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JO JANOSKI resides in Pittsburgh, PA, USA with her husband, Ron.


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The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 21, Pt. 2

The Storyteller's Muse

Her wedding day. The time every girl dreams of, arriving late in Sara's life but here it was, all the same. She pulled the veil down over her face. Her large eyes loomed behind the gauze, filled with astonishment that it was finally happening. She and David were getting married.

He moved in as soon as they arrived back after delivering Margot to her brother. More as an escape from an angry wife than any other reason. They co-habited like brother and sister for a time, until one night he leaned over on the couch and kissed her. The rest was history. She was happy. But a shadow dulled her joy...the presence of  Justin lurking in the corners. She'd hadn't seen him. That was true. But an other-worldly aura still draped the house in feelings of yesterday, yesterday longing to be set free.  Did she imagine the tread of his heavy buckled shoes brushing along the floor. Or was it a sound locked in time never intending to leave the premises? Could Justin be embedded in the memory clouds of this old house as well, brushing by in a cold draft or a flash of light when least expected?

Wedding plans took her mind off the problem. But now that would soon be over, and she and David would return to the Victorian to live the sublime quiet life. Or would it be quiet? She wouldn't be surprised if Justin made the floor boards rumble or some such nonsense to protest her marriage.

"Sara, are you ready?" It was Brigid hovering in the open doorway, in from England to celebrate her friends' marriage.  Time to begin.

She walked down the aisle on rubbery legs as all eyes watched. But it was a dream. The scent of  white roses cavorting in free-spirited leaps and bounds with organ music sent her heart racing.  Spying David settled her, evoking a tear of intense emotions. She'd waited so long for him. Their gazes met, melding.

The pastor's words were a rumble as they exchanged rings. She murmured her vows in a torrent of excitement until finally the pronouncement rung clear, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

Immediately upon entering the Victorian, when David carried her over the threshold, Sara sensed Justin. A chilly, familiar draft brushed her, like a strange movement.

"He's here."

"Huh? Who?" Her new husband scanned the room in alarm.

"Justin. I can feel him. He's here."

"I thought  you said you hadn't seen him around. We thought he'd finally moved on." David's intelligent eyes focused with concern. "You don't think he'll bother us, do you?"

"Well, he hasn't all this time we've been living here, why should he now?"

"Because, my dear, now you've married him. How could you?"  Justin appeared in his resplendent glory. At first a filmy gauze, then brighter and more real.

"My God! Sara, I can see him!" David murmured. "This is extraordinary."

"Yes, my old foe. I am extraordinary. That's why I don't understand why Sara would marry you instead of staying close to me."

Sara broke in. "Justin, besides the fact you're a ghost. You chose to live eternity with that other woman."

"Yes, my dear. But I haven't joined her yet. I wished we could spend some time here, in this house, enjoying each other's company.  I find the finality of this marriage of yours upsets me." His figure flashed in and out with blinding bolts of color. "I'm thinking I do not intend to leave, to leave you two with any peace. I'm here to stay."

David stepped forward. "Justin, I will not have you threatening us. We're not afraid of you. You're nothing more than a blast of hot air, and  if you think you can intimidate us, think again."

"Oh, the new husband is quite a lofty fellow. Are  you threatening me, my friend?"

"I'm just telling you to stay out of our way. If you truly love this lady as  you say you do, you would want her to be happy, and you need to let her go."

"Let her go! Never!"

Sara's outrage exploded. "Will two please quit talking about me like I'm some helpless waif? I can make up my own mind and take care of myself. Justin, I've made up my mind." She held up her hand,  pointing to her wedding band. "I've married David. End of story."

Justin's image wavered before coming back in true colors. He stood poised, stroking his chin, his mischievous eyes surveying her until he sighed, not a little sigh, but a long heartfelt disappointed moan. "My dear," he said. "Your new husband has made a valid point. I shall back away from you and give you peace." He paused, stroking the chin in short nervous movements. "But I cannot go; I cannot leave you.  I'll be here for a time...in the shadows...watching  your movements, savoring your perfume, breathing in your graceful beauty."

David bolted forward. "Hey, stop talking like that about my wife!"

Justin raised his hand in defiance, then continued. "I'll be here, but I won't bother you...unless you want me to." He shot Sara an endearing smile. "Simply call my name, and I'll come," he added in a murmur. With that being said, the ghost disappeared in a puff of vapors. Sara and  David stood, stunned. Finally, David spoke.

"Should we be alarmed?"

"I don't know."

He grabbed her in his arms. "Well, here  we are--you, me, this grand Victorian...and the resident ghost."

"Yeah. It should be quite a party."

THE END


Posted: 09:07 AM, September 27, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (1) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 21, Pt. 1

The Storyteller's Muse  - Chapter 21, Pt. 1

"I'm not certain," David replied. "We walked in the room. You saw Margot and you fainted. Luckily, I had some smelling salts for Margot handy. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I guess. I just had a bad dream or vision or something." The episode with its eerie, yet romantic revelations had set her heart on fire. Touching her lip, the warmth of "Stephen's" sensuous kiss lingered. She studied David. His lively, intelligent face denied the stark implications of his graying hair. Did she love David as Jessica loved Stephen? Of course she did. She always had. It took a trip to another dimension for her to admit the simple truth.

"I called Margot's family in Britain. Her brother is flying over to take her back. I promised I'd meet him at the airport tonight around 10:00. You're welcome to come along if you'd like."

Sara nodded. She felt overwhelmed with the need to be near this remarkable man.

Driving Margot to the airport proved to be dreadful. The woman cried the entire time and no amount of comforting words helped. It was with great pleasure she and David turned Margot over to the care of her brother. Sara missed being in the quiet of her own car with only her old familiar Justin for company. That flighty spirit had pulled one of his disappearing acts again. She hadn't seen him since the surreal episode in the motel room. 

Later, in the car they finally got to speak frankly about what happened.

"I could tell from the energy in the room something was going on," David said.

"Well, you got that right," Sara replied. "Margot seemed to see everything."

"Well, after speaking with her brother, I discovered she has psychic powers of some sort." He turned to her. "She sees ghosts, in other words. She has always been the odd duck in the family."

"I wonder why she wasn't more open with us at my place when she first saw Justin."

"Well, her brother claims she has been ridiculed her entire life because she was 'different.' So she probably hesitated to admit it to us." He paused, then shot Sara a sideways glance. "So when are you going to tell me what was happening in that room? You fainted, for Gawd's sake."

Sara blushed. "Well," she stammered. "It was a sort of unreal experience...sort of a dream."

"Well, what was happening in this 'dream?' What frightened you enough to faint?"

"Justin was in it...he threatened to shoot a man I was with..."

"A man? What man?"

"You. Well, sort of. I mean, you had a different persona, but the spirit was you. Your name was Stephen. I was different too."

The car swerved as David lost control.  "Me?" His knuckles clutched the steering wheel.

"Well, it was a dream, that's all."

"And then what happened?"

"A woman and her brother and father arrived and talked him out of it. That was when I woke up."

David didn't reply at first, then spoke. "Sara, I've been meaning to tell you. Brenda has asked me for a divorce."


Later, in her room, Sara remembered how her heart thumped when David made the announcement. A week ago she never would have thought it was possible he and his wife could be splitting up.

"Really, darling. I'm hurt by the excited expression on your face. You're thinking of that man, aren't you?"

Sara swung around on her heel in surprise to spy Justin, back again. "Justin, I wasn't sure you were coming back."

"Well, it is true I gave up the chance to be with you yet a second time. That is settled. But you know, I have several other pieces of unfinished business in this realm before I follow the Light."

"Like what? No, wait! I don't want to know. So why are you still lurking around me?"

"I may have chosen another, but my heart still yearns to see you now and then."

"Should I be worried?"

He chuckled. "That's something you'll have to figure out on your own, my dear."

In an instant, he was gone.


Posted: 08:44 AM, September 14, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (2) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 20, Part 2

The Storyteller's Muse

Chapter 20, Part 2

Sara daydreamed on a bed of soft green grass, surrounded by trees, boughs spread to make ample shade. The sky was blue  like a lover's eyes with wispy white puffs moving across. The feeling was one of absolute tranquility and isolation. Somewhere else the world spun in its busy fashion, hurling out problems like a cyclone, tormenting its inhabitants, testing their patience. Here, in this spot, time didn't exist. It was a place along the continuum where traveling souls might collide, sometimes by accident, other times by appointment. Sara's heart throbbed with  the need to meet someone. She knew this was a planned meeting; the problem was she knew not with whom.

"Jessica!" The voice was one she knew well. It had counseled her on many occasions. He called her Jessica. That was her name, after all, in this faraway time and place. And the voice, it was the voice of David. Not David's voice with his tone or diction, but the pulse and meaning screamed his identity. When he came into view, the young man didn't look like her David either, but the soul of that man shined through this fellow's brilliant blue eyes. As she reached a hand out to him, a strand of her own strangely blond hair brushed  her arm. Ah, she was not looking like herself either. And yet, this place, this man, all of it comprised a warm familiar event, a collision of the familiar that had awaited her this day.

"Stephen!" The name escaped. Calling this man "Stephen" felt right, just as did these surroundings, this thin air, a place she'd been to many times and a man she spoke to daily...long ago. A man named Stephen. They'd walked together in this sunny field many times before. She was certain.

"I thought I'd missed you today. I ran all the way here." His breath came in short gasps.

"I don't know what I'd do if you hadn't come. I would miss you so." She rose to kiss him on the cheek. He grabbed her close. She remembered. They met here every afternoon at twilight, met to profess their love in this secret place. She kissed him now with  ferocity,  remembering the intensity of their love as her tongue dug deeper...and how she was promised to another.

"You have betrayed me, my friend." The voice, edged in anger, sliced them apart. Justin, the old familiar Justin she knew, stood in front of them. He was rigid, the usual merriment of his eyes replaced by fierce animosity.

"Justin!" David looked to Sara in alarm. They'd been found out. He stammered. "I'm sorry. It just happened..."

"It just happened! I find you in the woods kissing my fiancé, and you tell me 'it just happened.'" That man looked away in pain, next pulling a gun from his vest. He turned to glare at David, lifting the weapon to aim.

