Her Story II

[WP] "I think-- I think I died 12 years ago," the voice on the other end of the line says. It has an echoing, tinny quality, and bursts of static make it difficult to hear. "Can you help me figure out why?"

*****

I leaped backwards, petrified. Then I suddenly remembered who I was. Kristofer Simons, world renowned Ghostbuster. Such a reaction was out of place for someone who was supposed to have been in this business for long and 'seen it all'. I quickly composed myself and cooked up a suitable lie.

"There's a serious force here, stronger than anything I've ever experienced..."

I looked around and realized my crew was scared, many of them pale. They had also heard the voice, even though I was the only person who saw her. The girl whose empty eye sockets cried tears of blood.

'...and it's because the spirit here is one of a little girl who died in this house twelve years ago. A spirit who is so torn and disturbed that it cannot leave this plane until the circumstances of its death have been revealed. That is the only way to resolve this."

I could barely keep my composure. I had spent years lying and pretending, defrauding and justifying my actions, and now I was face to face with the real deal. Walking up to the mirror, she was still there.

Then I began to question myself. All my previous cases, what if there were actual paranormal activities going on there? The doors creaking, the howling wind, the sights of a white gown turning round corners - all of which were signs that I assured myself were figments if my imagination, fueled by the nature of my job.

What if they were all real?

I turned back to her. For some reason, I was drawn to her case. For the first time, I was seeing one of these spirits. Conversing with them. I had to help her. I felt this within my soul.

"What is your name?" I asked, almost inaudibly.

"Carolyn Pierce."

"What year was it when you, er, died, Caroline?"

"2000."

It was 2012. She registered the years that had passed. It made me wonder.

"You said you thought you were dead, which means you actually remember the day you died?"

"A little. My memory of that day is very jumbled."

"But where did it happen? In this...did it happen in this room?"

She must have known what it was. "Yes...yes it did. I can only remember the knife. The people... I can't remember anything about them, but they led me here. They led me here and stabbed me in both eyes."

I looked at her again, and noticed her throat was slit. That was how she died. Gruesomely. Violently. Too horrible a fate for an innocent little girl.

No wonder she refused to pass on.

"You cannot leave this room?"

"I'm bound here. I've tried to leave but I can't. Every night the bright light comes, and I want to go

But I can't. So I cry..."

She began sobbing again. It was a sorrowful sound, and I could hear Lorraine and her children scramble around downstairs.

"Carolyn, I feel your pain, and I so understand it, but do you realize that there are other occupants of this house? They are scared, and because you cry loudly, they cannot sleep."

"I'm sorry, I really am. But..."

I understood. She had been through a lot, and even in death she was not allowed to rest. She was being bound to this room for a reason.

I walked back downstairs and to Lorraine.

"Have you gotten rid of her?" she asked, her teenage daughters behind her, sobbing.

Her choice of words made me wince, so I took time to explain to her what was going on. All three of them gasped at intervals, covering their mouths.

"You mean... All that happened in that attic?"

"Yes. And that's why I need to see the Real Estate Agent that brought you here. I need to know who loved here before you."

*****

"That information is classified," the Estate agent said, standing in the driveway with her arms folded across her chest.

She was young, beautiful, and sounded familiar. Not her person, but the way she talked. A lot like me when I was ripping people off.

"But you had to tell the new occupants the story of what happened in the house, didn't you?"

She turmed towards me. "What do you mean?"

"Carolyn Pierce."

Her eyes widened. "How the hell did you know that name?"

"I heard it from the little girl with empty, bleeding eye sockets in the attic. The one in the white bloodstained dress."

Her skin went deathly white. "You're... you're really a ghost buster, aren't you?"

I nodded. I was one at the moment, or at least I was passing for one.

She began swearing, and her knuckles were white. "The place was supposed to be taken down. Burned. The land should have been made offlimits. But that damn mayor didn't want to let go of the 'revenue'. He just made the whole backstory classified, redacted a few details that would have made it possible to trace the ownership of this house, and then they put it up for sale. It took years before many who were here at the time either forgot what happened here and/or moved away..."

"At what time? You're not making any sense!"

"Dennis and Maurice Alvarado."

I shivered. "Not them!"

She nodded sadly. "Them."

"Who are they?" Lorraine asked.

She hadn't lived in the city before now.

"Kidnappers and Serial killers. They killed people and performed fetish practices such as drinking of blood, burning of the bodies as sacrifices and so on. They were caught 12 years ago, after a neighbor heard what was later discovered to be Carolyn's last cry. She was their last victim before they were both arrested and found guilty of murder at the court. They died at the electric chair three years later," The estate agent said.

"Why wasn't I told this?!" Lorraine almost screamed.

"Even telling you now is a breach of protocols. I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but I'm now hearing about Carolyn from the Ghostbuster, so I kne she must be disturbing you."

She was about to walk off, before she added. "The irony of the whole thing is that they wanted Carolyn to be a pure sacrifice that would come back as an entity to protect them from harm and discovery by the authorities."

That struck me, so I asked.

"What was she wearing when she died?"

"Funny that you mention it, she was stark naked. Why was the girl you described wearing clothes?"

"Nothing."

I turned to Lorraine. "We'll all have to go upstairs into the attic. Turn the place upside down. Take everything out. Find a bloody white dress."

The video crew was with us again as we searched every box, every item, every nook of the room. They had never cleared the attic since they moved in, which was part of the reason. It was filled with things that belonged to the old owners.

The murderers.

On the ground of the room was the dress, stained with blood that was fresh for some reason.

The reflection of the girl in the mirror reappeared, and even though only I could see her, all could hear her."

"Yes, they took my clothes off me when I couldn't see. They said they needed it for their ritual. Then...then...they did..."

I already knew all this.

I opened a vial and poured the incense on the gown.

"With this incense as your guard, and angels by your side

Be released from this earth to where you belong!"

The gown began to disintegrate, and turning back to the mirror, the girl was gone.

Lorraine gasped, and then I turned.

Caroline was standing in the middle of the room with her eyes teary. Her clothes were clean, her smile was bright, and her eyes were present.

"Thank you," she said as she began to fade. "Thank you very much."

*****

Lorraine and her children did pack out of that house. And it was burned down mysteriously in a freak accident two weeks later.

An investigation was never carried out, and the land was marked 'off-limits'.

I discontinued the show and brought my 'career' as a Ghostbuster to an end. Only one experience showed me that I didn't really know what I was messing with, and I didn't want to push my luck anymore.

But on cold nights, when all is quiet and the wind howls, I remember Carolyn say "thank you", and it warms my heart.

*****

Different ending this time. Same rushed delivery 😪

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