Page 4 of Threads of Fate

“Mischa, I think her name is, wants me to wander her house. Make sure ghosts aren’t lurking around corners with bad intentions. Tanner, her husband, is not a believer. He thought we were a couple crazies earlier.” I drink some more of my seltzer, I stare at the can considering a splash of vodka but think better of it. I want a clear head at Mischa’s and don't want to make a fool of myself. I do that well enough without alcohol.

Chapter 2

Dana

We walk outside and I have to admire this street. It’s quiet and I don’t have many neighbors. The houses have character and the gardens are beautiful. The few houses on this street have flower gardens and vegetable gardens. Some houses even have chicken and pigs and sometimes they accidentally become free range. I have had to coax a pig a time or two out of my yard.

This road ends right after my neighbor's house. Well, it turns into a dirt road. The road leads out to a small lake that is jam packed with fish. You can catch trout all day long. Noah and I used to fish damn near every weekend out there during high school. Blew my mind that he actually wanted to hang out for a long time after I met him.

He was the popular boy in school, well, not the most popular but definitely could hang out with the ‘cool’ crowds. I however hung out by myself, sometimes with other people but they slowly drifted away from me, succumbing to the peer pressures of school. Not wanting to look ‘uncool’.

Noah played baseball and some football. He knows dang near everyone in town. Between his extracurriculars in high school and his parents farming connections. We started hanging out in middle school when kids were the meanest. I think I was like a project to him at the time but then he started to notice the weird shit that happened around me and to me. Like the ‘random’ startled gasps and shrieks. Occasionally, my hair or loose shirts would float around on a nonexistent wind. Sometimes I had red handprints or fingerprints around my arms or wrists. Thankfully, those happened very few and far between. Ghosts who had been sticking around well past their death were more violent and left marks.

There aren’t a whole lot of ghosts that stay who have died recently. I find that a bit strange. My only thought on that is that way back when we couldn’t really be who and what we wanted to be. We couldn’t love who we wanted and couldn’t have the job that we wanted. I feel like it may have left a lot of resentment and that followed them into death. Where they still want to have what they want but now they can’t and they are angry over it. I can’t blame them. We may be more accepting in this day and age but there are still many bigots and unhappy people who just love to take it out on everyone else. Hence my pariah status in Plains, New York.

Yippee.

My thought is that the older ghosts, the ones dressed in 19th century garb, tend to lose their memory or maybe humanity and go ‘feral’ for lack of a better term. Not all of them do though. There are a few in this town but none so terrifying as the old woman this morning. I can’t remember a time a ghost has done that to me. Or the ghost that flickered in and out of existence in my car.

The feral ghosts made for good hotel stays or bar hopping. Or even camping. I don't understand that hype, screams Blair Witch reboot to me.

Ghosts are what gives our town publicity and what also funds our town's obsession of staying in line with 19th century architecture. I mean our town sign says ‘Plains the spiritual realm’. Cringy is not a good enough word for it. We are a tourist destination for ghost fanatics and hunters.

This town has many ghosts, mostly all from a century earlier. There’s ‘The Lady’ up in the Reiner Hotel who likes to throw glasses at patrons. Occasionally, she stalks the halls at night rattling door knobs and shrieking. Not many people have actually seen ‘The Lady’ but many claimed to have felt her. Some who have seen her say that they noticed dark bruising around her neck. No one knows her name, so we don't know her story. It's such a hit though, with tourists that the hotel will probably stay in business until the apocalypse. They bring in so much revenue from guests that it’s been completely renovated.

The Lady is elusive, I have never even seen her. Which I guess I’m grateful for because I’m sure she would drain me. That is my least favorite thing about being able to see ghosts.

“Spacing off again?” Noah asks.

“I guess so.”

I shake my head from my thoughts and continue onto Tanner and Mischa’s with our drinks in hand.

I knock on the door and Mischa answers with a drink and a smile.

“Thank you so much for coming over! I appreciate it! Is this your husband? Boyfriend?”

I flush scarlet with an awkward smile. “No, this handsome stud is my friend Noah.” I shove his shoulder slightly. Then, I internally berate myself for ‘handsome stud’.

Why am I the way that I am?

Noah sticks his hand out to shake hers. “I think I shall like to be referred to as ‘handsome stud’ from now on.’’

She chuckles. “Alright, well I’m Mischa and my husband, who is floating around here somewhere, his name is Tanner.” She steers us toward the kitchen and pulls out some bar stools. This house has definitely been updated. But it still has the old charm. The counters are quartz and there is an island with a huge farmhouse sink. The cabinets look to be the same 19th century era with a dark finish on them. I can see they kept the butler pantry as well. I mean, who would give that up? “I see you have drinks but if you want something else let me know. I have wine, water, and juice. Well, all the things but,” She drags out the word. “I am more interested in the things you can do.” Mischa drags her finger around the top of her glass looking bashful.

I squirm, uncomfortable with all eyes on me. When I start to speak Tanner walks in. He heads to the sink to clean up some dishes and pretends to not listen into the conversation.

I start my spiel off with a shrug and a sip of my drink. “I just have always seen things other people cannot. I don't know why. No one in my family could do this from what my mother told me. At least, my moms side couldn’t. I don't know my father so I can't ask him. Anyways, the old lady in that rocking chair must have been here for quite some time because she was haggard looking and dressed like she fell out of a Victorian fashion magazine.” I opt out of telling her about the scream. One, I don't even know how to explain that and two, by the look on her face she is rethinking all her life choices. “I’ve noticed the ghosts around town that are still in the Victorian era clothes tend to be meaner. There are some newer souls but they usually leave me alone.” I take a sip of my drink hoping that the little speech will be enough.

“Could I–” She pauses, “Could I get you to wander my house? Just to give me peace of mind. Every time I hear a noise I freak out a little and I don't think I’m going to be able to sleep a wink after you confirmed my fears this morning.” She sighs and scratches her head. “It always felt like someone was watching me and this one,” she tosses her head towards her husband, “thought I was nuts.”

“I didn’t think you were nuts just…over-reacting…” Tanner winces, “That was worse huh?”

I nod with a wince. Mischa’s eye twitches. Ignoring Tanner she continues.

“Anyways…now I know it was probably an angry old lady wondering what the hell I was doing to her house.” She says with a chuckle.

“I did take the chair to the dump.” Tanner intervenes. “Strangest reason to ever have to go to the dump. I bet it’ll be a fun story for our friends back in the city.” He says with a shake of his head and chuckle. He stands behind his wife. “I’ll be around just cleaning up the garage. Shout if you need me.” He says as he gives Mischa a kiss on the cheek and walks towards the garage door. We watch in silence. When the door closes we look back at each other.

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