"Justin, no!" Emily with her father and brother appeared. She stood now wringing her hands as her brother rushed to Justin, stopping short as Justin's grip tightened on the gun.

"I say, man! You don't want to do that," the brother murmured.

Justin shot wild eyes at the fellow.

"Justin, I thought you loved me. Why are you chasing that whore?" Emily had stepped forward.

Sara's heart thumped louder than any of their angry words. The drama playing out before her astounded one moment and engulfed her the next. This place, these people, she's seen it all before. An uneasy feeling nipped at the edges of her memory. The last time it hadn't ended well. Of that, she was certain.

"Emily, I do love you. But I love her more." Justin turned to face Sara.

"You must choose, my dear," Emily murmured. "Surely you would not give up the wealth my family has to offer you."

Justin's hand dropped, dangling the gun, as he gawked at Emily. Her father nodded knowingly while a tiny smile danced across Emily's face.

"The last time you pulled the trigger," she said, "You took my father's money but ran away chasing her instead of staying with me. I hope you will be wiser this time."

"Yes, old man! Wouldn't it be better to be a rich man rather than a murderer and a thief." A wry smile passed her father's face.

At the word "murderer," Sara felt David shudder next to her. She feared, as well, what the crazed Justin would do.

He raised the gun and pointed it at David. But the resolve had left his eyes. His hand trembled under the weight of the weapon. Finally he dropped the gun and walked to Emily. That lady smiled with assurance.

Sara shut her eyes and sighed in relief. When she opened them again, she was back in the motel room with David and Margot.

"What just happened here?" she asked.

Copyright 2007 JO Janoski


Posted: 08:34 AM, August 26, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (2) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 20, Part 1

(To read the previous 19 chapters, please see the Blogroll, opposite)

The Storyteller's Muse
Chapter 20, Part 1


Well, now is about time to freak, Sara thought. In a room with ghosts fighting about her...what next? With knees knocking, she fought to keep from fainting. Looking to Justin, she feared her welfare was not at the front of his mind, but instead were the elements of this ghostly squabble. That fact frightened her more.

"Well, my good man, we can't kill you since you're already dead. Perhaps we should simply take your "true love" back with us." The younger man's image, standing next to Father, glowed brighter as he spoke, with colors bursting rich and true, reds, blues, a rainbow of ghostly implication.

"Do not go near her!" It was Justin's turn to emit blasting hues.

The woman spoke. "Justin, I loved you truly. How could you be so cruel as to see other women while we were together?"

"Sweet Emily, I think you gave me more honor than I deserved. I was a young fellow then. It's true! I was a bit of a scoundrel, and I did treat you badly. But I beg you to make allowances for the fickleness of youth. When I met my true love, this lovely lady next to me, everything changed. I wanted to protect her and stay with her always."

"Father, let's kill her now."

A scream from Margot went unnoticed as David grabbed her and dragged the woman out of the room. Don't leave me, Sara wanted to yell, but she couldn't move her lips; she couldn't move anything.

"You murdered her once. Wasn't that enough? Why do you threaten her again?"

"So, she's come around again in a new persona with a new face. I still hate her."

Father broke in. "Enough of this nonsense! You stole my fortune, you scoundrel! I don't care about the woes of your lovesick meandering. You took my money!"

Sara didn't hear his remark. ... she's come around in a new persona ... This was unbelievable. Had she lived before, and now she was reincarnated?

There wasn't time to think. With her spirit colors bursting in starbursts beyond her form, the woman raised her hand and shot a bolt at Sara. It pinned her chest with a blast like a thousand knives slicing in, hot knives that burned and tore with electric pain. She fell to the ground and all went black.  ...Continued


Posted: 07:39 PM, August 10, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (4) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 19, Part 2

The Storyteller's Muse

Chapter 19, part 2

When they arrived, Margot was sitting on the edge of the bed wringing her hands. The poor woman's eyes radiated despair. Dressed in wrinkled clothes with her hair flying off in all directions, it appeared she had spent most of the time lying in bed. Spying Sara, she shot up.

"Sara!" The woman's face filled with animation.

Sara stood back. What had she walked into?

"They've been asking for you! Maybe now they'll let me alone!"

Sara's pulse raced like galloping horses. A headache's pounding alarm blared in her head. Who were they? It was hard to think until unexpectedly, a comforting air washed over her...Justin! Closing her eyes, she could feel him close. When she opened them again, he stood next to her in alternating strength, sometimes full of color and next fading to nothing. But his soothing ways fueled her regardless of the strength or weakness of the vision.

"It's him!" Margot's wail sent Sara jumping, so startled she bumped into David, toppling him. That man regained his balance and stood by with a puzzled expression.

"It's that ghost from your house!" Margot whined through her tears.

As Sara rushed toward the other woman, a blast of light pounded her in the face, knocking the breath out of her and leaving her woozy as she wobbled on unsteady feet. She stood back in awe as three wavering light forms assembled in the glow, taking on pastel hues, reverberating until finally they turned into three ghostly figures. Sara blinked in surprise. Was this really happening? Was she going to faint? They were a woman and two men. The lady dressed old-fashioned with flowing skirts dusting the floor and abundant curls piled on top of her head; and the gentlemen matched her, dressing in the same style breeches and waist coats as her Justin.

Margot yelled again. "They're ghosts! I can't get rid of them! They keep appearing!"

Sara's feet were glued to the floor. She looked to Justin and his image was vibrant. With gaze fixed on the other three, he stroked his chin while cocking his head in thought.

David, in the meanwhile, darted his eyes about in confusion. "What are you looking at? I'm sensing some really strong vibes here," he said.  He could see and hear nothing.

"David, there are four ghosts in this room, and I only know one of them," Sara stated through clenched teeth. This was where she needed one of David's easy going explanations for the unexplained.

One of the male spirits stepped forward. "Well, Justin. We meet again at last."

"Yes, this is, I must say, a surprise," Justin returned, continuing his concentrated study of the others. "Emily, I see you are here," he murmured to the woman.

"You brute! I hoped never to see you again, but we do have unfinished business, do we not?"

"Touche."

The third spirit, who had remained silent, spoke. "You pitiful fop! If you weren't already dead. I'd kill you now." He lunged at Justin.

"Father!" The woman held him back.

The other fellow stepped forward. "I see you've chased down another of your conquests." He nodded toward Sara.

Hearing her name slammed Sara into the middle of it all. So she was part of this...pulling her eyes away from the dazzling sight, she scanned the room. Margot sat on the bed, as starstruck as Sara, eyes wide and face pale. David sat next to her, hugging the lady, looking perplexed.   To be continued...

Copyright 2007 JO Janoski


Posted: 09:46 PM, August 4, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (2) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 19, Pt. 1

The Storyteller's Muse
Chapter 19, Pt. 1

David crossed the room, his expression rigid, unaware of Sara. She rushed to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"David!"

He stopped short. "Sara?"

"David, what is going on? I barely got your message."

Looking away, he ran a hand through his hair. "It's Margot. She's up in the room. I've been with her."

"What...why?"

For the first time their eyes met. His were soft and pleading. "She called me. I didn't know what to do. I knew she was missing, and I knew I couldn't let her out of our sights. So I went to her. She was here, in Smithton. I've spent the last few days trying to settle her down."

Sara had never seen the usually confident David so rattled. He looked exhausted, the lines on his face reached desperately downward and gray smudges encircled his eyes. Stepping back, she studied him. In the quiet, a sudden warmth filled her. Justin! She could feel the spirit close by. He would help her through this. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. Why did the spirit affect her so?

"She'd been wandering aimlessly," David continued, looking more relaxed. "I found her on the edge of town. That's when I tried to call you and Margot grabbed the phone. She kept wanting me to bring you here, but our cell cut out. Once we arrived, I had second thoughts about pulling you into this."

"David, even Brenda doesn't know where you are."

He got a faraway look in his eye. "She wouldn't understand," he snipped. "She never will."

Sara's head was swimming, so much coming at her at once. "Well, what's been going on with Margot? Why is she wandering around in such a state? Why did she come here?"

David looked back, his eyes set deep in concern. "Let's go where we can talk. Over there."

The coffee shop was empty except for them. One waitress was on duty, but once she served the two, she settled at the other end of the counter, a Harlequin romance in hand.

"She sees ghosts."

Sara nearly tipped her cup over. "What!"

"She says she sees ghosts."

"I don't understand, especially after she freaked at my place when she thought she saw a renegade spirit."

David glared back, then turned his attention to his coffee, stirring it thoughtfully. "She says it all started then, at your place. Even after she left, ghosts still visited her, telling her to do things."

"What kind of things?"

"She won't tell me, but I think they involve you. She keeps asking for you."

Sara's jaw dropped. What in the world did Margot and her so-called ghosts want with her? She felt Justin tugging at her. He wanted her to do something. Sara's world came crashing in. How much could one person take? It was bad enough trying to figure out Justin. Now she a whole slew of ghosts were gunning for her. Justin persisted in washing through her with feelings of need, a hunger that needed fulfilled. A sense of unfinished business...

Go and see her. Go to Margot.

Justin! The command cut through like a sharpened blade. He wanted her to go and see Margot and her ghosts. Great, just great!

Copyright 2007 JO Janoski

Posted: 08:14 PM, July 25, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (3) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 18, Pt. 2

The Storyteller's Muse

Chapter 18, Pt. 2 
  
 

A brisk wind flipped the leaves over, predicting rain, as Sara steered the car down an old country road, going faster than the law allowed. They hadn't spoken for an hour, with Justin sitting next to her, his spiritual form wavering, but ever present. It was a comfortable silence for Sara with a gentle friend, ready to help but not interfering. Finally, as road signs for Smithton appeared, she spoke.
 
"Here we are. I'm not sure where to start." The car bumped along a rocky lane leading to the center of the tiny town, revealing a main street dotted with half a dozen stores, offering the essentials. She spied a grocer, a drug store, and a hardware before spotting a small hotel. The street was dusty and empty. Sara parked in front of the hotel.
 
"I'll check in there." She paused to study Justin. "Can you...will you...come with me?"
 
"My dear, I'm always with you...in spirit."
 
She shrugged her shoulders and got out of the car. The wood frame hotel was not much to see, badly in need of paint and a carpenter, a flophouse, not the sort of place she wanted to be seen. Sara flushed with embarrassment pulling open the squeaky door by its filthy battered knob. A bald man with a grizzled face looked up as she entered. His eyes were blue marbles staring in surprise.
 
