Ghost 19 by Simone St. James

Author:Simone St. James [St. James, Simone]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

THEN

I awoke in the darkness. I was curled up on the sofa, my feet tucked under me, the binoculars still in my hand. My eyes were dry and there was sweat on the back of my neck. The clock ticked on the wall. It was three o’clock in the morning.

Something had awoken me. A sound. I lay still, waiting for it to come again. My body tensed, waiting for something my brain hadn’t quite registered. Waiting, and waiting.

A movement caught my eye. Mother-in-Law was outside on the lane again.

She was wearing the same clothes as last time, and her hair was down and tangled. She walked as she had before, twisting her hand in her hair, shuffling down the lane, her mouth moving. I couldn’t see what she was saying but I could guess. I’ll have to do it myself.

Do what? I wondered. What did she need to do so desperately that her ghost still walked the lane, trying to complete some earthly task?

I watched her, transfixed. The way she moved was unpleasant, as if her limbs were heavy. Her progress down the lane was slow. I swung my feet to the floor and stood, moving to the window so I wouldn’t lose sight of her.

I was watching, my face a few inches from the glass, when there was a flicker of white and a shadow, and a face appeared on the other side of the window, staring back at me.

I froze. It was a man; the man I’d seen twice now, standing in the lane. He wore a black suit and a black hat. He was standing in the garden right outside my window, staring in. At me.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t; I was frozen with fear, my legs locked, my breath stopped in my throat. Because with his face so close to mine, I realized that he looked like a man—eyes, nose, mouth, crooked teeth as he slowly smiled at me—but he wasn’t a man at all.

There was only a thin pane of glass between us, a barrier that had seemed impenetrable until now. Now, with the man looking at me, it seemed almost comically flimsy. I could feel his malice, his cold coming through it, could feel waves of his madness that made mine look like child’s play. Whatever was looking at me through the glass had a depth of depravity that I had never known was possible, and right now it was staring at me.

As if reading my mind, he raised a hand and tapped a fingernail on the glass—tap, tap, tap. Reminding me of how breakable it was. His fingernail was dirty yellow.

A terrified sound came out of my throat, a strangled moan that was half a whimper. “Go away,” I said.

He was still smiling at me as if I amused him. Tap, tap, tap.

I finally gained control of my body and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the sofa, trying to get out of the thing’s miasma. “Go away!” I shouted.

Behind me, a low wail came from the depths of the basement.

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