Alwilda VI

Alwilda carefully wrapped her head with a cloth so that only her eyes were visible. It had become her habit after she realized that one of the reasons people didn’t take her seriously when she was robbing them was because she looked like a young girl. The cloth not only hid this but also added mystery and intimidation to her appearance.

No sooner did the ships meet then the fighting began, there was no talk between the crews, as there generally was. It went straight to open war. Neither crew had any interest but to board the other ship and the battle raged back and forth between both ships.

Alwilda instantly headed for the prow of the enemy ship where the man who was obviously in charge stood. She recognized him of course, Prince Alf, the man who she was supposed to marry. This didn’t prevent her from trying to kill him. They had only met the once and she hadn’t really thought much of his so there was nothing to prevent her from swinging at him with full force behind her sword. He met her with a drawn sword and a resigned look on his face. From his appearance, he looked like he was half asleep even as she charged at him, she hadn’t expected him to be much of a fight but he gave her an unpleasant surprise. He was able to counter every one of her moves skillfully and even attacked in ways that she had difficulty evading.

He was more skilled then she was with a sword. Alwilda wasn’t stupid, she realized this fairly quickly. She was spending much more of her time avoiding his attacks then attacking him. It was only as his sword sped towards her head that she realized just how much better he was then she was however. She managed to avoid getting more then a nick to her face but it also cut the covering on her face. He actually dropped his sword and for the first time she saw him with an expression other the boredom on his face.

“Alwilda?” he asked her. She swung her sword around so that its point rested at his throat but he didn’t even blink. He was far too busy staring at her face with an expression of wonder.

“They told my father that you were sick and confined to bed so the marriage had to be postponed,” he continued when she didn’t say anything. His voice was still full of awe.

“I’m afraid my father sometimes lies to save face. As you can see I won’t exactly be a suitable bride for you. We’ll be leaving now. Everyone stop fighting!” Alwilda yelled behind her. She withdrew her sword and sheathed it.

“Hold on, please,” Prince Alf said grabbing her sleeve. “I said nothing about you being a bad bride. You have no idea, I had no idea I should say. You acted so prime and proper when I met you.”

“Do you know how many lectures on etiquette I had to listen to before we met?” Alwilda asked dryly.

“You too? I think you might be more suited to be my bride then any other that my father is likely to pick me. Won’t you reconsider?” He wasn’t begging, his voice didn’t have a single note of pleading, but one look in his eyes and Alwilda could tell he was being sincere.

All around them both crews had gathered and when Alwilda looked around they started cheering. When faced with that cheering mass of people who she knew really cared about her there was no way that she could blow off Alf’s proposal.

“I suppose father might have been right, about this at least,” Alwilda said, putting her hand in Alf’s.

Alwilda V

“Why wasn’t I informed of this much sooner?” the king demanded. His advisor contemplated taking the fall and then decided against it. Prince Alf wasn’t worth it in his eyes.

“I believe that His Highness was told of the pirate crew fairly early on, Your Majesty. Before they met up with this other crew they have joined with. He chose not to do anything about them.” The advisor felt a little bad about throwing Prince Alf to the dogs but nothing could really be done about it. It was better Prince Alf then him, especially since the king wasn’t likely to punish his own heir to badly.

“Send for Alf,” the king ordered one of the servants who bowed and went running out of the hall. When the king gave an order it was best to show speed, he sometimes had a short temper.

Prince Alf clearly didn’t seem to care about his fathers love for having his orders followed quickly. When he finally did arrive in the throne room it was at a slow saunter that turned his father red with anger. This wasn’t a new occurrence however, it was generally agreed that Prince Alf had grown immune to his father’s anger through repeated exposure.

“You wanted me?” Alf asked, casually standing in front of his father.

“You got a report about some pirates a while back and didn’t do anything?” the king asked.

“Yeah, some all girl crew I think, they attacked one of our scouts, why? They didn’t sound that impressive, I figured they would give up in a few months and go home.”

“They haven’t given up yet,” said the king glaring at his only child. “You better take responsibility for this mess. They’re getting to be a real problem.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?” asked Alf.

“I want that crew to stop existing and since you could have taken care of this mess before it became this large, you can go as the person in charge of taking down the pirates,” the king decreed. Prince Alf bowed, and without another word marched out of the room.

Alwilda and Kadlin were on watch when they saw Prince Alf’s ship on the horizon. That didn’t mean anything of course; ships were slow enough that they could prolong a chase for days if they felt like it. It did spell new prey for the bored crew however and Alwilda instantly called everyone to the oars. She expected a chase, most ships ran these days when they saw her ship, she was gratified to see the other ship continue to head in their direction. This meant a fight, and fights were one of her few forms of entertainment these days.

For a while her life had been full of conflict, the men of her crew hadn’t fallen under her leadership easily, there had been a lot of resistance. That has made life interesting, but after she had beat even the most stubborn of them into submission life had grown dull. Now everyone in her crew did as she commanded at a moments notice, and she was disturbed to note that most of them listened to her with full confidence as well. They actually trusted her, and thought she would do what was best for the crew.

To be continued...

Alwilda IV

“Excuse me,” she said, coming to a man who looked the best dressed out of the group. “Would you mind telling me why everyone looks like they’re at a funeral?” He looked up at her from his posture of despair on the deck.

