Ghost of an old man

Cyalaytr · June 25th, 2003, 02:06 AM

...As he sat at the old wooden table cracked from many many years of abuse and use he quietly ate his diner which consisted of nothing more then a small bowl of fruit (as his doctor suggested) and a re-heated sandwich he had had earlier in the day but that he couldn't finish due to his new dentures hurting.

He finished more then half of the fruit but couldn't muster much more of the sandwich as he felt his gums bleeding and fouling the taste of the bologna and white bread. He drank a few sips of his warmed milk in the hopes it would make him more tired then it had the night before. He downed an asprin and a pain pill that he took for his arthritis. On these cold and windy nights he could just feel the air seeping past the plastic he had placed over the windows. He scowled at the window as he saw the frost and snow making its way up the edges like mold on an old piece of bread.

He got up from his chair and noticed that the cabinet was open. Had he forgotten to close it? He peered around the room over his bi-focals in the search that maybe something else or someone else who had maybe left it open and his mind wasn't going like all the people had said.

He closed the cabinet and made his way to the sink which had been chipped and was in need of repair as the faucet dripped in time with the clock on the wall. As he deposited his dishes in the sink and as he walked to the living room he saw the cabinet he was sure he just closed standing open.

"Damnit, You!" he cursed at the empty room. "Leave and old man alone would you." The echo of his voice though the empty house reminding him it was just him there and all at once he felt alone. Very alone. "Forget it. If you want it open, so be it." As he continued to the living room where his favorite chair and book were waiting.

He lit the cigar and as the smoke fumed around his head in circles he stared blankly at the kitchen waiting for it to happen. He knew it would. He listened and puffed his cigar until the end was a bright cherry glowing red. His eyes became smaller and smaller as he grew with anger. He slowly cock his head to the side so he could see the cabinet door spread open as he left it. He would slowly move back and take another puff of the 25 cent cigar the burnt ash would fall to his tan old slacks and smolder grey and then burn out.
He rocked back and forth until it happened, just as before. It always was the same story. He arose from his chair and paused as he felt the cold tearing into him and his aching bones. He moved quickly to the kitchen and as he saw the faucet dripping faster then before and the clock ticking louder and louder, and as his gaze came to the closed cabinet door.... all became silent.

"...let an old man die in piece" he murmured under his breath. "Why can't you just go away and leave me alone?" And he heard the steps cross the wooded floor behind him and up the stairs towards his bedroom.

to be cont.

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ June 25, 2003 02:40 AM: Message edited by: Cyalaytr ]</font>

Cyalaytr · June 25th, 2003, 06:07 AM

Vern watched at the young boy ran down the freshly shoveled walk and then he quickly turned his gaze to the floor. Where was the coffee or his mug that had broken? He knew he had seen it fall. He shook his head and mumbled, "You won't get me. I'm already dead...", as he slowly shuffled out of the room.

He made his way up the stairs as was about to open the bathroom door an as he reached for the handle the door slowly swung open. He paused and and spoke, "I'm not that old I can't do it myself now leave me alone."

He wondered why sometimes the presence of her bugged him so much and at other times wondered if he was just insane as everyone else thought he was. As he reached for the shower knob and turn the hot on first cause he knew with it being this cold outside it would take a long time for the water to get to the second floor of his old home. he wondered how many more times he would put himself through this ritual before he finally gave in and joined his wife.

He removed his clothes as the fog filled the bathroom and the smell of his joint ointment and dime store cologne filled the room he felt the rush of cold air pass him. He glanced into the mirror and saw her again. Or at least he though he could make her out drifting back and forth in his bedroom across the hall. It looked as if she was sorting his clothes or maybe she was just really not there. He yelled out to her over the shower, "leave it be... if you want me to go then take me. I am too old to fight anymore. Too old to be scared any longer."

He knew one day he would have to confont her and his heart raced as he knew just the thought sent chills though his body. He knew just seeing her sometimes or feeling the touch of her as she passed by frightened him. Was she here to take him away? What did she want and why won't she leave him alone?

