The Ghost

A recluse man is visited by a beautiful vision only to discover a shocking revelation

                  The Ghost

 

 

Before the current events had occurred my life resembled a tedious existence, loneliness had condemned me to a self-inflicted internment.  I allowed myself to sink into a quagmire of despair. Many nights I contemplated release but found I was a coward when it came to the final act, ‘tomorrow, yes, tomorrow’.   I would contrive, but sadly my fanciful thoughts remained so.

 

Once I was as ordinary as you, a successful man, money seemed to come easy to me, no matter what I endeavoured in, failure was never an option. My life was the epitome of accomplishment but yet for all my wealth, something was lacking, true love had evaded me.   Yes there were women, many in fact.   Money could buy me companionship, a hollow worship more often than not and I moved on hoping the next would be sincere, but alas failure was inevitable and expected.

 

I rambled lacklustre in solitude around my extensive estate, sitting in rooms staring blankly at the walls or out of the dust caked windows.   I let the servants go this full year now.    It was unnecessary for them to remain, their duties for one became menial and my self-interest had waned, in truth they agitated me.

 

It was during one of my jaded episodes in a north-facing bedroom over looking a patch of brush land that my concentration of thought was interrupted briefly by a sight of something moving in and around the Ash trees at the far end of the gorse, so rapid was the movement that it rose me from my seat, instantly focusing my attention.   I stooped to enhance my eye line and form a clean circle on the glass with the cuff of my shirt, this motion caused a bloated blue bottle fly to rise up from its slumber and buzz against the pane before soaring deafeningly off through the open bedroom door.   As I approached my reflection formed faintly on the panel and as I drew closer like an apparition, my transparent face evolved within, I saw a silent sad complexion of a lonely man trapped in a void of time and despondency.

 

Then again I was distracted, a figure as yet undetermined of gender was most definitely coming towards the house, panic began to enfold me, what should I do?   No one had ever breeched my security before, I must call for help!  Yes, but wait, I removed the phone system shortly after the servants left.   It too disturbed me, to have recurrent tedious conversations about my state of mind and comfort of being from fair weather friends confirmed its deletion, in hindsight was I mistaken to be so swift in its removal, regrettably? yes now!

 

It was female, the figure, of that I was now sure.   I was captured by her hair, cherry blonde floating silently upwards in an evening summer zephyr, I became envious of where she was I wanted to feel the air envelope me like a comfortable coat, walk with her in the midst of the pasture.   Something I have not done in such a long time.   But fear held me captive, I watched transfixed as she glided through the meadow caressing the long grass with her fingertips, her gown was the purest of white accentuating her youthful curves, ever more growing closer.  She floated, and I let my eyes follow her, I was falling in love with every step she took, an uneasy feeling, alien to my nature, but her beauty was mesmerising, so perfect, then doubt besot me.   She must be unreal, a spectre I surmised, how else could she move with such ease, how else

 

could she be so perfect, no mortal could appear such as her.   My heart was sinking, was my attraction to be in vain?   Had a phantom captured me?   Please no! let her be real, I heard my mind call out, for all this time I have been alone, no other has enraptured me like she, I willed her to be corporeal.

 

In an instant she was upon me, I heard her enter through the vestibule door and linger in the hall below, I must hide, she cannot see me, not yet.   A closet within this room must suffice, I will leave the door slightly ajar so as to observe her discreetly, but then what are her intentions I query?   What harm can a spirit inflict other than frighten the naïve, not I.   Then I see her, a vision so exquisite in natural beauty as she passed by my room moving silently along the passage way, she reminded me of an angel so pure and white of grace an entity or apparition, I am still smitten.   Her attraction is compelling, I must, I cannot wait any longer, I will reveal myself and discover whichever she is spirit or not.