“That’s because everyone is, or just was. What do you want anyway?”

“I would say to rob you but it doesn’t look like there’s much around here to rob. Whose funeral was it anyway?”

“Our captain’s, so if you don’t want to rob us get lost. I’m not in the mood to chat at the moment and I doubt anyone else does.”

“But I’m curious about how you’re going to deal with the situation. That way I can tell my crew what to do if I ever die. I’ve never thought about dying before, I would hate for my crew to be put in an awkward position by my death,” Alwilda said. The man glared at her.

“Have you no idea how much you are bothering me at the moment?”

“No, and I don’t really care,” Alwilda declared. “You still haven’t told me what you’re going to do.”

“Elect ourselves a new captain, now get lost.”

“Will you be the new captain, or could I be?” Alwilda asked, her face now looking calculating. She looked around at the ship, now properly taking inventory of her surroundings. “You have a pretty large crew here, and a nice ship, though not as nice as ours. So what do you say? Interested in joining forces under me?”

“No, now go away,” said the man. Unfortunately his head was at a level, while he was sitting on the deck, that Alwilda’s foot could connect with his jaw.

“Wrong answer, you see I have decided that I am taking over both this ship and this crew. If you would like to fight me for them I am willing.” The man wasn’t actually capable of answering from where he lay, spitting blood on the deck. The rest of the crew of course had gathered around by now, both the men from the ships crew and Alwilda’s crew. The men grew quiet when they saw Alwilda standing over their fallen second in command, regal and victorious. Slowly, very slowly, they joined in the cheering of Alwilda’s crew.

“Does this mean that I am accepted as this crew’s captain?” Alwilda asked them. The men looked around, they were surrounded by girls who were heavily armed, at the moment things were friendly but they could only guess what things would become if they said no. They cheered again, a little more weakly, but it was approval nonetheless.

The king of Denmark had returned to his kingdom and was now listening to reports on matters that his ministers thought of as important. Prince Alf was absent, though he was supposed to be in attendance at such things. He never went to public affairs unless he was ordered to, specifically, by his father. Many of his father’s advisors cited these tendencies as proof that the monarchy was going to take a disastrous turn in the next generation. There was nothing they could do about it however. Prince Alf was the only son that the king of Denmark had, and therefore was the only possible heir.

“There is a new pirate crew that has been preying on our shipping that we might want to do something about, Your Majesty,” said the eldest and most trusted attendant of the king. “They were only pests before but they have now gained more men and are becoming a problem. Our trade revenues are shrinking quickly and if we don’t do something soon our treasury will be completely depleted.”

To be continued...

Alwilda III

“Now that’s a woman I want to meet. Sounds like you had a narrow escape. What did you do after you surrendered anyway?”

“They looted us, took our food, clothing, weapons, anything that they could use. They even shredded our sail so we couldn’t go after them right after they left.”

“So they were even professional, impressive. You better not tell father about this, I don’t think he would be as happy with this story as I am. He doesn’t look for entertainment so much as success, don’t worry I won’t tell him. You can go back to your ship now.”

Alwilda had changed over the months since she had left her fathers castle to sail the seas. She was now rougher, as was the rest of her crew but that was only to be expected. They were fighters now, hardened, scarred, and battle ready. Alwilda still hadn’t lost her regal air; she still spoke and acted with great authority, something that became very useful when ordering around prisoners on captured ships. Being able to speak with authority was a life skill now. They had nearly destroyed the shipping of Denmark now, when they sailed next to another ship the crew sometimes surrendered without putting up any fight at all simply because of what they had heard of the all female crew. A lot of the stories were very overblown and Fastvi had spent a few days sulking because she had heard a crew talking about how she killed children and ate them. It was a mental picture that Alwilda and the rest found very amusing in connection to their most proper member and they still brought it up every once in a while.

It was therefore without fear that they approached a ship on the ocean one day. It wasn’t baring any mark of being from Denmark but Alwilda had long since decided that any ship sailing in Denmark waters was a target, whether it was actually from Denmark or not. Alwilda and the rest of her crew, other then the ones who were sailing the ship, lined the side of the ship, heavily armed. They had discovered long ago that intimidation right from the start helped a lot. It was a dejected scene that met their eyes however. Not one person on the other ship so much as stood, or picked up a weapon to defend the ship even though they looked like they had been through many fights.

“Hey, ship, we’re coming aboard, if you value your lives you won’t resist,” Alwilda called halfheartedly. It was formula now for her to yell that but in the face of the enemies’ despondency it lost a lot of its edge. Alwilda looked at the others and shrugged.

“Standing here won’t do us any good,” Runa said, shrugging back. “But I don’t feel much like robbing them at the moment either. Can’t we at least ask them what is wrong and then make a choice?” Alwilda nodded and sheathed her sword.

“I’m curious as well,” she admitted. “Everyone wait here for me; make sure they don’t attack me. I’m going to go over to the other ship and see what’s what.”

Alwilda would have been more happy had she been walking into a trap, it was what she expect. As it was she felt almost let down when no one even moved a muscle to respond to her stepping onto their ship. Everyone on the entire ship seemed so sunk into depression that even being attacked by as odd a crew as Alwilda’s couldn’t move them from their gloom.

