Day 73 - Ghosted

 Ghosted 

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Tom was not superstitious. Windows would creak and rattle as wind would blow. Floor boards shifted and foundations would settle. Loose pipes would bang as temperatures changed.

In the distance he could usually hear the sound of cars on the nearby road. There were usually neighbors awake, watching tv or listening to music. Sometimes the distant sounds of dogs or something wilder off in the mountains.

Tonight, there was none of that, just the low hum of electricity and the dull ring of ear drums slightly damaged years ago. Tonight, the shadows fell and the dim bulbs flickered. Tonight, Tom felt a sudden chill and the weather grew cold once again and hail and rain had fallen earlier. His legs ached and his knees were weak, but there was no good reason for the tightness in his body. He hadn’t exerted himself; he hadn’t earned fatigue through exercise or constructive application. He felt old and odd and ached a cloudy ache in the front of his head.

Late at night with the lights out, he had crawled into bed and sent her a text. A game they often played with each other when their beds were otherwise empty. Casey hadn’t responded immediately, but soon enough they were rapid fire responding to each other. Casual at first, growing playfully and becoming suggestive over time. If not for the rain, Tom was sure it was still early enough that one of them might have made the trip across town.

But then silence. Uncanny. Odd. Mid-conversation.

A minute or two wasn’t unusual. Sometimes one of them ran to the bathroom. Or needed a minute to craft a proper and creative response. Maybe the rain interfered with their cell reception. Or maybe she had nodded off. It had happened to both of them before. He wasn’t that worried.

But the minutes passed and passed. It was strange. Just enough.

The shadows seemed a little too dark. The emptiness of the night grew more pronounced.

He heard a thud. Something from outside? Something against his fence? A rowdy neighbor, or something else?

Tom had a hunting knife in his desk drawer and a baseball bat beside the bedroom door. No one had ever broken into his house and he never really believed he’d need to use any such thing to defend himself. Still, he got up and went to the desk, just for a small reassurance. He laughed at himself, sure that it was nothing.

 

 

Casey woke up in the middle of the night, having fallen asleep on her couch. The TV was still on and her blanket had fallen to the floor. She sat up and felt around with her feet, trying to find her slippers beneath the living room table.

She shifted and knocked her cellphone to the floor. She realized she and Tom were mid-conversation and she must have missed his final messages.  

Hours ago, his text read, “I swear this house is making more and more noise at night.”

She replied “spooky,” and added a few Halloween-inspired emojis for good measure. Then she stumbled off to find her bed. She would catch up with Tom tomorrow.

 

 

No reply ever came.