True Ghost Stories and Hauntings 1

by Simon Murik

  “I really want to go and check out the roller coaster. You know, maybe the cart is stopped at the top of the hill and we can push it and ride it down the track!” I said.

  “I wanna check out the ghost train, too.”

  “I want to check out the Ferris wheel,” Chris said.

  “What, you scared of the ghost train?” I asked, trying to tease him the way I always did.

  “No, of course not, it just sounds lame,” Chris said defensively.

  “Good, no little brother of mine is allowed to be scared of a ghost train that doesn’t even operate anymore,” I said. I paused for a minute with my hand on his chin. “Tell you what, why don’t you go check out the Ferris wheel and I’ll go check out the ghost train. Then, we can meet back up at the roller coaster.”

  “No way, we’re not separating,” Chris said, looking around at the creaky, vine-choked park and its mad-looking mascot. The clouds were thick and gray overhead and not much light made it through them to make it clear that it was actually even daytime.

  “Come on,” I said.

  “Don’t say it. Don’t call me chicken. I’m off to check out the Ferris wheel. I’ll see you at the roller coaster,” Chris said, storming off.

  I giggled and walked to the other side of the road in the direction of the ghost train. I paused when I got in front of it and looked up at the vicious, evil clown that gazed out of the window. On the opposite side of the train there was a haunted house façade with a skeleton in a reaper’s costume wielding his blade. It seemed as if it had been made with a craft and care that most cheap carnival rides no longer had. I climbed up the metal steps that led to the ride and peered into carriages that had once carried passengers into the dark interior of the ride to face buzzers, air shots, lights, and sculptures of ghosts, skeletons, and monsters that would pop out when you least expected them. I sat down in the carriage that was about to enter the double doors of the ride and thought about what it would have been like to be there in the fifties. Just then, the bar on the ride went down over me and the lights suddenly came on. I could hear the low voice of a narrator telling me to stay in the ride at all times. There was also a wicked laugh coming from the evil clown in the upstairs window. My mouth fell open and I didn’t know what to say or how to respond. The ride burst into life and I jolted forward, bursting through the double doors of the ride. I was so afraid; I didn’t know whether to try and flee the ride or not, so I stayed, thinking that was the safest course of action.

  A skeleton with an ax came down in front of the ride as it jerked to the right. Then a giant spider came down only inches from the top of my head. The car plunged down a hill into the darkness and hideous laughter could be heard coming form a nearby speaker. Suddenly, a light flashed onto a werewolf statue that lurched forward. Then, an unnatural shaking began as the ride moved forward. I could tell that the ground beneath the track was shaking as if an earthquake were occurring. The shaking became more and more severe, and soon the ride jerked to a halt. I struggled to get out of the carriage as pieces of the roof began to fall on top of me. I began to panic, but finally I got the safety bar to come up. I looked to the left, and suddenly a transparent little girl with blonde pigtails and striking blue eyes was standing by the track. She waved for me to follow her.

  “Quickly, this way,” she said. She disappeared as quickly as she appeared. Astonished, I did as I was told, getting out of the building that seemed to be coming apart all around me. Through the facades of swampy trees, the light of an emergency exit was lit up and I ran towards it, through the exit, and out into the sun. Relieved but still a bit shaken, as soon as I got way I thought about Chris trying to climb onto the Ferris wheel and I ran in the direction of that ride.

  Chris, however, had already left the Ferris wheel and was now climbing up to the top of the first hill where a car had stopped just before it was about to go over the hill.

  “Chris, get down from there!” I yelled.

  “What’s the matter, bro? I thought you wanted to ride one of these coaster cars down the hill up here?” Chris said, happy to give me a taste of my own medicine.

  “You have to get down! There could be aftershocks after a massive earthquake like that!” I said.

  “Earthquake?” Chris said, puzzled. Apparently, Chris had not experienced what I had.

  “Get down from there!” I said, annoyed and puzzled as to why Chris hadn’t noticed the earthquake.

