Apparition: A Tiny Tale of Revenge

Ada is given a task by the ghost of her grandmother.

I wanted to shout at my grandfather to watch out, to be more alert. It was useless though. The assassin with the blurred face shot him anyway. Shot him dead.

I sat up in bed with the usual start. Usual, because I’ve been having the same nightmare at least once a week for the past five years. Ever since my grandmother passed away, five years ago to the day.

With a sigh I clambered out of bed and trudged across my apartment to the kitchen. I methodically filled a glass with water. I debated trading it for a mug to make tea. Maybe later. Later, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep again for several hours. I heaved a heavier sigh when I noticed it was only just turning 2am. I had only been asleep around two hours. Maybe I could read for a while.

I moved to head back to my room when something halted me. The sight before me stopped my heart for a brief moment as if a bolt of electricity had been shot through me. My glass fell from my hands and shattered on the floor. I barely noticed the wetness as the water splashed onto my feet and shins.

Before me was a pale mist that seemed to form a person -- my grandmother.

“Ada,” it said lovingly. “What a beautiful young woman you’ve become.”

I couldn’t move. I was frozen, like my legs had sprouted roots that were anchoring me into the floor. Yeah, I believed in ghosts, but this was not common…  was it?

“My dear, there is something I need you to do for me,” the apparition went on after realizing I was speechless.

This was beyond bizarre. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard my grandmother form a coherent sentence; she had Alzheimer’s ever since I was a preteen.

“Do something for you?” I echoed.

“Yes. It is something I attempted on more than one occasion, but I was never successful. I know you can accomplish this task for me.”

“Why do you say that?”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Sit down, Ada,” the apparition answered quietly.

I moved into my living room and, after hesitating a moment, sat on my couch. The apparition seemed to sit in my recliner.

“When I was around your age I suffered a terrible loss I never recovered from,” it began.

There was another pause in which the apparition seemed to consider how to phrase what it wanted to say next.

“When I was sixteen, my parents entered me into an arranged marriage without my knowledge. I was to marry your grandfather when I was twenty.

Well, I fell in love with the baker’s son. We were so happy together and so in love. We wanted to get married the following spring. Naturally, I was devastated when I learned of my parents’ arrangement for me. I was going to run with my love. But your grandfather learned of our relationship. He was jealous and felt possessive of me. He felt threatened. So John killed him.”

“Killed him?” I interrupted.

“Killed him to eliminate the competition,” the apparition confirmed. “Shot him right in the head.”

“Why didn’t Grandpa go to jail?”

The apparition shrugged.

“Small town. Didn’t hold much stock in law. There were deals made under the table considering your grandfather’s status as the mayor’s son. It was dismissed as a hunting accident.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Was this aspect of my family built on a lie?

“So you didn’t love grandpa?” I croaked.

“No. I thought I would after a few years but the feelings never came. How could I love someone who killed the man who really held my heart? I just did what was expected of me without complaint.”

I didn’t even know what to say. No words were coming. So what was this apparition asking me to do?

“Kill your grandfather, Ada,” it said as if reading my thoughts.

I looked up in alarm.

“What?”

“I want you to kill John.”

“That’s completely crazy.”

“Is it?”

I faltered. I never liked the man. Ever. He was abusive and hateful.

“He started beating me the first week we were married. Beat me until I was submissive and obedient. My parents refused to believe they had sold me away to a monster. He beat me when I was pregnant with your mother. He beat her, your uncle.”

“That doesn’t  seem reason enough to kill him.”

“Doesn’t it?”

No, it doesn’t.

I got up and started back to my bedroom.

“This is crazy. My lack of sleep is causing me to hallucinate,” I concluded.

“Did you tell yourself that after he raped you?”

This caused me to stop dead in my tracks. My blood ran cold. I turned back to the apparition.

“How do you know about that?”

The apparition smiled sadly.

“I know a lot of things, Ada.”

I wanted to ask how, but I guess I already knew.

“I have seen the depths of your subconscious, Ada. Don’t you ever wonder why you dream the same thing multiple nights a week?” the apparition inquired.

“I have nightmare disorder,” I defended.

“Oh sure. Blame it on some mental issue. That’s a convenient way to cover up what those dreams are clearly telling you.”

“What do you mean?”

But the apparition didn’t need to explain anything more. My nightmares depict a faceless person murdering my grandfather. That faceless person is me.

I had to sit down again.

I was trembling. A surge of adrenaline hit me and brought with it a wave of nausea. This was too much to take in.