 

‘Wait’ I whisper as I leave my hidden locale ‘let us talk’ I offer with outstretched hand, but to my dismay she neither stops or turns to my propose but continues her trespass along my corridor, will she evaporate to mist leaving her ectoplasm only as evidence of her visitation to this realm? I ponder-suddenly -slowly she moves herself to within my eye line. ‘What is your name’ I ask breathless by her beauty, again I am ignored.  Her eyes look to me yet through me, am I invisible to her?   ‘I am here sweet vision’ I say but her reaction is void of my enquiry how can she not hear me; maybe sound cannot cross the virtual domain.  

 

But how do I gain her attention, oh god I cannot bear her disregard, so until my awareness is deserved I will follow her room to room on her intrusion.   Slowly she moves through the house unaware of my notice, then after a while finally she stops in a quarter I have not resided in for some time.  She stopped at a door, a door blemished with age its paintwork cracked and dust ridden. I watch her hesitate momentarily, I can feel her apprehension, the air feels thick with emotion as she pushes sternly on the access.  Reluctantly it gives way with a groan, then a gasp as the air is sucked into the void exposing a dank and atmospheric emptiness, shadows shimmer on the off white peeling walls, cobwebs shiver as the air breathes into the bedroom.

 

Centre sits a high back chair, dank and mouldy devoid of many years comfort, I conclude yet awkwardly, recently familiar, I watch her face contort with horror as the envelope of reality begins to open, for within the chair there sits a figure, a shape so hideous it beguiles the mortal. Rotting flesh hangs like cobwebs upon the skeletal carcass, thread bare clothes drape limply devoid of substance then adorned the wasted corpses finger a catch of light emphasized a silver ring with diamond inset.

 

Suddenly to my revulsion my awareness to realism is shattered, I let my eyes drop slowly to my right hand and find an identical hoary band with equilateral inset diamond just like the wasted soul that rests within the chair.  And then I grasp the situation that has just unfolded, to mine own decrement it is true, this visualization I have loved is not the spectre at all for she is real and it is I that is the Ghost.

 

 

Will Neill.copyright;cc 1,217 words 2009

Author's Note

I hope you enjoy reading this ghost story with a twist--comments very welcome.
Will

Reviews

[Storyworker]

As Marie said, this does remind me very much of Poe, but to me, it’s only the concept that does so. The writing style seems somewhat different than his. I find it to be mostly classical with some slightly modern elements stirred in. Honestly, it’s a very refreshing read because you don’t often read a story written in a style like this anymore. Most stories are of a rather cliché style, but yours is different. It isn’t boring, and it isn’t overly used by other authors. This is always good to see.

But with a style like this comes the problem of whether the general reader will appreciate it or not. I find that people typically skip over this type of writing simply because it doesn’t sound modern enough. Of course, this is practically a sin against literature itself, and it shows how people are falling prey to less meaningful writing. With writing like this, I have never found it to become overly popular because of this exact reason. Then again, I live in an area where all of my neighbors are obsessed with teenage romance novels. Basically, as I said in my last review of your work, you write art, and real art isn’t often as appreciated by readers as it used to be.

So first off, I started reading the story and immediately had a vision in my head for how this story was going to end. I predicted the ending, but luckily I did not predict it correctly. I made the mistake of believing that this story was going to be rather cliché, and I was extremely surprised at the end when the conclusion was not what I thought it was going to be. I find this to be a very effective part of your story because it shocks the reader in a good way and really makes the interested in what has happened within the story.

You also do something here that I find really impressive. You give us just enough information about the main character for the reader to understand the story. You don’t go too overboard on describing his past, or his personality. This is great, because you have a balance that is very effective at not boring the reader, or depriving them of the information they need to successfully understand the story and its plot.

I have to talk about your first two paragraphs. Like a novel will occasionally have a prologue, it seems that your first two paragraphs are the equivalent to this in your short story. They explain a bit of background information before starting the story. I have always found this to be an overused technique. It simply forces information about the lore of the story into the reader’s mind without getting them involved in what is going on. Many readers don’t want to read a full backstory on its own. They want to read it when it is mingled in with the plot. This is just my opinion on prologues though. I’ve never actually liked them, so I might be biased.

