Taking a deep breath, Jack forced himself calm as he watched the man in the red car continuing to mutter before slowly vanishing. Nothing remained of the accident, except the broken masonry of the dilapidated building of the present day. Jack stumbled back and sat on a still standing pile of bricks as his nerve began to fray a little.
“For real?” he stammered. “Ghosts are real? What the hell.”
A thought occurred to Jack, and he pulled his phone out. He typed in the street name and looked for car accidents in the news tab. The first article was it; a picture of a wrecked red car buried in the remains of a brick wall. It had been years ago the accident had occurred, and the reason speed bumps had been installed on the road in various spots. According to the article, a man had been speeding after his plane had arrived late in order to not miss his daughter’s play at the city hall, corresponding with the school’s graduation. It had been for a charity, and the local schools had had a small competition for the best young actors to be in it. The man, a widower, had never made it to the play after swerving to avoid someone in the road according to the article, though it made a point of mentioning that no one had been identified by witnesses as the individual in question.
Jack placed a hand on his face. “That’s, really messed up,” he said sadly as he looked up from the phone toward the sight of the accident. “You never got to see your daughter again, and you’re trapped trying to reach her I guess.” He shook his head. There were several articles also online mentioning how this road had a higher-than-normal hit-and-run occurrence, to which Jack could only assume were the result of others being harmed by the ghost unintentionally.
“But I’ve walked this road before, and haven’t seen him before,” Jack considered aloud, “though I guess I’ve had at least one close call before. Did I just not notice before?” The young man thought it over before he realized something. “Wait, I may have noticed the color, but I didn’t see the car until I was looking through the veil. What was it that the things said about fae and vampires, glamour? Perception altering trait, yeah. Can ghosts also have that, I wonder.”
It wouldn’t certainly make sense, Jack supposed. If it was inherently difficult to see ghosts, that would explain why most people considered ‘ghost-hunters’ entertainers or crazies and why they needed elaborate technology to ‘supposedly’ communicate with ghosts. Despite this personal encounter, Jack still had his reservations about whether ghost-hunting tech was real.
Regardless, Jack had found a ghost. It was also a dangerous one that put pedestrians at risk of injury, and most likely had given the news articles. So, something had to be done about it.
“Guess I have more research to do when I get home,” Jack muttered as he got up and began the longer walk back to the apartment. He went ahead and crossed the street without walking back to the intersection, and watched sadly as the car crashed once more into the building of the past. At this distance, Jack could see the accident in motion, and the sight of the man smashing through the windshield made the young man sick. As he left the sight behind him, he thought he could hear the ghost crying sadly behind him. But when he turned back to look, there was nothing there except the remnants of the past.
***
“How, to, exercise, ghosts,” Jack muttered as he typed in the question onto the computer in the apartment. He scowled at the results, manually clicking the word change from ‘exercise’ to ‘exorcise’ for the search results before scrolling through the results. Predictably, plenty of blogs and links to ghost related media popped up, and after trying for several minutes to find a more credible looking site Jack gave up and opened the Wikipedia article for ghosts.
“Blah blah origins,” Jack muttered as he skimmed through the article. “Types are. . . huh. Asian ghosts are that different? Guess that explains the horror movies and their American remakes feeling so different.”
Jack didn’t see much new practical he didn’t already know from modern media in the article: restless spirits of the dead holding some form of regret or grudge, don’t like salt, summon in séance, etc. Actually, there was a lot more historical and anthropological information he really hadn’t been expecting, but Jack wasn’t interested in that at the moment.
He sighed and thrummed his fingers against the table while resting his head in his other hand. Judging by the lack of ‘reputable first-person sources of information’, it was unlikely he’d be able to figure this out in a single afternoon. This was made more ironic by the existence of band literally called ‘Exorcising Ghosts’, he was amused to learn of. Maybe he’d find something in the city’s library? Jack chuckled at the imagined look a librarian would give him if he walked up and asked for books to exorcise ghosts; they’d most likely point him towards the religious section with a pointed look.
“Okay, what about how, to, deal, with, ghosts,” Jack muttered as he typed in his new question. First result: ‘ask the ghost directly to leave you alone’.
Jack’s hand smacked his face and he groaned.
He heard the door open as Emily announced her return from work. She dragged her razzled self into the bed room and dropped onto the bed with a groan.
