by halves'. She said she was close friends with the landlord who couldn't make it down to greet me on arrival. Which was fine with me; I don't think any of my previous landlords had ever given a thought as to how my move in 'moment over the threshold' would go. I thanked her for that consideration, and told her that I sincerely thought that that was very nice of her. 

            She went on to explain about trash pickups, spare keys, the phone numbers to everyone in the building, and who everybody was. She also told me about how excited they all were that I was bringing life to an apartment that had stayed vacant for a couple of years. "It will be a joy to see light in the windows again; especially since the foyer is by the door to your front room. Since the last tenant,” she lowered her voice a bit, “there's been no curtain to cover the glass on the door, and with the shades pulled inside, well, its been… gloomy… every time we come and go to our mailboxes..." She seemed as though she wanted to go on, but a pungent smell hit us, and she exclaimed something about burning instead of simmering and hurried off.

            I wished her luck, lifted my furry friend again, & entered the door to the little hallway leading to our new home. There was one door on the right, just as you entered the hallway. It had water heaters and fuse boxes etc… The other door was tucked in at the very end of the hall on the left. It was slightly out of sight, with only one real indication that anything was there… Three plain utilitarian stairs, with no handrails, the same color value, and secretly pointing the way into what was to be my pantry, just off the kitchen. "Here we are... Our new Home." I said to the cat, becoming restless in her plastic cage. 

            Now we wait for the movers to arrive...

Part 2 Coming Soon!

Do you have any Ghost stories? 

XOXO

Jen