"Can I help you?" The eyes grew smaller.
 
Sara let loose a nervous cough. "I don't know. I'm looking for some people. A man and a woman. They may have been here."
 
The fellow's face darkened. "Ma'am, there are a lot of men and women who pass by here."
 
"No, I mean they would be travelers, looking for a place to stay."
 
"Those kind of folks don't stay here. They stay at motels out on the interstate."
 
"I guess I'll try there then. Thanks." Justin's face signalled a smirk as she climbed back into the driver's seat.
 
"I could have told you it was useless, but I wanted you to find out on your own," he said.
 
"You know, sometimes you make it very hard to trust you, just by virtue of what you don't bother to say."
 
"My dear, you can always trust me."
 
"A likely story." She turned to offer him a smirk. His company on this journey heartened her. But if anybody saw her talking to thin air! A Holiday Inn came into view. 
 
Justin craned his head to look at the motel. "Honestly, everything looks alike in this world of yours, no charm, no individuality."
 
"You're right about that. Boring, isn't it?" Pulling into the parking lot, her heart shivered and began a soft pounding. "I've got some really bad vibes about this place," she murmured.
 
Feeling a warmth rush through her, she looked to see Justin's hand on her arm, transparent but sending electrical bolts through her. "We've got to move forward, but I'll be with you."
 
The warmth stuck with her as she approached the front desk. Why did she have such intense feeling about this motel? They must be here.
 
It was a big spread with a bar to the side, spewing out laughter and music into the lobby like brightly colored ribbons. The man at the desk was clean-shaven with neat hair, cut short. He was younger than Sara,  exuding youthful innocence with his bright blue eyes that followed her as she walked across the room.
 
"May I help you?" 
 
Sara felt foolish. This was a clean, retail chain-driven establishment--it couldn't be more ordinary with its spotless lobby couches and shiny windows. How could a tragedy concerning David and Margot take place here?
 
"I'm looking for a man and a woman who may have checked in here. She would have a British accent, and he is an older fellow."
 
"I'm sorry. We don't give out information about our guests."
 
Devastated, Sara felt ready to freak. She hadn't traveled all this way to be done in by silly regulations. About to protest, her eyes fell on David coming off the elevator.
 
Copyright 2007 JO Janoski

 


Posted: 02:14 PM, July 4, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (0) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapter 18, Part 1

Sara woke to the laughter of children playing outside. Glancing at her watch, she yawned and stretched. Then it hit her. She'd cried herself to sleep after an all-night writing session. Griffin and O'Malley had visited, too. The depression that had clenched her returned. Suffocating misery. She marched to the kitchen.


Opening and closing cupboards she searched until the tall brown bottle revealed itself, stuffed in a corner with old pots and pans. Whiskey, good Irish whiskey. Ripping off the cap, she poured a generous portion, next swallowing half in one gulp. Her throat caught fire. But it felt good. Drinking was one way to rebel against dire circumstances.


"Take that! You ghosts, goofy friends, stupid cops!" Taking a seat at the kitchen table, she was surprised by the relaxing whoosh that rushed down to her toes. Dumping there, it left her listless, feeling dead in her heart, in her mind, empty.


"My dear, it's hurtful to see you like this." 

Justin, back again, sat across the kitchen table. His image reverberated with color, fading and then growing stronger. The sight was beautiful to see, luminescent and magical. His hands were folded on the table and he leaned forward to speak in soothing tones.
 
"Darling, we can find your friends and make it right again." Flashing a smile, he cocked his head to one side.
 
 "Justin, I'm beginning to think even you can't get me out of this mess. I mean, you can't control what those people think of me, and you can't control what happens to them either."
 
"You're right. There's only so much you or I can do to influence things. But, dear lady, I know your heart. And it is a powerful force that can move mountains if it wants. It certainly moves me on occasion." With that remark, he rose and approached. Sara watched in awe as his ghostly figure moved closer, without steps but floating on air, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, hugging her.
 
When he touched, his filmy arms disappeared into transparent mist, blending into her sending a bolt through her, emotional, a warmth like she'd never felt before. Her body took up the theme and answered.  Exhilarating love raced through her with all its giddy insouciance and glittery pleasure.


The longer he hovered, the more intense the feelings, growing stronger, overtaking Sara in a crescendo, pulsating her heart in pleasuring waves.  She sighed like a school girl in love. Her entire being was his, if only for a moment. And that instant was spent in glorious communion. But the delicious sensations when he touched her...was she making love with a ghost?
 
The thought blew the moment to pieces, and in a whirl she looked across the table to see Justin sitting there where he belonged, a smirk curling his lip.
 
"What just happened here?" she asked, her heart still drumming love beats in her chest.
 
"I took your mind off your problems, Sara. And I showed your the power of your own heart. Aren't you going to thank me?"
 
Sara's mind whirled in torrents. He had succeeded in showing the tremendous power she held in reserve, the ability to lay aside the petty and reach in to find forces of love, powers she never dreamed existed deep inside. But this ghost! Should she be worried he could take command of her at will?
 
"I can see you're worried, Sara. But please, don't be. I only brought out the best of what you are. I didn't control you. Although I did hint at how much I love you, dear."
 
She shot him an uneasy glance, not certain how to reply. A dark silence took up the air between them until finally Sara spoke. "Well, I guess it is time to get in the car and head for Smithton. Are you coming with me or not?"
 
Moments later, as she started the car, he appeared in the passenger seat sitting quietly as if to show respect for the seriousness of their mission.


Continued in Chapter 18, part 2



Copyright 2007 JO Janoski


Posted: 03:18 PM, June 17, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (1) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapters 11-16

The Storyteller
Chapter 11 - Part 1

In her sleeping state, the phone ringing sounded like something mechanical, a big shrill machine coming to cause mischief. Sara shook her head wondering what she was dreaming beforehand to inspire such a ridiculous image. She was sleeping on the couch again. The room upstairs last night with its weird dreams and visions scared her away. She'd not go back again, to sleep or otherwise. The door was now closed and locked.

"Hullo?"

"Sara? Sara? Is that you?"  The rich full voice was unmistakable.

"Brigid? I've been so worried. I haven't heard from you and I..."

The other woman broke in before Sara could finish. "Margot is missing!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she disappeared on line, and when I called a number she'd given me for her family, they said she was missing. Missing in real life!"

Sara collapsed in the chair. "Oh my God," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, by the way, about quitting the book lovers to avoid you. It was Margot's idea, and I felt a sort of loyalty to her."

"It's okay. We've got bigger problems now. Do they have any idea where she is?"

"No, but they said she'd been acting strangely, ever since the trip to America to visit you."

Odd things kept happening! First last night's vision, now this. What next?  Sara wanted to lay down the phone. It was a bother, a nuisance, while her mind whirled like a tornado on the horizon warning of danger. Justin, help! The plea rushed past her lips in a murmur. She startled. Why did she say that? Was she losing her mind? Were her thoughts no longer her own?

"Brigid, can I call you back later?" If she couldn't be alone with her thoughts, she'd go crazy.

"Sure, Sara. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Someone is at the door, that's all." The blatant lie would have to do, anything to get rid of Brigid. Murmuring a farewell, she slammed down the phone. It was heavy like lead. Sitting back, she realized her heart was slamming like runaway claps of thunder. Beads of sweat cooled the skin on the back of her neck. She had to make sense of things.

David. She needed to call David. Her finger searched for the numbers on the keypad, a clumsy endeavor, her mind refusing to connect with her hand. The phone rang. She found it impossible to count how many times. Finally, an answer.

"Hello." It was Brenda, David's wife.

"Brenda, I was wondering if I could talk to David." She shot out the words like bullets, fired by her tension.

"Who is this?"

The question brought Sara to rapt attention. "Oh, it's me, Sara! I'm sorry. I thought you knew my voice."

"Sara, do you realize it is 7:30 in the morning. Don't you think you are calling a little early?"

She looked at her gold watch on the table, 7:32. "I'm sorry, Brenda. I had no idea it was so early. Brigid just called me..."

"I don't care who called you. As a matter of fact, I've been meaning to talk to you. Do you realize how often David is at your place? I've got to tell you, it's making me uncomfortable."

Sara's heart slammed to the floor, then rose in a crescendo of hot humiliation to her face, warming her cheeks. Her heart pounded. "I'm sorry, Brenda. I didn't realize it was upsetting you. I'm in this new house, and I..."

The other woman cut her off. "I think you should stay away from David."

The conversation ended with a click from Brenda's end. Sara held the phone to her ear in silence before finally placing it on the table. She'd never felt so lost and alone.

What a disaster! She'd gotten a warning about David from a ghost, strange dreams, Margot missing after being at her house, and now David's wife was angry and forbade her to go near him. Tears welled in her eyes as Sara grabbed her coat and headed for the door.

A snowy December day had painted a Christmas card outside. White mounds, each rounded to an uneasy peak several inches high, loomed on every bush and fence post, making an array of ghostly personages looming at every corner. Eerie glowing headlights accompanied by the soft crunch of tires on the otherwise silent, still streets offered up a surrealistic world. Sara heard her every step cutting through the frozen snow as she walked, making swift progress toward the city park.

Holding back her tears, she let her eyes feast on the beauty of the snowfall. The park took on a picturesque charm with its surrounding black iron fence contrasting against lawns now coated white. The trees, with their bark a deeper brown kissed by the moisture of blowing snow, were bold brush strokes, strongsilhouettes again the snowy hills, with expressive bare branches stretching to the gray sky like graceful ballet dancers on their toes with arms reaching up.

It is beautiful, isn't it?

It was the whisper in her ear again, Justin. Outraged, the pounding in her head returned in a clamor loud enough to block out any rational thought. Was she losing her mind? Why was she hearing the voice? She ran. Across the snowy park, passing the trees whose branches now did a macabre dance, taunting her, waving in the wind. Gasping for breath, she staggered on unsteady feet. Where could she go? Crossing the white lawns to the street, a patch of ice sent her feet flying, slamming her body to the ground to land on her back, her head hitting the sidewalk. That was the last she remembered.