To be continued...

Alwilda II

“There isn’t a single person here who won’t do as you order, Highness,” said another voice. It came timidly from behind Runa and she moved to show Kadlin sitting there sewing.

“If you want to join our conversation you can just speak up without being so scared,” Alwilda told her. Kadlin had been Runa’s servant until she had been invited a place on the crew. She still hadn’t grown used to her new freedom to speak her mind. Alwilda was surprisingly democratic about some things.

“Yes your Highness,” Kadlin said, her head still lowered respectfully.

“Alwilda, please, if father hasn’t disowned me already he will soon.” The evil smile on Alwilda’s face spelled horrible things for the future politics between Sweden and Denmark.

Prince Alf of Denmark sat in his throne while a naval scout knelt before him. Prince Alf’s father, the king, was away to another country at that moment as an envoy and Prince Alf had been left in charge of the working of the kingdom. No one could think of a single objection to this since Prince Alf was the future heir to the throne anyway. Well Prince Alf could think of a reason why he shouldn’t do the job, it was boring, and a lot more hard work then he liked. It wasn’t that he was lazy exactly; it was just that he only liked expending energy when he wanted to. At that moment however he wasn’t exactly as bored as he normally was. He was being entertained by the scout’s report.

“So after the whole ship of young women descended on your poor, helpless, heavily armed ship what happened?” he said, his head propped on his hand.

“They weren’t exactly unarmed themselves, Your Highness. They knew what they were doing with their weapons, and they outnumbered us. They had a lovely young lady who seemed to be their captain and she headed right for our captain, with her sword out. We were all fighting, but I have to admit that they might not have taken them as seriously as we should have. Their captain killed ours, and some of our crew is dead as well.”

“Did you at least manage to kill some of them as well?” Prince Alf asked, though he could guess the answer already by the way that they scout still hadn’t raised his head to look at him.

“We injured some, but there weren’t any deaths on their side. They attacked just too quickly, without any warning at all. They even made us treat their wounds after the fighting was over.”

“How could they make you do something like that?” Prince Alf still looks only entertained; there is no annoyance in his face at all.

“They told us that they would burn our ship and throw all of us into the ocean if even a single member of their crew died. I have never seen such merciless girls before. They couldn’t have been more then seventeen, any of them and yet they were totally heartless when dealing with us. Their captain, the lovely woman I mentioned earlier, actually threatened to cut out my tongue.”

“Was she joking?”

“Not with her blade pressed against my lips, I don’t think so, Your Highness.” Prince Alf bursts into outright laughter.

To be continued...

Alwilda

The Swedish castle was buzzing with gossip, and for a good reason Princess Alwilda had run away. It wasn’t completely unexpected for anyone, though it was something to talk about. From the first moment that she had met her future husband, Prince Alf from Denmark, Alwilda had taken a passionate and irrational dislike to him, and they had only met that once and for a short time. Alwilda wasn’t the sort of person who would sit still and be married off to just anyone. She had declared that she wouldn’t be married and no one had thought that she wouldn’t do something like this.

The court’s true shock was twofold, first that the young ladies of the court for the most part had gone with Alwilda, and second the mode that they had left by, boat. When people thought of well bred young ladies they didn’t think of boat as the transportation of choice. They lacked privacy, elegance, and required a lot of hard work and experience to sail. The boat they were using was stolen from Alwilda’s younger brother and had already been provisioned for a trip that her brother was supposed to take. It was the word among the nobles that it had been heard that Alwilda’s brother had sworn to track down his sister, both for the honor of the family, and to retrieve his boat.

Meanwhile the girl who was raising such a fuss was already well out to sea and enjoying herself greatly. Surrounded by her friends and likeminded girls, with no prospect of marrying Prince Alf, and total freedom, it was her idea of heaven. She was probably only sixteen or seventeen and few of her crew was older then that. They weren’t totally ignorant of ship sailing having lived with it their whole lives. Alwilda knew even more then most, possessing an inquisitive turn of mind which had led her to find out as much as she could about the workings of ships.

“Where are we going to go now?” a girl standing beside Alwilda asked. They were both wearing simple dresses but you could tell by the way that they spoke and the way they carried themselves that they were used to wealth and power.

“I was thinking we might head towards Denmark,” Alwilda said casually.

“I would think that that would be the last area you would want to go towards. Do you want to go to Prince Alf after all?” Runa demanded. It would be a lot like Alwilda to cause all of this trouble and then go and do what everyone wanted her to.

“Not at all, we must have some way to support ourselves and I propose piracy. Preying on my father’s ships would grant me no pleasure and might cause unfortunate encounters with people we know. What better ships to prey on then those ships belonging to the country I detest most, the country I was supposed to be wedded to.”

“You weren’t supposed to be wedded to the country; you were supposed to be married to a man,” said Fastvi, coming to join the conversation.

“It’s the same thing when that man is the crown prince,” Alwilda complained.

“You could have been very happy; do you know how much most fathers would give to make their daughters a queen? I know that I wouldn’t complain to have the opportunity that you have just thrown away.”

“I don’t need your lecture Fastvi, you sound a lot like my father some of the time. Why did you even come if you don’t understand why we left?”

