Healing through story

Tag: fog

shortfiction24 – a teacher’s ghost on campus

Three teens making a scary film on their high school campus come face to face with the ghost of a deceased teacher.

Enjoy the story.

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A Teacher’s Ghost on Campus

Bob Gillen

Lyndie waved to the security guard at the entrance to her high school campus and drove her Toyota sedan up the driveway to the parking lot. Even with the low beams on, she could barely see through the swirling pre-dawn fog. Tessa sat next to her, Eric in the back seat.

Eric said, “I can’t believe the principal gave us permission to be on campus this early.”

Tessa said, “I convinced her our film could represent the school in a film festival.”

She peered out the window. “I don’t see any other cars. Good. We’ve got time.”

The weather had cooperated as forecasted. A cold, clammy, thick fog. 

“This is perfect for our scary movie. We need to hustle before anyone else gets here.”

Eric said, “No one here at this hour except Mrs. Raines’ ghost.”

“Don’t say that,” Lyndie said. “I’ve got goose bumps already.”

“Let’s get the first shot done,” Tessa said. “Park somewhere where we can see only fog from the back of the car.”

Lyndie parked. Eric pulled down the back of the rear seat before getting out. 

“Okay, Tessa. Set yourself facing the trunk lid.”

Tessa crawled into the back seat, aimed her video camera at the closed trunk. She hit Record, waited a few seconds, and called “Action” to the others.

Eric opened the trunk from the outside, the camera picking up the sudden light, the fog swirling behind him. He and Lyndie pulled their backpacks out of the trunk and closed the lid.

“Got the shot,” Tessa said. “Now for the campus.”

They put their backpacks back in the trunk and walked onto campus through the fog. Dead silence. They could not see more than a few yards ahead. All three shivered in the damp fog.

Tessa stopped to capture a wide shot of the fog-bound campus. Lyndie peered into the fog. She heard a low moan.

“What was that?”

Eric said, “Probably wind in the trees.”

“There’s no wind,” Lyndie said.

She spun around, searching for the source of the moan.

Ahead, near the English classrooms, something moved. A flash of white. Almost imperceptible in the fog. Something ragged, frilly. 

“Look!”

Eric looked. “What the hell is that?”

Tessa looked up from her camera. “What are you two talking about?”

“Aim the camera up there,” Eric said. “Near Room 15.”

Tessa looked. “What am I supposed to see?”

Lyndie said, “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“A ghost.”

“Oh, Mrs. Raines, huh?” Tessa waved. “Hi Mrs. Raines. Good to see you this morning.”

“Stop!” Lyndie shuddered. “I want to wait in the car.”

Tessa said, “Come on. Let’s stick together. We have more shots to get before school starts.”

Lyndie followed Tessa, spinning constantly to spot any ghost.

Crash!

The three spun in unison to see a trash can overturned, trash spilled out onto the sidewalk.

“Just a tipped trash can,” Tessa said.

“Tipped by who?” Lyndie said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Eric walked over to the can. There was no wind. The can looked sturdy enough. “I don’t think this tipped by itself.”

“Enough,” Tessa said. “Let’s get the shots while we have fog.”

They edged up nearer to the photography classroom.

“Isn’t this where Mrs. Raines died?”

“That’s the story. Four years ago. They say she came in early to make copies of her exams. The revolving door to the darkroom stuck after she went in, looking for her files.”

“Yeah,” Eric said, “They said she panicked and had a heart attack. They didn’t find her till it was too late.”

Eric yanked on the classroom door. Locked.

Tessa said, “Let’s get shots of you two walking out of the fog towards me. Walk slowly. Remember, you’re scared.”

“Like now!” Lyndie said.

The two walked about fifty feet away from Tessa, far enough that she could not see them.

“When I call, start walking.” 

Tessa set the camera. “Now.”

Nothing.

“Okay!”

Swirling fog. Nothing else.

“Come on, guys. We need to get this done.”

Silence.

A low moaning.

Tessa looked into the fog. She could just barely make out a figure. White. Swirling, like the fog. Moving as though part of it. But not.

Tessa turned all around. Looked again. Nothing.

The door to the photography classroom swung open.

She jumped.

“Hey.” Eric and Lyndie stepped out.

Tessa yelled. “You scared me. How did you get in there?”

“The hall door was unlocked. We walked through.”

“Were you…?” She started to point to the fog, hesitated. “Never mind.”

Lyndie said, “How about a shot of us stepping out from the room into the fog?”

“Okay,” Tessa said. “I’ll wait here.”

She checked the camera settings again, and called out. “Ready.”

Eric and Lyndie edged out of the room, peering around at the fog, looking behind themselves.

They slipped off into the fog.

Tessa followed them with the camera.

Another moan. Louder this time. It came from the classroom.

Tessa jumped. The other two spun around.

“What?”

“It came from the room.” Eric edged closer to the door. Tessa filmed him as he did.

Eric peeked into the classroom. Nothing. 

Then – he spied the darkroom revolving door… spinning! 

He flew out the door.

