The Ghosts of Thorwald Place by Helen Power

Author:Helen Power [Power, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CamCat Publishing

28

Bright sunlight beams through the spotless windows of apartment 407. No one is home. The place is tidy and seemingly untouched, bearing no hint of the horrors it saw last night. I triple check the closets, confirming that Melody’s suitcase is definitely gone. Does this mean that she escaped? Did Oliver let her take her meager belongings and leave? Or did Oliver use the suitcase to . . . transport her body?

There was a lot of blood in the sink last night. Maybe it was Oliver’s. Maybe he cut himself picking up the glass from the broken frame. Maybe Melody cut herself on the broken frame, and Oliver, being a loving, kind, considerate husband, cleaned it up.

I do another lap around the apartment, but everything seems to be in place. Oliver is out, and I am alone. Or am I?

“Melody?” I call out. My voice sounds shaky and high-pitched. “Are you here?”

The air is tranquil, oblivious to the anxiety radiating from me. I pass through the living room into the bedroom and try again.

“Melody? Are you here?” I still hear nothing. I stand directly in the spot where I last saw her cowering in fear as her husband raised his arm to strike.

“Melody?” There is no change in temperature like when the Girl with No Eyes is around. I don’t feel any different, like when I first saw Raymond Favreau, and I was drawn toward the obscure stain on the ceiling. I tentatively sniff the air. Nothing.

If Oliver killed Melody, she isn’t here. At least, she isn’t here now. I don’t always see the Girl with No Eyes in the storage room. Raymond’s spirit isn’t always in the third bedroom of Sylvie’s condo. I wonder what factors can affect a ghost’s presence. Location seems to be a significant variable. Time of death? That might be the case. I seem to always be around, always drifting from place to place, fully conscious of what is happening around me. But maybe other ghosts drift in and out of consciousness, based on variables that I cannot even begin to fathom. Or maybe ghosts are always there, in the periphery, but invisible, until they choose to be seen.

That’s assuming they have control over their actions—over where they go and what they do. Both the Girl with No Eyes and Raymond don’t seem to be sane. But that begs another question—am I?

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