Watch out for repetition in words. For example:

“And then I grasp the situation that has just unfolded, to mine own decrement it is true, this visualization I have loved is not the spectre at all for she is real and it is I that is the Ghost.”

The word “is” appears quite often here, and occurrences like this happen throughout the story. They aren’t too noticeable, but I would take a look at them nonetheless.

One of the last things I have to comment on is the sentence structure. The lengths of the sentences were all rather equal, and this caused the story to lack variety in the writing style. Make sure you vary the structure of each sentence so that every sentence doesn’t seem exactly like the last.

As I said before, I love reading work like this because it’s refreshing to see a style that isn’t used in every other story. It’s a style that should be used more often, because it has a lot of quality to it. I honestly don’t have much else to say about this story. I like it to the point that I can’t think of anything else to give critique on. Great read.

-Storyworker

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

thankyou for this amazing story it kept me reading from start to end without a blink almost
i certainly didnt expect the ending and the suspense was amazing
thanks so much for entry into my competition im honoured to have you enter
thanks so much

[Cy!]

Woah. Not that's what I call suspense. That was unexpected. Great work!

~LG

[Will Neill]

thank you.
Will

[LastMonth]

Wowwwwwwwwww.

You got me.
You did.

Twist aside,
This is very well written. That punchline at the end was just. I mean.
A good twist is the kind that makes you track back your steps and go ''Oh!'' and ''I see..'' With every word. It's not the 'WTF' kind. Rather it is the type to enforces your notion that you should've seen it.

The more teasing you get along the way, the more hints, the better the twist. The more satisfying it becomes. Simply laying out ''I am your father.'' At the end without any warning is just a cheap way to get shock, and usually is met with disdain and nonchalance. You've wrote this marvelously. Great job.

[Will Neill]

Thank you, I am happy you liked it.
Will

[wordman]

this is a great story will,might be true for someone !

[Woody]

love this, Will, but then when haven't I liked your stories? nice twist. it was not until the one but last paragraph that the truth dawned on me. hey, this is shorter than usual!

[Will Neill]

Thanks woody for the read and review, I wrote this way back in 2000 one of my earliest pieces so hence the shortness. I dont think it needed to be any longer.
Will

[Will Neill]

Sorry, it should have read 2009 not 2000
Will

[A. Amos]

Gripping and interesting read, truly enjoyed the twist...you my friend are a great story teller!

[Will Neill]

Amos, Thank you.
Will

[David Scott]

Will, you gave the story a perfect little twist. I was imagining all sorts of things...
There is something maddening about no longer being taken notice of. We become ghost to people in real life while we yet live all the time as well.
I enjoyed your work here!

[Will Neill]

david,Thank you for reading the 'Ghost'. And youre review.
Take care.

[Yellow Butterfly]

Wow... I was hooked from start to finish... Ghost stories are not my usual past time reads... but I have to say... this one was thrilling to read.....and the ending was genius.

You are an exceptional story teller...

Brilliant

YB

[Will Neill]

Butterfly, thank you for taking the time to read 'The Ghost' I'm glad you enjoyed it. If you liked it you may also like 'The Bus Stop'.
Take Care.
Will

[Yellow Butterfly]

I did indeed Will.... Going to read 'The Bus Stop'

Thank you

[Angi]

Oh! I wanted her to hear him so badly! The twist at the end made me gasp. He will be tormented forever! Angi~

[Will Neill]

Thanks for the reveiw Angi, glad you enjoyed this ghost story.
Will

[Angi]

My pleasure!

[Samuel Dickens]

This is outstanding. Echos of writers past inhabit your lines and make for quite an interesting, tasty read. The narrator's character and thoughts ring true, sounding exactly like I believe a shy, doubtful recluse really would. High marks all around.