The Storyteller

Chapter 11 - Part 2

When Sara tried to open her eyes, she was blinded by a sea of white and chrome. A hovering figure reached over and took her pulse. "Are you feeling better, Ms. McNeil?" It was a nurse, a skinny girl with well-pressed whites and a nervous slit of a smile that looked anxious to move on.

"Where am I?"

"In the hospital, you took a fall in the snow and hit your head." The girl smoothed the sheets and plumped the pillow behind Sara's head.

"Will I live?"

The joke was lost on her care-giver. "You're fine. They wanted to keep you overnight for observation. Just a little concussion. Now that you're awake, I'll get the doctor." She bustled from the room.

Sara struggled to sit up. A glance around revealed an empty bed next to hers, neatly made with smoothed sheets and waiting. A bath was across the room and scattered about were gizmo's with assorted electronic readouts, probes, and tubes. Heaven only knew what they were all designed to do. She could think of better places to be.

Remembrances of her fall worked to the surface. The events that had sent her running through the park presented themselves for her renewed consideration.  Margot was missing, David's wife hated her, and she was still hearing voices, although now she's had a vision of Justin, who in the process had warned her about David in an eerie dreamlike revelation. In this new hospital-sterilized environment so far removed, it all had less sting, a part of some other place, perhaps only a dream for that matter. The entrance of David through the door reminded her the warning about him was no dream, while his wife's warning sent shots of guilt through her veins.

"Sara! I heard. Are you all right?"

"I think so. I just woke up. The nurse went to get the doctor."

"I was so frightened for you. Why in the world were you out in the park in such bad weather anyway?"

Sara studied him. What had Justin meant with the warning, "David beware"? Did he mean David should be aware, or did he intend to warn her to be aware of David, as if he were a danger. Suddenly, she wasn't sure. At first, she'd assumed it was a warning to protect David. But she'd been upset and not given it much analysis. With all that happened, a new dark awareness knocked loose in her mind, propelled by an ominous air.

"How did you hear about me?" she asked. Sara felt certain his wife didn't tell him. Should she mention to David what that lady had said?

"You're all over the news, my dear, what with being found unconscious in the park."

"Well, I suppose that will do wonders for my reputation as a good, solid citizen."

A doctor, stethoscope flying, bustled through the door, his hand extended to shake hers and speaking as he walked. "Well, you're a lucky lady they found you before hypothermia could set in." He paused with an abrupt stop and a curious eye to David.

"I'm a friend." David explained, without being asked. In the awkward silence, he  coughed and murmured, "I was just leaving. Talk to you later, Sara."

They watched him go before the doctor turned his attention back to Sara. "I'm Dr. Sullivan," he stated, perusing her chart with restless eyes as he spoke. "It looks like we can discharge you. You're in good shape physically, although I am curious as to what you were doing wandering in the park on the coldest day of the year." His eyes lifted from the papers and shot at her like bullets.

Sara felt accused of something. Looking away, her face flushed. "I just needed some fresh air."

"Well, you got that all right." He paused. "Ms. McNeil, we have counselors available if you think you might benefit from one."

A chill washed over Sara in icy waves. Were her troubles that obvious?

The Storyteller
Chapter 12

 Sara closed the Victorian's front door and made her way to the sofa, plopping down onto its soft comforts, still wearing a heavy coat. A night in the hospital, what a treat! And the doctor recommended a psychiatric consult, even better. What had happened to her life? Okay, she used to be depressed, bored even, engaging in a daily writing process, trying to drum out another book to keep her agent happy. Now she was up to her neck in a supernatural reality, a mystery if you will, that far surpassed any tale from her own imagination.

That was it! Perhaps she should scrap her current novel and start writing this one, her story...if she didn't go crazy in the process. The irony made her laugh--an author writing her own story and it read like fiction. What would the ending to this ghost story be?

It will be whatever you want it to be.

The voice whispered with a crackle, so real she jerked back and looked behind her. Nothing. Only the dead silence of an empty house. Justin the ghost again, but was he nothing or something--something big, very big. What did he want with her? The phone's shrill ring woke her from the reverie.

"Sara? David told me what happened? Are you okay?" It was Brigid.

"Boy, word travels fast. I'm okay. I guess."

"That doesn't sound very confident."

"I know. I'm just a little confused after the fall, I guess." Sara paused, her heart beating loud and relentless. She had to talk to someone, but how much to say. "Brigid, I'm worried about David."

"Worried about David? Well, cripes Sara. You should be taking care of yourself. Why would you be thinking of David?"

She could hardly say a ghost told her to. "I just have a bad feeling about him, that's all...kind of a foreboding."

"Oh, Sara! You're just shook up from all that's happened. Don't worry."

Easy for her to say. Well, that was going nowhere. "Any word on Margot?"

"No. No one knows where she is. It's strange. You haven't heard anything, have you?"

"No." A bump across the room. Glancing to the fireplace, Sara spied a glimmer, pulsating, first bright, then dimmer. It reflected off the metal grate like fireworks. What was happening? Justin's signature was all over the demonstration. A breath caught in her throat as her hand struggled to hold the phone steady. "Brigid, I'm going to have to call you back later. Something's come up."

"Sara, your voice is shaky. Are you all right?"

Was she? The light was startling, captivating. Dancing, glowing, talking to her in a language without words. She couldn't take her eyes off the glowing spectacle. "I'm...fine, Brigid. Talk to you later." With that remark, she hung up, laying the phone on the table in a blind reach that somehow found its destination.

The beam struggled to take form.

Sara, think of me. Think very hard.

She froze. Justin! What was he asking? To help him to take form with her thoughts?  Would that be like digging one's own grave? Was he dangerous? The question of the hour. She didn't know, really. Her frenzied contemplation seemed to give the blurry light form. Justin appeared in ghostly pastel shades.
 
"Sara, at last!" Brown eyes studied her from across the room, like beacons on a dark night.

She felt her heart running a marathon inside with bumps and screams. Beads of sweat cooled her skin while she formed enough thought in her muddled brain to wonder if her head was next going to explode. Was this real?

"Sara!" The ghostly figure reached out to her, one arm extending in her direction. His hands were dressed in sleek, brown leather gloves that matched his shoes which were adorned with gold buckles. A proper shirt with cloth buttons was visible under his waistcoat. He leaned on a walking stick with the other hand.

She backed away.

"Sara! Please..." He walked toward her. His footfalls making soft thuds in the quiet room, further proof of his physical form.

"What do you want?" Sara gulped. The words seemed made of glass, fragile and ready to break.

"I want to talk to you, be with you again."

"Again?"

The form pulsated and in a glowing light grew stronger, the olive color of his brocaded vest rang rich and true while the buckles on his shoes glimmered with new life. "We knew each other once. Don't you remember?"

Sara stared, her mind racing while instincts screamed to run away.

He tilted his head to one side. His face was clean-shaven, gentle.  "I've frightened you. I'm sorry. I thought you would remember."

"Remember what?"

"Our time together, long ago. I'm worried about you. I've come to warn you..."

"Warn me?" About what? Wasn't she frightened enough already? 

"It's David..."

The phone rang--blasting, dissipating the sanctity. Sara jumped. But when she looked again, Justin was gone. She trembled, while the phone continued it rude interruption. Sara stared at it. She'd just had a conversation with a ghost.

The Storyteller's Muse (new title)
Chapter 13
Part 1

The days passed. Sara went about her routine trying not to think of all that had happened. No word from Margot. And David was noticeably absent from her life. Sara did not pursue it since Brenda, his wife, has versed a strong opinion that the two were together too much. Sara figured his wife had gotten to him. A pity. she counted on his help. Now she was alone with Justin.

But that fellow hadn't come around either. Sara hated to admit it, but the absence bothered her. On the one hand she was frightened by the ghost; and on the other, he tantalized her with his ethereal romps into her life, highly charged, cutting to her core. Something inside responded to his presence. Something deeply satisfying  a part of her wanted to not only accept but to gather close.

"Almost like being in love," she murmured, yawning and stretching. It was safe to say that when he wasn't around. Shutting down the computer, she yawned again. The writing was not coming. She'd toyed with the idea of starting over, telling her own story instead, a woman haunted by a ghost. But that was an outrageous idea, wasn't it? What would the publisher think? She was tentative about everything lately. Terrified of commitment. She was lost between two worlds, jumping between today and then a Victorian yesteryear in the accompaniment of a restless spirit. Who could survive suspended between two lives? Small wonder the doctor told her to get counseling.

Restless, Sara got up, leaving the dead weight of her keyboard, the useless keyboard that had failed her lately, failed to produce the stunning prose she expected. It was a lifeless gadget these days, not the twinkly, turbo-charged vehicle that shot her imagination from mind to paper in bolts of genius. Well, maybe not genius, but she had written one best-seller, right?

It was later the phone rang and startled her. She'd fallen asleep on the sofa and the ringing filled her with pangs of alarm. She'd been dreaming, not one she could remember, but an uneasy fog still lingered. That coupled with the sudden blare of the phone set her heart thumping in fright and confusion.

"Hello," she murmured. The change from deep slumber to instant alarm made her voice unsteady.

"Sara? Is that you? It's Brenda, David's wife."

Before Sara could respond, the other women launched. "Sara, have you seen David? I know he's probably with you. What are you trying to do? Leave him alone!"

"Brenda, what are you talking about? I haven't seen David for days." Her heart stepped up its troubled rhythm.

"A likely story! I know you're probably having an affair with him. Is he there now? Put him on the phone!"

"Brenda! What are you talking about?"

"Sara, I haven't seen David for two days. I know he is with you."


The Storyteller's Muse
Chapter 13, pt. 2


Sara caught her breath. Was Brenda crazy, accusing her of having some sort of sordid affair with David?

"Brenda, I can assure you I haven't seen him."

"Well, he's been missing for two days, and you can be sure I'm going to do something about it." With that, Brenda hung up.

"Crazy woman!" Sara muttered. The conversation left her reeling. To be accused, especially with such rancor, upset her.


Later, a bump in an upstairs bedroom set her heart thumping. She'd been dozing on the couch, and the thud, heavy and blunt on the floor above, startled her. An unexplained sound in the old Victorian was alarming, but shuffling around in the old house to investigate was not an idea she savored. Finally, Sara reasoned it could be something serious that needed checked on.


