Friday Flash: A Family Ghost Story

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Much of my life has played out in one rehab circle or another, so you can take my story or leave it. All I can do is tell it, tell the truth…and the truth is, I’m not even sure I believe it.

My mother was one of those people who collected souls. Vagrants, husbands kicked out for the night, down and out relatives, everyone and anyone was welcomed to grab a meal or a bed in her old farmhouse. As you can imagine, this opened up our world–me and my two brothers—exposing us to endless possibilities through stories and illegal substances. Instead of our minds being stuffed with skewed parental beliefs, closed off and capped…we soared, we expanded, we soaked up lore and logic, creating an environment where anything could happen. And eventually something did.

It began with a dream.

I could see myself sleeping; blanket tossed on the floor, one arm thrown over my head, chest rising and falling in soothing slow motion. Then I could see the wall alongside my bed breathing; white plaster pushing out, sucking back in. IN. OUT. Eventually, the bulge expanded like a balloon and began to move. It slid toward the adjacent wall and turned the corner, ending up behind my headboard. I watched beads of sweat form on my sleeping self’s forehead. My breathing became jagged, more like panting. Suddenly, large hands pushed through the wall as if the wall was giving birth, stretching out, reaching for my sleeping self. Blood trickled down the arms in thin channels, rolled over the knuckles and dripped from the fingertips onto my white pillow. I tried to scream, ‘Wake up!’ No sound would come. My sleeping self whimpered as the hands wrapped around my throat. I wheezed, my air cut off, my eyes bulging under the pressure.

Brrrrring. Brrrrrring. Brrrrring.

Startled, I jumped up and slammed my hand down on the alarm, knocking it to the floor. Something wet remained on my face. I ran into the bathroom and collapsed in relief. Tears….no blood. I checked my neck.  No signs of being strangled by some lunatic behind the wall.

“Just a bad dream.” I reassured myself. “A really bad dream.”

My hands were still shaking as I buttered my toast at breakfast.

“You all right, Joan?”

“Fine, Mother.” I rolled my eyes. Why was she always so observant?

A week later, I wasn’t feeling so fine. I was still having the dream, only it was starting to cross some kind of barrier. What do I mean? I really have no idea. All I know is, it was becoming stronger, breaking through to the physical world. The hands were beginning to leave marks. Finger imprints on my neck that I would wait to fade before heading downstairs for breakfast.

I decided to move my bed to the center of the room.

There was a new guy at the table that morning. He looked like I felt: sleepless and scared out of his mind. I glanced at him as I reached for the butter.

“He’s your cousin, Marti, from New York. Say hi.”

“Hey,” I waved. He looked fried. Mother smiled and began to make small talk with him about his bus ride, some family up north, whatever. I was just glad she had someone else to worry about that morning. I was in no mood for her scrutinizing. I glanced at my older brothers, realizing they were unusually quiet.

“What’s wrong with you two?” They both looked drained of blood.

“Nothing,” Jacob answered without looking up. Bobby ignored me.

No snappy comebacks or cut downs? Something was definitely wrong.

Brrrrring. Brrrrrring. Brrrrring.

I jerked up, gasping for air. It hadn’t worked. The bloody arms had just stretched, gotten longer to reach me. This time they tried to drag me from my bed. I ran from the room and slammed the door behind me.

That morning at breakfast, I had an idea.

“Mom, I think Marti should sleep in my room. I’ll sleep on the couch for awhile. It doesn’t look like he’s getting much rest.”

“How thoughtful of you, Joan.” She beamed at Marti, who really did look like he could use somebody to knock him on the skull and put him out for a few days. Anyway, I knew this would work because mother was always trying to instill unselfishness in us. She looked at my brothers and I noticed her smile wane.

“You two sick or something?”

“Can’t sleep, stupid nightmares,” Bobby grunted. Jacob reached over and popped him in the arm. “Ow!”

“Jacob, don’t hit your brother.”

At this point, I had dropped my toast and my jaw. Nightmares?

“Hands?”

With that one word, I had silenced both my brothers and watched terror widen their eyes for the first time in my life. I nodded. It felt good not to be crazy, at least.

