Collection 1

by Therese A. Kramer

  He lay down, his mind returned to its vivid recollections, and touching the sheets, her scent drifted into his nostrils and he felt himself responding. The woman tasted and smelled so sweet he let his mind recall their nights of passion. He savored the memory of how they had taken time to explore, to arouse, and to give each other pleasure. How his tongue tantalized her sensitive swollen nipples, and he whispered his love for each part of her body, when his hands explored the soft lines of her back, her waist, her hips.

  Now Brock suffered the dull ache of desire at the thought of her, and how their smoldering passion had thrilled him. How no woman had ever made him feel so alive, and he had to die to discover that.

  He must have drifted away to that dark place that he did not like or understand. But thankfully, he always came out of it but he never knew how long he had been in that void state. Trista explained that it was normal and eventually those times would shorten.

  He in turn told her that it was nice to have an older ghost teach him the ropes making it easier for him to understand the spirit world.

  He sat in the corner chair and wondered where Trista was and he hoped she was not still with Drew. He was tempted to go and look, but he was afraid of what he might find. Tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair he wondered if she was in Drew’s bedroom? In his arms? He was getting mighty annoyed at the way his imagination was running amuck. When the door opened and the light was turned on, he leaped from the chair and spat, “Where were you? Were you with him?”

  Apparently she didn’t like his question and she placed her hands on her hips and scowled. “Is that anyway to greet me?” she groused back with a huff. Her chest rose with indignation. “Do you think so little of me to jump down my throat with false accusations?”

  Damn it, you fool, she’s right. This is no way to keep her from running into Drew’s arms.

  He was beside her in an instant. “Oh, honey I am sorry, but I was jealous seeing you having a romantic candlelight dinner with Drew. I’m afraid that ---”

  “Oh, shut up, you idiot and kiss me.” Her tongue was hot and tasted like wine. She broke off the kiss and began to laugh. “I didn’t know spirits turned green with envy, but on you the color is becoming.”

  “I guess I deserve that,” he rubbed a thumb against her breast and heard her moan.

  “But, seriously, what are we going to do, now that Drew’s back?” she asked.

  He began unbuttoning her dress, kissing the swell of her breasts. “I have other things on my mind right now.” Her scent was so intoxicating that he didn’t care about anything but to taste, feel and smell every inch of her. Her gown lay like a puddle around her feet to reveal she was naked.

  She wrapped her arms around his middle and said, “I cannot bare the thought of losing you again.”

  He knelt and nipped slowly up her slim legs feeling them quiver. Trista grabbed his hair and he kissed his way up her legs, to her inner thighs. “If I weren’t already dead, I also would die if I lost you.”

  He kissed her mound and she gasped tugging on his hair. He continued to trail kisses up to her flat tummy and higher to a breast. He picked her up and sat her on the edge of the bed. Her face was flush and her beautiful eyes were glossy. He quickly disrobed and knelt once again before her. Brock spread opened her thighs and feasted on her honey nectar. He never did answer her but then his tongue was busy doing other things.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Drew, now that you are back, I guess I better find other accommodations,” Trista pushed her scrambled eggs around with her fork. She hated to bring up the subject of her lodging but it had to be said.

  The man put down his coffee mug and seemed to mull over her words. “Trista, I was thinking about that last night. I have plenty of room here, you can stay as long as you like until you find…”

  A glass toppled off the counter and smashed to the floor. Trista rolled her eyes. Damn, Brock was acting juvenile again. She turned to see him grinning smugly. Without thinking she cried, “Stop that!” Drew was about to pick up the shattered glass when she had yelled at Brock. He turned and gave her a strange glance.

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking…I mean, be careful, don’t cut yourself. Wet a paper towel to pick up the slivers,” she suggested, feeling quite foolish. When the young man busied himself cleaning up, Trista mouthed to Brock, “Stay out of here.” She gave him a look that she meant business. Message was received and he vanished.

  “Drew, maybe you better sit down again. “I think before you believe you are going crazy, I better explain something to you. And maybe after I tell you what has been going on here, you’ll think that I’m the crazy one. But you need an explanation, so here goes.”

  He sat and folded his arms, already looking at her as if she were nuts.

  “The story about this house is true. This house has been haunted by the spirit of a woman for over two hundred years. I know this for sure, because I am her.”

  Drew simply nodded and she knew he was patronizing her. “I don’t know if Brock told you that when he stayed here he was in a coma. Since I was dead, I believed your friend was too. To make a crazy long tale short, we fell in love. And then he disappeared and I was heart broken. Please do not stare at me like that, and don’t call the white coats, yet.”

  He nodded and finally spoke. “He had admitted to have had strange dreams, but I didn’t pay much attention. For six months, he was so depressed, he drank. But---”

  “I am sorry about that. But, this part I know you’ll believe. Brock told me how you bought this place.” She held up her hand. “I’ll explain that soon. A man approached you at a bar, called himself Weaver and offered you this place for what Brock said, was a song and a dance.” That made Drew’s ears perk up and he lost some of his complexion.