With rubbery legs, she made her way up the old staircase. At the landing between floors, a memory of David's collapse haunted her. And she remembered Margot's meltdown when that lady saw Justin in the upstairs bedroom.


"You'd think I'd conjure some pleasant thoughts to get me through this," she murmured. "Something soothing, like flowers or butterflies." Arriving on the second floor, her pulse raced so fast, other functions couldn't keep up.

A sound! The first bedroom. She tread with wobbly feet toward the entrance way. A closet door had swung wide open and now lay ajar. Boxes had fallen from a shelf, and they, on their descent, had knocked over a large, flat box that had been leaned against the closet interior wall. So many old storage containers were left over from the previous owner. There hadn't been time yet to clean them all out.


Sara rushed in and stretching high, placed the little boxes back on the shelf. They were full of old hats--derbies and veiled women's hats. When she lifted the large, flat one, its weight surprised her. The top flap dangled open. Peeking inside, she spied a strip of wood with an ornate profile,  a picture frame. Placing the box flat on the bed, she struggled to pull the old wood gilded frame out. A trail of dust spread across the bedspread as she tugged. The top of an oil painting emerged from the dust, a woman's head, her hair piled on top in abundance. Tugging further, Sara got the rest out. The lady wore a Victorian frock with an ornate bodice, her hands folded delicately on her lap. Sara brushed away more dust with her hand.


The woman in the portrait wore jewelry in abundance, rings and a bracelet with amethyst stones. And a necklace, captured on the canvas with a delicate hand that defined each little detail. Gold chain, amethyst brooch, and pearl droplets...Her jaw dropped. it was Sara's necklace! The one she wore for good luck. The one she wore in high school and had lost a few weeks ago, only to have it mysteriously return. Her head went into a spin. How could a Victorian lady be wearing her necklace?


Feeling faint, Sara collapsed on her knees. Enough already! Too many weird things were happening. She was beginning to doubt her sanity.


The necklace is yours, you know.


Justin! Startled, she turned to see his wavering image behind her.


"What do you mean?" Her voice was barely a whisper.


The necklace. It's yours. The lady is you, as well. The vision glowed brighter as he spoke, emitting bolts of color with each syllable.


"What are you talking about?" This time Sara's voice was raised in outrage.


We knew each other, you and me, long ago. The vision reached out his hand to her.


Sara drew back. "I've never known you."


Yes. We were married...we lived here. This was our house. That's why you were drawn to it. That's why you're drawn to me. He said the last part in a soft voice that rippled like water.


"That's just crazy." Sara couldn't move. Could this be happening? Or was she crazy for sure?


I've missed you, you know. That's why I'm still here. We never got to say good-bye.


"I don't know you." She said one word at a time to emphasize each one.


But you do! You just need time to remember.


"I've never known you, and I don't ever want to!" Sara burst into tears. She said she didn't want to, but she did. When she looked up, he was gone.


When Sara realized he was gone, her heart sank. Justin had a hold on her, that was for certain. And now, he claimed they were married once, in another age. And that they lived in this house. And most astounding of all, she was the woman in the painting!

 

The ancient canvas was dusty and dull, grayed with filth placed there over the years. Brushing away more of the gray film, she held the canvas up closer to view. Long face, black hair...the woman didn't look like her. What foolishness! Except for the eyes. Sara gawked at the gentle brown irises. These were eyes she knew, had spied in the mirror for ages. The eyes were hers! They looked back in soft murmurs of recognition as though she were looking in the mirror. It was undeniable. They were her eyes. Dropping the painting, she sat back in shock.

 

A rush of long ago feelings washed over her. The dress the woman wore, the Victorian, Justin, her heart...they all danced in her mind begging her to remember. A delicious warmth washed over her, and longing, an intense longing to return and know more of those times.

 

She sat alone in the room, clutching the painting for hours. The next morning she woke on the bed, still dressed, with the picture at her feet. She glanced again at the lady in the painting with her eyes.

 

A new day. A new outlook.

 

Later, as she made coffee, a knock at the front door interrupted her. Wiping coffee grounds off her hands she rushed to answer. Perhaps it was David.

 

Through the flimsy curtain the shadowy figures loomed tall on the porch. She opened to see two men dressed in dark suits. One stood with a hands wrapped around a clipboard while the other shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. They turned her way when she appeared.

 

The restless one was younger with short reddish hair and a few rebellious freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose.

 

The other was older, dark hair, long face, more intense. "Miss McNeil?" he asked.

 

"Yes?"

 

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions. Pittsburgh Police." He flashed a gold badge he'd produced like magic from his breast pocket.

 

"Police? I don't understand."

 

"We're investigating the disappearance of David Martin. According to his wife, you are a friend of his."

 

"Oh! Well, yes, come in." She opened the door wide to let them through. "Although I can assure you I haven't seen him for days." She nodded toward the sofa and waited until they were seated, then took a side chair for herself.

 

"David Griffin." The older one extended his hand. "He's Patrick O'Malley." The younger man merely nodded.

 

"I hope you are not thinking I know something about his disappearance."

 

"You may know something without realizing it. Mrs. Martin said you and he were very...close."

 

Sara wondered what Brenda had really said, blushing at the thought. She'd probably called Sara a whore or some other vulgar term. What these men must think of her!

 

"We were close friends, but that's all."

 

"Did he ever come here?" David Griffin scanned his clipboard, running a pen down some columns, as he spoke.

 

"Well, yes. I just moved in and I...had some problems...well, he came by to help me settle in. That's all."

 

"And you haven't seen him lately?" His gray eyes met hers, point blank.

 

"No, not since I was in the hospital recently. He came to see me."

 

"Would you mind if we looked around?"

 

Sara felt taken aback. But it seemed the only way to extricate herself from their grasp.

 

"Okay." It was revolting. They thought she had David hidden away in a little love nest here of their own making.

 

The two men rose together in perfect timing. "This won't take long," the younger one, O'Malley, said.

 

They covered the first floor in only a minute or two. Sara showed them the open pantry off the kitchen. Did they want to open the oven door and check there too?

 
They climbed the stairs single file with Sara leading the way. Reached the landing, she remembered David's collapse from the overwhelming presence of Justin. She glanced at the two, but neither showed any sign of a bad reaction. Sara herself always had a twinge of dizziness where she went to the second floor.

"Just a quick look through these rooms," Griffin stated. "Won't take long."

Sara nodded and stood back to let them through. Opening the first door, O'Malley stuck his head in and pulled it out. "All clear," he stated.

Griffin had already peeked in another doorway and had now one more room to check. He opened the door wide and looked in. Glancing over, Sara saw Justin standing inside, vibrant and alive in his usual glowing mist to her eyes only, smiling mischievously in her direction. She gasped in spite of herself.

"Something wrong?" Griffin asked.

"No." Just a ghost in the room.

"Well, what's on the third floor."

"It's an attic. To tell you the truth, I've never been up there."

"Well, it's a good time to start."

Surveying the hallway, he spied a door that opened to a narrow staircase. He nodded to O'Malley to follow his lead. Sara took up the rear, grabbing a flash light from the wall by the door.

They arrived to total darkness. Sara clicked on the flashlight and panned it.

"Let me try," Griffin said, grabbing the torch. He scanned more slowly, pausing in the corners to study those areas. Sara was amazed to see junk stacked up everywhere. Boxes of old clothing, books, and knick knacks of every color and description filled the area, leaving not even a walkway through the stacks. Some day she would have to come up here again and look around.

"This is clean," he said, switching off the light and turning to go. They headed down the stairs in somber silence.

Sara sighed. Maybe now they would go and leave her alone. Feeling relief, her head cleared and the purpose of their visit finally hit her like a boulder, the idea that David was a missing person. With all that happened, that fact had eluded Sara. 

"Well, we appreciate the opportunity to look around," Griffin said in dull tones. "Do you have idea where he might be?" Once again, the gray eyes assaulted hers.

"No," she replied. "But if I knew anything, I  would certainly tell you."

"Yes, I suppose you would. Well, thank you, Ms. McNeil."

The two left, leaving Sara to wonder what had happened to David. Perhaps Justin knew.



The Storyteller's Muse
Chapter 14
The festive blues, pinks, and creams of the coffee shop failed to cheer Sara during her morning ritual. The chatter, usually a source for feeling in touch, today annoyed her, displacing her thoughts. Where was David? Was he in danger? Did Justin, with his numerous warnings, know something? She'd tried to communicate with Justin for two days to no avail.

Pouring in more cream, she stirred, watching the dark liquid swirl like a sultry dance.  She'd always been a positive person, believing only the best could happen, and good always prevails over evil.  A sort of blind faith that refused to acknowledge insurmountable trouble in this world. Now she confronted the supernatural on one hand and the bizarre disappearance of her friend on the other. To top it off, she'd come under criticism for something she hadn't done...namely, an affair with David. He was a good friend. That was all.

The idea of being taken to task, guilty or not, upset her. Okay, so she was one of those people who goes through life apologetically sidestepping confrontation and avoiding sticky situations. The irony was she worried just as much as if she had jumped in full guns to annoy people...a never ending worry trying not to offend. Such was the life of the eternally polite. A knock, bump, and a voice startled her.

"Sara! Good morning!" Diane Wojakowski stood next to her, holding a steaming cup and waiting to be asked to sit. Their last encounter, where Diane insinuated Sara was seeing too much of David, made her an unwelcome addition to Sara's morning. She offered up a forced smile. "Diane! I guess you come here a lot."

"From time to time," the other lady replied, laying the coffee down and pulling out a chair at Sara's table. "Not usually this early though."

"I wondered because I don't see you all the time." Sara took a sip as though the coffee was more important than the conversation. It was.

Diane studied her, eyes wide and questioning. "Didn't I hear you were in the hospital? How are you?"

"Fine. Just a little concussion."

"Oh yeah! You were wandering in the park on the snowiest day of the year and hurt yourself. Honestly, Sara! What were you thinking?"

Sara shot back a fiery glance. "I like snowy days. I just didn't realize the walking was so treacherous." It was alarming how well Diane could zoom in on her weaknesses.

"Well, I bet you don't do that again soon."

"Right."

Diane's eyes continued a relentless cut through Sara. "So do you hear from David much these days?"

