I did appreciate a few things about flat life, even if in the end, I missed the privacy of a quiet cabin in the country. My neighbor wasn’t bothersome for the most part. They had very few people over, and in fact, I had never encountered them myself. That was how I preferred it. I’d rather live with complete strangers.

Tonight I sat in what I had turned into a parlor, with a few high-backed chairs and a table on one end of the room, while my desk sat at the other end. It functioned as my office as well, which I didn’t mind. It wasn’t at all crowded, which was all that mattered. My typewriter sat by a dimmed lamp while I drank some tea on the other side of the room, my notebook in hand.

I was going over notes - and it wasn’t going well. I had only gathered a few details from people i’d seen recently. This was largely in part to the fact that I was now regularly attending one specific cafe and also walking through the same park on my way there every morning. It seemed I had fallen into routine.

Curses.

I snapped my notebook shut. If something interesting were to happen, I would miss it unless it were to fall directly into my lap.

Of course, it was as I thought this that I heard a knock at the door.

I ignored it, remaining in my place. It was quite late at night and I had no reason to think that I knew whoever was knocking. And, as a lady, I had learned that opening the door late at night when it couldn’t possibly be anyone I knew was… unwise, to say the least. Either for them or for me. Depending on my mood.

Another knock followed, still as timid as the first. Whoever it was seemed… hesitant. There were long pauses between each attempted knocking, but they didn’t stop.

Finally, curiosity overtook me. Wasn’t this exactly what I had just been wishing for? And didn’t fate always find ways to tease me? I should at least look through the peephole, I wagered, and made my way to the door.

Through the peephole I saw nothing surprising. Just a young man, thin and unassuming, with sad-looking eyes. He looked through the peephole at me, noticing that I was there, no doubt. If the fates had sent him to me, he was a dull gift indeed - or so I thought, until he spoke.

"Help," he said, raising his voice just enough that I could hear him through my door. "I was murdered and just want to call my sister."

I blinked. Murdered?

"I promised I'd call if I'd be late." He said. "Please?"

My eyes wandered to my phone box, at the wall not far down the hallway from me. Murdered? The word bounced around my skull like a moth against a streetlamp. I couldn’t just turn him away, I decided, but as a young lady I couldn’t exactly let him in, either.

“What is your sister’s name and address?” I asked, softening my voice as he was clearly nervous. He seemed immediately appreciative.

“Oh dear, thank you so much.” He said. He didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that I hadn’t let him in, which struck off the suspicion i’d had that he was lying. This, of course, intrigued me even further. “Her name is Amelia LeBlanque, at 104 Western Street.”

“All right, hold on a moment.” I grabbed the phone off the wall, spoke briefly to the operator. As I was connected to my destination, I stretched the ear and mouthpiece towards the door. “I’m being connected. It’s ringing.” I told the young man through the door. He nodded gratefully. “Would you mind repeating for me,” I added, “What you said earlier?”

“Oh, right.” his face fell again. “I, ah, have been murdered. So I shan’t be home tonight.”

“So you did say ‘murdered’. What’s all that about?”

“I don’t really want to get into it.” He said mournfully, “I just need to make sure she isn’t worried.”

“Doesn’t she have sort of a right to be worried, seeing as you’ve been murdered and all?”

He scowled a little, considering my words. “Well, I suppose so, but knowing is better than sitting up all night wondering. Don’t you think?”

I thought about it. “Perhaps?”

“Well, she could likely imagine that far worse things have happened to me than murder.”

“Worse things than murder?”

“There are such things.” He seemed wisened as he said it. I felt a resonation in my soul, a memory that I would rather not surface.

“There are indeed such things.” I agreed, “That aren’t appropriate to discuss in polite company.”

He glanced up at the peephole. I know he couldn’t see more than my eye, but he still seemed to be trying to size me up. Before either of us could venture further into the conversation, the phone was picked up.

“Hello?” said a soft voice.

“Amelia?”

“This is she. Who’s speaking?”

“I, er…” I glanced at the young man again. “This is Ester Duffy. Your brother asked me to call.”

“Oh, Everett! I was wondering when i’d hear from him, it’s beginning to get dreadfully late!”

“It is, isn’t it? Well, he just wanted me to tell you that…” I paused, unsure what exactly the dead man outside wanted me to say. I heard his voice, muffled, from the other side.

