Electric

My wife Sarah thinks I should "let" the ghost go. Until very recently, I didn't even know what that meant. I suppose now I have options, an ethical choice.

I just don't know.

It all began innocently enough. I went up to the attic one day, and that's when I discovered it was haunted. It seemed, I don't know if friendly is the right word, but...not menacing at least. Not at first!

The ghost introduced itself as Shawn, detaching itself from a dusty coatrack the previous owners had stored up here.

Needless to say, even after its benign introduction, I bolted down the attic stairs and closed the dilapidated wooden door as quickly as I could. I didn't go back up there for several days after the incident, and Sarah and my one kid Jonah noticed the change in my behavior.

Honestly, revisiting the attic wasn't my idea at all. But Jonah came to me one night, nudging me gently while I slept.

"Hey, g--," I started to say. Jonah immediately put a finger to his lips. I could barely see the motion because all the lights were out. Even the alarm clock.

At first, I wasn't sure it was Jonah, because he was only a vague outline against the backdrop of the moon. Something told me not to make a sound, not to disturb Sarah beside me. She never snored, and this night wouldn't be an exception to that rule. Everything just seemed so quiet, like I had woken up in a vacuum.

I followed Jonah without saying a word, and miraculously didn't stumble on anything. In the hallway, with the door partially closed, Jonah flicked on the flashlight and held a finger to his lips again. I nodded, my intuition telling me that I should remain silent.

I could hear the creek of the floorboards as we walked, reassuring me I wasn't in a vacuum, and we made it to the green, rickety stairs leading to the attic in no time at all.

As soon as Jonah and I cleared the stairs and made it to the front of the attic, which had a large window overlooking the street, he collapsed suddenly onto the hard wood floor. Then all the lights came on, startling me further. I cradled Jonah in my arms, looking around frantically.

The ghost re-appeared again. This time it wasn't a pure white color, instead it appeared as a tattered, see-through grey sheet.

"W-what the hell is going on? What did you do to my boy? And why did the lights come back on as soon as he fell down?"

The grey sheet just glared at me.

"I had to get your attention somehow," the grey sheet said. "And the lights came back on because I left Jonah's body. You basically don't need electricity, or not from the source you're used to, since I'm here. That's why I did all this. I just want to leave, but you have to open that window, the one looking out over the street, then I can get the fuck out of here."

I hesitated, my intuition warning me again against something I didn't fully understand.

"I'm not saying no, but my boy is limp in my arms and a ghost is staring at me," I said. "I can't give you an answer right now.

"Jonah will be fine. I've done this kind of thing before." You better make a decision soon, or else. I'm a patient ghost, but I've waited too long already. And if you meet anything else here, don't trust it."

"Anything else?"

"I've already told you too much. Broke the rules. I introduced myself to you before, but you don't seem to remember my name. Call me Shawn."

I told Shawn I'd return with an answer soon. I needed to attend to Jonah first, really make sure he was okay, not just believe the words coming from a desperate ghost (didn't say that last part).

Once we were well away the attic, Jonah began to stir in my arms. He looked horribly thirsty, so I placed him gently on his bed and got him some water. Within minutes, he began muttering, nothing bad. Soft incoherent mumbling that I couldn't decipher.

Eventually I went back to my own bed and fell asleep next to Sarah, who had begun to move lightly. I barely noticed as I slid off to sleep.

I think I had horrible dreams, of an abusive childhood I never remembered having. An elderly woman berating me in the basement. The woman seemed terrifying, with eyes murky and dead looking. I woke in a cold sweat, and Sarah asked me what was wrong. I shook my head, telling her only that I had a nightmare I couldn't remember.

We had breakfast, Jonah seeming spritely and blissfully ignorant of the night before. I ate my eggs quietly, doing my best to smile and seem normal. Laugh at Jonah's dry jokes. He was a good kid. I realized at that point that I wouldn't let anything happen to him. I didn't want Shawn possessing him again.

"Everything okay, babe?" Sarah asked. She must've seen the expression on my face.

"Uh, yeah. Of course. Just thinking about work is all." I mustered my best smile under the circumstances.

I intended to go right to the attic after breakfast, make up some excuse, but Sarah wanted me to take a basket of dirty clothes down to the basement and try out the washing machine. Give her the okay that there wasn't anything wrong with it.

Since I wanted her to think everything was normal, I complied and headed for the basement. The basket in my arms felt heavy and stunk with clothes long overdue for a washing.

As soon as I dumped the clothes into the washing machine, I heard a shuffling sound behind me. I turned around, heart sinking in my chest.

