Get a grip, Gardener. Focus! There’s no such thing as ghosts.
With the hallway lit up, he could see the kitchen blackened in the distance. He imagined the woman still sitting on the dreaded chair, waiting for him to walk in. Fighting off his anxiety, he headed straight upstairs, almost running. Nicky followed.
After drying off, they climbed into bed. The room felt cold and drafty, prompting him to check to see if the window had been left open. It had been. Nicky hadn’t seemed to notice the cold. She lay facing him, hugging the quilt with her eyes closed. “Good night, babe,” she whispered.
He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “Night, Nic. See you in the morning.”
After a few minutes she had dropped off to sleep, leaving Richard alone once again, with the rain hitting the bedroom window hard, the chill in the air, and the woman in the white dress still on his mind.
And tomorrow was yet another day to be tormented by his own kitchen.
Chapter 7
Day 7: Monday
The noise of the front door slamming shut woke Richard. Yet another almost sleepless night. He lay on the bed for a few minutes, trying to gather himself before climbing out. He sat on the edge of bed exhausted, his elbows pressed against his bare thighs, his palms rubbing his eye sockets. Groaning, he got to his feet, slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, and left the bedroom.
Walking downstairs, he noticed the smoke detector. Stay bloody quiet, he thought, and carried on down into the kitchen. He poured himself a bowl of corn flakes and contemplated whether or not to sit at the table. Even though the dreaded chair was empty, he couldn’t get the woman’s image out of his head. So he took his breakfast into the living room and sat on the couch instead.
Flicking through the channels, he thought about what Karen had told him on Saturday about asking the spirit to leave. The idea seemed ludicrous to him. Why would a ghost listen to anything I have to say? Why would she even give a shit? If she used to live in this house she would have no intentions of leaving just because I said so. I know I wouldn’t be in a hurry to leave if I was dead, just because some new owner got a bit scared. Forget that.
Stop it, Rich. She’s not real. This is all coincidence. There’s no one in your house. He sighed. Real or not, she’s got to go. This is getting ridiculous. This is my house and I’m taking it back!
With that, he got up and marched back into the kitchen. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to be firm yet polite. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re still here, and I’m sure you don’t mean me any harm, but you’re scaring the living shit out of me, so could you please leave, and we’ll say no more about it. Okay? Thank you.”
Waiting for some kind of response, he scanned the room, praying that his request wouldn’t prompt her to appear on the dreaded chair again.
After several minutes of silence, he nodded and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Satisfied, he left the room.
Feeling better about his newfound crisis, Richard decided to have a workout. He hadn’t done anything energetic for months that didn’t involve sitting behind a desk, so he told himself that that was all going to change from now on. The doctor had already recommended that he should hit the gym. Nothing too strenuous. Not right now anyway. Just enough to keep things ticking over.
A new me. A fitter and healthier me. No more lazy-ass. No more couch-potato.