“Tell her I won’t be home tonight.”

“He won’t be home tonight.” I said, concisely.

“Oh, dear, has something happened?” Amelia said.

“Has something happened? Oh, er -”

“No! Nothing’s happened, I simply got held up and thought I'd spend the night with a friend.” Everett said hurriedly.

“He’s simply got held up and thought he’d spend the night with a friend. I’m the friend’s neighbor, they don’t have a phone, you see.” I rallied the message, doing my best to add credibility, while internally remarking to myself how much more interesting my night had gotten.

“Ah, I see.”

“And as it’s late he said he understood that I couldn’t quite let a strange man into my house.”

“No, of course not.” Amelia sounded disappointed but understanding. “Well, tell him I’ll take care of Mother until he gets home. Ask him to pick up her medicine on the way back, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

I cringed at the request. “I’ll… I’ll let him know.” I said.

“Thank you for letting me know.” she said, and before I could reply, she had hung up.

After i’d hung up, I moved to the window by my door, and opened the curtains. Everett was standing there, his eyes full of tears as he looked away from the door and through the window at me. Me, the fool bystander in a night robe and cap, and nothing to add.

“Thank you.” He said.

“Think nothing of it!” I replied, sitting on the sil. “Are you quite alright, dear fellow?”

“Beyond being murdered? No, not really.”

I laughed at that before I realized it wasn’t appropriate to do so, quickly turning the chuckle into a cough. “Would you like to talk about it?” I said once I had recovered.

“I don’t know…”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Take my porch chair! Sit! Let’s talk about it.” I tried to make myself seem friendly, even forcing a smile. If he left now, I would have a few lines to write, an interesting premise. I couldn’t let the promise of a good story slip through my fingers. My good deed was done, now was the time for a reward! Luckily, he conceded quickly.

He sighed, and pulled the chair across the porch, setting it outside my window. When he sat, he seemed to have existence - matter, the like. I had been watching for that since he knocked on my door. Surely, if he were a ghost, he wouldn’t affect things like that? Then again, I hadn’t met a ghost before. What did I know?

“So, how did you get here? Did you walk from the scene of the crime?” I started with my questioning.

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember.”

“Oh, pity.” I muttered the frustration to myself. If he didn’t remember details, this was going to be very unhelpful for my art.

“What I do remember,” He said, “Is that i’ve been here before.”

I blinked. “Here? My house?”

“Not quite.” He replied, and shook his head. “No, not quite it was…. This building.” He seemed to be deliberately keeping from making eye contact now, and I started to wonder if he didn’t remember a little more than that.

“Mr. Leblanque.” I said, slowly, “Were you murdered in this house?”

He winced. “I… well, yes.”

I pointed at the ceiling. He cringed.

“Yes.”

Well! How about it! My neighbor was a murderer. That was a little more than i’d bargained for.

“My neighbor’s a killer! How about that! Perhaps it’s time to start hunting for a new flat!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now, as if it’s your fault!” I scoffed. “You’re the victim here, my dear sir. No need to feel bad.”

“I simply mean… what if you’re in danger?”

“Well, I hope they’re not that stupid.” I said. “The dumbest thing to do would be to mix their personal life with his business life. They’ve been very good at keeping them separate until now, i’ve never met them before.”

“As long as you feel safe, then, I can’t argue with you.”

“Say,” I said, leaning forward, in deep thought, “Speaking of things you can’t do… can’t you just go home and ghost-tell your sister what happened to you? You’re speaking to me right now, so, why not just tell them?”

“Well.” He began to wring his hands. “There’s a few problems with that theory.”

“Do tell.”

“Firstly, I can’t seem to go further than the street curb.” He said, gesturing to the sidewalk just beyond my porch. “I tried, but the further I walk the more I seem to lose myself. My mind and my body seem to dissolve and then, as suddenly as it started, it stops, and i’m back where I started.”

I nodded sagely, hoping I would remember all of this later. “And secondly?”

“Secondly,” And here, he turned his attention to me, his gaze through the glass growing strangely steely, quietly suspicious, “You… are the first person who could hear me.”

I cocked my head at that, and he continued.

“I tried to stop men on the streets, asked them for help, but they brushed me off - or even worse, walked right through me.” He shuddered, “What a terrible feeling.”