“Because I’m your friend of course, I cannot allow you to simply go sailing off into trouble without me,” Fastvi smiled. Alwilda couldn’t stay angry long in the face of such words and that smile.

To be continued...

A ghost story, kinda VI

“If you give up the money won’t that be giving up what you worked so hard for?” Annemarie asked.

“Don’t be stupid girl, what use is money to a dead person?” Mrs. Williamson snapped. “So long as those stupid descendants don’t realize the money is gone then my enjoyment won’t go away.” She laughed in a very unpleasant way and Annemarie instantly felt sorry for what ever it was her nephew had had to put up with while she had been alive. “Those fools have now lost the house, I was born in this house and soon it will belong to total strangers. The last thing that I would wish is for some disgusting workman to find my riches. At least I approve of the use young Daray will put the money to.”

“Are you sure you won’t come and live at the house when it’s bought as well?” Daray asked. “It’ll be bought with your money after all.”

“Unlike you young man, I have no interest in cutting myself off from society. I will remain here and entertain myself with the new people who will live here. I have grown used to meddling with the living and I doubt I could give it up now. Now young lady, Annemarie was it? Go around to the back of the house and dig under the parlor’s widow box. I will go with you of course; you’ll find a shovel in the garden shed.”

“Why couldn’t the lawyer do this?” Annemarie complained.

“Because this seems unethical somehow, and I’m not so greedy for money as to go digging in people’s yards,” the lawyer snapped. “I’ll be leaving now; I want no part of this. Come out to the car when you are done.”

I envy Annemarie greatly, I must admit, to go digging for treasure on Halloween night with two ghosts as her only company. It is there we must leave her. There is a horseman of writing that comes to haunt this story known as writing and any good narrator would flee like a rat from a sinking ship. I hear there is a good piece being worked on right now about some ninjas and I think I will head over there immediately and look for work. My pride as a narrator however dictates that I clean up some lose ends.

Annemarie became independently wealthy after this night. Not because of the amount the old woman had saved in her lifetime, which while for the time had been a large amount but in truth was only about ten thousand dollars. However it was the largest amount of old currency found in a very long time and in action resulted in a large surplus of money even after the purchase of the house.

The house Mrs. Williamson lived in went through many owners, most of whom only lasted a few months before deciding that the house was just too unpleasant feeling to live in. In the end she met her match however when a family called in an exorcist. Nothing was heard of her after that.

Daray wandered around some, but he always came back to what he rightfully thought of as his house. He sometimes visits Annemarie but she complains because of his melodramatic timing. He can’t seem to resist showing up at midnight during thunderstorms. So this story comes to an end I have to rush, because I told the hiring office I would over in ten minutes.

A ghost story, kinda V

Annemarie wasn’t special or anything like that, actually it was the exact opposite, like I said it’s better that I tell you about these things because there was no way Daray could have said that to her face. Annemarie was there and could be talked to. That was all that had been necessary for her to be tapped to be of use to them.

I have also realized that due to stereotypes you most likely think that the house Daray wants to hold onto is a place that is special to him. Nothing could in fact be farther from the truth. He didn’t even find it until after he was already dead. No one enjoys being homeless, not even a ghost, and finding an abandoned old house he had simply moved in. He tried to keep it in good shape as best as he could, there are only limited things that can be done by ghosts and it was impossible for him work on the outside of the house because people would have noticed. The best that he could really manage was preventing doorways from squeaking and dusting. Even though he had no living connection with the house however he had grown used to living there and wasn’t keen on giving it up now that he had been taking care of it for so long.

They drove up to an old Victorian house, with a foreclosure notice pasted on its door, and the lawyer motioned for Annemarie to get out. The lawyer produced a key and they went in. This house wasn’t as well cared for as Daray’s was, the door did actually squeak and Annemarie nearly jumped out of her skin the first time she stepped on a lose floorboard.

“Are we trespassing,” she asked. This was a very silly question since the lawyer had had the key, but if I haven’t made this entirely clear; Annemarie isn’t a genius, though nor is she stupid. Besides it had been a strange night already and I suppose I have to allow her some credit for being able to think at all. Never having been in a situation like this myself I can’t say how I would have reacted.

“No, I am in charge of this house for the family, they moved out a few months ago. Lawyers shouldn’t break the law and I try not to,” the lawyer said, but she didn’t sound insulted by the question.

“We’re here to meet the person said I wanted you to meet,” added Daray. “Mrs. Williamson, where are you,” he called out into the dark and suddenly there was a tall, thin, old lady in front of them.

“It’s you Daray,” she said and she looked him over with obvious disproval. “Didn’t I tell you to dress in proper clothing the next time you came to see me? And who is this?” she asked, peering nearsightedly at Annemarie.

“I’m Annemarie, but as to why I’m here, you’ll have to ask Daray that,” Annemarie said.

“We’ve come for your money Mrs. Williamson. You said I could have it if I could find someone to pick it up,” Daray said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind of course and decided to allow your descendants to find it, they are still looking for it aren’t they?”

“They are, and they won’t have a penny of it. I earned that money and saved it well. Not one cent did I spend that I could save in my life, nor did I trust it to any bank but kept it safe in this house. No sooner am I gone then my ungrateful nephew sets about to find where I had kept it. I have watched with the greatest enjoyment as they have worn themselves out over the last century, and they still haven’t given up.”

