With the lights on it was easy work to finish up in the bathroom. After running a cloth over my face to remove what little make up remained after the bath. I took out my hairbrush and went into the bedroom. I made sure to lock both the doors behind me. I didn't know what had just happened but I was pretty sure what I was thinking was stupid. Nobody was in the house. I was alone. And if nobody was in the house and I was alone I was just imagining that an invisible man who probably died in 1918 was smoking a pipe and slamming doors in my face.
Old house
, I told myself.
Funky smells, drafts
…
Even though I now had electricity, and several brass wall fixture glowed bright in the master bedroom. I kept the scented candles close. The smelled of honey and cinnamon. The bed was furnished with a mattress and box spring but I couldn't find much in the way of bed clothes. I was still barefoot, and wearing a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms and a sport's bra. I had a bunch of things in the hatchback parked out front. I shook my head. It was a warm enough night and I really didn't want to go back out into the hall again tonight.
You're being paranoid and childish.
Had this been a normal night, I would have flipped on the tube and watched the late-night talk shows. However, my new house was devoid of television at the moment. First thing we fix tomorrow, I told myself.
To do: Buy Television set.
I suddenly had a bad memory though. Hadn't the ghost come into the house through the television in Poltergeist?
To do: Rent Poltergeist. If proves true that ghost came through TV, return both TV and video.
I sighed realizing there was little for me to do except sleep. I checked my Timex portable alarm clock. It was barely 8:30. For some reason it felt much later. It was then that it occurred to me that I'd probably crossed into a different time zone. I was just trying to figure out whether I'd gained or lost an hour driving east out of the mountains when I heard a distant sound. It was a soft whine at first but as it drew near it became a slight rumble. I moved to the edge of the bed and then to the French doors. I looked out over the lip of the portico railing. A single light was coming down the gravel drive through the oak grove. I watched it for only a second before there was a loud thump.
I leapt around and surveyed the room. I was alone but when the thump recurred I saw my leather jacket fall from the hook on the bedroom door.
"Who is that?"
THUMP.
"Go away. I'll call the police if you're not out of my house in five…"
THUMP! It was an angry thump and in a few seconds it came again and again. The door rattled against its hinges as the thumping increased in volume and rhythm. Finally it reached a point of sheer frenzy. Whatever was on the other side of that door, it really wanted in. In the back of my mind I was aware of the motorcycle roaring into the turnaround in front of the house and then shutting off, but I was too distracted by the pounding on my door to pay much attention to anything.
Then with two loud bangs on the door, the thumping hastily stopped. It was quiet again. I slowly walked over to the door and put my hand against it. I felt the cool white painted wood and pressed my ear to it. Was there someone breathing on the other side? I looked down at the key, still secure in the lock on the door. I turned it gently to the right and with a soft click, the door unlocked and I opened it quickly.
There was no one there. The dark hall was empty. I took a step into the hall, my arms moving up and around my torso. It was very cold in the hallway.
Probably another draft
…
It was then I heard the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. I jumped at the sound but regained my composure as I heard the key work in the lock and the front door swing open. Someone was humming as they walked into the main entry hall of the house. I leaned over the railing and looked down on the seen.
A light switch was flipped downstairs next to the door, revealing the biker from earlier that after noon. His helmet was off but he was turned away from me, humming a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. He walked out of the hall and into one of the front rooms. Another light clicked on and I heard the sound of running water. I had an impulse to call out to him but I paused. He had a key! How the hell did a complete stranger have a key to my house?
I quietly went back into my room and rummaged in my overnight bag for my cell phone. I took it out and began dialing 9-1-1 only to hear the annoyed beeping that signified that my battery needed charging. Shit!
I could hear him moving around downstairs. Who was he? What did he want? How the hell did he have keys?
Quickly I crossed over to the bedside table where a small but sturdy lamp stood. I unplugged it, leaving only the ceiling fixture as the source of illumination. I removed the lampshade and the bulb and gave it a practice swing. I took a deep breath and moved back out into the hall, shutting the door to the bedroom quietly.
As I padded quietly down the stairs, trying to keep the boards from squeeking under my feet, I watched the shadow cast long across the entrance hall. Finally, at the base of the stairs I paused and listened. I could hear him humming and singing the words to song by the Rolling Stone's.
"…Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name. Ah, what's puzzlin' you is the nature of my game…"
My heart was pounding as I tried to keep control of my breathing. I was going to have to be quick if I wanted to use the element of surprise to its full effect. I silently counted down from three and then leapt into the room. It was a dining room. It was also empty. The shadow was cast by an empty vase set as the center piece of the table. The humming continued from behind the door on my left. He was in the kitchen. And he was moving pots and pans around from the sound of it.
Again, I syked myself up and held the lamp poised. I began the countdown from three again.
Three. Okay Lily, you can do this. Two. He's not that big. And he doesn't know you're coming. One.
The door to the kitchen suddenly swung open and I jumped back, dropping the lamp to the floor with a loud bang. I screamed and stumbled backward until my butt bounced against the dining room table. The plate the man had been carrying fell to the floor and smashed, as he was equally startled by me. And that was when we both paused, the terror replaced by instant recognition and confusion.
"I…" I said.
"How…" he began.
And we just stared at one another for a time; his arms, slack at his sides, my arms and legs frozen in the act of trying to scramble over the table to get away from him.
"Frank?"
"Lily?"
And then simultaneously we shouted at one another… "What the hell are you doing in my house?"
*****
In 1995, I was 19 and, I'm sure you'll be shocked to know, quite timid. I'd grown up in Chicago and never traveled more than a few miles outside the city. I suppose that may have been my reason for applying to a University so far away from home. I wanted so badly to experience something new and unfamiliar.
My freshman year had been tragically uneventful. I joined a sorority, went to class, went to parties with large groups of friends from my house and went home with them before any of us could get too drunk or too carried away with the college boys we met.
And then, in the fall of my sophomore year something happened. Eight of us went to a party off campus at a house supposedly rented by a friend of a friend of one of the girls in our group. We were there for a few hours, chatting up tons of drunk and horny frat boys when suddenly it was time for us to leave. We gathered at the door and Sabrina, the girl who had drawn the unattractive task of DD did a rapid head count.
"Lily, Hanna, Veronica, Fern, Joanna, Penelope…" Sabrina's eyes went slightly wide as she looked around the room. "Where's Jessa?"
Hanna piped up. "She said we could go on home without her. She met someone who's agreed to give her a lift home."
Sabrina's face morphed into a look of mild consternation. "We came here together we leave together. She knows that!"
Before any of us could say a word in response, Sabrina had cut through our little group at the door and had begun calling for Jessa. We somewhat doggedly followed suit and began asking if any one has seen our friend.
"She's about this high with blonde hair and freckles," I said to a scrawny punk-rocker type leaning against the counter in the kitchen.
He tipped his plastic cup to his lips and drank. When the cup came down again he was smiling. "I saw her talking to my buddy, Frank a little while ago. I think they're out back in the yard."
I looked around for some of the other girls but all of them were apparently off in other parts of the house checking rooms for Jessa. I thanked my informant and began squeezing my way through the maze of bodies toward the back door.
Once outside, I found a group of smokers talking quietly together but Jessa was not among them. I cut through and ambled towards the far end of the yard where a gate led into an alley behind the house. It was kind of a chilly night for early October and I desperately wished I'd worn my parka. I hugged my arms close around me as my heels sank slightly in the soft grass. A few yards away from the gate I became aware of a scuffling sound.