He closed the door so he couldn't see anymore and slowly turned the old gold key that had the gold worn away where his sweaty long fingers had grasp it many times before when he was frightened. He locked the door and slowly pulled on it to make sure it was tightly closed. He knew it wouldn't help against the ghost the haunted him for the past year but at least it made him feel safe as his sank his tired old bones into the cast iron tub. The bottom still cold as his hairy toes peeked above the water line. I need to clip them things, he thought to himself but he could no longer reach his feet do to his age. Well, at least I still have my mind he thought as he gave a deep laugh.

CONT

Cyalaytr · June 25th, 2003, 03:49 PM

To scared to see the truth or maybe to old to face his age, as he stood there shaking he couldn't make his way out of the kitchen. He held onto the counter as he listened for more proof he wasn't going insane. He needed to know.

His legs not able to support his weight any longer gave way and moved him to the chair before he fell. He couldn't fall he thought to him self. They would surely take an old coot like me away. Insane. Hearing things. Yes, they would lock him away for sure. He rested at the table for what seemed like only minutes only to be woke by the postman ringing his door buzzer. BZZZZZZZ BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, it yelled like an old transformer in a rain storm. He mumbled, "Damn buzzer!" as he made his way to the door. The postman was gone. Never really wanting to stay and converse. Probably wished the old man would just die so he didn't have to make the long walk up his sidewalk in the cold winter, he thought.

He dug though the usual posts until one caught his eye. You May Already Be a Winner!! He laughed to himself as he thought, wouldn't that be my luck. Here I sit on deaths door and I strike it big after all these years. He was hoping for some letter asking his help or maybe a post card from someone he still knew. Not today he thought as he made his way out of the cold air.

He layed the posts on the same pale wood table he awoke at next to the warm cup of coffee he had in his usual dark grey work mug. As he saw the steam rise from the mug he knocked it to the floor. and stepped back almost falling over the stool that had been pulled out for him. He knew he didn't brew the coffee, for he had just began his day not moments earlier. The spilled coffee made its way thought the cracks in the rotting floor board. and down away out of view only leaving a stain in the hard wood. His broken mug now lay shattered like his mind across the floor as he stared at it.

He must have stood there staring blankly for hours it seemed until he heard a familiar voice. "Vern.... Vern! You ok man?" It was the boy down the street who shovled his walk and stoop for a solid buck a week when it snowed. Without a pause, Vern looked at him with his chin shaking as he spoke, "You're late. In my day I would be fired if I was late to work."

Jeremy looked at the clock and then back at Vern. "I am here to get my pay. It isn't Saturday Vern. You sure you feeling ok?" He moved across the floor and Verns yells out. "Damnit, don't be stepping in the coffee. I will have enough to clean up without your foot prints all over my floor." Jeremy looked at the floor and outside of being dirty and not looking like it hadn't been cleaned in months he saw no coffee. "Let me get you a glass of water". He handed Vern the glass of water and Vern drank as he was parched. "This new stuff the doc has got me on has me dried up like an old raisin" as he swallowed what he could and the rest slowly slipped past his new chompers and down his chin.
"So you want paid huh? Vern scolded as he looked at Jeremy. "Ummmmmm, Jeremy stammered, ya if that is ok. You got it today that is fine. If not I can always come back next week." he knew Vern was retired when the saw mill closed and that he had a hard time after his wife has passed away from a car accident on Mill Rd. that had happened a few years earlier. He knew he was doing some thing good because he knew he didn't have any kids to help look after him. But he could always use the few dollars he got from helping neighbors and shoveling when he wasn't doing school work, to maybe spend on his girl.

Vern reached into an old black cracked wallet. It had looked as if it had been left out in the rain and ran over by a truck. Used it was. Probably always for taking money out and never for putting any in he thought as Vern handed him the $2.00. Jeremy thanked him and hurried out the door leaving the bang of the old aluminium as it slammed against the door frame.

CONT

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ June 25, 2003 12:53 AM: Message edited by: Cyalaytr ]</font>

Cyalaytr · June 26th, 2003, 01:29 AM

... As he drifted between thought while soaking in the tub he remembered his wife and how he once had wanted to build her the dream. This was long ago and times had changed but some how he took it to heart he had let her down. He never would have finalized the divorce papers but it was the only way he could keep his mothers old house. He knew without his job she would leave and maybe take the house with her for giving her a life she had not wanted. And since the old mill was the only place that would let an old man earn some pay these days what was he to do when it shut down?

