John Riley – Page 7 – The Ghostly World

Above Ground part two

by John Riley

ii

The man with the battered suitcase used the name Sam. He’d made good progress on his own, walking the length of the road for over a week now.

He followed the signs pointing to Slaughter Bridge. He reckoned on getting closer as the place name kept appearing more frequently.

There were fields of man-high corn on either side of the road. The smell hanging around hung thick, strong fertiliser, and gut-wrenching. Sam pushed on walking.

He strode out with the sun in his eyes until a cloud passed over and offered respite from screwing up his face allowing time to see the way ahead, converging to a spot on the horizon.

He could do with emptying the case, reckoned a few more down there would help, call in some more debts and cash in some karma. He pushed forward, letting his thoughts wander.

He whistled that familiar tune with Grandpa Mathis on his mind and a little bit of business they’d sorted out. Then, Sam noticed it. He picked out something dumped up ahead. He stopped and tried to see what it might be before getting back into his stride.

The stench hitting him emanated from a dead farm boy, lying crumpled at the side of the road with his eyes pecked out by scavenger crows.

Sam tipped his sunhat, offering condolences to the deceased, and pondered on a few words. In the heat of the day, Sam stared down at the lad. Must have been about 10 or 12 years of age this time.

Sam looked northward. Time to make a move. He set off without looking back at the kid. Sam didn’t see the dead body twitch and then in jerky moves bring itself up to a sitting position.

“Take me with you…” It called out. “Take me with you…”
Sam kept on walking.
It made one last try. Sam was a fair distance away so as not to hear its pleading.
“You’d be too much trouble, kid, too much trouble.”
“Haven’t you heard? No room at the inn,” indicated by raising the suitcase above his head.

When Sam was out of view, the kid slumped back down, a crumpled mess at the side of the road.

A light breeze rustled the man-high corn and made a sound like whispering. Sam crossed into Slaughter Bridge and then had second thoughts about the kid.

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The Ghostly World Fictional Ghost Stories

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February 8, 2018

Above Ground

by John Riley

‘All through the night shall an inner voice seek life when laid out seeking slumber. In still moments when dark and yearning, I shall come from shadows to taunt thee.’ The Demon (Samuel Flyte)

In a Las Vegas gambling den that is heaven for silver retirees now glued to the slots and sitting in their own urine – Sam entered the fray.

A quarter or so back in time, he’d seen the carpet joint from a Greyhound bus window nearing the journey’s end from San Diego.

God damn, ain’t that something to behold. Bright neon city, lights flashing, and pretty ladies structuring boardwalks, hell on earth, my kind of town. It’s enough to light up the soul. A fellah can feel lucky when the moon comes alongside Jupiter on the other side of midnight. Viva Las Vegas!

With a wedge of borrowed money and chips that don’t come wrapped in newsprint, he reckoned he had this stranger’s system worked out.

Sam cut in at the table. Man gets a bit of luck. The dames are flocking, a win here, a win there. Sam develops a feel for things, and when thinking day follows night and real men don’t suck from straws, Sam’s luck pissed down the drain.

It all went wrong. Sam couldn’t understand it and hit the bar, necking what he had left until the stranger came alongside.

“Friend, don’t be too nailed about me fleecing you.”
He stood back, gesturing with open palms.
Sam stuck to the bourbon.
“C’mon, you know I thought at one point you guessed… know what I mean?”
He gestured again.
“Maybe you don’t recognise the new outfit?”
“What?” Sam, turning weary from the drink.
“Fellah, you’ve goddam ruined me, ain’t that enough?”
Sam took a second.
“Come to think of it, you, do remind me of someone,” raising the glass to make his point.

The stranger came in close, whispering low and something smokey around the breath.
“We had a clause in that deal way back, the one where I saved your life. Remember? You work for me if we meet again in Zanzibar.”
Sam thought, a vague memory – snake eyes?
“This ain’t Zanzibar. We’re in Las Vegas!”

The stranger reflected with a grin, a devilish grin.
“Check out the name of this hotel!”
Sam looked up at the sign over the bar.
Zanzibar.
The stranger bent down to offer something.
“Here’s the suitcase… you know what you’ve to do.”

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February 5, 2018 Add Comment

