A Ghost's Story (standard:horror, 2295 words)
Author: Casey Ponciano	Added: Mar 21 2003	Views/Reads: 3490/2401	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Tom wakes up to hear his wife crying and finds his daughter not waking from her sleep. He wonders, whats wrong with his wife Grace? Whats wrong with his daughter Cindy? These are answers he will soon find out, but an answer he wishes that never happens.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“This is Tom Phillips.  Hurry please?” I said.  I tried not to panic,
but I couldn't help it.  My little girl was gone. 

“Calm down Mr. Phillips.  We'll send an emergency unit over.” 

“I can't even find my wife Grace.  I hear someone crying in the house. 
I think it's my wife, but I can't find her.  Grace, Grace, where are 
you?” I yelled.  I hoped to God that someone else was not in the house 
and they weren't doing anything to Grace. 

“Mr. Phillips we're sending a police car over.  They should be there in
a couple of minutes.  Just stay calm,” she said, but I couldn't.  I 
couldn't find my wife Grace.  I lost Cindy already and I didn't want to 
lose my wife. 

“Grace, where are you?” I asked. 

“Mr. Phillips please calm down.  Now I need your address.  Please tell
me the street your on?” she asked. 

“We're on the corner of Ave. A, on 1st street.  It's a green house.” 

“1st street on the corner of Ave. A?  Someone already called about a
disturbance in that place. There is a police unit already on their way. 
Just stay calm Mr. Phillips.” 

“What, someone already called.  Oh it was probably Grace.  Thank God,” I
said.  I was relieved that Grace already called.  I was sure that the 
emergency unit would be here sooner.  I hoped that they would save 
Cindy.  Maybe there was a chance for her.  I didn't want to lose my 
little girl.  Then a scream got my attention.  It came from the 
bathroom beneath the stairs. 

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry,” The person screamed.  Then I heard some more
weeping.  I just dropped the telephone and I walked to the bathroom. 

“Grace, are you in there?” I asked.  I knocked on the bathroom door. 
“Grace are you in there?  You're scaring me.  Open the door.  For Gods 
sake, please?” I asked, but she didn't respond.  Then, by the bathroom 
door, I noticed an envelope covered in blood.  I picked up the envelope 
and checked what was inside.  There was a letter and I read it.  It was 
a confirmation letter from a life insurance form that was filled a week 
ago.  It read that if anything happened to my wife, we would receive 
twenty-five thousand dollars.  We would receive twenty-five thousand 
dollars if anything happened to my daughter and one hundred thousand 
dollars if anything happened to me.  I don't remember ever filling an 
insurance form for this.  Did Grace do this behind my back?  I held the 
letter in my hand and I pounded on the bathroom door.  “Grace, what in 
the hell is this letter about?  Did you do something to Cindy?  Answer 
me Goddammit.” I told her.  I felt I didn't know who she was now.  Did 
she do something to Cindy?  I hoped she didn't.  But I had to hear her 
word.  “Answer me Grace?”  But she never did.  She just continued to 
cry. 

“I'm so sorry Tom.  Please forgive me.  I'm so sorry Cindy.  I'm so
sorry baby.” She kept yelling aloud.  It gave me a strange feeling.  I 
hoped that she didn't have anything to do with Cindy's death.  I hoped 
that the insurance form was not connected with Cindy at all.  Maybe she 
had an explanation for all of this. 

“Grace open the door,” I said again as I pounded on the door.  “Honey,
everything's going to be alright.  Please open the door.  The police 
are already coming over,” I added.  But she didn't listen.  She 
continued crying.  I pounded on the door again, but there was no 
response.  Then the sobbing stopped.  I heard the door unlock.  The 
doorknob twisted and the door opened.  And I stood by the door, staring 
at the reflection on the mirror of Grace as she stood by the sink.  The 
shower was running.  I became stunned at what I saw.  Her gorgeous 
long-brown hair was covered in red blood.  The white T-shirt and jeans 
she wore was red, as if she was a painter and she had gotten through 
painting a red house.  My lovely wife's face was covered in blood.  But 
I didn't know where the blood came from.  Cindy wasn't bleeding.  Maybe 
Grace didn't have anything to do with Cindy's death.  Then where did 
the blood come from?  I looked at her brown eyes, but they were not 
blood-shot, as people's eyes usually are when they've been crying for 
quite awhile.  Then she cried again, but tears did not fall from her 
eyes.  It was as she was performing a show.  I stared at her as she 
tried to wash the unknown blood from her face. 