“Holy…!”

“What?”

“The door is turning!”

Another moan. This time to their right.

They turned to see a figure in white. Closer, this time. White veil covering the head and face. Gauzy strips, torn and fluttering as the figure moved.

The three teens froze.

Tessa whipped up the camera and aimed at the figure.

It withdrew back into the fog. Disappeared.

“Oh God!”

“The ghost is real. It must be Mrs. Raines.”

“I want to see inside the darkroom,” Tessa said.

The three crept in, Lyndie with her hands over her eyes.

They moved to the revolving door. It was still.

Tessa said, “I’m going in.”

“No!”

“We just saw the ghost outside. The room should be empty.”

Tessa pushed the revolving door. She aimed the camera, pushed further in. She stepped into total darkness.

She fumbled for the light switch on the wall. Turned it on. A red glow filled the room.

Tessa screamed. 

She was face-to-face with a bone-white skeleton.

Tessa fell back into a file cabinet, knocking it askew. She slipped to the floor.

Eric pushed his way in. “You okay?”

“How did this skeleton get here?” Tessa asked. “This is weird.”

Lyndie came in. “It’s part of the art class.”

Eric said, “Look!”

He pointed to the file cabinet. There was an envelope stuck between the cabinet back and the wall.

He dragged the cabinet further, reached in. Grabbed the envelope.

“Take it outside,” Tessa said. “Too dark in here.”

They backed out of the darkroom and moved outside.

Tessa said, “We should drag the skeleton outside and shoot it in the fog.”

Eric held up the envelope. The outside bore the name Mark in a neat handwriting. “Didn’t someone say Mark was her son? I remember them talking about how her son did not attend her funeral. They said the two were estranged.”

Lyndie shrugged.

“Should I open the envelope?”

“Yes,” Tessa said. “Let me get a shot of it.”

Eric pulled a note out of the unsealed envelope. He scanned the contents.

“What does it say?”

“It’s an apology. Signed by Mrs. Raines. Not clear what she’s apologizing for.”

“We need to get this to her son.”

Another moan, almost a howl, pierced the swirling fog. Tessa raised the camera, looking for the source of the sound.

“There!” Lyndie cried. Tessa whirled around to capture the shot. The white figure swirled out of the fog. The shape lingered as Tessa got the shot.

Eric held up the envelope. “We found your note, Mrs. Raines. We’ll be sure it gets to your son.”

The figure remained in view. Another moan. 

Tessa held the camera on the figure. 

More moans, the sounds decaying into silence. The figure began blending into the fog. In a moment it was gone.

Eric said, “Mrs. Raines was stuck here till someone found the note. Now she’s free to move on.”

A breeze rippled through the campus, breaking off scraps of fog.

“We’re going to lose the fog,” Tessa said. “Can we get a few more shots?”

“We’ve got some good stuff,” Eric said. “Mrs. Raines made herself visible for us. Maybe we should get a shot of the darkroom and the file cabinet.”

“Yeah,” Tessa said. “Put the note back in its place for a minute so I can get a shot of where we found it.”

“She led us to the note, didn’t she?” Eric said. 

Lyndie shivered. “This is all creepy.”

“It’ll make for a good film,” Tessa said. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Raines,” Eric said. 

A low moan drifted out of the fog.

***

shortfiction24 – the day after

Credit: BAY Photography

Kim Bailey had no tomorrows. Only days after. Days after her son’s death. Seventeen years of days after.

What I’m Writing This Week

More musings on life and loss. Please enjoy the story.

The Day After

Bob Gillen

Kim Bailey sat in her Toyota sedan, the engine idling, parked off the two-lane canyon road. A stiff ocean breeze off the coast pushed fog through Malibu Canyon.  She shivered watching the fog churn through the night air, the fog creating an almost hallucinogenic black and white vista. 

Her mind drifted back to the days when her two kids were little, lying in the grass looking for shapes to emerge from the moving clouds. 

Not the same with fog, she thought. Nothing looks familiar when you’re in the middle of it.

Headlights pierced the fog, coming off the road towards her.

Damn.

The car stopped. A black and white. The headlights remained on. The driver got out. A sheriff’s deputy.

Shit. Shit.

The deputy approached Kim’s car by the passenger side. Kim rolled down the window.

“Ma’am?” The female deputy said.

“Yes?”

“Are you all right?”

“Stopping to rest for a minute, officer. Hard to see in the fog. I was on my way to the beach.”

The deputy shined a flashlight into the car. The light reflected off the sequins on Kim’s evening purse, off her long silver dress. The deputy spotted a wilting corsage on Kim’s wrist.

The flashlight moved to Kim’s face.

Kim held up her hand to block the light.

“Can I see your license and registration, please?”

The deputy took the papers. “Mrs. Bailey? Randall Bailey’s mom?”

Kim peered at the deputy.

“You won’t remember me. I was in Randall’s class.”

Kim shook her head.

“Erin Alcala, Mrs. Bailey. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has. I’m sorry, Erin… I don’t remember you.”

