After/Life: Anger: A Paranormal Ghost Romance

by Scarlett Whispers

  O’Dell dumped his backpack on the floor and moved to the window. He checked his watch. It was almost 3 pm. He picked up a pair of binoculars that sat on his bedside table and peered through the only window in his room. It was small, barely a slit, and only let in enough light to illuminate a strip along the floor.

  “Come on,” O’Dell said. “Where are you?”

  Students were beginning to spill from the high school’s main building. O’Dell shifted focus from one group of friends to another. Horsing around, playing games. It was the kind of thing O’Dell had never been much good at. He was more of a solitary figure, preferring his own company than that of others. Well, almost any others.

  “There you are,” O’Dell said.

  He turned the dial on the binoculars to zoom in on an attractive dark-haired beauty. She was among her friends. She smiled often, clutching her books close to her chest. Where her friends were open and brash, Chantelle was calm and collected. The kind of girl who could excel at sports, but preferred to hit the library instead. The girl of his dreams.

  O’Dell smiled. One day, when he was a success, he would approach her. He would ask her out on a date. He would be so successful she wouldn’t be able to say no. Until then, he would enjoy looking at her. There was no crime against that.

  “She’s very pretty,” a voice said. “She your girlfriend?”

  O’Dell swung round and shot back, colliding with the bedside table. He lost his balance and hit the floor, spilling the items on the table. He peered up through his binoculars and then tossed them aside. If his mother caught him ogling girls like this…

  But his mother wasn’t there. No one was. His bedroom door was shut. And now that his panic was over, now he had a little time to think, he realized the voice he’d heard was not that of his mother. But someone else.

  “Or are you a peeping Tom?” the voice said.

  It came from inside the room.

  O’Dell got to his feet and crossed to his bed. He grabbed his baseball bat and primed it. His frantic wide eyes swept the room left to right, looking to identify the voice’s origin.

  “You can’t run forever,” the voice said.

  There!

  O’Dell swung his bat. It passed through the air to his right, meeting nothing.

  “My name is Molly. You heard me earlier, on the street.”

  O’Dell swung again, this time connecting with the wall.

  “You’re only going to damage your things if you do this,” Molly said.

  O’Dell shook his head, denying what his senses were telling him.

  “I was murdered a few days ago,” Molly said. “I was taken to a place called the Halfway House. It’s purgatory, a place where you pay penance for the bad things you did in life. I managed to escape, and now I’m here.”

  O’Dell breathed heavily through his nostrils, his eyes wide and filled with fear.

  “I understand this must come as a shock…” Molly said.

  “Get out of my house!” O’Dell said.

  “Not until I talk with you,” Molly said.

  “I said get out!” O’Dell said.

  “I’m sorry to invade your personal space,” Molly said. “Really, I am. But you’re going to have to listen to me if you want me to go.”

  “I’m not listening to nothing you have to say!” O’Dell said.

  There was a soft bang noise from downstairs. O’Dell could have recognized it anywhere. It was his mother.

  “Mickey?” his mother said, calling up the stairs. “Mickey, are you home?”

  O’Dell didn’t say a word. He was thinking. What was he going to do?

  “Yeah,” O’Dell called back. “I’m home. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  O’Dell’s mom came up the stairs.

  “You’ll never believe the day I had,” she said.

  O’Dell moved to the door. He leaned his bat against his desk and turned to look back at his room. His bedside table lay with two legs broken. Paper, drawings, and electronics scattered across the floor. He was never going to get it tidied up in time before his mother got there. But that wasn’t his chief concern.

  “Please,” O’Dell said out the corner of his mouth. “Don’t scare my mom.”

  “I won’t,” Molly said. “But you have to listen to me. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  O’Dell didn’t look much relieved by that statement. He licked his lips and opened the door, keeping it closed enough to peer out from around it.

  “Hey Mom,” O’Dell said. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” his mother said. “Just checking in.”

  O’Dell nodded. There was something fishy going on.

  “I heard you talking to someone,” his mother said.

  “Really?” O’Dell said. “Oh. I was on the phone.”

  O’Dell’s mother nodded. She could read him like a book.

  “What’s going on in there?” she said, going up on her tiptoes to peer inside his room.

  O’Dell pulled the door closer to himself, blocking as much visibility as possible. But not enough. His mother had spotted the broken bedside table.

  “You been practicing your swing inside the house again?” she said, eyes narrowing.

  O’Dell opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

  “What’s the matter?” his mother said. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “I, uh, thought I saw a rat,” O’Dell said.

  “A rat?” his mother said. “Not another one. I’ll have to call pest control again. Honestly, sometimes I think they plant them here so they’ll get repeat business. Did you get it?”

  O’Dell shook his head. His expression was fearful, body stiff as a board.

  “Are you all right?” his mother said. “It’s just a rat. It won’t hurt you.”

  O’Dell nodded.

