Eyes On You: A Ghost Story by Steven Jenkins

Author:Steven Jenkins
Language: eng
Format: epub

12

The thought of being driven out of my own home is ludicrous, especially by a ghost.

But all that ends today.

No more running, no more hiding, just a plan of action. And with every shitty situation, there’s always a remedy.

And his name is Dylan Strong.

Finding a medium was pretty easy. Aimee’s mother got his name from a friend, so I did a little research online, and Dylan’s name kept popping up in various paranormal forums and articles. I checked out his website, read his many glowing testimonials, booked an appointment, and just like that this chubby, balding middle-aged man is now sitting on our armchair, dressed in a thick brown suit and yellow tie, sipping a cup of tea.

Aimee is sitting uneasily next to me on the couch, baseball cap on her head, grasping my hand tightly. I told her to stay at her parents’ house, but she insisted, told me that I’d only mess it up if I saw Dylan on my own. Mess it up? It’s not like we’ve ever hired a medium before, so God knows why she’d think that.

“You say all this started when you first moved in?” Dylan asks, setting his cup down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Aimee replies. “On our first day actually.”

I turn to her with a frown. “I don’t know about that, Aim.”

“Yes it did,” she barks at me defensively, like I’ve just accused her of lying. “The jar of beetroot smashed over the kitchen floor.”

“Yeah, I remember, but we can’t be sure whether that was just an accident.”

“Tell me what else happened?” Dylan asks, clearly trying to move past our squabble. “No matter how small, because, when it comes to spirits, it’s not always about the big events, the loud noises. Sometimes it’s the little things, the tiny whispers, the cold chills; those are the first things to get under your skin.”

“Well, there has been a strange draught in the flat,” I say, “but I assumed it was some hole in the wall, or a dodgy window.”

Dylan picks up his tea and takes another sip. “And it absolutely could still be a draught coming from a window. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything you’ve experienced is paranormal. That would be irresponsible of me. But when unexplained occurrences keep building up, then it’s only right that we start thinking outside the box.”

“Okay, then,” Aimee continues, “next was my new mirror cracking. All my ornamental dolphins were smashed. The TV was pushed over. I saw a dark-haired woman in the bathroom, and Matt saw her again in the bedroom. And then,” Aimee removes her baseball cap and shows Dylan her hair, “this happened.”

Setting his cup down, he leans in closer to inspect. “Oh, I see. What happened there then?”

She slips the cap back on, and takes a moment to collect herself, squeezing my hand even tighter. As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, her first word brings on a bout of tears. I pull her into my shoulder, wrapping my arm around her.

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