Ghosts Don't Play Games

Ghosts Don't Play Games - Part I

My phone woke me up at 12:30am and I thought about the possibility that it could be an emergency, but only for a second before I picked it up and slammed it back down, hanging up on whoever it was. I laid there for about 15 more minutes before I realized I wasn't going to fall back asleep, so I turned on the light and looked around my brand new apartment bedroom. I hadn't set up the frame for my bed yet, so lying on my mattress on the floor gave me a much better view of the cracks and holes along the walls and especially into the corners. The box fan in my front window was all the air conditioning I could afford and I would hardly say it added any more class to the place than it already had, in fact it fit right in; so did the faded pistachio colored wall paint. I looked past the cracks and holes and saw a new hole in a box marked "GLASS-FRAGILE," meaning I must've stuffed some food in there as well that the mice found. Deciding I was in no shape whatsoever to pretend my fear of critters didn't exist and man up enough to open the box, I walked past it and into the kitchen to heat up some milk. I never preferred milk much, especially warm, but with just a splash of cinnamon it makes me zonk faster than a Matthew McConaughey movie, and takes up less of my time.

As I poured a glass into the black pot set on a burner at medium, I heard a whisper. I turned sharply, almost knocking the pot over, and saw nothing. Typical, I'm in a new place alone and I think every little noise in the night is some ax murderer. I accidentally chuckled at my own ridiculous thoughts and spooked myself more. Taking a deep breath, I added a teaspoon more cinnamon than usual hoping it would get the job done faster; like cinnamon suddenly had the effects of Nyquil or something, eh a girl could hope.

Once I'd poured it back into my glass I stood at the counter looking around my one bedroom apartment I'd put down a $500 security deposit on and wondered if it was worth the exposed piping everywhere and loose faucet; oh well, as far as I could tell it was the best I was going to get in this town. Something tickled my ear, interrupting my thoughts. I touched my fingers to my ear and felt no breeze. I turned toward the lone window in my study and saw it was closed. Great, now I was not only hearing things but feeling things as well. I chugged the glass of milk and unintentionally slammed it back down on the counter, like I'd just finished a beer chugging contest. My apartment suddenly seemed cooler and my forehead had stopped sweating, actually it felt downright chilly. For a moment another whisper seemed to float calmly around my ears and I tried hard to make it out but got nothing. When it faded I turned around in a full circle trying to place where the voice could've possibly come from. My fear had almost immediately been overcome by curiosity and I stood still hoping to hear something again. Waiting five minutes in the same spot got me nowhere and I decided it was too late to play games with ghosts.

I washed my glass in the sink and as I was doing so I noticed the soap forming in the most peculiar way around the drain. My eyes focused straight through the glass onto the sink bottom and started to make out letters. The put the glass on the counter and squeezed the sponge in my hand. I watched as more letters formed from the draining soap and made out six very distinct ones: T I W A S I. The letters only stayed legible for a few seconds before they dripped down into the drain. I stood there trying to piece the letters into words but got nothing besides a possible "was" in the middle. The soap had all settled into the drain and my glass had just about dried by the time I decided to give up on my word find. I left the glass on the counter and walked back to my bedroom.

I'd forgotten completely about the mouse hole in the box on the floor and calmly walked past it into bed. Before my head hit the pillow, I was out. I dreamt about a dozen monkeys hanging from the exposed piping in my kitchen, one screeched its high-pitched yelp and I woke up. My nose was bleeding so I reached for my bedside table which had a box of tissues on it. I stopped before my hand reached the box and decided I'd rather turn on the light than fumble with it in the dark. I turned to the other side of my bed and flipped the light switch. When I turned around, I saw beetles the size of my thumb crawling all over the tissue box. I sat up and crawled backwards toward the other side of the bed holding my hand over my mouth hoping it would stop my inevitable scream or vomit. They'd covered the box completely, almost so that you couldn't see its color, and they seemed to be growing. I hadn't noticed my toes curling under my foot until I felt a crunch between them. I screamed and jumped up throwing the comforter off my mattress.

Underneath I'd uncovered what must've been a dozen cockroaches swimming in my sheets, the guts of one still between my toes. My throat suddenly filled with vomit and I opened it willingly but vomit wasn't what came out. I choked trying to spit up and eventually barfed up moving, living larvae. My eyes filled with tears and I began screaming and choking trying to spit up anything else that might be inside me. The room seemed to crawl and when I wiped away the tears and focused my eyes I saw centipedes and spiders scaling every inch of the walls. My carpet seemed to evaporate beneath me and my feet were entirely covered in worms. I screamed louder and hoped someone could hear me through the thin walls which seemed to be growing thicker and thicker with insects. There was a whisper in my ear again and then someone screaming into my ear so loud it was no easier to make it out than the whisper. I screamed back asking for help but it just stopped.

When I tried to run my feet became rooted and the worms slowly spread away from them. I looked down trying to calm myself when I realized they were moving into letters. The worms spelled out the same letters I'd seen in the sink and I screamed at my apartment, "I don't understand!" I began breathing more heavily and I could feel my heart pounding, I thought it was going to break through my chest. Then a voice spoke into my ear, clear and distinct but menacing, "I saw it. They saw it. You can't bury your guilt with her body." And then cold air rushed through my ears into my head where I thought it'd explode through my skull. And then it was gone, all of it. I felt carpet under my feet and I saw pistachio through my tear stained eyes, my sheets were clean and there were no beetles on the tissue box. But there was blood on the window, and in the blood a message was written and seemed to come off the wall screaming at me, "GHOSTS DON'T PLAY GAMES."

I woke up in a cold sweat, heart beating rapidly, hands and feet clenched. I looked around into the darkness and reached for the light switch. When I turned the light on I saw green walls and white carpet, next to my bed was a blue tissue box that said Kleenex on it. My breathing had only barely slowed; I felt my hands shaking and looked down at them. At first glance I saw wet dirt under my fingernails and my mind wrenched to the side of the road next to route 48. I felt the weight of someone in my arms, I looked down-a woman's blue eyes seemed to look through me. Then a truck came roaring towards me honking with its headlights blinding my sight.

I was looking down at my hands again, but with no dirt underneath the fingernails anymore. I tried to pull myself together but when I looked past my hands I saw the mouse hole in the cardboard box on the floor. My heart stopped and in the next second my bedroom door slammed shut. The shades drew themselves and when I looked down again at my shaking hands they were scarred "GHOSTS DON'T PLAY GAMES."