I was the only one that could see him? But why? I wondered, but I was only wondering for just a moment before it struck me.

Visions of hands, of cafes filled with cannibals, of crow feathers drifting downward without a bird in sight. Hands, hands, grabbing at my flesh, teeth tearing at me, pulling me down and down and further until -

I was staring at him, mouth agape, and shook myself, adjusting my nightcap.

“The first person to hear you, am I?” I said, doing my best not to appear shaken.

“You are.” He repeated, obviously having noticed.

“Odd.” I said.

“Is it? Am I really the first ghost you’ve seen, then?”

“Perhaps not, but I certainly didn’t know anybody else was a ghost, if they were.” I turned my head aside, and muttered to myself, “Have to be careful of THAT in public, if they see me speaking with nobody around, i’ll be committed for sure.”

“I just thought you knew. You barely seemed put off when I said I was murdered.”

“Just because I haven’t met a ghost before doesn’t mean I thought they were impossible. Nevermind me, though. You’re stuck to where you died, is that it?”

“Why are you so worried about me? What about the murderer up there?” He pointed upwards now as well.

“I’ll worry about them later. Nothing to do tonight, they’re probably quite busy taking care of your body.”

“Not really, last I checked she was in bed.”

“Really! With your corpse still lying about?”

“Right on the floor next to her.”

We both shuddered, almost in unison. No, that wasn’t a pleasant thought at all.

I would have to deal with that quickly.

“You’re avoiding the question.” I said, “Are you stuck here?”

“Ah… I don’t know.”

I thought about it for a moment. “We’ll have to figure that out later.” I said finally, “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

This was the first thing I had said that fully caught him off guard.

“I’m a ghost.” He said, after a moment of trying to figure out how to answer.

“I believe we’ve firmly established that, yes.”

“You’d let me stay here for the night?”

“Certainly. I can’t expect you to stay the night out there in the cold - even if you can’t feel it. And it would be terribly rude to make you stay in the flat you got killed in.”

“C… certainly.”

“Then it’s settled.” I stood up and reached to open the door, but as I did, he simply passed through the window - like it was nothing - and stood next to me on the inside.

“You could do that all along, could you?”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

I examined him up and down. “Indeed.”

Apart from the passing-through-walls bit, he appeared mostly human. Nothing looked slightly off, though he did have a faint odor - the way the air smells during an electrical storm. He seemed well-put together, wearing only a shirt and trousers, but trousers nonetheless. And his shoes, as well. He had been in the process of undressing when things ended, it seemed, but not far along.

I wondered where the death-wound was, but only for a moment. When he turned around to look at the rest of the house, I saw it.

A gash in the back of his head, like that an axe would make. It was wide open, peaking into his skull, showing bloody brain. Blood leaked out slowly, though it didn’t fall - instead, it dissipated as it rolled down his skin, never reaching his hairline. I felt my stomach turn - he had never seen it coming. I wondered how long it had taken him to realize he was dead.

“How do you like the place?” I said, once more in an effort to seem unfazed.

“It’s nice enough. A mirror image of Victoria's place.”

“Victoria. Is that…?”

“My killer, yes.”

“She was… what, a friend? A lover?”

“A friend of a friend’s. About to be a lover, if things hadn’t gone the way they did.”

I had thought as much.

“I have a spare room.” I said, changing subjects as politely as I could, “if you want to stay there. I’ve been looking for a flatmate but i’m rather…unpersonable. Nobody’s wanted to live with me yet.”

“You don’t seem unpersonable.”

Me, who had laughed at his death. Me, who could see him in the first place. Me, who had interrogated him for nearly an hour now before letting him in.

Perhaps this man was just the type who could put up with living with me.

Turning a haunting into a housemate… the concept was quite in line with how my life in the city had been shaping up. He wouldn’t be able to pay rent, of course. But he could move things well enough that he could tidy up as his part of things. Yes… perhaps this could work out.

I thought all this to myself as I showed him to the spare room, which held a small cot and a few boxes I had yet to unpack. I’d have to discuss this with him in the morning but for now…and then there was the matter of his mother, and his sister, and all of that mess, but… that would to wait til tomorrow

For now, I needed to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

That night, I dreamed I met Victoria. And in my dream, I strangled her to death.