The Ghost of Buxton Manor by Jonathan Ferrara

Author:Jonathan Ferrara [Ferrara, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: LiberWriter.com
Published: 2016-10-12T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18:

It took a fair amount of time for Aaron to finally allow himself to drift off into a deep slumber. He looked so peaceful. I swear, he seemed to wear a smile all night. Whether it was the outcome of a pleasant dream, or merely just being near me, I wasn’t sure, but he was happy—truly happy. I spent the entire night down beside him, just staring at him, longing for the moment when he would wake. I had this growing feeling inside me, one of complete joy, but the stronger this feeling grew the more frightened I became of it. This feeling wasn’t foreign at all, but somewhat familiar. Something was happening, but I was sure it wouldn’t end well. Metaphorically speaking, a new candle had been lit, but it was only a matter of time before the candle melted away. I was dead and Aaron was alive—I had to keep reminding myself of the obvious.

I pressed my palm gently upon his cheek. “Don’t fall in love,” I warned myself. The inevitable would surely find me. I was most certain, should this continue any further, I would be left with only heartache.

Before long, the day was bright and birds chirped outside. I drifted over to the window. Though there was no sun for me to see, darkness was obliterated, and the day had arrived.

Slowly, and still grinning, Aaron woke up. He stretched his arms to the sky, cracked his spine, and rubbed his eyes until he was fully awake. He became startled suddenly, but it lasted for only a moment. He calmed instantly when he noticed me at the window.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked him.

“Like a baby.” He hopped out of bed and joined me on his feet. “You didn’t leave?”

“I was with you all night.”

He took a seat at the windowsill. “I had a dream about you last night.”

“You did?” I queried with interest. “I’ve forgotten what’s it’s like to dream. You must tell me all about it. I want to know of all the marvelous adventures you must have had.”

“It was just like this,” he answered, “but you weren’t a ghost. We were laying in bed, and my arms were wrapped around you, holding you close.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Do you think we’ll ever have that?”

“It would be a shame for that scene to be wasted only in a dream.” My fingers arched to take his hand. “I would give anything for it.”

“What are you going to do today while I’m at school?”

“I should catch up on my writing. I’m a bit behind. So very much has happened since I last wrote in my journal.”

Curiously he pried, “What are you writing about?”

“Dr. Wyman instructed me to record my life as a ghost. It’s like a sort of memoir.”

His dimples caved with his grin, “Am I in it?”

“A lot, actually.”

“What will happen at the end?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I confessed. “But I do hope it will be a happy one.”

There was then a knock on the bedroom door.

Aaron glanced at me, and then back at the door.

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