“Rough day?” Jack couldn’t help but ask.
“No, it was just peachy,” Emily’s voice came up from the sheets. “Delightful in fact. Couldn’t ask for a better day. You?”
“Got the groceries,” Jack said, turning back to read the results. “Road work season seems to have started, so its going to take longer walking the north roads.”
“Great,” Emily groaned. She lifted her head to look over at Jack. “And what’s got your attention?”
“You remember the show ‘Supernatural’?” Jack asked without looking back.
“The christian fan-fiction show?” Emily rolled her eyes. “Yeah. My girlfriends wouldn’t shut up about the actors back then; which I imagine should be ironic in some way in relation to the show’s plot. Why, you get a tingling for some reruns?”
“It popped on while I was cleaning,” Jack said. He wasn’t lying; the show had come on while he’d been distracted in the bathroom, but he hadn’t exactly paid much attention to it. “Put me in the mood to look up monster stuff, like the fae thing you mentioned in the woods last, no, two weekends ago. I didn’t know ghosts were such a worldwide culture staple.”
“Human obsession with death and the after,” Emily waved the discovery off. “Same thing with animal people, sea monsters, and smaller and larger people being dangerous. Look up dragons if you want something more interesting with fewer reasonable explanations.”
Jack paused and turned around to give Emily a curious look. “I didn’t take you for the monster type Em.”
“I liked watching the cryptid shows growing up,” she shrugged. “Discovery channel was where I lived back when it was fun. And my grandmother is the superstitious type, I think I’ve mentioned. She refuses to leave home for a reason.” Emily rolled onto her back and met Jack’s eyes. “So, ghosts huh? Found anything enlightening.”
“Apparently,” Jack said dryly. “I can make ghosts go away by asking them to leave me alone.”
“We ask them politely, yet firmly, to leave,” Emily quoted with a snort. “Oh yeah, that’ll work on a restless soul devoid of the strappings of morals or ethics or law. Because that works so well on criminals while they’re alive.”
“Basically it,” Jack grumbled. “Apparently I can also try praying and all the usual other things like burning plants for their smoke. What the hell is sage anyway?”
“A plant, you man,” Emily teased. “Even I know that, if its just from body lotion and candle sets. How much more time are you planning on wasting looking up ghost stuff? It’s your night to cook, and this hard worker’s pretty hungry.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Jack rolled his eyes as he got up and walked out of the room. He turned back after hearing Emily roll off the bed, and saw her staring at him from in front of the computer with a look of disappointment.
“Boo, you didn’t look up anything I can get you for,” she complained as she looked through the browsing history with extreme exaggeration. “Come on Jack, not even something remotely naughty.”
“You’re plenty naughty for the both us,” Jack rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Damn straight!” she called from the bedroom.
***
Jack was still thinking about the ghost problem the next day as he walked into the elevator after several hours of leg day at the gym. It irked at him that the solution to the issue was eluding him; who else could deal with this problem besides him. Granted, Jack acknowledged that his pride was pushing him mostly to do this, he didn’t take repeated failure very well, but he also felt bad for the ghost. It was a living, unliving really, representation of being trapped in the past unable to move on, and it was likely the ghost would exist beyond Jack’s lifespan if nothing were done. People would continue getting hurt from its reckless driving too.
The young man, caught up in his thoughts, didn’t notice the other occupant in the elevator until he cleared his throat. Jack blinked and looked over at Mr. Tim.
“Ah, sorry sir, I didn’t see you,” Jack apologized. “Did you need something?”
“No, just saying hi,” the older man explained with a chuckle. “You seemed to be trapped in your world though. You hit the wrong floor button.”
Jack looked down and saw that he had indeed misjudged his finger and had pressed the fifth floor by accident. The elevator had already moved past the third floor.
“Ah, sorry Mr. Tim,” Jack sighed as he pressed the correct floor. “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“Clearly,” Mr. Tim agreed. “Something bothering you son?”
“Just a personal thing,” Jack explained awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to explain to his neighbor Jack’s ghost conundrum. “A, friend of mine is having trouble letting go of a mistake he made. He won’t move on, and uh, it’s starting to hurt the people around him. Jack mentally high-fived himself.
