by Simon Murik
The dishwasher didn’t come up either. When I arrived, my manager told me briefly what was going on and I grabbed a flashlight and headed down before he was done talking. I flipped the light switch on and hurried down, which made me do a double take. Why would they be down there with no light? When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I didn’t see anyone and I began to get worried. I flashed my light around the basement and called out their names. I heard a faint cry for help; hairs standing on end, I headed over to where I thought the sound had come from.
I reached my waitress who was huddling in a corner looking terrified. I knelt down beside her and asked what happened. She told me that when she came down she thought she heard the sound of a child crying and went to look. I asked her why she had come this far with no lights and she told me she had crept slowly, holding on to the wall, because she was worried a child might be down here and hurt. I helped her up and started to head back to the lit-up area when I heard another voice calling out “boss” with a tremulous quality to it. I asked her to stay right behind me and followed the source to where the dishwasher was.
When asked, he told me that he had looked around for the waitress and while doing so, he heard children laughing and went to see what was going on and how they got down here. The voices seemed to get farther away the more he walked in their direction and then he got lost with no lights and just sat down hoping someone would come down and find him. He was pretty frightened, as was the waitress, and I led them back to the lit area and up the stairs. My mind was moving a hundred miles an hour know and I knew this wasn’t some kind of joke; these people were really scared. In fact, the waitress quit on me right then and there.
Early in the morning the following Saturday when were all in doing prep work, one of the waitresses came to me and said that there was a terrible odor in the seating area. Not thinking about anything else, I headed over, almost gagging when I got there. This was an old building and some of the floors had small gaps in them by the walls; we’d tried to plug them best we could, but hadn’t been entirely successful. The smell was coming from one of the remaining gaps. It smelled like something had died and I went downstairs to check. There was absolutely no odor anywhere down there—I even checked all the wall gaps all throughout the basement.
As I walked back to the stairs, all of the boxes holding my paper goods crashed down around me and I jumped. There was nothing there, not even a small breeze; boxes just don’t fall off the shelves by themselves. They weren’t stacked high and were set firmly on the shelves for just that reason. I walked up the stairs and hollered at my kitchen manager to come down. When he did I told him what had happened and he looked confused and a bit frightened now. We picked up the boxes and put them back on the shelves and headed back up, agreeing to not say a word about this. When I went back into the front seating area, the odor was gone.
When we were real busy one of the waitresses braved the trip and went downstairs to grab some more supplies and came up crying and bleeding and bruised. I stopped what I was doing and hurried over, grabbing the first aid kit on the way. It took her a while to stop crying but when she did, she told me that right after she got to the bottom of the stairs the lights went off and she started getting hit by pieces of something. Whatever was going on down there had to stop or we were going to leave this location no matter what it did to my business. I patched her up as best I could and told her to go to the hospital and get checked out.
When I went downstairs to see what had happened, I saw a bunch of small pieces of wood scattered all over the floor. I picked a up a few and could see her blood on a couple. While I stood there thinking, I heard a noise and a wood piece bounced off my back. That was it! I ran back upstairs and called the guy who owned the building and told him I wanted out of the lease. I explained to him what had been going on and there was total silence for about thirty seconds, then his voice came back weakly telling me that it was OK, I could move out. I expected more trouble from him about cutting the lease short but he must have known some of the things that had gone on there before. We’d renovated the entire top floor and I had originally intended to buy the building when I’d built up enough capital, but there was no way now that I’d do it.
It took me a week, but I found another place to move to and we were up and running in two days. I had luckily found a space that had had a restaurant in it before so it didn’t take much to get it running again. Fortunately I wasn’t sued by the girl who was hurt and she even came back to work for me. We never had a problem again and I guess what happened at our old place wasn’t a legend, but real. A year later the owner tore the building down and it sat as an empty lot for almost five years before someone bought the land and put apartments up … I wish him luck; I certainly wouldn’t have done anything like that. I own a large house with a basement in it similar to the restaurant’s and now I have trouble sleeping wondering if I might have the same problem there.
“Oh, honey, I love it! Look at this crown molding, this fireplace, this wooden flooring!” I glanced over at my tall, dark, and handsome husband, who was rolling his eyes patronizingly at the beaming realtor.
“I don’t think she likes it,” he said, shrugging.
“Stop!” I squealed and wrapped my arms around him. Finally, after years in the smog and traffic, we were making the leap to the suburbs. Upstate New York. Where our children could play inside their white picket fence, the dog could play Frisbee in the yard, and if there wasn’t an ice cream truck, maybe I could volunteer a couple of days a week. Adam and I had been married for eight years, living the American dream, or grind. This house was our dream, our future. I would raise children in this house, bake cookies for the grandchildren, and eventually grow too old to tend the vegetable and rose garden. It was perfect.
“Well, it is move-in ready,” smiled the realtor. “I’m sure you will be very happy here. The school system is quite excellent, I’m told. And the train station is only a fifteen-minute walk.”
