Nobody Reads This Page – “Ghosted”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(1-24)

 

Note to Readers: When winter rules the climate kingdom, imagination takes over at my office desk...

I had been at my desk in the home office for about an hour on Sunday afternoon. Long enough to ruminate over a list of column ideas and finish a first pot of coffee. A strong beverage that came later than usual as I had slumbered lazily until just before eleven o’clock. Though the temperature outside was frosty, potent rays of sunshine streamed through the kitchen window. After days of overcast skies and meteorological mayhem, the atmosphere had turned calm at last. This brightened my mood while staying busy with writing projects. I tried hard not to linger on thoughts of my thermometer reading numbers in single digits.

 

I was nearly to the point of beginning work on an online article, when a knock sounded at my front door. A rhythmic hesitation made it seem like a burst of wind might have moved furniture around on the porch, at first. Therefore, I did not immediately react. But then the cadence intensified. What had started as a tentative rapping of bony knuckles grew louder with impatience. As I reached for my twin canes to be stable, the noise followed a crescendo to an audible point of irritation. This made me shout as I hobbled over the linoleum.

 

“I can’t move that fast, okay? Give me a minute!”

 

When I reached the entryway, a breathy wheeze sounded from beyond. I twisted the doorknob and pulled reluctantly, finally opening the portal to discover a gray figure dressed in long, shredded rags and a neck chain. This apparition made me jump backwards, with fright. I nearly fell over cases of bottled water that were stacked on the living room floor.

 

“RALDEN IAAC? I AM HERE TO DELIVER A WARNING. MAY I COME INSIDE TO DISCUSS THIS IMPORTANT MESSAGE IN PERSON?”

 

My shoulder fell against the wall. I struggled to prop myself up, while regaining my footing on the carpet.

 

“Ralden? Sorry friend, there’s no one here by that name. This is Evergreen Estates, a junkyard wasteland where people live like caged animals. Who the hell would be snooping around in such awful weather, I have to ask? You must be more mentally challenged than any of my neighbors...”

 

The eerie visitor rattled his bonds and cursed.

 

“YOUR ATTITUDE OF DEFIANCE CAUSES MY BLOOD TO BOIL! THERE IS NO ONE HERE BY THAT NAME? YOUR LIES WILL NOT IMPEDE BY MISSION, SIR! ACCEPT THIS ACT OF MERCY WITH GRATITUDE. I AM A SENTRY FOR BEELZEBUB, THE KING OF PAIN AND SUFFERING! I WANT TO TELL YOU THAT DEATH HAS BEEN CANVASSING YOUR STREETS! HE IS WELL BEHIND ON CLAIMING SOULS FOR THE NEW YEAR! IF HE ARRIVES HERE, THERE WILL BE NO DELAY IN EXECUTING HIS DUTIES! YOU WILL PERISH IN A PILLAR OF FLAME! HEAR ME, AND PREPARE YOURSELF! BE READY FOR THE FINAL JUDGMENT! I HAVE BEEN COMMANDED TO CARRY THIS APPEAL TO ALL WHO LIVE HERE, AS A COURIER!”

 

Suddenly, I wanted to ditch my java for a cold brew.

 

“As I said already, my name isn’t Ralden. Sorry about that, you’ve paid a call on the wrong fellow...”

 

The wandering spirit raised an eyebrow. His shaggy head of hair seemed to crackle with static electricity. His eyes deepened in a hue of blood red.

 

“YOU WILL RESPECT MY AUTHORITY! LIES ARE A FOOL’S DEFENSE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? ADMIT YOUR GUILT, AND BE CHASTENED! I WON’T TARRY HERE, DEBATING OVER YOUR GIVEN NAME! THERE ARE OTHER LIVING SOULS TO WARN. I MUST BE SPEEDY, AND FINISH THIS DREADFUL TASK BEFORE SUNSET! OTHERWISE, I MIGHT ALSO FACE THE WRATH OF SATAN!”

 

It was early enough in the day that I had not yet partaken of any alcoholic beverages from the household stash. So, I felt confident in possessing sobriety and sound judgment. But the specter in my doorway would not relent. He kicked at the threshold with bare feet, and huffed like a restless goat. Surrendering to the moment, I let him come inside.

 

“Why does that matter, old dude? Sunset? You know it comes early in these winter months...”

 

The crusty curmudgeon shook his head and growled softly.