“Ah,” the older man nodded in understanding. “Is it a permanent mistake then?”
“Well,” Jack weighed the thought, “kind of. I mean, he missed something, his only chance, and won’t let it go.”
“Sounds like your friend could use someone to help walk him through the logic,” Mr. Tim suggested. “I assume he doesn’t want to go see a shrink for that given your troubled expression. Why not try talking it out with him the best you can? Sometimes, just letting someone know you care can be enough. Even if it isn’t, it can be a good start on the road of healing.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. I can try that. Have you done this before?”
“Son,” the older man laughed. “When you live to my age, whether it’s from personal experience or a friends, you tend to pick up a lot of practical information when it comes to human interaction.” He paused as the elevator door opened on their floor. He patted Jack’s shoulder as he walked past. “Good luck with your friend Jack. Hope it works out.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Jack quickly said, but Mr. Tim merely waved a hand and kept walking. Jack checked the time; it was early still and he didn’t have anything important to get finished.
The day, though still cloudy, was much sunnier than what Maples usually experienced. It made for a pleasant atmosphere outside as Jack exited the elevator on the ground floor and began walking in the direction of the supermarket. Inside of his mind, Jack felt a mix of dread and excitement with each footstep. Maybe it was the leftover rush from working out, maybe it was the nice day, but Jack felt like he could do this. He could face a ghost. . . nope, there it goes. Jack mentally deflated at the thought of facing a supernatural creature, a monster, all on his own. In fact, now the doubt was starting to creep up as he walked down the last block before the road.
‘What the hell am I doing? Talking to it about its feelings will magically make everything better?’ Jack thought. ‘I’m more likely to piss it off and get run over by it. Ghosts are all crazy, right? No, this is a bad idea. Time to turn around, march back to the apartment, and take a shower. Leave the crazy behind with the serial killer in the alley. You don’t need any more trouble.’
Slowing down to a stop, Jack was just about to follow through when he heard a sudden screech from up ahead, followed by the sound of someone crying out in pain. Eyes widening, Jack ran the rest of the block. An older woman was grimacing from the ground, several other people around already working to help her up. One that was probably her son was hopping pissed and glaring down the street.
“Can I help?” Jack quickly asked as he came upon the group.
“Oh no dear,” the older woman smiled kindly. “These nice folks have already called a cab for me and my son, don’t you worry. I’m okay, just a little tumble.”
“Bastard didn’t even slow down,” the presumed son cursed angrily. “Just kept on going; this is a damn intersection. Damn kids. . .” the son continued to mutter angrily up until the taxi arrived.
Jack stayed alongside a few other strangers until the older woman was safely loaded into the back seat and driven away. The son thanked everyone before getting in the taxi with her, and once it was gone the small crowd dispersed. Jack watched the taxi until it vanished, his fists tightening by his side.
‘Fuck it,’ he thought, before turning to walk down the roadside as the sidewalk slowly vanished. He closed his eye and summoned the veil as he walked, a dull anger having settled inside him. What if that had been his own mother? What if that had been Emily; she sometimes walked to the grocery store to save on gas. The ghost hadn’t killed anyone, Jack had checked the articles, but a few older people had broken a bone from falling. Injuries like that could ruin lives forever. It pissed him off, and that’s all he needed to keep moving.
He soon reached the crash site, the red car and driver already fading away to repeat the cycle when someone walked across the road. Jaw clenched, Jack walked back and practically slammed his feet into the road. He heard the sound of the car in the distance, and watched as the destroyed vehicle crashed once more into the wall.
Here, so close to the accident, Jack saw more than he had before. As the driver reached the point where he swerved, his eyes had widened in horror as he turned the steering wheel. The red car had jerked over too fast for the man to react to at that speed, and he hadn’t put his seatbelt on in his rush. The safety glass in the wind shield had only held up enough under the impact of his head to prevent the man from flying out, but not enough from shattering and running horrible drag wounds across his face and body as he moved through it. The air bag didn’t deploy for whatever reason, though likely for the best by Jack’s estimate.
The broken, bleeding man lay across the hood of the car as he had before. Eyes looking to no where stared beyond Jack, with only the man’s mumbling signaling any form of awareness.
“She’s graduating after the play, my little girl,” the man muttered. “Can’t be late. She’s waiting for me. I have to be with her for her big day. Her mother would be so proud.”