To be continued...

A ghost story, kinda IV

“You’re there, no particular reason. You’re the only person I could think of as having walked past this house every single night. As for the whole Halloween thing, well that was for my own enjoyment,” Daray grinned at Annemarie. “I’ve always wanted to do something like that to someone, since I’m a ghost.”

“If you’re just wasting my time I’m leaving,” Annemarie announced. I can’t say that I like her lack of patience; I mean how many chances do any of us get to talk to a ghost at midnight on Halloween. Annemarie is wasting a fine opportunity, but I can’t get through the page to tell her as much so to continue.

“Wait, I do have my reason. I need help, it was merely the timing that was decided for my enjoyment, well and I was random about who to ask as well,” Daray admitted. “I want you to buy this house so I can keep it.”

Now before the reader throws down this story with disgust, I would like to assure you that I know how ridiculously cliché this is. As I said at the start of this story there are things from convention that will slip into a story even when one has no intention of including them. Besides, I am simply telling the story, so don’t blame me.

“I work at a fast food joint, something you seem to know, do I look like I can afford a house?” Annemarie demanded.

“No, but I know where some money can be found, you know these things after you’re dead but they don’t do you any good because I would like to see you try to dig up money when you pass right through the ground,” Daray said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“So you want me to follow you to this money and then buy this house? Why? What do I get from it?” Annemarie demanded. For this I like, it’s hard to get a main character who is this blunt and straightforward, and not willing to help people for the sake of helping people. This is the sort of character I can respect.

“You can have any money left over, there should be some,” Daray said, shrugging. The last time I checked there was a lot, unless her family has finally actually found it of course, but that doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen, they’ve been looking for the last two hundred years after all.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Annemarie admitted.

“I should take you to meet someone,” Daray announced. “The lawyer will drive you there; I’ll come with of course.”

While Annemarie, getting steadily more confused, is bustled into a car by a bossy ghost and an authoritative lawyer I suppose I should offer more commentary. After all, once again I am feeling like I’m not doing my job and I can’t have that. Daray certainly can’t be trusted to tell the reader about this stuff, though I’m afraid he’s the one who told Annemarie about what was going on during the car ride. Daray isn’t very reliable and tends to leave out details when he gets excited about something.

The lawyer works for a family who used to be rich, but are no longer. They own the house he has been living in, as well as a large house that has been mortgaged as much as it could be and is going into foreclosure. The lawyer had come to inspect the house before sale and had found Daray in residence. Rather then kick him out, which apparently had been her original threat, she had agreed to try and help him keep the house somehow, which is where Annemarie had entered into their plans.

To be continued...

A ghost story, kinda III

Due to a Spanish test there is no post for yesterday, because I didn't write one. I have now returned to regular postings, until the next midterm of course.

Annemarie opened the door and was for a second blinded, this room was not as well lit as the room down stairs and the hall had been. Annemarie, lacking the insight that a narrator must of course have to tell a story, at first didn’t realize that she wasn’t alone in the room. It wasn’t until the man moved that Annemarie noticed him, after all he was wearing black and therefore blended in with the shadows. Well that and he was actually vaguely transparent, that’s right, finally the ghost has arrived in this story.

He wasn’t a scary ghost, he wasn’t wearing old fashioned clothing, everyone knows there is nothing more frightening then a man wearing Macaroni fashions, and he wasn’t very old looking either nor was he very young. Everyone knows that the elderly and children are also terrifying. He looked as if he was, or should I say had been, about seventeen or eighteen, and was extremely modern looking.

“Hey, how’re you?” he asked, raising a hand in salutation.

“Do I know you?” Annemarie demanded. She was about to say something else when the fact that he was transparent struck her and she started to back away. He noticed, being dead makes you very good at observing the living, having not much better to do. He darted forward and swung at her, his fist went right through her head as if nothing had happened.

“See, I can’t do anything to you even if I wanted to, just pretend you are talking to a movie if it makes you feel better, and no we’ve never met. I think I would see you every once in a while when my friends and I would go to get soft serve ice cream but that’s it.”

I could leave the description of the man up to Annemarie, but as previously mentioned narrators have better eyesight and are able to tell you things normal humans can’t. I am sure that the reader will like it better therefore if I actually do my job, especially since I know far more then Annemarie could ever know about the man in question, or boy if you like that better. He’s only, or should I say was only, ghosts make tenses tricky, eighteen and that makes the distinction between man and boy a little tricky as well. I could of course call him a teenager, but I have a strange prejudice against that word in a written description and everyone is allowed their oddities. Because of the awkwardness about how to address him, I will just tell you his name, that’s easier. His name is Daray.

Daray is a total Goth guy, wears all black baggy clothing, hair dyed black and with bangs that hang over his eyes; he even still has headphones around his neck, though they no longer produce sound. If you failed to notice the way light passes through him you probably would expect to find him the in back of a high school class. Contrary to popular belief ghosts don’t always wear the same clothing they died in, that would get boring after a while and ghosts don’t like boredom anymore then any other thinking creature. Daray keeps up on fashion by sticking his head through the boarded up windows and seeing what it is that the people who are walking past are wearing. He has always loved the Goth look though, in life and death, and therefore sticks to black as a color scheme. The headphones are a comfort thing; he grew so used to them that he can’t be parted from them even now.

