“You know the whole downtown was a playground for the Civil War, right?” Jimmy said, his long fingers reaching up to rub his freshly shaved chocolate scalp. “In fact this very house was used to hide Confederate soldiers. There’s ghosts all over the place.”
He was baiting me, I suppose, since it was my first time visiting his house. I wasn’t afraid of ghosts, although I’d never officially met one, either. I knew my place and considered myself adept to handle whatever came my way. After all, I’d successfully managed to crack a crystal and discover which color witchcraft best suited me. If I could handle a little bit of black arts, I could handle anything. Besides, I really liked Jimmy and it would take more than a ghost story to chase me away.
One night turned into a week and that’s when I met Elvira. She’d glide through the window and tickle my toes with the ends of her long black hair clutched in her pasty white hands. Her blue eyes would soak in the blue of mine and we’d chat about how much she missed her family. She was never warm or cold, more like a vapor, a wind that hovered above me. Once she revealed herself to me, she became a nightly visitor until one night, Jimmy got mad.
He called me into the small dining room. “Is Elvira here?”
“Yes.” I answered. It was true. He didn’t respond, just nodded his head. He centered a black candle on a small plate and lit it. When the flame burned whole, he muttered under his breath, not loud enough for me to hear. He turned to me, his eyes wide open and uttered strange words I didn’t understand.
“Show yourself!” He commanded.
I felt a great wind blow through me. I stumbled but didn’t fall, and then it was gone.
“Are you okay?” Concern danced in the depths of his chestnut eyes.
When I nodded, he continued. “Did you feel anything?”
I nodded again.
“You have no idea how powerful you are. A ghost just passed through you and you stand there as if nothing happened! Amazing!”
I found my voice as I sat in the nearest chair. “That was…something. Where did she go?”
“I don’t know, but she won’t be back!”
He was right. After that night, to my dismay, she never visited again. I had several more encounters throughout the course of our relationship, but none has ever remained as vivid in my mind as the first one.
I believe. Do you?
I gave Debbie this prompt: The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker
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