“Sir, can you hear me?” Jack asked, moving a little closer to the ghost.
“She’s graduating after the play, my little girl,” the man muttered. “Can’t be late. She’s waiting for me. I have to be with her for her big day. Her mother would be so proud.”
“Okay, so maybe not,” Jack muttered. “Um, sir, you missed the play and died. Can you please move on to the afterlife?”
From the way the man’s eyes suddenly focused angrily on Jack’s, he figured he’d said the wrong thing. The sound of the engine turning over also contributed to that thought.
“She’s graduating after the play, my little girl,” the man muttered angrily now. “Can’t be late, can’t be late, can’t be late, can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop. Can’t be late, have to go through, have to through this time. In my way, in my way, in my way.” The front of the car, smashed from the impact, suddenly began to look more and more like a maw.
“Uh, uh oh,” Jack muttered, slowly backing away as he thought quickly. “Um, no, I’m not in your way. Please, carry on sir. She’s waiting for you.”
He’d said it somewhat reflexively, but the ghost and the car suddenly returned to normal, or what was normal for them Jack supposed. The ghost of the dead man returned to his muttering as he faded away once again into the gray haze of the veil.
‘Note to self, be careful what you say to ghosts,’ Jack thought to himself. ‘Tell them what they want to hear. . .’ That thought sudden brought Jack to an idea. He opened up his phone and began to search. Maples considered itself one of the more progressive cities when it came to technology, and so there was a chance. . .
Jack paused. He checked his find carefully. Once he was sure of what he had, he tapped the road once more and waited for the ghost to reappear. The car zoomed in from the distance and crashed once more, inflicting the same horrible injuries on the poor man. Before the ghost could start muttering, this time Jack walked over. He grimaced as the man suddenly focused on him, signs of anger slowly appearing.
“Excuse me sir,” Jack said softly, holding the phone out. “I have your daughter’s play for you to watch.” He hit the play button on the video, and the soft chimes of music came out.
The ghost man completely focused on the video, completely ignoring Jack now. For his part, Jack adjusted himself into a more comfortable position and waited for the 15-minute video to finish playing. When it was done, Jack allowed the auto-play to roll over to the graduation video. He didn’t know which of the little girls were the ghost’s child, so he let the video play out to the end.
As the video faded, the ghost was crying now. Streams of colorless tears moved down the man’s face as he sobbed, his entire body shaking in grief.
“I missed it, I missed it,” the man moaned in agony, and Jack saw the shattered windshield begin to shift into a maw around the man, jagged teeth driving deep into his bleeding form.
Somehow, that didn’t sit right with Jack, seeing the ghost in more pain. He’d noted when the man’s eyes had focused and paid attention to the name of the little girl. One quick search later, and Jack pulled up another video of another play, this one having taken play only a few weeks ago.
“Sir,” Jack said softly. “Look. She’s still performing.”
The ghost paused, his eye widening as the lead of the play came onto the stage, a bright and sad smile on her much older face.
“As always, I dedicate my performance to me parents, who I hope watch on from heaven happily,” she said in a loud voice.
“My, my little girl,” the ghost whispered, a smile appearing on his face. “My little girl has grown up. She’s as beautiful as her mother.”
“She’s never forgotten you sir,” Jack said. “She wants you to watch her still, but you can’t do that from here. It’s time to move on. Surely you can watch over her from somewhere better, maybe with your wife?”
The ghost man sighed happily, still crying, but now with relief clear on his face. The car itself had begun to vanish into grey mist under then man, leaving him floating in the air as his injuries vanished. Finally, the ghost looked directly into Jack’s face and smiled.
“Thank you,” he whispered, before the bottom of his body also began to fade away.
Jack nodded in response, before something occurred to him. “Sir, what caused you to swerve?” he couldn’t help but ask.
The ghost only had the top part of his torso left, but the man’s face for just a moment sickened in fear.
“I saw, a monster.” And then, the ghost disappeared into the veil. Jack’s vision suddenly shifted as the overlap with the real world reappeared, and he couldn’t help but notice a brighter sunbeam than normal shining down on the spot in front of him.
“God rays, huh?” Jack mused as a cloud covered the sun once again. He looked up at the sky. “Rest well sir. I hope you do.”