“Kill your grandfather, Ada,” the apparition said again. “If you do, I’ll leave you alone. If you don’t, I’ll haunt you forever and remind you of how you could have eliminated the cause of your turmoil and distress.”

I looked over to the apparition, but it was gone.

What had just happened? Was this real? Or was it all in my head?

There were several logical reasons why it shouldn’t be real, but it was the logic that seemed fictitious. The paranormal  was the only way a woman who slowly lost her mind could know the things this apparition did.

 

I’m not sure how long I sat on my couch, staring into nothingness. I think I experienced some lucid dreaming. In a different situation it might have been humorous when my grandfather called me.

“Let’s go fishing tomorrow.”

“That sounds great, Grandpa. I would love to.”

“Meet at your parents’ house at nine and we’ll go to our lake.”

Our lake. Right.

“It’s a date. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

I showed up the next morning without a plan. The only thing I knew was he would be dead by noon.

“You’re too talkative today, Sunshine,” my grandfather joked as we drove in his old pickup to the lake we always fished at.

“I’ve never been a morning person. You know that,” I replied.

“Well I know. I was just hoping you might have something to say. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

And it will be a while before you ever see me again, I thought.

“Just been working. Nothing special,” I answered.

I still didn’t have a plan. It wasn’t until we were sitting on the bank and loading our poles for the first time that I saw it. Sitting innocently in his supply box and glinting in the sun was the knife he used to clean his catches.

My heart started pounding in my chest. I thought sure the loud noise would give me away. How was I going to pull this off?

My grandfather was in his own world. He made himself comfortable on the bank after casting his line.

The adrenaline flooding my veins was causing me to shake. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths.

When I opened my eyes again I happened to notice a large rock a few feet to my right. The details of what I should do slowly manifested within my mind. I fetched the rock and brought it back to the supply box. It had to weigh about fifteen pounds. I grabbed the twine when a thought halted me.

Abruptly I turned and searched the bank. There it was, hanging guilelessly from a tree on the left bank �" the swinging rope I and other children had swung from many times.

The set up was perfect.

I began to walk toward the tree with the rope when my grandfather’s voice sounded behind me.

“Where are you going, Sunshine?” he asked.

“Just going for a walk around the bank to see if I can wake up some more,” I lied.

“Alright then. Well don’t take too long or I’ll have caught everything and there won’t be any for you.”

“Of course, Grandpa.”

I watched as my grandfather closed his eyes in a meditative way like he always did as he waited for the first bite. Turning again, I continued my trek to the tree. I moved quicker now, padding quietly through the brush.

Retrieving the rope would require scaling the tree. Luckily it was a task I had done many times over the years. Fueled by adrenaline, I climbed the tree more rapidly than I normally did. My hands undid the knot of the rope with a fury. I had to pause a moment to take in a few deep breaths. My anxiety was sky high.

I looked over to my grandfather, eyes still closed. He had probably passed into another state of consciousness. Perfect.

I hopped down from the tree and swiftly made my way back to our setup. Grandpa was still in a trance. I deftly knotted the rope around the heavy rock. One last time I paused to take a deep breath. Next I grabbed the knife. This was it.

I moved quietly to crouch behind my grandfather. But then I faltered.

I’m not a murderer.

The conversation I had with the apparition came back to me and all the hatred I ever felt toward this man flooded me.  In one quick motion I brought my arm around and slit his throat. The gargling and gagging sounds he made didn’t inspire any reaction from me. I quickly tied the other end of the rope  around his waist. My foot came in contact with his back and pushed him into the water. I heaved the rock into the water after him. Then I threw the knife into the water.

I let out a breath of relief as I watched the bubbles slow to a stop. Then I packed everything back up as if nothing had happened. He left the keys in the ignition as always.

I drove to my parents’ house to drop off the fishing gear.

“Ada?” my mother asked.

“Hmm?” I absently replied.

“Where is your grandfather?”

“Oh, he’s still at the lake.”

“Why did you leave without him?”

I paused for a moment.

“I suspect he’s at the bottom of the lake by now.”

I’m not sure how my mom got the whole story out of me. But she did. And that’s why I’m wasting away in a padded cell, wrapped in a straitjacket.

Reviews

[}Echo{]

I really like this. It's interesting. I like your style of writing, also. It's kind of creepy, and weird, but the good kind of weird. Keep writing. :)

[Elizabeth Em]

Thank you! Haha I'll take that as a compliment. =)