The Unexpected Guest
By S. Faith, © 2012
Words: 891
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary: He's right to be a skeptic, but can he believe his eyes?
Disclaimer: Not mine. :)
Notes: Written for Halloween. A bit late. *sheepish*
This is actually based on a real-life experience.
"Mark?"
"Hmm?" Mark turned to see his wife's rosy face beaming up at him.
"You'll never guess," she said, then nothing more.
After a pause, he said, "I'll bite. What will I never guess?"
"We have a ghost!"
Quite without his being aware of doing so, his brow raised in his scepticism. "A ghost, you say?"
"Oh, yes."
"Right," he said.
She pouted. "Why are you being like that? I did see a ghost."
"Sorry to have doubted you," he said. "Frankly, I'm just a bit surprised you're not incoherent with terror."
"It was a nice ghost."
"Tell me, darling; where did you see this… 'ghost'?"
"Upstairs, in the bedroom," she said. "I was reading and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked up and saw a sulky figure walk past then disappear through the wall."
"Sulky?"
"You know, sort of…. She just seemed lonely."
"She?"
"Well, of course 'she,' Mark," she said. "I should think I'm able to tell the difference."
He didn't think she'd seen anything of the sort, but to continue to question her or to provide possible explanations (such as dozing off and dreaming) would get him nowhere. He suspected, however, that his further lack of response said more than enough; she knew he didn't believe her, and she didn't mention it again. She did, however, look frequently pouty.
…
"Bridget?"
He was in his home office, catching up on a little work, when he thought he saw motion in his peripheral vision. There was no answer, so he went back to work, figuring it has just been his imagination. Immediately he fell back into work; he didn't know how much time had passed when he thought he saw something again, accompanied by what he thought was a scuff sound. When he looked up, though, there was no one there.
"Bridget, are you there?"
No answer again. Perhaps in going out with her friends she'd gone dancing, the music had been loud, and she just couldn't hear him. He pushed back from the desk and headed out of the office, calling her name for good measure. Still he got no response.
He walked around the entire ground floor before heading upstairs, occasionally calling her name. He went into every room (on the off chance she had decided to pop into one of the spare bedrooms for some unfathomable reason), leaving the bedroom until the very last. She was not there, either.
"Strange," he muttered to himself, putting his hands on his hips, starting a slow, surveying turn away from the bedroom.
Suddenly, he stopped as motion caught his eye again, motion from the bedroom door. He turned back sharply in time to see—
He furrowed his brow. The ankle, the heel, of a bare (and obviously female) foot in passing by the door within the bedroom, was all he had time to register before it was gone.
"Bridget," he said, this time in irritation, striding determinedly back to the bedroom. Why hadn't she answered him sooner? Why didn't she answer him now?
As he entered the bedroom he realised quickly that he was alone. She must have gone into the loo, he thought, and went in there himself.
It too was empty. What the hell was going on?
He dug out his mobile; thinking maybe she'd dashed into the wardrobe to hide, he thought her own mobile starting to blare out its ringtone would scare her into revealing her position.
It rang once… twice… three times—which, he noted, he did not hear at all—before the phone was answered.
"Mark?"
Behind the sound of her voice was the unmistakeable sound of heavy bass and the chattering of voices, which got quieter (he suspected she was moving away from the music). He asked, "Where are you?"
"Still at 192. Why? What's wrong?" she asked, sounding immediately concerned.
"Nothing… I…" He struggled to think what to say. "I just thought I saw, er, heard you upstairs."
As much as he hoped she wouldn't catch the slip-up, she did. "Saw? What do you mean, you thought you saw me? Oh!" she blurted, the thrill of excitement building in her voice. "You saw her, didn't you?"
"I thought I saw something," he said coolly.
"What did you think you saw?"
"A…" He paused. "A foot."
"A disembodied foot?!" she exclaimed.
"No, no," he said. "Like someone was passing by the bedroom door, except all I saw by the time I actually turned to look directly at what was moving, all I saw was the bare heel."
"Ooh, barefoot!" she said. "I'm coming home straightaway."
"You don't have to," he said.
"Don't you want me to?" She sounded wounded.
"Of course," he said. "I mean, I'm not frightened by something I thought I saw. I'm more worried that a stranger's roaming about the house."
"Oh, but be scared!" she said. "Or at least act as if you are. I think the poor thing's got low self-esteem. Been trying to frighten you for eons and you never noticed until I saw her first."
He did not know how to begin to respond to this, as ridiculous as it was. He just smiled, then quietly began to chuckle. "Bridget—"
"I'll be home soon," she said solemnly. "Act scared, because I want to see her when I get back!"
The end.