Having described a black wearing downer kid I must do justice to Daray, he didn’t, I repeat didn’t, commit suicide. I know that is everyone’s instant assumption when they think of ghosts in general and especially teenage Goth ghosts. He was hit by a car while crossing a street, he didn’t hear it coming thanks to the headphones, you would think that he would learn his lesson about the headphone thing. I have wandered far away from what is actually happening in the story though, so back to Daray and Annemarie.

“So why exactly do you want to see me?” Annemarie has been asking for the last two paragraphs, you just don’t know it because I didn’t mention it before.

To be continued...

A ghost story, kinda II

“Annemarie?” the woman asked. Again I wish her voice had been mysterious or wispy and weak. Instead it was strong and no nonsense, matching her appearance perfectly.

“Yes,” said Annemarie, she was trying to remember when it was that she had met the woman. Of course she could have spent the whole night trying to remember and she never would, since she had never met the woman in her life. Unfortunately I wasn’t there to tell her that, so she just stood there dumbly.

“Are you going to come in or not?” the woman demanded.

“I’m sorry but do I know you?” Annemarie asked, finally giving up on her own memory.

“No, of course not,” said the woman. “You’re wasting time, come on.”

Annemarie was halfway up the sidewalk to the abandoned house before she even realized what she was doing. Oh for the narrative convenience of being able to say that she had been placed under some spell, that the woman had hypnotized her, or there was some black magic at work. My life is full of narrative frustrations if you couldn’t already tell. It was the pure authority in the woman’s voice that made Annemarie move without her own volition, which is altogether unromantic.

The door did not squeak when it was opened, the windows were boarded up, but once inside Annemarie could see that was to protect them from being broken rather then because they had been broken. The glass was fully intact and clean, the boards had served their purpose, though they made the room very dark. Here I am happy to finally report that something supernatural happened. I don’t know about the reader but I have been waiting for something like this since I started it with the setting. It was a simple thing I’m afraid, the room was suddenly full of light. It wasn’t from any normal source of light, I have double checked with the electric company and that house hasn’t had power for several years now. It also wasn’t from a candle or portable device, since none were present in room. It was simply that as soon as Annemarie crossed the threshold something seemed to decide that she would need light and provided it.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Annemarie asked timidly. The woman didn’t really seem like the sort of person who would tolerate questions but at this point curiosity overcame timidity.

“I am the executive of this estate, and I was told to bring you, and you are late already so please walk faster,” snapped the woman. Annemarie might have pointed out that she hadn’t been aware that she had an appointment and therefore couldn’t be blamed for tardiness; I know I would have in that situation, but Annemarie is more timid then I am.

They went up the stairs, which failed to creak ominously, and then down a hallway. The hallway was lit in the same strange manner as the room downstairs had been. They reached a door and the woman stopped in front of it and knocked.

“I brought her like you told me to,” the woman told the door and then nodded to Annemarie. “Go in, I will be downstairs if I’m needed for anything.”

To be continued...

A ghost story, kinda

There are some conventions to stories. So for instance when a story starts at midnight, on Halloween, under a full moon, next to a graveyard, as mine does, it must of course include some sort of specter or spirit. Far be it in my abilities to go against such a long standing tradition. Indeed even should I want to ignore convention and attempt to write a story that was ghost free in such a situation it would be impossible, a spirit of some sort would undoubtedly spontaneously appear anyway through pure force of habit.

You could of course ask why it was that Annemarie was out at such an hour, in such an odd situation. My answer would be that she had been working and was very innocently returning home. The graveyard just happened to be in her path and entirely unavoidable. Indeed it is fair to say that Annemarie is still unaware even that she is doing anything unusual. She is still thinking of it as the day before Halloween, not thinking of the fact that the day changes at midnight and the graveyard has become something she has grown accustomed to with habit. It is therefore with a careless frame of mind that she saunters along the sidewalk, which she has to herself at this hour.

Given all of these facts I doubt that my reader would be much surprised if a witch suddenly flew past the moon, or a vampire suddenly reached out and snatched Annemarie. I am happy to report therefore that neither of these things happened. Annemarie simply became suddenly, acutely, aware of what her situation was. It was the full moon suddenly bursting from behind the cover of a cloud that did it. With its light came the epiphany that she was in what could be called an extremely frightening situation for anyone who was even slightly superstitious.

With this realization came a heightened sense of her surroundings, which she had previously been unaware of. There was an abandoned old house nearby, which was light by the moon now, so that the trellises attached house, now in disrepair, gave the house an extra spooky look. Adding that to the graveyard was too much for Annemarie’s sensibilities and her only desire was to get home at this point.

I wish I could say that it was Fate that interfered with her design to get home, it always sounds good to say that something was Fate. However I am given to understand that fate was busy elsewhere at the time, in a sleazy bar across town seeing to it that two destined lovers met. I am therefore forced to conclude that it was Chance that made her meet the lovely woman who walked from the abandoned house. Chance doesn’t sound as good or dramatic, but it can’t be helped.

