I was just chatting to my good buddy on his nightshift when he started talking ghosts. To me, discussing ghosts makes them play on your mind, and he knew this fine well. He reckoned he could see a ghost on one of his CCTV cameras. His assistant backed his story up, saying it was a particularly tall figure of a pale white ghost. I’d been very sad that night so I didn’t care much however vehemently they protested but to prove him wrong I said I would go outside and show him there was no such thing as a ghost on a screen.
i repeat, no such thing
We kept our mobiles on an open line. Anyway, I got to where he reckoned the ghost was visible on one of his CCTV cameras and started to rip into him about how his bullshit blags couldn’t get through to the likes of me. Other people may fall for it a dime a dozen, but not yours truly.
never yours truly
Especially today. I’d slept in until gone three in the afternoon because of depression, and when you’re upset, and wallowing in self-pity, the last thing to trouble you is some make-believe ghoul ‘n’ spook story.
“Am I near it yet?” I asked playfully, strolling up against the high wall of the crematorium which lay opposite my good buddy’s place of work. It was 2am, cold, windy, and moonless.
I was not scared by graves. Maybe, on another night, when I hadn’t fell out with my aunty during a 30-second phonecall, I might have been slightly wary of them. But the whole thing: cemetery, grave stones, darkness, tall tales and all, seemed like nothing in comparison to my inner regret: I loved my aunty, and I hated lying in.
So, I’d gone to the exact spot he reckoned the ghost was visible from, directly under the broken lamppost. There wasn’t so much as a crisp packet blowing on the wind. It was all so still it might have been a summer’s afternoon. Laughing, I repeated, almost bashfully, “Am I near your ghost yet, mate? I’m right where you described, and I don’t see anything.”
His tone was what got to me, let me tell you. It was not what I saw, because I didn’t see a thing, and not even what he said. It was HOW he said it. For he was afraid, I swear to you. AFRAID. For me.
“Mate,” he said, “You’re stood in between its legs....”
© DNM Fiction
© DNM Fiction
for interview with Ste, click below and scroll down. Ste's is the 6th one down.