Sweet Revenge

She couldn’t go to sleep, she tossed and turned, yet all her efforts seemed hopeless. Ever since her parents left for vacation to Aruba, she was having a hard time falling asleep. Slowly, she let her mind wander off to dreamland. She was snoring lightly when a chilly breeze seeped in through her window. She woke up and closed the window. As she lied back down, she heard a subtle noise in the hallway. She stayed awake, wary of her surroundings. Gradually, the sounds became louder. She was frightened, but remained calm. She got out of bed and walked to her desk, pulled open the cabinet and grabbed the pistol. Suddenly, the door creaked. The stranger had entered the room. It was a dark night, and nothing could be seen. She breathed slowly and silently behind the door. The stranger was still at the door overlooking an empty bed. He walked into the room slowly. She held her breath. No, she did not want to kill him. Gently she grabbed her curling iron and walked towards the stranger. Just as he turned his head, she struck the curling iron on his head, and he fell to the ground with a great thump. He moaned. Slowly, though, he was gaining conscience. She was too busy dialing 911 to realize that he was fully conscience in a matter of seconds. He reached into his jeans and grabbed his gun.

He woke up and saw that it was late afternoon. As he got out of bed, his head felt heavy. Did he drink too much last night? He couldn’t remember. He got ready and walked out of his house. It was beautiful outside. As he walked he heard the crunching of the leaves under him. Autumn. He loved it. The leaves orange, red, yellow, and brown. He sniffed the cold air and felt lighter. He was a lonely man. Never fell in love, nor wanted too. His mother passed away when he was young. He never met his father, never wanted to. As a young child his stepmother took care of him. And of course he remembered his step-sister. He hated her; she was the chief reason why he left the house. She would taunt him. Hurt him. Emasculate him. Soon, after his long walk, he walked back home. As he entered his house, he saw that the windows were wide open. He never left his windows open. The cool breeze fell upon his face and he shivered. Had someone intruded into his home? He shut the door silently and walked towards the desk. He quickly opened the drawer and grabbed his gun. Suddenly, he heard a creak behind him. He turned back only to see that his door was open. He had shut it just two minutes ago. He sat down on a chair and thought carefully. One word kept running through his mind. Ghost. He laughed to himself and sighed heavily. Tonight, he would drink. Drink and drink. As he thought of his plans for the evening, he heard the water running. He walked over to his kitchen and closed the running water. “Supernatural, pish posh,” he thought. It was probably the wind. As he ate his dinner, he grabbed his beer and started drinking. Soon he dozed off.

A great thud woke him up. He got up from his chair, and looked out the window. “Probably some animal,” he thought. As he walked into his bedroom to lay on the bed, he heard the thud again. And again. He stopped. Walked back. And looked out the window again. “No, this sound isn’t coming from outside, it was inside his home.” He went towards his closet. It was all quiet again. He slowly opened the closet door.

“Who’s there,” he yelled. Abruptly, he started feeling faint. These past two days had been extremely bizarre. He felt that there was something around the house. “Its just a mouse.” He kept reassuring himself, that it was just a small rodent. He couldn’t believe in the supernatural. “Maybe, it’s possible. Maybe they do exist.” He shook his head in disbelief and fell onto the chair. As strange as it was, he was not afraid of this ghost. What could it do? It couldn’t hurt him. The ghost would leave eventually; it was probably just looking for a friend. He sighed. Closed his eyes and started praying. He prayed and prayed that night. Hoping God was listening. He was a strong man, but he was afraid of ghosts. Denying the presence of ghosts was just an escape. It offered security. “Something that doesn’t exist won’t hurt you,” he thought. He unclenched his hands and yelled out, “Who’s there? What do you want? How dare you intrude? Get out.” That night he kept yelling. He yelled and yelled. “ If you have the courage, show yourself.” He waited. Breathing heavily. His eyes wandering throughout the room seraching for an answer. Twenty quiet minutes. In that silence, he thought. His past was a blur, filled with haunting memories. He was an outcast everywhere. He was always anti-social. No one saw any interest in him. His step-mother and step-sister tortured him. Called him names. Degraded him. At a young age he was emasculated. It pierced his heart everyday. Those twenty silent minutes were then disrupted by a loud howling sound. He gasped and looked around. Something shattered. Then something grabbed his neck. Something kept choking him. He gasped for air. And then finally, the ghost let go.

“Yoooooouuuuuuuuu remember meeeeeeeeeeeee?”
“Where are you? what do you want from me?”
“Four years agoooooooooo, think hard.”
“I don’t know, leave me in peace.”
“NO, remember what you did.”
“Please, leave.”
“Remember.”
“No, leave.”
“Think.”
“No”

The ghost started destroying. Destructing. Diminishing. Demolishing. Damaging. It was devastating. He was being defeated.

“Who are you? Please tell me. Please Let me go.”
“Fine. You want to know? I’ll tell youuuu.”
“What exactly do you know? Tell me.”
“Rememberrrrrr that daaaaaaaaay”
“What day, I don’t understand.”
“Four years ago, I died.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Murder.”
“What?”
“Death.”

Again, the ghost started destryoing. Finally, all was quiet. And a soft voice was heard. It wasn’t his voice talking. It was hers.
“Four years ago you killed me. I was murdered by you. That night. You shot me. Hurt me and left me bleeding. How could you? What have you done? You deserve to die. I never wanted this to happen.”
He sighed.
It was all coming back. The rage. The irrationality. The sin. The lifeless body. The blood.
“You tortured me!”, He exclaimed.
“You and your mother! I lost my identity. I still remember that night. When I was a young boy being sexually abused, while you stood there watching, absorbing it all in, laughing. My rage grew and grew. You had to die.”
“Well now its your turn. I have come for my revenge. “
With that, the ghost grabbed a knife and stabbed it into his chest. Piercing him.
A shock had overcome the man. He was in disbelief and could not breath. He fell to the floor. He layed there, trying hard to breathe. But his efforts seemed of no use. It was all over.