It would also help my story if the beautiful woman looked somewhat transparent, or mysterious, or ghostly. Unfortunately she looked none of these. She also wasn’t dressed in old fashioned clothing, in fact she was wearing a pantsuit and looked the image of a well to do young business woman.

To be continued...

Bus Riding VIII

“I doubt any twenty year old grudge is going to cause a murder now,” I said.

“No, there’s a reason for there to be more recent bad blood, that was just the start of it,” Jane said. “You see, Mike’s son was the father of the boy that Henry’s daughter had. In spite of the bad blood between the two fathers their children meant to get married. They loved each other a lot from what I saw. When he found out that his girlfriend was pregnant I though that Mike’s son would burst with happiness, he made a lot of plans. That was one of the great tragedies of the boy’s death; he never got to see his son. The problem is that the family had hardly started to mourn their loss then Henry shows up demanding that Mike help support their grandson. Mike refused.”

“What a mess this whole thing is. I think we can count Annie out of the equation, a small grudge wouldn’t lead her to kill,” I said. “Which would leave Billy and Henry, both because of Mike’s children, so we go to our final qualifier, which would the neighbor want to protect so badly?” Even as I said it I knew the answer.

Even though I wasn’t part of that crowd I knew where mob opinion lay. Billy wasn’t about to win any popularity contests. He stole from anyone, that didn’t make him popular. Usually people had rules about not eating their own so to speak, Billy didn’t. Billy wasn’t the sort of person anyone would protect.

“I remember, a long time ago the neighbor used to go on trips down the river with Henry and Mike. They would all be laughing together, people used to ask if they were brothers, that was all when they were all young men of course. They all changed after a while, as people do,” Jane said slowly. We all looked at one another.

“Should we just never speak of this again?” I suggested, and the others nodded in total agreement.

So I set down my pen, probably for the last time for this sort of account. If you can’t tell from my tone I have been thinking of ending my nightly bus rides. It isn’t doing me any good to be the foolish one who remains. I would be a lot better off if I dedicated myself to more fruitful things. I have enclosed this account of last week’s events for all of you, who at one time belonged to the same club as me, as a sort of nostalgia piece. I thought that all of you, no matter how far away you are would be interested to find out what has been happening around here. But I have a manuscript due soon, and should go back to doing my actual writing for work, I hope you enjoy, goodbye.

Mathew

Bus Riding VII

“Then there’s Annie, there was bad blood between them at one point even though later she seemed to forgive him. You said sometimes she even went over to his house to shoot right Jane?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, I had never heard there was anything wrong between them. They never acted like there was,” Jane said in surprise.

“I think I heard Bill mention something about them not getting along a long time ago,” I said. “I don’t remember the details though.”

“It wasn’t anything important; they just didn’t like each other as far as I know. You both know how Mike was, he wasn’t always easy to like. She would bristle at something that he would say and they would get into it, simple as that. Once they found out that they both liked guns they were able to find common ground and got along a lot better. Annie stopped taking offense at everything he said, and he stopped saying things on purpose to offend her. You could say that they met halfway in the end. Even though they would shoot together with me though they never really loved each other, it was more of a relationship of tolerance.”

“That would be no motive to kill though,” Paul said. I nodded, if we were just going with people who didn’t like Mike because of his attitude then the list could go on for pages.

“But we haven’t seen her for a while, I do worry about that. You don’t think that she is somehow involved do you?” asked Jane. “I mean I didn’t think anything of it when she didn’t come and shoot with us the other day because sometimes she didn’t. I haven’t seen her since either though, and that’s not normal.”

“Does anyone know where she lives or what her number is?” I asked. The other two shook their heads.

“I looked her up in the phone book the other night because I was worried about her, she isn’t listed,” Jane said.

“And I don’t think any of us knew her well enough to go over to her house. The only thing we have is the stop she gets off and that isn’t going to help us much. I know for instance that I live three or four blocks from my stop,” Paul said.

“Yeah, so we have nothing to go on. We should probably stop trying to play detectives,” I admitted.

“Weren’t you just saying that we should avenge our own?” Jane demanded. She has the habit of arguing with everyone, if you agreed with her then she would instantly changer her opinion most of the time.

“Yeah, I was,” I confessed. “But you know, we just don’t have the resources to solve this. All we can do is talk and that isn’t doing anyone any good.”

“It gives us something to do though,” Paul said shrugging. “Like Henry Johns, he didn’t like Mike at all. There’s someone with a motive.”

“I never did hear how that one started,” I said. If the others were amused by this activity I wasn’t going to ruin their fun. There were worse things they could do to make fun for themselves. Like winning all of my money at poker, which happens more often then I would like to admit, even to myself.

“Mike and Henry used to be partners in business; Henry invested most of his father’s railroad pension in their work. That was that boat and tube rental Mike now owns down by the river. They started it together though, about twenty years back now. How sad that I can remember it,” Jane added with a sigh.

To be continued...

Bus Riding VI

“Mike was a friend, I would think we would all want his killer found,” I said. I had forgotten for a moment that police weren’t always popular with the crowd I was with now, for various reasons. That wasn’t always true anymore, this was the new bus after all, the new bus wasn’t only frequented by the dregs of society, and the willingly dispossessed. But the people who I was talking to at the moment were parts of the original group, the group who had ridden the old bus at first with me. Hard to imagine that I had been a high school student back in those days, times had changed and yet I still stuck around. I guess I am the most pathetic of them all, unable to let go of the past at all, still hanging around in places I have no business in. The others had the sense to move on, but I always was the stupid one.