  “How?”

  “I’m coming to that. Living here, and incidentally this was my house. I was young and died a spinster. In stead of going into the light, I sold my soul to the Dream Weaver. Another spirit and a mistake, I know, but he promised me a soul mate. And I came to believe that it was Brock. When he returned to the living, I was devastated.”

  She snorted. “I guess my life was never to be a fairytale.” She lowered her gaze not wanting to see Drew’s expression. “Well, I guess when Dream Weaver spoke to you, he was trying to help by bringing Brock back here. But when you both arrived I was shocked to discover Brock was again amongst the living, and he no longer remembered me. Dream Weaver had given me a chance to be reborn, and I accepted thinking that I would find Brock and live happy ever after.”

  She shrugged, “They say if you want to make God laugh, make plans. Well anyway, my name is really Trista Walton and I am occupying Mara’s body, this woman’s you are now looking at. And the funny thing is, and mind you I’m not laughing, I am flesh and blood, Brock is now here in spirit Yes, he is haunting this place, and very jealous of you, as a mater of fact.”

  Drew gazed at his coffee cup for a very long time. Surely, he’d pick up the phone and call to have her put away. But he said, “This Mara whose body you claim to possess was she really engaged to a bastard?”

  She didn’t expect that question but she answered, “Yes.”

  “Hmmm? You know I never believed in ghosts, but now I find that to be conceivable, to a point. It can explain all the strange noises and breakage around here. But body snatching, well, that’s only in horror movies. If I want to keep my sanity, I’ll accept your story, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. So if you are listening old man, please stop, I’m tired of replacing things. And I will not hit on your woman.”

  He laughed but then he went still and she saw him shiver, and look as if had seen Brock. “He’s here, isn’t he?” he said. It was also a statement.

  Trista looked up and smiled. “Yes, he is behind you.”

  “Tell him that I miss him.” And she noticed Drew’s eyes fill with water. No one spoke for many minutes before Drew sucked in a deep breath. “This does put a different light
on things. “I cannot let you leave here now. I was tricked into buying this place, and I do not need it, so I am signing the lease back to you. Maybe you and Brock can finally find some happiness.”

  Trista was speechless.

  “Please tell my friend to stop breathing on the back of my neck. He knows I’m not that kind of a fella.”

  Trista burst out with laughter. “I have never seen a spirit turn red before. Brock has the knack of turning the colors of a rainbow.”

  True to Drew’s words, he packed up and left the house two days later, placing the deed in her hands. She was once again in her home, but this time she was no longer lonely.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Wayne was angry. No, the word to describe his mood was murderous. It’s been one damn month since Mara escaped and he was itching to strangle someone…anyone. His friend Tony never came back after that day he found him unconscious. The dumb ass knew better. And for Ms. Bettie, she didn’t fool him one bit but he did not make a federal case because he had never intended to go through with his threat to have her son meet with an unfortunate accident, anyway.

  He was out of booze, so he jumped into his coupe and headed for town. He had to call off the wedding again, saying his fiancée had a relapse. The day was pleasant a hard contrast to his emotions. He parked the car and headed for the liquor store.

  “Yoo-hoo, Mr. Steinberger!” A voice rang out and he turned to see old lady Hubbard waving frantically at him. He rolled his eyes. That’s all he needed listen to her dribble. Feigning a smile he said, “Hello.”

  “Oh, Mr. Steinberger, I was sorry to hear that your wedding had been called off again. What a shame, that she had a relapse.” her grey brows furrowed. “It was only a month ago I saw her and she looked perfectly---”

  “What!?” He was now interested in what the old crone had to say.

  “Why yes, I gave her a ride to her friends house. Lovely girl but she did appear to be a little nervous and---”

  “Mrs. Hubbard, do you remember where you took her. I mean she has many friends,” he lied with a straight face.

  The woman looked pensive for a moment. “No, But I drove her out of town for about fifteen minutes and let her out by a dirt road, off the main highway”

  It took all his patience not to groan.

  “If I’m not mistaken, it was near that big old house that everyone claims to be haunted. You know the one that has been under renovation for awhile. Hmmm, I wonder if it is still…”

  Wayne was gone before the old biddy realized it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Drew had left the pantry filled with food when he went away, but they needed a few things at the market. Since Trista had no car, she called for a cab. Drew had given her a large amount of cash and a credit card. Brock told her that he had left Drew financially stable for the rest of his life, so giving her the house and means to provide for herself was the least his friend could do for them.

  As Trista left, she called back, “I’ll be back shortly, Brock. Stay out of trouble darling!” She laughed and shut the door before he could make any comment.

  The house was warm and pleasant but with Trista gone it seemed cold and empty. But he knew it wasn’t the place, he was always cold except when they were in bed. Although, he was happy knowing that she could stay with him, what kind of life could she have living with a spirit? Trista had waited two centuries for someone, and it just did not seem fair that she should be tied down to a ghost. She should be married to a man that could give her children. Oh, he knew he was being brave with his thoughts, but in reality, he was scared stiff. You do have a way with words, he chided himself.