The deputy saw a tear slide down Kim’s cheek. “Are you all right?”

Kim shook her head slowly. “No, I’m not. I haven’t been all right for the last seventeen years.”

Erin handed Kim her papers, went back to her cruiser, turned off the headlights. She returned to the Toyota. Kim gestured to the passenger seat. “Want to get out of the chill for a minute?”

The deputy shook her head. “I’m on duty. Can’t do that.”

Kim nodded. She stepped out into the night. Her silver profile almost disappeared in the fog.

“You’re not dressed for this,” the deputy said.

Without speaking, Kim popped the Toyota’s trunk. She pulled on a faded Old Navy hoodie. She slipped off her heels and tossed them in the trunk, tugged on a pair of black Cons.

“Better, yes?” 

“Better.”

Randall was my first crush.

 Fog and night surrounded them.

“Randall was my first crush,” Erin said.

“Really?”

“I never told him. Well, I told him at the service. He couldn’t hear me.”

“Maybe he did.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

Kim stared into the fog. 

“I’m kinda curious, Mrs. Bailey. Why are you parked here at two in the morning, wearing an evening gown?”

Kim sighed. “My daughter Christine got married today.”

“Congratulations.”

“Don’t congratulate me. My husband is at home right now…packing his things. He’s leaving me. He held on till Christine’s wedding. Waited till he knew she was safely in someone else’s hands.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Save your sorries. His heart left years ago.”

Kim pulled a package of tissues from the hoodie pocket.

“After the accident my husband freaked every time I drove Christine to school or to a sports event. If he couldn’t drive her himself, he made me call him and stay on speaker phone the whole drive. He did that till she got her own license.”

The deputy’s radio squawked. She spoke into it. “I’m taking my break now.” 

She turned from her radio. “Okay, sorry for the interruption.”

Kim wiped her eyes. The corsage brushed her face. She yanked it off her wrist, tossed it into the darkness. 

“See this scar?” She held her wrist up close to Erin’s face. “That’s what I came away from the accident with. A one-inch scar. Just big enough to remind me every day of what I did.”

Kim closed her eyes. A thin smile cracked her face. “All Randall cared about was baseball. He was the captain of his team…The night he died, he was so excited. They had won the regional championship.” 

Kim shivered, pulled the hood up over her head. “We stopped for a quick fast food meal, then hit the road. We had a fifty mile drive home. It was late, after a long day sitting out on a hot ball field…I should have had coffee.”

She turned to look at Erin. “I was worried I’d have to pee on the drive home. Stupid, right? I skipped the coffee.”

Kim choked back a sob.

Clad in all her cop gear, the best Erin could do was put her hand on Kim’s shoulder.

“I fell asleep at the wheel…”

“I remember hearing that.”

“Of course. Everyone knew it. Everyone knew it was my fault.”

“It was an accident, Mrs. Bailey.”

“The EMTs said Randall struck his head. He had looked okay to me. I couldn’t believe it. He was gone. Not me. Randall died. It wasn’t fair.”

Erin shifted her feet.

“I should have gone with him. Then I wouldn’t have had to live with this grief. With an enormous hole in my heart. I brought grief down on our whole family.” She looked over at Erin. “Hell, I brought grief down on you, too. You never had a chance to tell Randall you liked him. I’ve had to live with this horror for seventeen years. Why? What was the point?”

Kim began pacing back and forth in the churning fog.

“We kept Randall’s desk empty for the rest of the school year, after the accident. The class took turns bringing a flower in every day to place on the desk. We hung his picture up too, but in the back where we didn’t have to see it all day.”

Kim felt the tears run.

“We would start crying,” the deputy continued. “We would just start and go for a while. The teacher let us. She cried too. Somebody came in to talk to us, but I don’t remember what he said.”

It’s always the day after for me.

Kim nodded. “I watched my daughter marry the love of her life today…No, not today. Yesterday. It’s already the day after.”

Kim twirled her arms through the fog. “It’s always the day after for me. I haven’t had a tomorrow in seventeen years.” 

Kim wrapped her arms around her body. She fell to her knees.

Erin crouched down next to Kim. “Your daughter has a whole lot of tomorrows to look forward to. Hell, even your husband thinks he has a bright tomorrow, right?”

“I guess so.”

“Why deny yourself a tomorrow?”

“I don’t deserve one.”

“I can’t say if you deserve it or not. I can say, one comes along every day. One with your name on it.”

Kim stood. She reached to hug Erin. Realized the cop gear wouldn’t let her near Erin. She put her hands to Erin’s face. “Look at us. Two women in the night, fog swirling around us. One in full cop gear, the other in a ragged hoodie and an evening dress.”

Kim laughed, lifted her arms to the night sky. Twirled around, slicing the churning fog.  

She shouted. “I want it to be tomorrow.”

Erin’s radio squawked again. “They’re looking for me.”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you want to follow me to the Valley? Let’s get out of this fucking fog.”

“Why not?,” Kim replied. “Maybe today can be my first tomorrow.”

***

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