Standing before me was the decaying woman from my dreams. Matted white hair, murky eyes devoid of anything human except malice. I wasn't able to scream. Something had closed my vocals cords. It wasn't fear, and I thought it might be the corpse standing before me.

It lurched forward, coming so close to me that I thought my insides would burst from fright. But she walked past me and placed a small golden object on top of the washer. It looked like a small gargoyle.

When she spoke, it sounded rough with some of the syllables cut out. I'll write down what I thought she said from the context.

"Attach this trinket to the attic door, and the little shit's spirit won't be able to leave. If you open the attic window, I'll make sure you regret it."

The decaying woman with the matted white hair lurched back into the shadows, and I ran up the stairs as fast as my adrenaline would carry me.

Upstairs, Sarah asked me if the washing machine had held up to my rigorous tests. I told her that I'd have to go to the hardware store and pick up some tools. Mess around with the thing.

"Well, if you don't get it fixed soon, I can take a look," she offered, smiling playfully.

I almost shouted "no!" and she stared at me in concern.

After that, I went to the hardware store and picked up some tools so it would seem like I was working on the thing. I lied to Sarah, told her I saw a rat down there. More than one. I figured that would be a deterrent from going down to the basement. At least for a few days.

Going to the hardware store served another purpose. I needed glue to fasten the gargoyle to the attic door. As soon as I returned home, I did just that. And I felt a bit safer too.

Except for that thing in the basement.

I was able to put off fixing the washing machine until the following day. I told Sarah I might be coming down with something, which had a ring of truth to it. But I was also worried about Jonah. He had been acting strangely since getting up this morning. Not as strange as last night, but he barely talked, ate his cereal with an odd mental rhythm. Couldn't quite put my finger on it. I had my theories, of course. One in particular stood out.

I kept asking Jonah if he felt alright, and he replied with "yes" in a monotone voice.

"If he's still acting like this in a day or two, let's take him to the doctor," Sarah said, in a suggesting voice, but knowing her as I did, I knew it wasn't a suggestion.

Although Jonah seemed to snap out of it closer to bed time. Sarah looked relieved.

Suspecting what happened last night might also happen tonight, I opted for the couch. I didn't want Jonah coming to our bedroom again and spooking Sarah with his persistent silence.

And yes, I did glue the golden gargoyle to the attic door, which should've kept out Shawn. But how much could I trust the corpse in the basement?

"You sure you're gonna be alright here, Miles?" Sarah asked. "You won't be able to hear either one of us in case something happens."

I came up with a flimsy excuse of being wound up after dinner since we had it late. I told her I might be up later if I got drowsy. I could tell she only half-bought it, but was tired herself from all the moving in so she didn't question me much.

Because of what happened last night, I had a difficult time falling asleep. In a way, I wanted to remain vigilant in case Jonah came for me.

Within an hour, though, I dosed, falling into an uneasy and clouded sleep. I don't think I dreamed, but the feeling of cold steel to my throat woke me up quickly. As I struggled, the sharp steel was pressed tighter against my flesh.

Everything was dark again, pitch black. Adrenaline surged within me, but I knew enough than to jerk my limbs or do something stupid.

"I thought you were supposed to stay in the attic," I half-whispered in panic.

"That little gargoyle thing? I was already in your son's body before you placed it on the door, and I don't plan to leave either. Not until you open the window."

It was so terrifying, hearing my own son's voice as menacing. Threatening. Practically murderous.

"The lady...the corpse down in the basement, said she would kill me if I did!" I replied, still trying to maintain a whisper, the cold steel pricking my Adam's apple.

"You don't think I won't kill you? Your Jonah's dad, not mine. I don't care if he wakes up to see his dad in a bloody heap. That horrible woman abused me for too long. I want out of this dilapidated hellhole."

I had no clue what to do. Either way, someone threatened to kill me, and currently, Jonah held the knife to my throat. He won.

Except when we got to the foot of the attic stairs, Jonah collapsed as soon as he set foot on the first step, and I saw Shawn's grey floaty self emerge from his body. I immediately cradled my son in his arms.

It was the gargoyle on the door. He couldn't pass it coming from either direction, and tried as I might, I couldn't loosen it (I placed Jonah's body in a cradling position temporarily).

"I think it's magically sealed on there. Fuck. That shriveled witch I was forced to call a grandmother sure is clever. We're going to have to go down to the basement. Confront her."

Shawn possessed my son again, and we slowly made out way to the basement. Waking Sarah would end all this in disaster.