Taken

by John Riley

HER DREAMS OF THE new neighbour were strange, perhaps out-of-body events.
Why does young love want to move out of a warm bed, morning sunlight filling the room, lying with your pregnant wife by your side, taking up the space?
“Oh… just then…”
Gemma, feeling the kick.
Martin rolled over, hooking himself up on one elbow.
“There, that one feel it?”
“No,” seconds later. “Yeah, that one just then, keen.”
His hand circled her lower belly, his touch soothing.
Martin leaned over and kissed her lips, drawing back onto his side, nuzzling up close and teasing her earlobe with his tongue. She giggled.
“I dreamt again, about the new neighbour.”
“Oh,” gripping the lobe between his teeth.
“Hey! Animal.”
Martin whispered into her ear. “Minx.” His hand wandered lower.
She moaned at the sensation.
“Honest I dreamt about him… I’m sure there were others.”
“What was he doing this time?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” teasing him.
“He’s gay, anyway he fancies me.”
“How does that make you feel?” She asked.
He turned onto his back. “Kinda flattered, you know another man thinking I’m hot!”
Her eyes were mocking, and her mouth smiling at him.
“Not you! I mean me, dreaming about our new neighbour. Are you jealous?”
They lay back, staring at the ceiling.
“Now, should I wear my lycra shorts to help him move that stuff he wants upstairs?”
“No!”
“Ha! Caught out! He’s mine Gemma Tate.”
Martin cuddled in closer, embracing her, Gemma returning his affection.
Ten minutes in, Gemma reluctantly said he had better sort the job out, then come straight back, and, don’t wash when he’d done, come to bed. She’d this thing for him all hot.
He held the embrace for a few more minutes, gave in to a sigh, and then slipped out of bed, deciding on tracksuit bottoms and a sports top. Gemma watched him.

He called to see if the neighbour now ready.

***

Gemma lay in the bed when Martin burst into the room.
She screamed, drawing up the bed sheets.
“It’s me, Gemma!”
She screamed again when he stepped closer. Martin panicking, frantic now crying.
He froze, holding up his hands to surrender. He wore the same clothes.
“Gemma, it’s me, please…” He pleaded.
He looked frail.
Maybe seventy in age.
Begging her to listen.
“Gemma, how long ago since I went next door?”
He looked so old. Her voice cracking. “What happened? Oh, God is this real? Tell me it’s a joke, who are you?”
“It’s me, Gemma.” His face and body turned old.
“It’s not a joke, please, how long since?”
She cried, how could it be real?
“Ten minutes!”
“I’ve left you for seventy years when I stepped in that house next door. He brought me back too late. I thought it some joke, is this real? Gemma! Where do I start to explain what’s happened?”

-end-

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January 29, 2018 Add Comment

Stan & Maud

by John Riley

“What time is it..?
“I’m losing track, Maud. What d’yer say..?”

“Maud..? ‘Bout time you had a wash…
“…I think we should go out…
“…maybe tomorrow, I’m thinking…
“I don’t trust anybody ’round here; don’t know who they are…
“How long have we lived here..? We worked hard to get this place… Used to be a nice street…”

“That front door does let in a January chill. I’ve boarded it up a bit more…
“I can’t open that back door, swollen too much… Haven’t got the strength now…”

“They’ve been banging on our front door again…
“Hey! Are you not going to drink that tea I’ve made you… It’ll be getting cold…
“I’ve had mine and taken the tablets…”

“Look at yer… yer look so funny… Y’know, once upon a time, you wouldn’t have dressed like that, would you..? You still look lovely to me…
“I say you look like you’re losing a bit of weight as well, ’round the…
“I don’t like people around here… I don’t go out so much… well, we both don’t go out much…
“We’ve got each other…”

“Ohh, mi leg… so sore, sore mother…
“I think cold in ‘ere shall I put the heating on? And find some wood for the fire… I think there’s something else we can burn…
“I’ve a piece of coal somewhere…
“I can still hear them outside… Her down the street, she’s a vulgar tongue…
“She says our house smells… more her dogs… big things; she lets them mess in our garden…
“Have I to put our record on? And should we talk again about the good old days..?
“I saved a few of the records, the ones we play more of… didn’t burn them in the hearth…
“I’ll have to find some more wood though…”

“Remember how we danced on the beach before the war came and took our George..?
“Oh, Maud, why did he have to die…
“Why did they make him go to war…?
“I know, Maud, I shouldn’t think back and get all upset…
“Aye, a tear, Maud, mard-arse ain’t I..?”

“What was that tune..?
“Shall we have a dance now, would you like..?”

“Maybe not yet…”

“Are you comfortable on that settee, warm enough..?
“You used to say, we need to move with the times, Stan… remember move with the times or we’ll get left behind…”

“What time is it? What day is it..?”

“I won’t put light on yet, don’t want to let them know…”

“I’ve been thinking about things again… and come to a decision…
“I’ll not let them take yer… You wait here with me… We’ll go together…
“See what I’ve found upstairs in an old drawer. Your old scarf and a couple of old pennies…
“I’ll place them on your eyes now and tie up your jaw and stop it slipping…”

“I’ll not let them take you in some box to be burnt… You rest in peace here while I wait for those tablets to take me as well!”

-end-

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January 15, 2018 Add Comment

An Enigmatic Smile

by John Riley

“It is quiet.
“It’s what they’re like, ain’t it museums?
“Quiet? D’yur not think?
“I’d thought they were no one here. I’ve seen the odd person out of the corner of my eye, wandering around the place.
“Hey! Come here, this is familiar.
“Ha-ha, there’s a lot of stuff in here that I know about.
“What the…
“Look at that? I used to have one of those bikes. My dad used to say I’d get piles riding a seat that thin.”