 

“YES, YES, SUNSET LIBERATES THE GRIM REAPER! DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? HE WALKS IN DARKNESS. HE IS THE OPPOSITE OF GOODNESS AND LIGHT! BELIEVE ME, YOUR NAME HAS ALREADY BEEN WRITTEN IN HIS SCROLLS!”

 

I could feel hunger pangs teasing my belly. A plate of leftover Buffalo wings, and bottles of Miller High Life, were waiting in the fridge. Yet I couldn’t move from the spot. Something had paralyzed my arthritic limbs.

 

“Look, I’ve lived in this longbox for over 20 years. I don’t know who would have put you up to committing such a prank, particularly on a Sunday in January. It was only nine degrees on the porch, when I got up this morning! I checked it just to be sure that our weather reports about an arctic system arriving had been accurate. You must be damned cold, traipsing around this community of ours. Especially with no shoes!”

 

The weathered vagabond began to laugh out loud. He threw back his shoulders and howled like a moonstruck wolf.

 

“HAHAHAHAHA! YOU ARE A COMEDIAN, I SEE! VERY AMUSING, GOOD MAN! VERY AMUSING INDEED! IN THE GRAVE, THERE IS NO SENSE OF HOT OR COLD! THE LORD OF ABBADON HAS RELEASED ME FROM MY FINAL REST, TEMPORARILY. I AM HERE AS HIS SERVANT. THIS APPEAL TO YOU IS A GIFT, DO NOT WASTE IT LIKE AN IDIOT!”

 

Now, my gut had twisted into a painful knot. Instead of lusting for Miller Time, I wished for a glass of bourbon on the rocks.

 

“What, Lucifer sent you to this cluster of mobile homes to cheat the Reaper out of souls? Isn’t that conflicted? Wouldn’t they work together? I thought the underworld was better organized...”

 

The mysterious interloper rattled chain links and stomped his feet like an angry child. I could tell that he had not enjoyed a pedicure in eons.

 

“MOBILE HOMES? PRAY TELL ME, WHAT IS A MOBILE HOME? YOU ARE AN UNCOOPERATIVE BUFFOON!”

 

With a chill on my skin, I realized that the gabby ghost was unapologetically lost. His jabbering tone betrayed a lack of confidence.

 

“This is a trailer park. We’re all downtrodden rubes here, all broke and on the edge for various reasons. Divorce, addiction, unemployment, jail time, a myriad of causes, all brought together...”

 

The specter winced and narrowed his eyes. He leaned forward as if his sense of balance had been knocked off kilter.

 

“TRAILER PARK? WHAT KIND OF FOUL PLACE IS THAT, I ASK? ARE YOU TRYING TO TRICK ME WITH THE WORDS OF A RASCAL? I AM LOOKING FOR SOMEONE IN A WOODLAND HUT, A CABIN ON A MOUNTAIN TRAIL!”

 

I rubbed my eyes and belched. He had begun to sound quite annoying. I wanted to drink.

 

“There was a guy named Ralden Iaac in my family history, I believe. That generation spelled it differently than we do now. But he died over 100 years ago. Maybe more, I can’t really remember. I think he lived in Appalachia, our relatives had brought him over from the Netherlands, according to family lore...”

 

The ghastly visitor stood up ramrod straight. Instantly, his piercing eyes were wide open.

 

“DEAD? THAT MAN IS ALREADY DEAD, YOU SAY? WHAT IN BLAZES DO YOU MEAN? THUNDERATION! GOODNESS GRACIOUS DAMNATION! I’VE BEEN SENT OUT ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE BY THE LORD OF HELL! IN YOUR MODERN VERBIAGE, I GOT PUNKED! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!”

 

I couldn’t stifle a guffaw of satisfaction.

 

“There you go, brother. It’s over now. You figured things out at last. Be on your way hunting for the next homestead, and I’ll get down to the business of watching football and emptying my cooler! Enjoy the rest of your day!”

 

The haggard old man drooped like a wilted flower. He muttered and mused to himself, while stumbling down my long, access ramp. Before reaching the end, he vanished into a wisp of charcoal smoke, and ash.

 

“TOIL AND WOE! THAT’S ALL I GET! WHEN I SEE THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH IN HADES AGAIN, I’LL GIVE HIM A PIECE OF MY MIND! IT IS GUARANTEED! GUARANTEED, I SAY!”

 

I made it to my refrigerator by the time he was gone. Once again, peace had returned to Evergreen Estates. Now, I wanted to guzzle my swill and be happy!