  I began to climb up the slats that covered the coaster. It was one of those old wooden coasters, painted white with blue rails. I climbed all of the way up to the car where Chris was sitting and attempted to pull him out of the car that was about to plunge over the first drop. As soon as I grabbed Chris’s hands, the ride lurched forward and I fell into the car. I quickly righted myself just before the car went over the first hill. As it continued up the other side, the shaking began again, this time even more severe than before. We could hear the wind rushing around our ears as we swirled around on the track and the noise mixed with what appeared to be screams and a sound akin to what one hears when a building implodes. As the car reached the bottom of the track, large pieces of the coaster began to come down around us. The car stopped at the bottom and as I turned to my left side I was startled to see the young girl I had seen earlier.

  “Come quickly,” she said. Despite our fear, Chris and I did as she told us to. As soon as we exited the car, a huge section of railing from the upper part of the coaster fell down right where we would have been sitting.

  We ran through the iron fence that surrounded the ride and didn’t look back. The little girl disappeared again, and the shaking suddenly stopped. We didn’t stick around to see if there was going to be another aftershock. We ran until we were through the front gate with Dr. Danger giving us a menacing as we ran past.

  ***

  “I told you boys to be back by seven,” our mother said angrily as we ran in the front door.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I said, visibly shaken.

  “What’s the matter with you two?” she said, seeing the fear on our faces.

  “Uh, nothing,” Chris said.

  “Chris, you are a bad liar. You tell me what’s happened. Where did you go?” she demanded.

  “We went to the old carnival,” Chris said as I elbowed him for telling.

  “Boys, I told you not to do that! That’s not a safe place to play at all. What am I going to do with you two scoundrels?” she said, shaking her head in frustration.

  “Didn’t you feel the earthquake, Mom?” I asked her.

  “Earthquake? There wasn’t any kind of earthquake, boys. Is this some kind of a joke or a way to distract me from punishing you?” she said. We looked at each other in confusion.

  “The last earthquake that happened around these parts was in the late sixties. That’s what finally closed down that old carnival. That earthquake was so powerful it brought half of that place down. Lots of folks lost their lives that day. Now, you go up to your rooms and don’t come down until I call for you!”

  We did as she asked, but both of us were quietly astonished at what we had experienced and thankful for the girl who had helped us. We guessed that she must have been killed during the last earth quake along with others. Our mother didn’t have to tell us not to visit the carnival ever again.

  Istared at the empty playground. The November sky loomed like a gray blanket over the swing set, corkscrew slide, and merry-go-round. It hadn’t changed at all. The slide still stood just to the left of the swings and the rust-colored merry-go-round sat about ten feet in front of them.

  My stomach knotted a bit and I thought about just driving off.

  But I had to walk out there.

  Simon Waters was still the only person I’d ever killed in sixteen years as a detective and I’d done it here. Whether or not I should have just aimed for the leg had nagged at me since it’d happened two years ago and I thought coming back might somehow make me feel better—or at least more certain I’d done the rig
ht thing.

  But what was right in this screwed up world?

  I popped the car door open and stepped out. The two-lane highway that ran past the park stretched out into both horizons and there wasn’t a car in sight. There hadn’t been for almost an hour. As I walked over to the playground, I slid a cigarette out of the pack and placed it in my mouth. Taking the silver Zippo from my jacket pocket, I lit the cigg and took a drag as I stepped onto the gravel. I blew a wisp of smoke into the air and took another drag as I stared at the grassy plain that stretched out from the gravel.

  Just a lonely little playground in nowhere Kansas.

  I threw the cigarette on the ground and smothered it with my foot.

  Simon had been a weird one. He only wore black, and although he’d never killed or physically hurt any of the three kids he’d kidnapped from this place—always releasing them once the payment had been made—each child had needed psychiatric counseling afterwards. A lot of counseling. And that was still before Robby Benson.

  Robby was supposed to be number four.

  I folded my arms and looked at the highway. Still not a car, truck, or fat man on a Harley to be seen.

