The Ghost in the House

The Ghost in the House ©

By

Michael Casey

George was a ghost, only he did not know it. George thought he had a nap and when he got up from the bed he saw the private ambulance move off from outside his house. George wondered was it old Mrs Patrick from no75 opposite, only as he looked over the road she waved at him from her bedroom window. So she was alive and kicking, so who had kicked the bucket. George’s stomach rumbled so he went downstairs to the kitchen, he’d left some old pizza in there for days, he could reheat it for the 5^th time, it would be ok, he had great stomach he could eat anything.

As he reached for the fridge door handle George noticed something, no matter how hard he tried he could not open the fridge door. He banged on the fridge, but there was no sound. George thought he was just a little hung over, he’d had 10 pints of home brew, it was old, but it was a sin to waste it. Old pizza and very old home brew from his back room by the kitchen. That was why he needed a nap, now he was awake but things seems strange.

The doorbell rung, George could see it was the Happy Clappy Christians from the church up the road, so obviously he wasn’t going to answer. He might just puke all over them, he felt strange very strange, like a politician who’d given up the booze. George sat down by the kitchen table. He felt somebody tap his shoulder, it was Mrs Patrick. You don’t look too good you know she said. I don’t feel too hot either George replied. Hold out your tongue, George obeyed , Mrs Patrick inspected his dirty tongue.

George then wondered how she had got in the house, before he could ask Mrs Patrick proclaimed, you are dead. George could not comprehend, who was she to tell him he was dead, and how did she get in the house anyway. Mrs Patrick smiled. George reached for the fetid bottle of milk on the kitchen table and drunk it all. At least that felt better.Mrs Patrick smiled sat down next to him. You are dead, and so am I, but nobody knows I’m dead yet, my neighbours are on holiday, when they get home they’ll know I’m dead, the stink will tell them.

George should have been shocked but maybe all the rank home brew had calmed him. So he was dead, and his aged 95 year old neighbour was dead too. A couple of corpses, without being a couple that is. Just neighbours. So what happens next asked George? I don’t know I’ve never been dead before replied Mrs Patrick, I’m not one of those Buddhists, or one of those Christians always being born again like ice cream salesmen in a van.

I’d give you a cup of tea but I cannot get the fridge to open to get fresh milk, said George. I had that problem too replied Mrs Patrick. But though I want a cup of tea more than anything else I just cannot have one. Do you think an angel comes and takes us to Heaven? It could be the other place mused Mrs Patrick. You did have rather a large number of girlfriends shall we say. Its normal I am a man after all, what did Hugh Grant say on the radio. Well I’m sure God loves all of us, just the way we are, or were.

The pair of ghosts sat in silence for a few hours till darkness fell, just looking into space. Do I get tired and sleep at night now that I’m a ghost wondered George. Mrs Patrick thought for a minute before replying, you see I’m so old I don’t mind sitting in my chair all then time. But you might want to move about, you might bored, and to be honest I may be very old, but as a ghost I’m a newbie. So I’m still getting used to the idea.

I only came over to see if you were alright when I saw the private ambulance take you away. Two of your girlfriends were stealing your wallet before the private ambulance too your body away. You are very kind Mrs Patrick, they were not girlfriends, they were pro pro , ladies of the night said George matter of factly.

I’ll see you out then said George heading for the door, only he could not open it. So Mrs Patrick walked straight through it, bye she called over her shoulder. George wondered would he be trapped in his house forever. He closed his eyes and walked through the door, he was in the middle of the road, a car was coming. It drove straight through him. He would have been killed if he were still alive. He was just thin air as far as the car driver was concerned. He’s lived till he was 52, now he was nothing. Too much alcohol and too many ladies of the night had killed him.

Mrs Patrick waved from her bedroom window, passers by held their noses, what was that smell,what was that smell. George felt sorry for her. All alone and dead in her bedroom. No children nor grandchildren were wondering how she was, she was dead in her bed, unloved and unnoticed. George closes his eyes and walked into her house. It was so much better than his, but he didn’t notice that smell himself, he did not notice the smell of death.

Mrs Patrick came down and they went downstairs to the kitchen, they’d have a cup of tea,or at least pretend to. In the kitchen the cat was dead on the floor, Tinker her cat had died of hunger, his owner had died so the cat died too. The smell was terrible, Mrs Patrick averted her eyes so George suggested they sit in her living room instead. They sat in the armchairs pondering their futures.

There was a bang and a crash at the back door, opportunist burglars were breaking in. This really angered Mrs Patrick especially as they slipped on Tinker he cat. George and Mrs Patrick screamed, they screamed so much as they were so angry. The burglars saw the ghosts and fled out the front door, straight into the arms of the Police who were investigating the smell.

The burglars were more that happy to be caught, they were so afraid of ghosts. Mrs Patrick’s body was discovered dead in bed and Tinker was scooped up and buried in the garden. Mrs Patrick’s body was taken away in a private ambulance. George consoled Mrs Patrick, she had tears in her eyes. Look Mrs Patrick why not come live with me, I’m only over the road after all. So long as you don’t treat me like one of your ladies of the night, replied Mrs Patrick. You are 95, laughed George. I was a looker when I was young I’ll have you know, insisted Mrs Patrick. So arm in arm George and Mrs Patrick crossed the road, two ghosts together, united in death.

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/Michael-Casey/e/B00571G0YC