"No. As a matter of fact, he's missing right now. He disappeared and no one has seen him for days."

Diane sat up.  "Really? Isn't that interesting?"

"You're looking at me as though I have something to do with it."

"Well, honey, I know he goes to your place a lot. So if you've got him, I think you should let him go."

"I don't know where he is!"

"Right." Diane patted her lips with a napkin. "But if you see him around that big old house of yours..." She leaned forward to murmur, "I'd let him go."

She rose with a flourish, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. "See you around!"

When she got home, Sara was still steamed about Diane. How dare she? How dare she make such absurd accusations?  But, of course, it was what everyone was saying. No wonder Brenda was upset with her. She had to do something to clear her name. She had to find David.

Later, Justin appeared as though he sensed her need. He came while she sat by the window, watching the wind blow snow through the trees. Something about snow made it a timeless thing. It looked and felt the same,  no matter what age you were, brought the same quiet excitement. The ten-year-old she once was stirred.

In this thoughtful state, Justin's arrival slipped right in. He spoke in a quiet voice.

"Sara!"

It made her jump, and yet she needed someone to talk to. "Justin, I'm glad you are here." For the first time, Sara paused to see the man, to study his face. Other times when he appeared, she'd fought the experience, but this time she needed him. She needed to know him, to trust him.

His eyes were blue and excited, dancing out with a playful air that invited her in. Thin lips formed a musical grin. It was a long face, but high cheek bones gave him an air of intelligence made stronger by the vivid contrast between his sky blue eyes and sleek dark hair.  

"I am always here for you, my love."

Sara blushed. "Love" when he said it, was a pink rushing thing. "Justin, I need your help," she said.

Why was it Justin's appearance made her believe in fairy tales? At first, she'd been alarmed, but lately... Normally, she trusted the good in people, but that took a while with this ghost. What am I thinking? Whether or not to trust a ghost!  The sad truth was she didn't know where else to go. David had shown an interest and trust in Justin which seemed a subtle indicator pointing in his direction now. She could almost hear David instructing her to move forward with Justin to find him.

"I know. You are worried about David."

"Well, yes! How did you know?" Sara felt her pulse quicken.

"I know your heart, Sara."

"Oh."

"I know your heart, and I know David's, too. I know David's because you know David's heart, and I know it through you."

"What?" Were her thoughts not private? "And just how can you know so much about what I think?"

"Sara." He moved closer. "I exist in the spirit, so all things of the spirit are here with me. Your thoughts are here for me to see and touch."

"Okay." Enough of that. It made her uncomfortable. "Well, can you help me find David? Do you know where he is?"

"No, because you don't. And your thoughts are mine. But I share your memories and heart. Together perhaps we can find him."

His eyes spoke to her, wanting to help, gleaming with a willingness to do so, strictly so she could be happy. Justin wanted her to be happy.

"I don't know even where to begin," she said.

"Begin at the beginning. Begin with David. What is he like?"

"Well, he's kind, intelligent, energetic. I think his foremost characteristic is how much he cares for people."

"He certainly cares for you." His eyes registered complaint.

"He cares for everybody...Justin, are you jealous?"

"Ridiculous! How can a ghost be jealous?"

"I don't know. It just seems to me if you claim to love me, then you must be capable of jealousy."

"Touche." He grimaced.

"So where do I begin to find David?" she asked.

"Well, if you know the man, then you know where to find him. Think about it."

The Storyteller's Muse
Chapter 15

Sara took Justin's words to heart and scoured her mind, dissecting every aspect of David's personality. Nothing concrete occurred to her as to where David might be. They first met at the Carnegie Library by the university. She wanted to choose from a more diverse collection of nineteenth century authors and had made a special trip to the main branch. It was while she was walking up and down the aisles of the stacks panning titles that he turned a corner and bumped into her.

"Excuse me!" he'd said, flashing one of his exuberant smiles. "I didn't think anyone else would be in the Dickens section."

"I love Dickens," she had replied, and a friendship was born. Later, they joined the online book club together, eventually meeting Margot and Brigid. Books were not his only passion. David dabbled in the arts; astronomy--even to the point of setting up a telescope in his attic; gardening; photography; and travel. He made occasional trips alone, lugging his camera and notebooks, while his wife, Brenda, chose to stay home. "I don't like living in a camper," she'd say. David loved his 20 ft. trailer, purchased three summers ago after years of saving for it. Perhaps that was where he was now, off on one of his little excursions. He loved those solitary trips away from it all. He was always full of stories of local folk with pictures to share when he got back. She'd have to drive past his house and see if the trailer was gone. Brenda hadn't mentioned it.

She was just finishing dinner when the phone rang.

"Sara? It's Brigid! Margot's still missing."

"What? It's been weeks. I assumed she'd shown up by now."

"That's what I was hoping. But I got an email. The police have no clue. Sara, they told me the cops dug your name and address out of her computer. Her family thinks the authorities over here in the states may come knocking on your door. They're convinced she's here."

"Oh great! I already had cops around asking about David."

"David? What are you talking about?"

"Yes, David's been missing a while now, too."

"You mean just like that? Like Margot? That's interesting. If I didn't already know they'd fought at your house, I'd wonder if they were having an affair or something. But I'm sure Margot would want nothing to do with David."

"Yeah, not after that ghost incident. She probably swore off both David and me." Sara recalled how angry Margot had become, frightened and threatened by the "ghost."

"Well, I just wanted to warn you."

Not long after Brigid's call, a knock at the door confirmed her suspicion. Griffin and his younger sidekick, O'Malley, were back.

"Ms. McNeil. May we come in?"

"Sure." She opened up.

"Well, it seems you are a friend of another missing person, Margot Hare from London. Did you know she was missing?"

"Yes, I knew."

"She was also a friend of David, right?"

"They were friends, but not likely companions. They'd argued recently."

"What about?" Griffin's eyes gleamed.

Sara's mind raced for an innocuous way to explain Margot's encounter with Justin as the impetus for rejecting David. "She was frightened when staying upstairs. She lashed out at us all."

"Staying upstairs? Frightened? Lashing out? I don't know where to begin questioning you on this one."

"Look, we were all friends from the internet. I invited them all to come and stay, meet one another, a house warming sort of. I'd just bought this Victorian."

"That explains a lot, but why was she frightened enough to lash out at friends?"

Sara hesitated. "She thought she saw a ghost."

His pen stopped in mid scrawl. He looked up. "A ghost?"

"That's what she said! I'm just telling you what she said."

"Okay. So she was angry at David. Why?"

"Well, she was mad at me, too. In fact, she packed up and left right away. She blamed me for inviting her here with the ghost, and she blamed David by extension, since he was here so much. That's the last I've heard from her."

"He was here frequently? Ms. McNeil, are you sure you don't know where he is?"

"No."

"And you don't think they could be together?"

"No."

He pocketed his pen and rose to go. O'Malley moved with him.

"Thanks, Ms. McNeil,"  he clipped. "We appreciate your time. I may have more questions later."

When they had left, Sara slumped into a chair and put her head in her hands. She had to find David simply to clear her own name.


Sara tossed the carry-on bag into the trunk of the PT Cruiser and slammed it shut. She'd tried to figure out where David might be, spending an entire day remembering every conversation. All night her eyes remained wide open while the frustration of unanswered questions bolted like lightning through her thoughts. A drive by his house revealed the camper was still there. He must have taken off on one of his trips without it. The only thing left to do was get out and hope on the open road some idea would come. Jumping in the car, she tried David's cell number one more time.

"Tell him I'm trying to reach him. This is Sara." she yelled rather than spoke when the voice mail beeped for her to speak.

Where to begin. She was prepared for a long trip but with no destination in mind. To think like David was her only hope to figure his whereabouts. Then it hit her. Start with books. David loved books, and perusing the stacks to take  books home was his favorite pastime. Making an abrupt turn, she pointed the car toward the busy streets of the university campus, where the main branch was located.

Stepping through the doors of the ancient building from glaring sunlight to dismal darkness was a shock to the eyes. Dizzy, she paused to take in the towering walls with borders of antique murals  along the ceiling depicting steelworkers with broad shoulders and helmets. It was like stepping back in time, Justin's time rather than hers. The historic building had always been an inspiration to her Victorian-minded heart, although she rarely made the trip to the main branch these days. She remembered weekly trips with her father with whom she shared a love of books. The murals had been there for her and countless generations.

A flock of  librarians, resolute and stern-faced, sat perched on high chairs, looking like birds on a wire in an elevated booth designed for checking out books. These days they worked  computers rather than with stamps or cards. The closest one nodded as Sara approached.

"Excuse me. I just wanted to ask a question," Sara said.

"Yes." The lady offered a sidelong glance as she gave her principal attention to the monitor.

"I was wondering if a fellow has been in lately, David Martin."

"David? Yes, I know him. He comes in all the time. Now that you mention it though, I don't recall seeing him lately."

"When was the last time?"

"You know, it must be about a month. Let me check the records." Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "He took out some books four weeks ago. They're overdue, as a matter of fact."

"I see. What kind of books were they? Travel, perhaps?"

"No, best-sellers. Fiction, actually."

Sara's heart fell. No clues there, except the fact the books were overdue.  "Thanks," she replied and turned away, wondering what to do next.

The Storyteller's Muse

Chapter 16

The decision to take old Route 40 came to Sara in a flash. David was enamored of the scenic route and had shown her countless photos of barns, quaint little churches, and majestic mountains. The little towns and compelling sense of history drew him back again and again, especially for camping in the Appalachians while stopping in each little town to seek out locals and study the rich regional history and lore. He told her it was like seeing America built from the ground up.  Sara listened to his stories in awe, wishing she could go along to enrich her books and characters from observations. But since he was married, that was out of the question. Brenda, in refusing to travel, made Sara wonder if that married couple had anything in common. But David was a man of numerous interests, and apparently he and Brenda touched base on some of them.

He had  taught her so much about life simply by example. She followed the trail in his pictures and conversations. His poignant photos and astute comments about regular people helped Sara develop her characters. Each picture told a story; each character glinted new life in her eye. And the vistas David brought home on film helped her step out of her world and into others. Yes, surely that was where David was now, out there studying people and life with his usual passion.

"Perhaps we are getting closer."

