Martin Sloan, Office Manager 1997-2003.
Max cracked his knuckles and chuckled. “He works here thirty years, has a heart attack, and dies while burning the midnight oil and now his ghost thinks it owns the place after midnight.” Max winked at me, “You can have ‘till five to turn the report in,” he said as he turned to his computer.
I gave a small nod, “Thanks, Max.” I pushed myself out of the chair and walked out of his office. Ten minutes later I’d cleaned out my desk, rode the elevator down to the lobby, and walked out of the building into the sunny late morning. When I got to my car I dialed Ashley’s brother’s number.
“Seth, what’s up?”
“Not much, Jake. You still need someone to come in with you on the fishing thing?”
“I sure do.”
I rolled down the window and looked out at the sparkling California coast line.
“Well, I’m your man.”
I was always a little afraid when I went to visit my Aunt Ruth because of the strange dreams that seemed to haunt me when I stayed there. Nonetheless, my parents were off on a business trip and needed for me to stay there. I had a hard enough time wherever I was due to my narcolepsy. Medication had helped me to get it under control, but it still came on me unexpectedly from time to time, washing over me a black cloud that shrouded my consciousness. When I was younger, I would have to wear a helmet to school and endure the jeers from my classmates. They would call me “special ed,” “helmet,” and other such things. I would come home crying almost every day until finally my parents went to see a doctor who recommended a drug that could help.
By the time I reached the age of thirteen, I had blossomed into a beautiful girl with long, dark hair, large, hazel eyes, and a slender figure. The fits of narcolepsy had also become infrequent enough to allow me to lose the helmet, only occurring from time to time—like when Mr. Stevens would deliver one of his dry history lessons. When I went back to my aunt’s, I wanted to stay in the guest bedroom and read the whole time and avoid walking around too much. It seemed in particular that I had sleeping fits in the woods surrounding the house. It was too bad because exploring the woods was one of my favorite pastimes.
“Rosie!” my aunt called from downstairs. “Can you help me with something?” I walked downstairs to see what my aunt needed.
Aunt Ruth always had her gray hair tied back and always wore dresses. She was a beauty in her youth and the vestige of her elegance still lingered in her blue eyes.
“Rosie, I know you don’t like going out to the woods, but we really need some firewood and you know my hip is still healing up from the fall I took two weeks ago,” she said.
“Sure, Aunt,” I said, knowing that I couldn’t refuse.
“That’s a dear,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.
I ran outside, planning to grab the wood as quickly as I could and dart back inside. I crossed over the small spring that flowed through the woods and into the shade of ancient oaks and hickories, where the fading sun was blocked out. I was within steps of the woodpile when I felt my head began to swim.
“Oh no!” I said as I fell over into the leaves and my eyelids began to flutter.
I began to dream; in the dream, I sat up and caught sight of a young girl dressed in a bright-colored Easter dress running further into the depths of the woods. She kept looking back as she ran.
“Help!” The young girl yelled. I got to my feet and ran after her. I lost sight of the girl and was practically knocked down by a shadowy figure that ran past. I was immediately overtaken by a feeling of danger and trepidation. I couldn’t make out the features of the man, but I did notice that the figure was wearing some kind of flat cap. Suddenly, I awoke and was lying alone by the woodpile in the fading light. I hurriedly grabbed the wood and carried it inside.
“Are you alright?” Aunt Ruth asked, seeing the pale color of my face.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to fake a smile, but Ruth knew that I wasn’t. All the same, she let the matter go.
The next day when a neighbor came over to visit Aunt Ruth in the early evening, her dog, Rufus, ran out of the door.
“Can you go get him, dear?” Aunt Ruth asked.
“Sure,” I said, running out of the door. The dog ran into the woods not too far from the spot where I had had the dream before. I felt a mixture of fear and curiosity as I followed the dog into the darker part of the woods where the trees grew taller and thicker. I felt my consciousness fall away again and fell down amongst the leaves.
In the dream state, I got up and looked around me. Again, I caught sight of the little girl and the shadowy figure that was hot on her trail. The figure was getting closer and closer to the little girl, who turned around to see how far away her assailant was. She screamed loudly as the figure grabbed the top of her dress and pulled her backwards. She fought hard, kicking and screaming, and suddenly the shadowy man held something up in his other hand, although I couldn’t make out what it was. The little girl screamed again, louder this time, and I caught one more glance of the figure, noticing that it was a man with some kind of trench coat on and a flat cap, although his features were indistinguishable.
I woke up before I could see what happened next, but I feared the worst. Feeling shaken again, I got up and looked around for Rufus.