Angry now he got up from the now cold water shivering and had lost track of time as he had sat and thought about things he can not change. Toweling off he saw many of the things he still had yet to remove from his house... his life. Her little perfume bottles, assorted earings, makeup she refused to wear cause it made her skin break out, were all still neatly arranged exactly as they were the day she had left.

Dry and with robe on Vern wonders into the bedroom, maybe by habit maybe because he was tired. He wasn't sure but when he called out her name to say good night he knew he had been thinking too much once again.

Tucking himself into bed he said a quick prayer, not that he believed but at this age "No need in taking any chances"... he said as he rolled over and drifted off.

...walking up the to the front porch he saw her. The sun was warm and he could smell the fresh baked bread she would always make him for lunch. He could tell she must have been distracted as always because it smelt like it was about to burn. Or maybe it had either way he felt happy. When Vern got to the door he pulled on the handle and it wouldn't open. He pulled harder and banged on it over an over as if that would help. It was of no use. Had she locked him out..? he wandered. he wasn't that late from the poker night with the fellows at the VFW last night? "Let me in Rose!" He yelled out and it woke him from his sleep only to realize that in the dark of night he was once again dreaming. He quickly turned on the little wagon shaped lamp that sat peacefully by his side. He was breathing hard and his hand hurt. He glanced at his hand but without his glasses all he could see was red. He fumbled against the lace cover on the stand to get his glasses. He held them up to see thru them and saw that his hand had been cut. Not deep nor enough to cause alarm but how.

He sat up in bed and peered at the wind up clock on her side of the bed. 3:42 Am. Wrapping his glasses about his head he stepped into his fuzzy slipper that had been worn clean thru from wooden floors. Making his way to the sink in the bathroom he flicks on the light and it comes to life in a mannor not unlike one of those bug zappers outside the local bait shop down by the lake. It hummed and buzzed and as he glanced into the mirror he saw the shadow pass behind him with a knife about neck high. "GOD ROSE!" He screamed out as he fell to the floor. He didnt see her face but he knew it had to be her. He pulled himself close to the sink by the drain and hid underneigh it. Sobbing and praying as his pain in his hand turned to a dull grey ache. He close his eyes and hoped she wasn't going to kill him. FOr once in his life he didn't want to die but right now he didn't know why. Was it fear of the unknown... or fear that she did know what happened oh so long ago...........

CONT

Cyalaytr · June 26th, 2003, 03:27 PM

...The bottle swung back and forth from his cloud like solid white bed. His room was that of a drab color and they had bound his hands to the bed. He could see the fluid swirling about in the bottle. A clear liquid. Clearer then water or the air in the sky yet it cast the reflection of the nurse in the corner.

"...we aren't going to fight nurses today are we Vern" she said and she shook the needle back and forth and then tapped it on the end with her finger. Her nail , blood red, as it tapped the syringe was the only color in the room. Well, except that of his wrist which burned as the y twisted in the restraints.

"Oh come now Vern.. you know we only want to help you", as she stuck the needle deep into his vein. His arms so thin from his age and diet almost allowed the needle to pierce him thru. Or at least it felt that way as he watched he draw the plunger back to pull in a small amount of blood before she rushed what ever was inside through his veins to his mind that had so often failed him.

"Why did she try to kill me? What does she want with me? He mumbled in a low and broken voice. As the words passed his lips the nurse could see his lips were dry and he had white crust in the corners of his mouth. His dentures lay in a bag with his name written on the outside.

VERN E. SCOTT it said on the outside. The nurse remembered when he came in screaming he had killed her. The ghost or his wife... no one will ever know.

... it was the postman who had been the one to call the police. He told them he had heard the old man but that he wouldn't answer the door. He was screaming a ladies name but he couldn't make it out. The police came and found him with a letter in his hand that had only said.

Dear Vern, I love you so much. I know you have tried to find a job and the medication will take time to adjust to, the doctor has told you that. I really really love your Vern, but I can't handle the out burst or your waking in the dead of night screaming my name. I want to help you dear but I don't know what to do. I am afraid Vern, I heard you talking in your sleep and you were crying because you killed me. I am so afraid Vern. I don't want to be a ghost that haunts you in the night but I can't live here any longer. Please go seek help Vern.

Your Wife
Rose