A week later there was a new guy at the table. He was tall, pale with minty, round eyes; almost otherworldly.

“This is Samael.”

We all stared at her. Just ‘Samael,’ no long lost cousin, uncle, friend, grocery store bum?

       “You all right, Mom?”

“Yes, of course.”

We glanced at each other and then at Samael.

He was calmly reaching for the butter, with mom smiling beside him like she was on something. I felt my face drain, my heart begin to race. His hands were large, each knuckle and vein very familiar to me. I glanced up the stairs.

“Mother? Where’s cousin Marti?”

“I don’t know.” She looked confused suddenly. “I guess he decided to move on.”

Samael’s eyes gleamed. My brothers and I excused ourselves from the table, making our way upstairs one at a time, trying not to draw Samael’s attention.

Then we all stood around my bed, staring at the blood spots dried brown on the pillow. Bobby began to cry.

Bobby doesn’t remember it happening like this. He became a psychiatrist.  Jacob remembers it being worse. He became a priest.

And me? Well…I became a writer.

(photo credit: Hendrike)

31 thoughts on “Friday Flash: A Family Ghost Story

  1. Jon the Storyteller

    It’s because we write that we are able to survive. My #fridayflash is loosely based on a real experience — I hope for your sake, this one is not!!!

    This story had me pulled in, though I knew it was going to creep me out. And I LOVE the aweome ending. I look forward to your stories, Shannon!

    Reply
  2. Jodi MacArthur

    This nightmare is going to give me nightmares. Excellent build up of suspense – and boy did you deliver in the end. There are writers and story tellers and girl, you do both. Scary as hell.

    Reply
    1. soesposito Post author

      You’re so right, Jodi-there is a difference and I’ve had to really work on the storyteller aspect, it doesn’t come easy, so I really appreciate your comment. Thanks.

      Reply
  3. Anticrombie

    You know…this is the best pseudo-horror allegory you’ve written to date. I felt like I was back in the eighties, reading my first Stephen King novel. Fast-paced, and slimmed-down, the cadence of ‘A Family Ghost Story’ made it fly by too quickly, leaving me wanting more of the tale.

    But the ending was placed just in time, so I cannot complain about the length.

    …You know I’m a tough critic to impress when it comes to horror, so kudos to you! 🙂

    Reply
    1. soesposito Post author

      Wow. 🙂 Maybe if I would have been reading Stephen King in the 80’s instead of Danielle Steele, it wouldn’t have taken me this long to figure out I like horror…lol.

      Reply
  4. David G Shrock

    Nice introduction leading into the main story and ending connects back to the beginning well. The pale otherworldly Samael implies a creature reminding me of Samael the archangel mostly by name. I like this Samael and his position in the story.

    Reply
  5. Deanna Schrayer

    Perfect title Shannon, perfect story altogether. I agree with everyone else – you did a great job wrapping the beginning with the end.
    You DO have a great storytelling ability! I want to hear more of these.

    Reply
  6. KjM

    Oh, this was quite something. I was completely drawn into the world you created. I was sorry to read about poor cousin Marti. Guess he didn’t have the resilience of the three children.

    And I loved the last six sentences and how each of the three children remembered, and dealt with, the experience.

    Very well done.

    Reply
  7. Olivia

    Shannon, I just love your writing! I’m new to #fridayflash, but your past two posts have been really good. Your writing is clear, accessible, and interesting, and your stories are beautifully paced and creative, but also completely believable. I’m not generally a horror fan, but maybe now I’m crossing over. Thanks so much for sharing!

    Reply
  8. ditty1013

    Creepy, and nice conclusion! The dream image reminded me of Freddy pushing through the wall in A Nightmare on Elm Street. *shiver* Good work!

    Reply
  9. Alex Carrick

    Good to see you’re not afraid to explore “the dark side.” That’s where some of the best stories reside. And as for families – they can creep one out the most. An eerie read. Thanks.

    Reply
  10. Cecilia Dominic

    Laughed out loud at that last line. Great story, absolutely creepy, and the fact that the two brothers were having the dream/experience as well totally works and makes it scarier.

    Reply

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