The voice sent her slamming the car into a reckless swerve, propelling it into roadside bushes with resonant bumps and thuds, while her heartbeat drummed even louder. Shaking, Sara turned to see Justin sitting in the passenger seat, an anachronism in his breeches and antique coat with ornate shoes that had never stepped inside a modern auto. She couldn't speak.

"You look surprised," he murmured.

"I've never seen you outside of the house before. I mean, you've spoken in my ear, but that's all."

"Yes, I know. The more you get to know me, the stronger my image becomes. Soon I believe we will be able to chat at will." Thin lips formed into one of his characteristic wry grins.

Sara froze. She loved him. The realization hit in the surprise of the moment. His eyes, his voice, his persona so in tune with hers, and he seemed so familiar, like she'd known him...loved him forever, a long lost friend back in her life. The familiarity broke down all barriers. But a wariness lurked in the corners, an uneasiness about his gaining power in her life. Ultimately, could he be trusted? How could you know about a ghost?

"I'm wondering if that's a good thing, chatting at will." She said it off-handedly, not wishing him to perceive her hesitancy.

"Of course,  it is." He leaned closer. "We were once a dazzling couple, you know."

"Really," she replied, her lips tightening.

"Well, are you going to make this 'thing' move like you do, so we can look for David, or aren't  you?"

"It's called an automobile, and yes, I'm going to make it move now." She hit the accelerator and reversed the PT Cruiser out of the shrubs and back to the highway, straightening it out with rash, aggressive motions.

Justin eyed her accusingly. "Honestly, I've noticed how you are always rushing about in this 'thing'! When are you going to stop and take a simple walk. Smell the fresh air and feel the sun."

"Not now. I've got to find David." She felt guilty being short, adding,. "Everybody, his wife, the police--they all think I killed him or something."

For a moment, it all came tumbling in on her... trying to clear her name, riding with a ghost in the car, fighting off the police and a jealous housewife. What was happening? Life had been so simple once. Each day was an exercise in order and thoughtfulness, starting with the coffee shop, then home to write, stopping only for meals and errands, ending before midnight as she tapped out the last words for the day.

She was just Sara McNeil, once a good Catholic school girl with promise in language skills, later a university student--although not one to lose her head and do anything radical. After graduating, she worked writing simple copy in advertising and moonlighted writing fiction, first just for her, later she sent it out to publishers. So many rejections, until finally one book made it, finding a publisher and jump-starting her career.

She was just Sara Ann McNeil, pleasant, conservative, never daring to take a chance, just plain Sara Ann McNeil. People called her  "too good to be true." She was that trustworthy. And now, a friend's wife accused her of stealing her man...or worse, and a ghost was sitting next to her in the car. How did all this happen?

"His wife, she's a bit strange, you know."

Justin's voice brought her back to the present. She glanced at him and wondered where reality had gone. Shaking her head, she mused to herself, Sara Ann McNeil is a bit strange, too, you know.

"Were you about to say something, darling?" he asked.

"No. So where are we heading? Any ideas?"

"No, my dear. I'm just along to keep you company."

Sara shot him a sidelong glance. "I don't know. I figured you ghosts know everything. I mean, you exist on another plateau,  so to speak, right? No superpowers up there or something?"

"Superpower? What is that?" His elfish smile again, was he enjoying this?

Her cell phone rang. Its jaunty music broke the spell, and when she looked up from pulling it out of her handbag, Justin was gone. Her mind felt cluttered wondering on the one hand where Justin had gone, and on the other who was on the phone. The caller ID indicated "private."

The voice on the other line was unmistakable. David!  She swerved the car again. His tone was weak and distant.

"Sara?"

"David, is that you? Where are you? Everybody is looking for you." She pulled off the road and parked. Her hand holding the phone trembled.

"Sara, it's Margot. Help me...Smithton... ."

The phone went dead.


Copyright 2007 JO Janoski

Posted: 05:11 PM, May 31, 2007 in My Online Novel in Progress		 Comments (1) | Link

The Storyteller's Muse, Chapters 7-10

The Storyteller
Chapter 7

Sara held her own in the grocery line, balancing two cans of soup and a box of corn flakes in one arm versus in the other a jumbo roll of paper towels and three small cartons of yogurt pressed against her belly. One small push and she'd be a goner. Was she six items or less? It was too late to get out of line now.

Remembrances of the ghostly encounter pushed these mundane concerns from her mind. As quickly as the strange welcome home had echoed through her thoughts, it was gone. But the voice's power, the certainty, still lingered cementing its worth. Its whisper walked with her now in her mind like an old friend. She'd met someone, and she couldn't go back to before it happened. To her consternation, the friendly warmth hugged her, instilling a hunger for more, much more.

"$11.77."

"What?"

"$11.77, Miss."

Sara starred blankly at the fellow, her eyes finally resting on the "Food Town" label on his jacket. "Oh, yes!"

Reaching in her pocket, she wiggled her fingers in its empty space. The pocket was empty. "I...ah...seem to have forgotten my wallet," she stammered.

Lips pursed, eyes glaring, the clerk stood in one place, staring back. No sign of mercy there.

"I'll have to come back later." Her face felt hot as she reached to place items back in the cart.

"We'll put them away," he snapped.

Speechless, she nodded and headed for the exit. How could she forget her wallet? A woman of fanatic attention to detail, how could she have forgotten to lay it out where she would see it. That ghost! Her world was turned upside because of Justin. The words struck her. She was speaking about a ghost, a ghost she knew. Stopping outside the store, Sara leaned against the wall as her heart pounded in an excited rhythm. Lifting a trembling hand to her forehead, she murmured, "Why did I buy that house?" In a rush, the answer came. Why would you buy the house if you didn't want to meet me?

Sara froze. Justin, speaking to her again! What was happening? Did she on some level make a straight line to this Victorian, knowing her destiny collided there with a ghost? Or was this a subterfuge where she was drawn there with her own will not playing any role at all? She waited for an answer. Nothing.

Later, as she sipped tea in the kitchen, indistinct emotions rattled in her brain. Was this a good thing, being friends with a ghost whom she had no idea whether she could trust. Friends with a ghost? What was she thinking? But David seemed convinced the spirit was friendly. Could he really know that? The entity's allure captivated, its warmth lingering long after each experience. But Sara knew that impression didn't guarantee it was a friendly ghost. It could be just a devious one.

"Maybe I shouldn't decide on my own," she pondered. Back at the computer, she squashed headphones over her ears and pulled the keyboard close, proceeding to call her friends. By the time she was done, she'd invited David, Brigid, and Margot to stay the weekend at the Victorian.



Sara dusted the old parlor tables one last time. They would arrive soon. Margot had flown in from London, landing in New York within two hours of Brigid who was coming from Boston. From there, they would take the same flight to Pittsburgh where David planned to meet them at the airport. Everything had fallen into place like a well-choreographed ballet.

Sara's new bell chimes announced their arrival, earlier than planned. This was the first time David and Sara were meeting the other two, and the first time either Margot or Brigid had met any other member. The group had chatted for three years on the Internet, but living miles or even continents apart made meeting face to face difficult.

Sara raced to the door to greet her guests. The first smile she spotted was Brigid's, chubby round, facial lines all reaching up, short carrot-top hair enhancing her autumn complexion. She stood only five feet tall, but her radiating energy made her taller.

Next Margot, older, blond, taller than Brigid, smiled from a tiny mouth that barely seemed big enough when open to reveal a line of straight, gray teeth. Next to Brigid she was dull, dressed in drab olive green and gray; and she was stiff--not animated like Brigid.

David stood behind the two with a wide grin, enjoying himself.

"Come in! Come in! All of you!" Sara ushered them to the parlor, taking coats and instructing David where to place the women's suitcases by the staircase.

"This is so amazing!" Brigid bubbled over in smiles. "I can't believe we're finally meeting, all of us."

Sara stood back and reflected. These were friends, although up until today they existed for each other only in cyberspace. They now presented themselves as flesh and blood people...people you could reach out and hug...not like some flimsy fly-by-night ghost that whispered sweet nothings in your ear scaring a person to death.

"I'll start some tea. You girls get acquainted," David said. The ladies followed his exit with their eyes.

"He knows the kitchen well. He's been here a lot since I moved in," Sara murmured. "Moral support."

"Oh, I see. I thought maybe you had a little fling going on," Brigid remarked with a giggle.

"No, David is married. His wife just doesn't...answer to this part of his personality--the Internet, ghosts exploration...you know...the weird encounters," Sara said.

Both ladies laughed as Margot's eyes studied the room. "Oh, I see your computer over there," she said.

"Yep, that's where I talk to you ladies."

"I'll be picturing you there now when we chat," the older lady observed.

"Well, so, how are you girls getting along?" David asked, carrying a tray of cups and saucers. He placed it with care on the table in front of them. "Does everybody look the way you thought from pictures?"

"The features are the same, but the animation is something a photo can't show. And I am pleasantly surprised!" Sara said.

Suddenly a dizzying rush grip her. Her pulse raced off with a mind of its own while a message pushed into her ear through the chaos of her surroundings. A voice! The animation is a picture of the person, not the material body. It was the ghost again, Justin. Sara's teacup wobbled in her shaky grasp. She feared she might faint.

"Sara, are you all right?" David asked. He paused, a faraway expression crossing his face. "I feel something. Do you?"

Sara nodded without speaking, her eyes wide, her mouth a nervous slit. This thing of Justin speaking to her in a crowded room, it was different. Before she had been alone and in a meditative state. But this voice, and in front of other people, it upset her.

David rushed over. He took her wrist and rubbed it. "It's okay, Sara! Now tell me what is happening."

Sara turned to him, her face blank.

"Sara?"

"It was real. Like a whisper..."

"I knew it. I sensed somebody or something in the room."

Brigid shot Margot a glance, shifting her position on the couch to lean back, away from Sara.

"What did he say?" David asked.

"He said animation is a picture of  a person, not the physical body."

David leaned back in surprise. "I see."

The room fell silent. The only sound the hall clock thunderously pounding out the passing of each second.

Finally, David spoke. "Are you all right now, Sara?"

"Yes, I think it passed."

"Maybe it was just your imagination," Brigid threw in, perhaps hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

"No, it happened," Sara shot back, her voice weak but distinct.

Brigid shook her head in disdain glancing at Margot, who remained motionless.