I took Adam’s hand and we walked again through the living room and kitchen. Then back up the stairs. There was a table here, a lamp there. The odd painting hanging crooked on the wall.
“How long has this place been empty?” asked Adam, pointing out a few cobwebs in the corner.
“Oh, maybe a few months. You know with the economy and all,” the realtor replied.
Adam nodded.
“And the few belongings?” I asked.
“They come with the house, dear. The owner is not interested.”
Adam and I looked at each other again. He took both my hands and kissed me. “If you want it, it’s yours.”
“Are you sure we can afford it? Really?” I asked, just wanting to hear one more time it was going to be ours.
“Yes, honey. We can even afford the cat,” he smiled.
“What cat?” I frowned at him.
“The one on the window sill,” he pointed.
I looked over the kitchen sink and, sure enough, there was a dark gray cat peering in the window at us.
“Oh my god,” I cried and ran out the patio door. “Here kitty, kitty,” I called, getting down on my knees and beckoning him. The cat gave me a curt meow, jumped down, and began rubbing and purring against my leg. I picked him up, and he nestled into my neck. I walked back inside with him. “Is this a neighbor’s cat?” I asked the realtor.
“No, I wouldn’t think so. The next two houses are vacant as well. I expect he will be yours.”
I grinned at Adam. Perfect. Just perfect.
The movers came the following week, and after a day of sifting through boxes, I was ready to flake out on my bed that was still just a mattress on the floor. That Adam had meetings he could not miss had not escaped my notice, but I could hardly blame him for avoiding the tediousness of unpacking boxes.
Simon, my new furry four-legged buddy, and I had it all under control anyway. That cat followed me around everywhere. He watched me unpack boxes, wipe away the cobwebs, and take the old pictures and furnitu
re to the curb. Oddly enough, for how sweet and attentive he was with me, he despised Adam. Simon would hiss and screech when Adam—Adam basically just chose to ignore him. Adam was so good-natured that he would just tell Simon to get ready for the Doberman he was bringing home one of these days. I would laugh and Simon would glare.
That night, I lay stretched out on our bed, exhausted. Adam showered and came into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He raised his eyebrows at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding! I’m exhausted, and I still feel like I’m covered in packing paper dust.” I half-joked. “While you were sitting in cushy leather chairs in a conference room all day, eating bagels and pastries, I was hauling boxes and finding your coffee maker.”
“And so it begins,” he teased, dropping the towel and pulling on his boxers. He jumped on top of me anyway and kissed my neck. I wrapped my arms around him and nestled into his warmth and delicious just-showered smell. Just as I felt his hands move slowly down my now-waking body, a terrible chill fell over the room. It was like a freezer door had just been opened in our bedroom.
“Did you leave a window open somewhere?” I asked, shivering despite his body against mine.
“No, I don’t think so, but am I not warming you up?” he murmured into my neck.
I couldn’t stand the chill. I pushed against him back a little. “I need to check. Seriously, it’s freezing.”
“OK, OK,” he sighed. “I will.” He moved just off me and let out a sudden yell of pain. “What the hell?”
I bolted upright as Simon hissed and jumped off the bed. Adam sat on the edge of the bed with three long scratch marks bleeding ever so slightly across his chest. “You see what that damn cat did?”
I stared in shock. “Did you roll on him or something?”
“Are you seriously defending that mangy thing?” Adam was furious. He got up and headed to the bathroom. Feeling a little guilty, I tossed off the covers and followed him in there to make sure he was OK. Just past the doorway, I saw Simon sitting in the hallway, washing his face. I got some antiseptic out of the medicine cabinet and gently rubbed Adam’s chest after he had washed.
“I’m not defending him, honey,” I kissed Adam softly. “I think it was just an accident.”
Adam looked at me strangely. He slowly cocked his head. “Accidents do happen.”
I frowned and took a small step back. “You’re not going to hurt him are you?”
“The cat?” Adam laughed. “No, honey.” He stood up and kissed me. “Never.”
That night, I slept fitfully. I don’t remember if it was dreams or nightmares, but I woke up in a cold sweat. Something was stinking. Putrid and rotten, like rancid garbage left out for days.
“Adam?” I shook my sleeping husband. “Adam, something stinks.”
I switched on the light and sat up. Simon was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring intently at me. I shook Adam again.
“Damn it, what?” Adam yelled enraged. He had never yelled at me like that before.
“Don’t you smell that?” I asked him, startled by his reaction.
“I smell nothing,” he growled. “Leave me alone.” He madly pulled the covers back over his head and ignored me.
I could not stand the smell and went out to the living room. I checked the garbage and the refrigerator in the kitchen, but the smell was gone. I wrapped up in a blanket on the couch and flicked on the television. Simon jumped up beside me, kneaded himself a spot on my belly, and purred himself to sleep.