  “I’m about to cook dinner,” his mother said. “Anything special you want?”

  “Anything is fine,” O’Dell said.

  “It’ll be ready in ten minutes,” his mother said. “Get washed up. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  With one last glance at her son, O’Dell’s mother headed back down the stairs. O’Dell shut the door behind her.

  “She seems-” Molly said.

  O’Dell held up a finger for silence. He didn’t relax until his mother was downstairs.

  “She seems like a lovely woman,” Molly said.

  O’Dell sat on the edge of his bed and leaned his forehead in his hands.

  “I know this must come as quite a shock,” Molly said. “But I don’t mean you any harm.”

  “I’m not crazy,” O’Dell said.

  “No, you’re not,” Molly said.

  “I can’t hear you,” O’Dell said.

  “Then who are you talking to?” Molly said.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” O’Dell said.

  “You can hear me,” Molly said. “I need you to help me.”

  “Why don’t you go to bother someone else?” O’Dell said. “Go find a family to spook or something.”

  “Perhaps when I retire,” Molly said. “Can you see me?”

  “No,” O’Dell said. “Listen, if my mom knows I can hear voices…”

  “She won’t hear it from me,” Molly said. “Obviously. I don’t think anyone else can hear me. Just you.”

  “Lucky me,” O’Dell said.

  “You don’t seem all that shocked that you can hear ghosts,” Molly said.

  O’Dell clenched his teeth and looked to one side, uncomfortable.

  “You’ve heard voices before, haven’t you?” Molly said.

  “No,” O’Dell said. “But my dad did. He called it a gift. But it never did him much good.”

  By the tone of his voice, Molly imagined it hadn’t been a very fun experience.

  “Look, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you just go away and leave me alone,” O’Dell said. “I don’t want any part of this.”

  “I’m sorry, but I need you to pass on a message fo
r me,” Molly said.

  “Go pass it on yourself,” O’Dell said. “What do I look like to you? FedEx?”

  “I would, gladly,” Molly said. “Except no one else can hear me.”

  “Maybe they can, but they ignored you,” O’Dell said. “That’s what I should have done.”

  He snorted.

  “A gift,” he said. “What a joke that is. He made it sound so great as if it was something everybody wanted. That he had been chosen. I used to go around, pretending I could hear voices too. We became the freaks of the neighborhood.”

  “You’re lucky,” Molly said. “Not everybody can hear spirit voices.”

  “I don’t want it,” O’Dell said.

  “Sometimes we’re given things we don’t want,” Molly said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t use them for the greater good.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” O’Dell said. “You’re not the one hearing voices.”

  “I think we can both agree I’m real,” Molly said. “That means you’re not crazy.”

  “Whoopee,” O’Dell said.

  “I need you to do one thing for me,” Molly said. “Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “I’m not doing it,” O’Dell said.

  “I haven’t even told you what it is yet,” Molly said.

  “I don’t care what it is,” O’Dell said.

  Molly sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “I need you to pass on a message,” she said.

  “No,” O’Dell said.

  “I need you to tell my boyfriend and best friend they’re in danger,” Molly said.

  “Danger?” O’Dell said. “What kind of danger?”

  “Danger from a bad guy,” Molly said. “Help me with this, and we can both get on with our lives.”

  O’Dell snorted.

  “Our lives?” he said. “I’m the one with a life.”

  “Yes,” Molly said. “I had one too before I was murdered.”

  “What did you do?” O’Dell said.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Molly said.

  “You must’ve done something,” O’Dell said. “Folks don’t get blown away for doing nothing.”

  “I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been,” Molly said. “Is that good enough for you?”

  “Why should I help you?” O’Dell said. “I ain’t no charity. What’s in it for me?”

  “You’ll be doing the right thing,” Molly said.

  “Great,” O’Dell said, rolling his eyes. “How about some green?”

  “How much do you think I’ve got on me?” Molly said.

  “No green, no go,” O’Dell said. “I guess you’ll have to find someone else.”

  “Maybe Sam could give you some money after you go to meet him,” Molly said.

  “I’m not going to go meet anybody,” O’Dell said.

  “Then how about a phone call?” Molly said.

  “A phone call?” O’Dell said.

  “One phone call and all your problems go away,” Molly said.

  O’Dell pursed his lips.

  “Okay,” he said. “Fine. One phone call, and that’s it. What’s his number?”

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  About the Author

  Scarlett Whispers writes breathtaking stories readers love. They’re jam-packed with action, humor and, of course, passionate romance;)*

  She loves nothing more than cuddling up with her hunky boyfriend in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine in one hand and her new favorite read in the other.

  *DISCLAIMER: By reading Scarlett’s electrifying stories you may find yourself losing entire nights of sleep. She makes no apologies for that, but she can guarantee you’ll be glad you did:)

  Copyright © 2017 Scarlett Whispers

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Scarlett Whispers.