“There’s all sorts of things in here. I had one of them as well. I suppose a lot of us did, my generation.
“Wow! Whoa! Never! No, it can’t be…
“Now, I didn’t expect to see that…HOW?
“How did that get in here?
“I painted that.
“Yeah really…
“Yeah, that’s right, I painted it.
“I can’t believe it…How did it get in here?
“No, really, that’s my painting. How can my painting end up in this museum?
“Freaking me out that…
“I know there are other paintings out there in the other rooms, but this one, I remember this one…I painted it…I wonder if the school passed these things over for some exhibition?
“It’ll be a long time ago, I suppose.
“Can you tell who it is?”

“You don’t say much, do you?
“It’s me! When a young boy.
“Aye, take my word for it, that’s me.”

“Well, I never…
“You know, I think I can remember when I painted it.
“I’m not so sure how it’s here in a place like this…
“In fact, not sure what happened to all my stuff when taken away.
“Ha-ha, you don’t expect to see a picture you’ve painted in a museum you happen to be visiting.
“Oh yeah, now I think about it, I remember being asked to paint. By a teacher, how we see life ahead of us.
“We were only young… I know we’d asked to paint a portrait of ourselves. “Then, fill it with things around us. Things that predict our life ahead.”

“Looking at it now, what do I see? A cloudy grey sky… and is that rain I’ve drawn? It all looks a bit dark. At least I look as if smiling amongst this gloom. Hah…I must have been in my black period.”

“Never really left me, if truth be known, early teenage angst, eh. Look at all this black and grey.
“Well, I like that the sun is peeping through over there in this bit…and I am smiling.
“Makes me sad looking at it so long ago. Did I really have that sort of vision for the future? It looks bleak. I’m so surprised to see it here.
“You know, the time I painted that and me as I am now, it seems a lot has happened…Yeah, a lot happened…
“Life did turn out like that picture…bleak…lonely, the sun never did shine. “If it did, I never noticed. No…I never noticed…Too long living through the rain.”

“I’ve realised why I’m here.”

“I took my own life, didn’t I?”

“This museum, this place, I’m here to reflect on my life…A life taken before its time.
“I’ve got to go back, haven’t I?
“Thought so…Face those storm clouds, and get through it. Have to allow the sun to shine.”

“How many times have I done it?”

“That’s a lot.”

“Are all these other rooms containing reminders of my other lives? Have I ever made it to old bones?”

“I thought so…
“I have to return and head back now?”

“I do miss home. When can I go back to source?”

-end-

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January 11, 2018 Add Comment

Hammer Head Frankie

by John Riley

I’LL TELL YOU SOMETHING ABOUT Hammer Head Frankie showed up from a respectable outfit back in the day when honour meant honour. But as sure as Slim Jim’s got a hole where the sun doesn’t shine, here’s a true story. You’ll understand where I’m coming from?

He’s known as a hitman who packs heat. I mean, one hell of a mean bean shooter. This shadow reached great heights within a respectable family taking over the patch. He’s upset a few people, it happens, but then it would when you realise the actions of a man thinking on equal terms with the Boss upstairs in the big house.

Some real big influential people had a meet, movers and shakers in our line of work, work wrongly spoken about as villainy by the pack. I find that word misrepresents what we’re about. You follow me?

Hammer Head Frankie is this high-roller hitman. I ain’t badmouthing the man, ’cause in the past, let’s not forget, he’s showed dedicated service to men of honour; respect due and all that.

Well, it’s like this. Hammer Head Frankie found that after touching the ground where Psychotic Psychic Pete fell, after taking a massive hit from a Chicago Typewriter, he found himself with powers. You know, like powers, weird stuff, magic like crazy stuff, you follow me? Well, no matter, you gotta realise this guy freaked people out.

Jeez! This guy could do stuff and use this magic, like do hits, all nice and clean. I said it was weird. You gotta wonder about the nature of things after seeing this fella at work. It messes with your mind.

Let me tell you this part.

This runner brings him a photograph of the intended hit, and Hammer Head Frankie stares at it. Just friggin stares at it. I mean, he’s friggin staring at it.

Know what? This guy can alter a man’s future by staring back at his past. Ain’t that something? You think about that. This ain’t some dame pulling Slim Jim’s wire – and he’s a Goddam liar! We wanna be packing him soon in the meat wagon.

I tell you, Hammer Head Frankie can do this weird hit. He plants some fateful intention at the time the photograph is taken. Stares at it. And you know what? It catches up with the present. The hits soon deep down six! Just drops dead without a slug fired. I mean? Is that not someone at the very height of their profession?

Dangerous like, a man like that could get carried away. My Boss is not happy. And when my Boss ain’t happy, I’m not so happy. You gotta think a man like Hammer Head Frankie is a liability the way we do things ’round here.

So I’ll tell you what’s Goddam funny. Hammer Head Frankie didn’t recognise a younger photograph of himself and went and did his stuff on it. I wonder how he came by the photo?

Didn’t take long after he ran into a little bad intention, you might say.

-end-