“What in the hell is going on Grace?” I asked her, but she didn't answer
me.  She ignored me.  “Answer me Goddammit,” I told her, but she still 
didn't listen.  Then what gave me the chills was the way her expression 
changed.  Her weeping turned into a horrible laughter as if she were 
proud of doing something great.  “What in the hell did you do Grace?” I 
asked as I reached for her.  But I couldn't grab her.  I didn't even 
touch her.  Then I heard another voice. 

“Babe, that was some great acting.  The police ought to fall for that,”
the voice said.  I looked to the right of the bathroom, toward the 
shower.  The shower curtain moved to one side and a strange naked man 
stepped out.  “That was just great honey,” he said again and he 
laughed.  I looked at him as he looked toward me. 

“Who in the hell are you?” I asked, but he didn't answer me.  He just
walked toward me.  I made a fist and I threw a punch at him, but I 
missed and I fell in the shower.  I got back up and walked behind 
Grace.  I looked at her through the mirror.  “I can't believe you 
Grace, you've been cheating on me.  Why?  What did I do wrong?”  I 
asked, but she never answered.  “Why don't you want to answer me?” I 
asked.  Then I turned around.  The strange man was there.  He was 
looking toward me again.  Then all of a sudden the front door burst 
open.  Police officers ran in with their guns pointed. 

“Alright, everybody, put your hands in the air.” One of the officers
said.  And I did.  I moved to one side of the living room so the 
officers can do their job. 

“I'm Tom Phillips officer.  I called awhile ago.  Arrest him.  I don't
know who he is, but I think he had to do something with my daughter's 
death,” I said to one of the officers as I pointed to the strange man.  
He ran to the strange man and handcuffed him.  “You bastard.” I said to 
the strange man. 

“No, I'm sorry.  Please don't arrest me.  Tom please forgive me.”  It
was Grace's voice.  She walked out of the bathroom handcuffed.  An 
emergency team walked in. 

“She's upstairs guys.  Please help her,” I said.  They went upstairs. 
Then I looked at Grace.  “I'm sorry baby.  I don't know what happened.  
I promise we will work everything out.  I will get the best help you 
need baby,” I told her.  I still loved her.  She had to have an 
explanation for all of these.  Maybe she was stressing.  We did have a 
lot of money problems.  My face filled with tears. Then one of the men 
in the emergency unit from upstairs came down.  And he spoke. 

“They're dead.  They're both dead,” he said.  Both, dead.  I only have
one daughter.  Who was the other person?  Then what confused me was 
what the police officer said, who was holding Grace. 

“Grace Phillips you are under arrest for the murder of your daughter
Cindy Phillips and your husband Tom Phillips,” he said. 

For the murder of your husband, but I can't be dead.  I'm here.  Alive,
am I? 

“I can't be dead officer, I'm right here,” I said as I grabbed his arm,
but I didn't touch anything. I didn't have any feeling when I touched 
him.  My hand went through his arm.  He didn't even respond to me being 
there.  I ran upstairs, to my bedroom.  And I became terrorized at what 
I saw.  There, laid my bloody body on the bed.  My arms and legs were 
decapitated.  There was a chainsaw lying on the bed, right by my neck.  
The chainsaw was covered in blood.  It was my blood.  The same blood 
that my trusting wife's face was covered in.  I looked at my hands and 
I felt for my face, but I had not feeling.  I was a ghost.  I was a 
spirit.  I was my soul.  “Damn you Grace, damn you,” I yelled knowing 
that she couldn't hear me, knowing that no one could hear me.  I 
couldn't save my little girl's life; I couldn't even save mine.  I was 
already dead. 


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