  The pounding on the front door put a stop to his frustrated thoughts. He wondered who it could be. Thinking it might be Drew coming back for a visit, now that his friend knew he was here, Brock decided to have a little fun, He opened the door and a stranger stood there gaping. The man looked around and then cried, “Hello!”

  “No one’s at home,” Brock answered, laughing because he knew the stranger couldn’t hear or see him.

  Uninvited, the stranger took it upon himself to enter. “Mara, I know you’re here!”

  Mara? That must be the other woman’s fiancé. That bastard! He was looking for Trista! No Mara! Damn.

  He prayed that Trista would stay away for a while so he could warn her that the man was here looking for the woman whose body she now inhabited; this Mara! No her. Oh, it did not matter they were one and the same!

  “Mara, if you are hiding, I’ll find you! You little bitch! You made a fool of me disappearing like that. I had to lie to my friends and postpone our wedding again. Mara, I am losing what patience I have left!”

  Brock remembered the man’s name. “Wayne, if you hurt one hair on her head I’ll find a way to kill you” he promised, knowing full well it was a hollow threat. Just then his worse fears came true. He heard the cab pulled up and Trista was home. He had to warn her and he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Trista run!”

  She came in and he noticed she was wearing ear phones and singing. She had purchased an iPod. Damn! Of all the times to come into the modern age. She went into the kitchen and he followed. He taped her on the shoulder when she placed the package on the counter. Suspecting no one but him, she turned and smiled but then her face fell. Brock did not have to turn to know the man was behind him. Trista grabbed the edge of the counter and her face drained.

  “So m’dear, we meet again.” the bastard sneered. He grabbed her roughly to him twisting her arm behind her back. She cried out in pain and Brock never felt so helpless. He tried to grab Wayne but his hands went through the man. He could do nothing but watch in horror as Trista was being dragged away.

  Trista called the man every name in the book and he was proud of her when she elbowed him in the gut. He let go and she grabbed a steak knife slicing his arm. She was rewarded with the back his hand and fell against the counter. She winced and touched the blood that trickled down her mouth.

  Brock’s innards were beginning to heat. Damn, if he could only help her.

  The next instant the scene before him seemed to play out in slow motion. Wayne pulled out a gun and shot Trista. She collapsed onto the floor, her life’s blood seeping from her chest.

  Brock cried out in sheer agony. He felt pain in his own chest and he went to grab Wayne again. But then something inexplicable happened. A spirit in a multi-colored cloak appeared and touched his shoulder. Brock felt an inner strength and he picked up the knife and drove it into the man’s heart. Shocked could not express the look on the bastard’s face. Before the man had a chance to wonder what the hell happened, he was dead as he hit the tile floor.

  Without another thought, Brock held Trista in his arms, weeping bitterly.

  “Now, if that isn’t such a touching scene. Why all the blubbering?”

  Brock snapped his head up. No, it couldn’t be? “Trista?”

  “Were you expecting another spirit?”

  “But…” He looked at her and then at the body. “But you are dead”

  She laughed. “So are you, so what’s your point?”

  Brock swept her into his arms. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think it’s very plain. I’m dead. You’re dead. And so is that bastard, dead.”

  He looked around.

  “What are you looking for, darling,” she asked.

  “Um, if he’s dead, why isn’t he among us?”

  “I believe m’dear that he went the other way,” she explained tongue-in-cheek.

  “Oh, Trista, I’m so sorry for what happened to you.”

  “Why, aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “Of course, but something strange happened to me. Another spirit in a multi-colored cloak appeared and I was able to somehow gain strength enough to stab him,” he nodded at Wayne.

  “Oh, my, you must have met Dream Weaver.”

  “Who”

  “I’ll tell you about him later daring, now just kiss me.”


  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Brock, I’m sorry that Drew had to come over and find me and Wayne dead. I thought the poor dear would have a heart attack.”

  “Yeah, if the situation wasn’t so serious I would have laughed. But he was left with the chore of calling the police.”

  “I hope he’ll not be arrested for my and Wayne’s murder.”

  “I doubt it darling; his finger prints were not on the knife.”

  Trista giggled. “No, they were mine and yours. I’m sure they’ll think I killed him in self-defense. But. I bet the coppers are scratching their heads wondering how a dead man’s prints were also on the weapon.”

  “I believe you’re right, my love. Besides, what can they do to us?”

  “Brock, love, no one can ever hurt us again.”

  Three days later, Trista heard the front door open. “Brock, I think it’s Drew. I wonder what he wants.” They went into the kitchen where the young man was standing looking at the blood stains.

  “I know you’re both here, I can sense it. I hope you will finally find peace and happiness together. I’m going to board up the place. I’ll miss you Trista, but I envy you both. Even after death, true love kept you together. Have a good afterlife.”

  The End

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  PEOPLE OF THE MIST

  Chapter One

  If one is not careful and unaware…