  It’d been quiet like this the day I’d caught up to Simon. And when he’d wrapped his skeletal like hand around Robby’s throat—even though his right leg was cleanly exposed—I’d aimed straight at his head.

  And that was the end of Simon the kidnapper.

  Robby was returned to his parent’s the next day.

  And a week later the guilt had set in.

  I walked over to the swing set and ran my finger nails over the metal frame. It was a strange place to have a park—no homes within a few miles and no trails leading up to it. People built weird things in weird places, but there was something so on-the-edge about the isolation of the playground. Like it was just begging for trouble.

  A sound like a creaking door sound pierced the dry air and I looked back.

  The merry-go-round had started to spin in the breeze.

  But there was no way the breeze could be moving it in this direction.

  I tilted my head and watched for a few seconds as the merry-go-round spun against the wind like an automated ride. Walking over to it, I put my hand on one of the handle bars and the wheel stopped. I let go and it started moving again.

  In the corner of my eye I saw the far swing start to sway back and forth. I turned towards it and watched as it floated up a few feet and then back. Like the merry-go-round, the cross breeze shouldn’t have made it move like that. I reached for another cigarette and lit it. Taking a drag I took a step back and watched the swing going higher and higher. The ladder of the slide rattled and my heart started to beat hard. A second later the entire slide shook and then stopped as quickly as it’d started.

  I rubbed my chin and watched the merry-go-round, the swings, and the slide. A hard wind pushed from the west and I looked over. A man in a long black coat stood about fifty yards away, watching the playground. From this distance his face was a whitish blur, but those long thin hands were unmistakable. He turned his head to me and we stared at each other as the wind whistled between us. After about ten seconds he turned around and walked off, quickly fading into the gray horizon.

  I bit my lip and nodded.

  Throwing the cigarette down, I stomped it out and walked back to my car. When I got back inside I started it up and backed out from my spot. I’d seen all I needed to.

  And I would never have to come back.

  It all happened on a Friday night. I placed my wedding ring on the desk. Who would ever guess that some misunderstanding can lead to this so easily? To be forced to leave the house, which we searched, decorated, and worked on together. I never cheated on her, even though there were chances to do so. But she “knows.” Yes, of course, what is my honest word compared to her intuition? And, her friends—not all, but many of them—with all those “men are pigs” stories.

  That’s how I found myself in a hotel room. I had to get out of the house because the atmosphere there was unbearable. Perhaps I should have stayed, but I was too tired after another stressful day on the job, not to mention her message about the divorce. Perhaps it’s better this way, I thought. We still don’t have kids, so if she can’t trust me, maybe we should break up before we get some.

  I was the child of the divorced parents, and even though they both tried their best to be good parents, I still had one horrible thought in my mind: “Am I not the result of love?” Thinking about the past made me shiver; as I always tried to hold my tears, not letting them go down my face.

  It took me a while to realize that the shiver I felt wasn’t only caused by my painful memories. It was actually cold in the room. I didn’t care a lot about it—if the change of temperature made sense or not. I just opened up the window, knowing that it was warm outside. It was summer, after all.

  At that moment, I felt a strong wind. It must have been nothing but a drift, since it caused the violent shouting of the window, breaking it. The pieces of the glass fell on me like raindrops, but not as gentle. I wasn’t hurt very much, but the glass cut my skin in a few places on my face and hands. Just what I need! If she sees me like this tomorrow by some chance, she will most likely say how I went somewhere, get drunk, and did who knows what. It’s incredible how the mind can focus on a very few things at the same time.

  “Ladies are better when it comes to multitasking,” she used to say when we argued about who is smarter: men or women. Hah … smarter. Perhaps we should have asked ourselves who was less stupid.

  It was about 11:30 p.m. when I heard the crying. It belonged to children, but not babies; I could tell. Babies cry in an irritating way, but this wasn’t so irritating as much as it was painful, sad, desperate … I walked out of the room to see where the sounds were coming from. I couldn’t detect it well; it was kind of echoing in the upper corners of my room. I called the reception desk.

