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[TAB] Being a reporter for a community newspaper, I have been dragged by local residents into many a strange story. None will ever compare to the call I received just this past week. At 5:00 p.m. he called. He was very excited; his voice was trembling with fear.
[TAB] "What's the matter, Mr. Doe?" I asked calmly, hoping he would slow down enough for me to catch what he was saying. [TAB] "You've got to come right away! He'll be here at 5:22, just like the last two nights. Please hurry!" [TAB] "Who comes every night?" [TAB] John Doe paused. "I'm not sure. It's hard to explain. It must be a ghost or something. Just hurry up, and bring your camera." [TAB] "A ghost!" I thought. Well, that ought to be an interesting story. I got his address, grabbed my camera (checking the film counter), and headed over to John Doe's house. [TAB] I parked along the sidewalk of Wayncrest Lane. As I got out of my car, I was beginning to have second thoughts. The chance of me viewing a ghost tonight paled compared to the chance that I was about to meet a lunatic. My sixth sense was telling me to turn back. But upon glancing at my watch, I saw that 5:22 was quickly approaching. Bravely I approached the front door and rang the doorbell. My sixth sense had never been right anyway. [TAB] "Come in," called John Doe from inside. [TAB] I shrugged my shoulders, sighed, and opened the door. Mr. Doe was standing just inside. John was an older, heavyset man who was currently damp with sweat. [TAB] "Hurry! Come into the living room. He'll be here any second," he pleaded with me, waving his arms frantically toward the living room to my left. [TAB] I slowly walked into the house and turned toward the living room. My first thought was that there was no Jane Doe living with John. The room wasn't that messy, but whoa the smell! Bachelor pads always seem to have a peculiar odor about them, but this one was worse than mine! I quickly concluded that John had recently cleaned some fish and had not properly disposed of the internal organs. [TAB] "Thanks for coming," he said, appearing greatly relieved at my presence. "Get your camera ready, and stand here facing the front door." [TAB] I did as he directed, a sheepish grin spreading over my face. My skin was tingling. Either I was in the home of a madman, or I was just about to see an actual ghost. Something had to happen! [TAB] We both stood there for a minute, staring at the door, waiting for something to happen. My watch read 5:20. I had some time to kill. "So do you fish at Santee Lakes?" I asked. I hoped he would not be too offended by my making a comment about the smell, but I was unable to resist saying something. [TAB] Mr. Doe nodded quickly, his eyes pealed to the front door. He did not seem to be paying much attention to me. "Yes, yes," he answered. "Watch the door. Get your camera ready." [TAB] Instead I looked at my watch. 5:21. I held my camera up to my chest and waited patiently, trying to breathe through my mouth. [TAB] A few seconds later I saw a large, white arm, looking just as real and solid as my own, come through the front door at the level of the doorknob. It seemed to be swinging the door open from the outside, but the door wasn't moving. The arm was quickly followed by the rest of the man as he stepped into the house. I gasped aloud as I recognized him to be the exact twin of Mr. John Doe. After a moment of awe, I remembered my camera and began clicking off pictures. The apparition walked in the direction of myself and John, and then past us as if we were not there. He walked into the kitchen and began acting like he was fixing himself some dinner. [TAB] "That's you," I whispered, staring at the ghost. Its seemingly real fingers were attempting to use the microwave, but were unable to open the door or push the buttons. John Doe Two didn't seem to notice. [TAB] "Yes," John responded. "I know that." [TAB] "And this is the third day in a row it's happened?" [TAB] John nodded. [TAB] "Does he do the same thing every time?" [TAB] Another nod. [TAB] While John Two waited for his phantom TV dinner to cook, he came back to the living room, sat down on the couch, and pointed an invisible remote control device at the television. Nothing happened on the TV, but John Two seemed to be satisfied. I rudely walked in between him and the TV, but this had no effect. I walked up beside him, preparing to touch the phantom on its left shoulder. [TAB] "I think it's a vision of the future," John One remarked. He no longer seemed excited. He now seemed sad. [TAB] "Why do you say that?" I asked. [TAB] "Watch." [TAB] Instead I reached out to touch the shoulder. My fingers went right through John Two's shoulder as if it wasn't there. I could just see my fingertips behind the virtually solid vision of the man's shirt. [TAB] John Two suddenly jerked and grabbed for my hand. I withdrew my hand as if I had just discovered it enmeshed in a black widow's web, jumping about two feet into the air as I did so. But I quickly realized he wasn't reacting to my touch. He knelt down on the floor, clutching his left shoulder, an agonized expression on his face. He was having a heart attack. John Two disappeared. [TAB] "That's how I'm going to die," John stated despondently. [TAB] I inspected him sympathetically. The deduction sounded logical enough to me. [TAB] "I'm just worried about Jessica." [TAB] I was surprised. "Your wife?" [TAB] "No, my little granddaughter. My daughter and son-in-law went on a vacation for a couple weeks to celebrate their second anniversary. I'm babysitting Jessica. If I die here all alone, she could starve before someone finds her." [TAB] "Where is she?" I asked, glancing around. [TAB] John Doe walked past me and turned down the hall. I followed him to the master bedroom where the crib was. Jessica was lying awake but very still in her crib. Her eyelids drooped and her breathing sounded forced. [TAB] "Is she all right?" I asked, gently brushing her wispy hair with my fingertips. [TAB] "She's probably hungry," he answered. "I need to feed her." [TAB] My nose wrinkled. The smell was worse in here. That was odd. [TAB] "Where do you clean your fish?" I asked. [TAB] "At the lakes!" he answered impatiently, growing annoyed with my fixation on his fishing habits. [TAB] I frowned, my pulse quickening. Then it wasn't fish I smelled after all. I turned and followed the stench into the bathroom. I stopped when I saw the body sprawled face down on the bathroom floor. There was no need to see the face. I knew who it was. [TAB] "It's just the phantom," John said from behind me, making me jump. To prove it, he reached down and waved his hand through the dead man's calf. "I must make it in here before I die. Probably looking for medicine or something." [TAB] But I had another theory. Trembling, my heart pounding and my head swimming, I reached out my hand toward John One's chest. My hand disappeared beneath his shirt and I pulled it back out. We both stood there for a moment, John looking puzzled and myself looking terrified. He first looked down at his chest and then at me, as if he thought maybe "I" was the ghost! [TAB] "Please feed my baby," he begged. Then, with a look of regret, John One disappeared. The real John Doe still lay face down on the bathroom floor. [TAB] It was some time before I could move again. My entire body seemed to have turned to jelly, including my mind. With the greatest of efforts, I slowly made my way back to the crib where the hungry baby lay. A phone was nearby. I called an ambulance and the police and collected my thoughts as I waited for them to arrive. I lied, saying a neighbor had called me to complain about the smell and I had investigated. But now it is time to tell the true story: how a man found a way to save his granddaughter from beyond the dark door of Death. And I have the pictures to prove it. |