“I don’t know if I do want to find out who killed Mike,” Jane admitted and I looked at her in shock. “If it wasn’t his neighbor then it was probably one of our number,” she explained. “Having lost Mike I don’t know if I want to lose another friend. Even if they are a murderer,” her voice trailed off. I knew what she meant though. The remnants of our crowd were dwindling already, without this blow.

“It might be someone we don’t know about who has a grudge, it doesn’t have to be one of our group,” I said, even though I knew it was doubtful.

“Mike had his enemies but he didn’t have any that didn’t ride on this bus,” said Paul, looking resigned. “He didn’t talk to anyone much except here, we all know that.”

“We don’t know that much about his life,” I argued weakly. “He might have had people who hated him that we don’t know about. It’s not like we followed him everywhere he went.”

“You can think that if you want,” said Jane dismissively. “It would be better if it was true of course. If we are going to look for the murderer though I think we should probably investigate our own. This was your idea after all Mathew.” I sank a little lower in my seat.

“I say if the neighbor is willing to defend and protect whoever it is who killed Mike then we let him,” Paul said. I had to admit that he had a point. Sometimes my sense of justice was tainted by my companions and their practicality. I doubted that even the people I used to have the club with back in high school would have seen any reason why a man who wanted to take a fall for someone else shouldn’t be allowed to. These were the sort of people who thought that a decision like that should be respected. Sometimes I found it difficult to argue with, even though I knew why it shouldn’t be allowed.

“Let’s go down the list of people who might want to kill Mike, out of the ones that we know. Just as an exercise,” Jane said. She was looking at me and I knew it was a challenge. She wanted to make a point.

“There’s Billy, that kid who liked Mike’s daughter. You wouldn’t think that Mike would object to Billy’s bad habits, like the fact that he was a smalltime crook, but he did. Told Billy to stay away in the end and the daughter didn’t seem to upset about her father’s decision. Billy never forgave Mike though. Talked big around town for awhile but nothing ever came of it,” I said. As a writer that whole situation had peaked my interest, I had changed some of the details, and the names of course, and used it in one of my books.

To be continued...

Bus Riding V

“I haven’t been holding out on you guys, guns never interested me. But I wouldn’t have had to own a gun, the gun that shot Mike was the neighbor’s, so I could have simply picked it up and killed Mike with it.” Paul was getting more and more gloomy.

“But as a first time shooter you wouldn’t be able to hit a brick wall except at very, very close range. I told you, I think you’re safe,” Jane insisted. I shook my head; disaster always seemed to follow Jane where ever she went. I doubted this would be the first or last calamity that she would get herself into.

“So are you a serious suspect, or are they just talking about the possibility?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine Jane killing anyone, no matter how quick tempered she was. If nothing else, if we were going by marksmanship, I had heard she always misses, even though she practices. She just doesn’t seem to have any talent at aim at all.

“They aren’t telling me things in that much detail. But I don’t have an alibi and I know that looks bad. I live alone as well, and didn’t go anywhere but home after I saw Mike. His wife and daughter were out; they are on tape at the superstore at the estimated time of death, so they aren’t suspected.”

“Well I don’t think anyone would suspect Mike’s wife,” Paul said and I nodded. She was far too timid for anyone to ever think of her as a killer. She had spent her entire life entirely happy to leave everything for her husband to decide. I could only suppose that now that Mike was gone that role would go down to her daughter. Mike’s daughter was just as strong willed as her father, for which I respected her. She was all of seventeen and already much more determined and ambitious then I think her mother had ever been.

“No, I don’t think they suspected Mike’s wife, she really doesn’t know what to do with Mike dead. Everything has fallen apart in that house since his death. Of course they investigated her just in case, looking for domestic abuse or something like that as a motive but of course Mike never hit her or their daughter in his life. He was always kindness itself to his family you know, even when he was drunk. There was that idea all shot to pieces. I think they suspected the daughter more then her mother even from the start though. She would do something like murder if she put her mind to it,” Jane pointed out.

“Yeah but she would have no motive, none at all. Her father always gave her everything that she could have ever wanted.”

“Yeah I think that’s what the police have decided. They have backed off from the family anyway. A good thing too, they’re in mourning after all, it wasn’t fair for them to be pestered so much. Those police, they always assume that just because a man drinks a lot he is cruel to his family.”

“Well it’s a common stereotype,” I said. “And it isn’t always wrong that drunks aren’t the best parents. I’m not saying Mike wasn’t a good guy to his family mind you,” I said hurriedly when I saw the faces of the other two.

“This whole thing would be so much easier if they would just find out who the neighbor cares enough about to protect but also had a reason to kill Mike. There can’t be that many people who fit that combination,” said Paul.

“Yes but I suppose it would be difficult to find out that much about everyone. It might be someone that none of us even know about,” I pointed out. “The police don’t have an easy job here.”

“Just who’s side are you on, the polices or what? Are you actually a undercover cop,” Jane demanded.

To be continued...