  “Hi! I hear the cries of the children in my room. I’d like you to go and check out on the kids; they seem troubled,” I said.

  “Sir,” said the voice on the line, “there are no kids in the hotel. Are you sure it’s not the voice from a TV? We can ask our guests to turn down the noise of the television.”

  “No, it lasts for too long to be the TV. There are kids here, I tell you.”

  “Would you like to switch the room, sir?”

  God, I hated that question. It was just a way to say “I don’t know how or I don’t care to fix this right now.” I just said that I was fine with the room I had and I ended the conversation. I said nothing about the broken window; I didn’t want to deal with it just now. It took about a half hour for the crying to stop.

  I was sitting on a chair, watching the ring. Due to all the things going on in my life, I felt quite disturbed, but also, that crying made me a bit anxious. How could I hear the crying if there were no kids in the hotel? There was video surveillance in the entire building (I saw it), and so nobody could pass. I looked at the mirror on the wall right in front of me and examined my face closely. I was tired, my face was pale, and my hair was messy.

  Then I saw her, coming from the shadows behind me: a tall, white figure with dark holes instead of eyes. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t turn around to see if there was really someone or if it was just a strange reflection. I watched her, getting closer and closer to me, until she was close enough to put her hands around my neck and place her head next to mine.

  With a horrific scream, she started to suffocate me. I struggled for air, trying to release the grip of her hands, but when I would try to touch her, I felt some mix of icy and burning sensations rather than a human skin. Whatever she was, she was no human. Not anymore.

  Suddenly, my phone started to ring. She was obviously surprised by the sound because the grip was released for a second. I tried to get up, but my entire body became heavy and I fell back in the chair, dropping my phone. The conversation was on, as well as the speakerphone. My wife’s voice said, ”Baby, I’m so sorr
y I doubted you! I just talked to Sarah; she admitted that there was nothing going on between you two! How could I be so stupid to believe everything that frustrated bitch had to say? Please, come back home, give me a chance to apologize … Please, baby, come home …” She was crying. I tried to answer, but the grip was too hard. “Baby, are you OK?” she asked.

  The moment I thought I was done for, the grip disappeared. I grabbed the phone, trying to answer her. However, it was difficult, until I inhaled enough air. I told her I was coming back. I wanted to see her, to kiss her, but also to escape this place. I ran out without taking my belongings.

  I came back several days after that terrifying night to get my things; they had called me a few times. They also wanted me to pay for the window. Whatever … I asked the manager about the history of the hotel. He wasn’t in the mood to talk about it (who would be?), but he told me the story about the woman who killed her children, took her own eyes out, and then killed herself, all because an unfaithful husband and a broken heart.

  I heard about that phenomenon, though I never believed it. It’s called “The woman in white.” Thank God, she had realized on time that I did not deserve her punishment. Thank God, my wife couldn’t wait to see me.

  I’d invited some friends over for a barbecue and cards after dinner. We had a full house and were enjoying our company and talking about what’d happened since the last time we’d seen one another. I had no clue then that some really weird things were going to happen. Our house was such that the kitchen and dining room were separated by a wall; the wall had a cutout between the two rooms, and the other side was the living room where our TV and stereo system were hooked up. They paralleled each other and between them was a slightly raised entry where the front door was.

  Now, I’m not a big believer in ghosts, or spirits, or anything like that, but after what happened that evening and subsequently later on, I’m not so sure anymore. I had the stereo on for some background music while we were cleaning up and chatting in and around the kitchen. We were getting things set up for playing cards and I started a small fire in the fireplace to take the chill off the air instead of turning up the heater, plus it was just nice to watch the fire burn. While we were talking and getting set up, the stereo volume turned up to the point where it rattled our windows. Thinking one of the kids was playing games I walked around to tell them to turn it down but no one was there. Not thinking much of it at the time, I just walked over and turned it back down.