"Well, let's not worry. It's over now and Sara made us a wonderful meal out in the kitchen." David stood to start the exodus. He helped Sara up.

Later, gathered around the tiny table, all was soon forgotten. The sunny kitchen, with light streaming in the line of windows chased away any inclination to believe in ghosts.

Brigid was a born comedian and kept the others laughing with her tales of on line adventures and mishaps.

"Anyway, I wiggled out of Internet sex with this fellow and went looking for a new group. That's when I found you folks," she said, raising her glass of red wine in salute.

"To Friendship!" Sara added, raising her glass.

The others joined. Sara sat back and reflected. Here they were, all those funny names on the computer screen, traveling across the ocean or across the country just to sit in the kitchen of my new house to get to know one another. Smiling faces, matching up on line impressions with real people. Like meeting storybook characters, with the childlike happiness of discovering they were real.

They had met in an on line group for lovers of books. It was a natural attraction, they being the only ones interested in classic writings, especially Dickens. The other group members took their fancies in modern commercial novels. So the Dickens crowd stuck together.

These people were family. For Sara, living alone with only the computer for company of an evening, these friends were there to listen, to laugh, to offer anecdotes about their days. Amazing!

"And then I found out what those letters stood for in Internet slang!" Brigid was at it again, making the others roar with laughter. Here they were, in her kitchen, like a fairytale come true. The evening ended on an upbeat note. Sara tucked the girls in an upstairs bedroom next to hers. David stayed over in a room down the hall.

Later, a noise woke Sara. She fumbled for the lamp, bumping her clock, while grabbing for the switch in the dark. A scream, she heard a scream, loud, shrieking. The residue of a dream lingered, one about running, running in search of something...running...the dream hadn't wanted to let her go. But someone had screamed. Here. In her house. She found the switch and the new light blasted against her dreary eyes.

In an instant she was out of bed and racing to the room next door. David was already there, an arm around Margot's shoulders. She was crying, not gentle little sobs, but big gasping sob-screams. Brigid was near the window examining the area like some sort of detective.

David, seeing Sara standing dumbfounded at the door, spoke first. "She saw your ghost." He said it in a matter-of-fact tone which amazed Sara. Was he attempting to appear calm so Margot wouldn't scream louder. In an off moment, Sara's mind wandered...what did the ghost look like? Shaking it off, she rushed over and sat next to the crying woman.

"Margot, it's okay. We're here."

"A lot of good that does! That beast could kill all of us as easily as only one! He was standing there by the window!"

"Margot, I'm sorry. But you all came to stay to help me figure out about this ghost, and now he has presented himself...we're here to help one another."

"He could have killed me!" Margot jumped from the bed and faced off in front of Sara. "You shouldn't have invited us here!" Rushing to the closet, she grabbed her suitcase and threw it open on the bed. Clutching undies from the dresser, she slammed them into the open case.

"Margot! What are you doing?" Brigid asked. She grabbed hold of her arm, but Margot pushed her away, sending the poor woman stumbling backwards.

"I'm leaving!" Margot shot the words out through gritted teeth while continuing to pile her belongings--now it was shoes, each pair wrapped in its own plastic bag which she stuffed now recklessly into the valise.

David stepped in. "Margot, are you even sure you saw a ghost? I mean, this house, it stimulates the imagination with all the antique furnishings..."

"I most certainly did!" By this time, Margot was in tears. She crammed the lid down, then laid out slacks and a sweater to rest on top. "Now are you all going to give me some privacy so I can dress!"

The three exchanged worried glances before turning to go. As David closed the door, Margot was calling a cab on her cell phone.

Outside, Brigid stepped back toward the room. "I'd better go with her. I wouldn't want Margot to travel alone to New York. By then, I hope she'll have calmed down." She turned the knob to reenter, then paused.

"Sara. I can't believe you invited us here. Honestly, I came on a lark, thinking it was sort of fun...Sara's ghost and all that. I thought we'd just laugh it up. That's all. You could have gotten us killed." She pushed the door open and paused. "I never want to speak to you again, and neither does Margot....Oh, and one other thing. Get the hell out of this house. It's dangerous."

The door slammed in her face.  Speechless, Sara turned to David. He walked over and hugged her. "Don't expect them to understand, Sara. Just let them go."

Later, Sara sat in the parlor, blackened inside and miserable. "I can't believe this happened," she murmured to David.

"Sara, don't take it so hard. They'll get home and think about it. Then they'll come around."

"No, they won't! I can't believe this! Two of my dearest friends--three years on the Internet, talking everyday...in one night all that love and trust, obliterated."

David remained silent for a spell until Sara spoke again. "David, is the ghost dangerous?"

"That remains to be seen," he replied.

ue, Nov. 7th, 2006, 02:40 pm


The Storyteller
Chapter 8

After David left, Sara sat alone in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and her shattered dreams. Would she ever be able to win back her friends' approval? The loss weighed heavily with her to the point of pushing aside the idea Margot claimed to have seen the ghost. The frightening intrusion became lost in the crushing disappointment of Margot and Brigid's untimely exit. Now, alone in the house, the reality of Justin's spiritual presence struck home.

Had Margot really seen him? Apparently so, considering how she had freaked and left in fear and anger. Unless, their ghost stories had simply activated her imagination.

Don't be silly. Of course, there's a ghost. It's all you've been talking about.

Justin! Whispering in her ear again. "Oh my God!" she murmured. Her heart raced. He was here. In the house. Alone with her. Justin was presenting himself more and more each day, first being just an idea in her mind, an inspiration of sorts. Then the necklace went missing. She had the dreamy episodes stepping back in time, and now the whispers in her ear. What next?

Sleep. Maybe she should sleep. A nap in the living room. Perhaps the commotion had frazzled her, and when she woke up, all would be fine again. Making her way to the sofa, she stroked her neck remembering the necklace, the one that gave her moral support with her writing. The one that made her feel whole. What confidence the jewelry always brought, inspiring confidence when she wore it. During her turbulent teenage years, it made her a social butterfly; now as an adult, it propelled her as a writer. She would clutch it each time the page stared back, empty and white. While wearing the necklace, her fingers danced across the keys spinning stories of wonder. It made her believe in herself.

Sara wished she had that necklace now, just to feel it around her neck, to draw from its powers. To be a person who would cope with this situation better. Someone who would be curious, inquisitive, seeking out this entity to know him, to find out his secrets.

You could be that person.

The voice again! Was she losing her mind? Lying on the couch, she grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her chest. Could sleep obliterate her fears? Or would her pounding heart chase away slumber? But she slept. She slept to avoid the inevitable, for a while at least.




David called later while she sat in the kitchen sipping tea, his voice a welcome interlude from her thoughts. She'd been having the sensation of being watched.

"Hello, Sara! How are you?"

"David! I'm so glad you called. I'm so nervous I don't know what to do."

"Relax, Sara! Do you want me to come over?"

She eased back in the chair. That would a relief, to have company. With Margot and Brigid leaving in a huff and her fears about Justin, Sara never felt so alone. "David, could you? Would your wife mind? I realize I'm dragging you over here a lot lately."

A pause, and then he answered. "She'll understand. I can be there in 20 minutes."

He arrived wearing his characteristic smile and toting a pizza with a bag of drinks, straws protruding from the sack. "I figured you didn't need to worry about dinner," he announced heading for the kitchen with his usual energy. Sara raced to catch up, her heart fluttering in relief for the company.

As they finished the last morsels, Sara eyed him and stated, "David, this house, I feel like I'm being watched."

"Oh, Sara! You poor girl! Has it been hard for you?"

"I should think so. I don't even feel like I have privacy in my own home." She leaned closer. "I'm afraid to go back upstairs, after Margot saw him up there."

"I see." The older man pondered before responding, stroking his chin. "Sara, how can I make you understand I don't think this ghost is dangerous. I really don't."

"That's easy for you to say! You don't live here by yourself."

"I know. But I think I know a little something about ghosts. And I don't sense any rancor in this one. Honestly, the vibes I get are from a lonely heart...a lonely heart, indeed."

Sara didn't reply.

"I wish you would just give him a chance. Be a little more accepting. I think you might be pleasantly surprised." David sat back, waiting for her to answer. Sara glared at him while her heart pounded and her pulse raced against time. How could he expect her to do that? The ghost could be a killer, like Margot said.

Margot didn't know me. David does.

Justin! Whispering in her ear again.

"I can try," she stammered. The answer came from outside of herself.

That night they chose to sleep in the parlor, with David slouched on an overstuffed chair by the fireplace and Sara sprawled out on the sofa, a crocheted afghan draped over her. She snuggled under its warmth, more to hide from her problems than the cold. It provided a psychological cover from all that had happened. Lying in the darkness hearing David nearby and snoring, brought comfort as her thoughts dared to peek out from under the blanket. The clock in the hallway ticked in its monotonous rhythm with the accompaniment of creaks and bumps typical in old houses. All such sounds obscured during the busy day took center stage at night, giving the Victorian personality. Sara listened, feeling removed from the present as the house spoke for itself in the nebulous aura of its past and present movements. A sudden loud thump brought her back to reality. It was just the furnace, but nervousness made her jump.

What was happening? How did she ever get into all this ghost business? It all began with the decision to buy this house. Maybe she shouldn't have. And yet she couldn't resist. Or was that all part of Justin's plan, manipulating her? Thinking of the ghost sent her thoughts flying into another world, as if propelled into one of her fiction books, and it was science fiction at that. Surely none of this could be real.

And yet, there was David, encouraging her, pushing her forward, telling her not to worry. This aspect of the man was new to her. As a ready friend both in the chat room or as a chum about town, he had never given away his belief in or experience with spirits. Or perhaps she had never asked. Well, now she knew, that was for sure. With a sigh, she rolled over and covered her head with the afghan.

In the morning, soft light filtered through the lace curtains, marching a trail across Sara's face. She woke first to its warmth, then to its glare as opening weary eyes, the light assaulted her in a bombastic glare. At least they had passed the night without incident. Struggling she sat up, stretching, glancing over to see David still asleep. Sara yawned and stretched, rubbing her chin and neck, her skin itchy from the afghan. Her fingers stopped at the cold, hard object around her neck. With a trembling hand, she touched it and strained to look down. Her necklace was back!