I woke up to the sun breaking through the sides of the curtain. I stirred and, half-awake, glanced around, remembering where I was. I stretched and padded off to the bedroom. I stopped almost halfway. The temperature in the air had suddenly dropped. I was not imagining this. That smell. Again. What was going on? The bedroom door was shut. I did not remember closing it.
Slowly, I opened the door. And screamed. My husband, my beloved Adam, was hanging from the ceiling fan, our bed sheet used as a noose. His tongue was lolled out of his mouth, and his face was blue.
The paramedics told me that he had been dead for hours. That he must have hung himself right after I left the room. I cried and cried and told the detective that it just didn’t make any sense. He was very patient with me and allowed my hysterics to run their course.
“Had Adam been depressed at all?” the detective asked.
“No, not at all. We … we were going to start a family.”
“Anything going on at work? Other family troubles?”
“Nothing. Adam had just landed a big promotion. Everything was going so well. That is why we moved out here. We just bought this house. None of this makes sense. He would never do this.” I began sobbing again. He handed me another handful of Kleenex, and I nodded gratefully. Simon jumped up beside me, rubbed my arm, and sat down.
“Is the cat yours?” he asked.
“Well, yes. He sort of came with the house. Adam didn’t care for him much, but he took a quick fancy to me. He’s sweet.” I sniffed, rubbing his soft head.
“I see. OK, well, if you need anything. Please call.” He handed me a business card and walked out of the room. I almost forgot to ask him where Adam was going to be taken. I got up off the couch and followed him out of the living room toward the hallway.
“Yeah, Lieutenant. I’m just finishing up here over at the house on Hillwood.” The detective was on the phone. I stood quietly behind him waiting for him to finish.
“I know how it sounds,” he continued. “But the last suicide here? Almost identical. She even said the same words. ‘The cat sort of came with the house. My husband didn’t like him, but I did.’ Weird, huh?”
I felt a sudden chill in the air. I looked down and Simon was rubbing up against my leg.
I lived next door to a feisty old lady who was in her mid to late seventies. I would always see her out in her yard working in the garden and got to know her quite well. Her name was Doris and her husband had passed almost ten years ago, but she carried on without living in the depression that many older people do when their spouse died. Almost every day she would bring me cookies, or cakes, or whatever she’d baked that day which became quite a habit for me, and if she didn’t come for a couple of days I got sugar withdrawals. It became a joke between us which she thought was funnier than hell. I admired her carrying on like she did and living life to the fullest even though she was alone. I think that’s why she did so much for me; it gave her something to do besides just gardening as well as someone to talk to.
It was around ten thirty in the evening and I was about ready to hit the sack but I usually took a peek at her place every night just to see if everything seemed to be OK. I was going to my window to look at her house when I heard a scream and her bedroom light popped on. I got goose bumps listening and went over to see what was going on. After knocking on her door for what seemed like five minutes, she opened it and let me in. She looked relieved that I was there but I could tell she was still shaken up. I led her to the couch and sat down in the easy chair across from her.
When I sat down and looked at her, waiting for her to say something, I noticed she looked a lot calmer. I waited but she just looked at me, I think waiting for me to ask her what happened, so I did.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, I’ll be fine. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
That was a curious answer so I said, “Try me.”
As if daring me to say anything too contrary, she answered, “I saw a ghost!”
I had to smile at that. “Really? You sure you weren’t just dreaming?”
“I know what I saw, young man. I may be old but I’m not feeble.”
Hesitantly, I said, “Ooh … kay, what did you see?
“I told you. I saw a ghost!”
I didn’t really know how to respond; I didn’t believe in ghosts and I wondered if all this time alone had finally got to her. “Let me try that again. What happened when you saw this ghost?”
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She looked at me like she was trying to size me up and said, “It turned on the light.”
I could tell getting her to tell me was going to take some doing; she didn’t seem inclined to elucidate much and I’d have to ask her step-by-step. “Which light was that?”
“My bedroom light! Scared the bejesus out of me.”
“Can you tell me what happened? What did this ghost do?”
“Young man, you keep asking me the same darn questions, we’ll never get anywhere. He turned on my bedroom light!”
I smiled at her and tried again. “What did it do after it turned on the light?”
She hesitated but finally said, “It stuck its tongue out at me and disappeared.”
“It … stuck its tongue out at you?” I stammered out.
“That’s what I said.”
I thought for a moment and added, “Well, at least it wasn’t a mean one.”
“Doesn’t matter! I don’t like ghosts. I want it gone!”
“You don’t like…? You’ve seen one before?”
Now it was her turn to smile and she answered back, “Of course I have. That’s how I knew it was a darn ghost! Come on boy, git yer wits about you.”
I threw up my hands and asked in desperation, “What would you like me to do?”
“You just git your fanny back home and get to sleep. I’ll be fine.”
I left shaking my head but I had a big smile on my face as I crossed the yards and went home. I took her advice and went to bed and actually slept quite well. I woke up with a smile and felt happy all day. I even got a bunch of yardwork done that I’d been putting off for weeks. It was going to be a great weekend.