Ghostly lake

photo of two white ducks on water during fog

He invited me for a picnic on the banks of Lake Menace.

The name alone struck suspicion. Allegedly, it was the scene of a gruesome Civil War battle—word-of-mouth smalltown legend—you won’t read it in the official history books.

Years later, it is said the faceless ghosts of the Union and Confederate soldiers lurk near the still waters of their mass grave, hidden by a perpetual fog.

Continue reading “Ghostly lake”

Ghostly affair

When he decided to spy on his wife, the last thing he expected was to discover that she could talk to ghosts.

And that she’d been secretly seeing his father’s.

Over dinner, he asked her about her day.

“Oh, I did this or that.”

Later that night, his father stood at the foot of their bed, described to him what “this or that” meant.

“You can’t have sex with the dead,” he whispered.

“I beg to differ,” the translucent figure responded, making hip thrusts in the direction where his wife slept.

Even after death, that man continued to torment him.

—Nortina


Written for Fandango’s Story Starter. Click the link to read more stories inspired by the teaser “When he decided to spy on his wife, the last thing he expected was to discover that she…”

I didn’t see anything

I slam my hand down on the alarm clock’s snooze button. Five in the morning. My room is still dark. The sun hasn’t thought to rise. But today’s moving day, and I haven’t begun to pack.

I kick my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself up. I decide I’ll start with the closet. That’s when I see him. A man, or a shape of a man, squatting in the corner where the sliding mirror meets the wall.

I quickly turn on the lamp, but when I blink, he disappears.

I pack with urgency, await the movers.

© Nortina Simmons

Ghost tide

They’d only been married days when he confessed the sea was calling.

“I’ll go with you,” she insisted.

But he put a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back,” he whispered.

That was over a century ago. He never returned, lost at sea, and her ghost still waits…

“She died here?” Amanda scans the landscape of the tiny island.

“Sounds like the guy had another family,” Felisha says.

“Or buyer’s remorse,” Roger adds.

They laugh as the mist from the pounding waves builds.

“Tide’s coming.” The tour guide shivers, turns them away from the translucent figure curled among the rocks.

© Nortina Simmons

Attachment

Her TV is haunted. The fact that the damn thing even still works should’ve been my first clue. If her grandmother were still alive, it’d be older than her. But ask anyone in this house and they’ll tell you her grandmother is in fact still alive.

She’s attached to the TV.

Today I take her to Best Buy for a long overdue exorcism.

“Grandma told me you were bad news.”

“Babe, I just want to see in color.”

After I’ve mounted the new Samsung TV on the wall, Grandma sends it flying across the room. Now this TV is haunted.

© Nortina Simmons

Haunted Honeymoon

Originally published August 25, 2017

A sigh.
A drifting exhale.
An echo of a moan.
A creak,
back and forth,
rocking—or bouncing—
like bed springs.
The whine of the mattress
yields to your convulsions.
A book falls from the shelf—
you don’t stop,
bury yourself underneath
my skin, and there’s a knock
on the wall—hollow—
a whistle down the hall.
A small opening between your
lips where I fit my tongue,
and you bite and you keep going
and you suck the blood as
our bodies slap and the sticky
air sinks on top of us—
Was the door always open?
And my foot slips off the edge,
toes unfurl in the carpet,
feel the vibration get stronger—
You clamp my thighs,
hips tense to fill me—
and in the silence after, suddenly,
the room feels crowded.

#LyricalFictionFriday: On the Other Side

Kyle picks up the board and splits it over his knee, but it won’t erase from their minds the message that was just spelled out.

“Do you hear that?” Lisa asks.

“Shut up!” Kyle snaps. Even he doesn’t recognize the squeal that exits from his mouth.

“There’s no point.” Ryan clears his throat. Given that it might have been his dead brother calling for help from the other side, he seems the calmest of the three of them. “The door’s already been opened.”

“I’m not staying to see what walks through.” Kyle turns to leave but stops in the foyer in front of the closet. It’s cold outside, still winter, there’s wind, freezing rain in the forecast, he would need his coat.

“What is it?” Lisa asks, trepidation in her voice.

Kyle puts his ear to the closet door.

“You hear it too.” Ryan says it more as a statement than a question.

Kyle swallows hard. He won’t confirm or deny the echo of his own breathing on the other side.

© Nortina Simmons