Ghost Music by Graham Masterton

Author:Graham Masterton [Masterton, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
ISBN: 9781428512221
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2008-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Twenty-one

Over three weeks went by. We had an early snowfall, and across the street, kids were running around the park, throwing snowballs and pulling plastic sleds behind them.

All I can remember about those three weeks is darkness. Every day the sky was overcast, and if the sun appeared at all, it was only as a dim crimson disk behind the Franks Building.

I had been commissioned by CBS to write the incidental music for a new courtroom-style quiz show called Asked and Answered, and I had signed a contract with the DDB Agency for six new Diet Pepsi commercials. But all of my inspiration seemed to have walked out of the door along with Kate. I sat at my keyboard for hours, tinkling random minor-key melodies, but they were all too discordant for TV jingles. You can’t sell Diet Pepsi with music that makes you cry.

The best piece I wrote was a soft, sad song about walking through a snowstorm, trying to catch up with the woman you love. As the snow falls thicker and thicker, she disappears from sight, and you can only follow her footsteps. Gradually, however, her footsteps are obliterated, too, and you have lost her forever. I called it “Snow Blind.”

I drank too much zinfandel and spent hours staring out of the window, hoping to see Kate coming down the steps, or walking in James J. Walker Park, across the street. Knowing that I would never be able to kiss her and hold her in my arms again made me feel as if my stomach had been completely filled with lead, like a cold casting, and I had a dull metallic taste in my mouth.

When I was awake, I kept thinking over and over: why did she lose faith in me? Why did she think she was asking too much of me? She had told me more than once that I had vision and sensitivity and resonance. She had said I could make her friends come to life. So what did she think I was lacking?

It couldn’t be trust. I had trusted her, hadn’t I, even when she seemed to be talking in conundrums? I had stayed in Stockholm when she had asked me, even after I had seen things that would have turned my hair gray, if it hadn’t been gray already. I had followed her to London, and seen horrors and pain and mysteries that seemed to have no logical connection whatsoever.

Maybe she thought I didn’t have the stones to do what she was eventually going to ask me. But I had already witnessed more weirdness than most people get to experience in the whole of their lives, and even if I was baffled and confused, I was still reasonably sane, and I wasn’t so frightened that I wanted to back out altogether. Why had she taken it as a sign of weakness that I had wanted to know what in God’s name was actually going on?

When I slept, I had nightmare after nightmare. In

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