After unbolting the basement door, I headed down the stairs. The musty, rancid smell hit my nostrils again but Jonah didn't react.

"Keep your guard up around Eunice," Jonah whispered. "She might be a corpse with a dull mind, but she managed to resurrect herself...and kept me trapped here. She's stupid and half-brained. Clever though. Still scares the shit out of me."

"I can see why," I replied, voice low.

In the big room with the furnace, we waited for the corpse of Shawn's grandmother to appear. When she finally did, she looked as ghastly as ever. Murderous murky eyes seemed to penetrate our minds. Know our deepest fears.

Eunice told us in her broken tones that she'd only release the magic lock on the attic if one of us would kill Sarah. My wife.

Then she stared right at Jonah. My boy, someone who never did anything wrong, never hurt anyone.

"Look at you, pathetic and weak. I could kill you all over again if I had the chance. Drown you in the bathtub. Like old times, right, m' boy?"

Jonah held the knife up. His hand was shaking.

"You just want me to rot in Hell," Jonah said. "If I kill Sarah, that's where I'll be going."

"Then your friend can do it," Eunice replied. "You want to save your son and a worthless ghost, looks like you're going to have to kill your wife." A sickly smile spread across Eunice's decaying lips, and she lurched back into the shadows. Her broken, menacing tones seemed to follow her.

That was that. The days went by, and Shawn had to remain in Jonah's body (but because he was dormant in the daytime, the lights still functioned).

Jonah couldn't kill my beloved Sarah since that would mean escaping this house would be for nothing. He'd go straight to Hell. I wouldn't even entertain the idea. Not at first, anyway. But Jonah became sicker and sicker, his skin turned a ghostly pale, and I honestly thought I would die soon.

One afternoon, I took Jonah aside. Told him I couldn't kill my own wife, but that I'd do anything else. Even trying to find a way to destroy Eunice. I begged him to consider. Choosing between my son and my wife wasn't an option. There needed to be another way.

While Jonah still played in his room with the door mostly closed, I decided to sneak down to talk to Eunice again. Quit frankly, the old corpse utterly terrified me.

She emerged from the infinitely deep darkness again, lurching forward, staring at me with implacable eyes.

"Has the deed been done?" Eunice asked.

"No, I--,"

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I need...I need another way," I said. "I just can't kill my wife to save my son. I love her too much."

Eunice said despite hating Shawn, it wasn't that malice which kept him here. If he left his childhood home with the "lady of the house" still living, something horrible will happen.

"Like what?" I prodded, trying to come across as blandly curious and not too forceful. The woman deeply scared me.

"I'm nothing compared to the vengeful things in the spirit world. If you want another way, give your wife this potion. She'll temporarily die and it allow Jonah to escape. I will remove the magical seal on attic."

I realized I had no other real choice. I was fitful that night and early the next day, but I knew I had to do it. Murdering my son wasn't a choice at all. At least this way, both of them had a chance of living.

When evening came around, I poured the potion into a glass of wine. I knew how much Sarah liked to unwind with a glass before bed. She only allowed herself to do it a few times a week.

I brought her the glass, and she beamed.

"How sweet," she said. "It's been a stressful...well, you know. And Jonah is doing better."

I told Shawn about the idea earlier, and he agreed to let me try it this way.

Sarah drained her glass in a few gulps and handed it back to me.

"Refill, please?" she gave me her poutiest look, and I went to pour her some more wine. After about three of them, she was fast asleep on the couch.

Jonah gave Sarah the same sickly smile Eunice gave him.

Even as Sarah lay still, pale and nearly lifeless, Jonah kept that smile on his face.

Thinking her dead, I cradled Sarah in my arms and cried.

"Please don't really be dead," I said through choked sobs.

Jonah tapped me on the shoulder hours later. I had no idea the time gone by. Sarah remained a husk in my arms.

"Didn't work," Jonah growled. "I knew that abusive woman lied to me. And to you. Now we're...we're..."

Jonah's voice trailed off.

"...Fucked?" I heard Sarah's voice and felt her warm flesh. I turned to her and saw the wicked look in her eyes.

It was Eunice. I saw Eunice in Sarah's eyes. Before you ask, I'm still not sure how it happened. Unless Eunice's soul never left her corpse to begin with.

Now I don't know what to do. I'm the "head" of a family that scares the hell out of me. If Jonah-Shawn feels trapped, I have no idea what he'll be capable of doing. I think he has more power than he realizes, but Eunice made him not trust himself and his abilities. If he does use them (which are related to controlling the electricity in the house), it might be in a flash of anger that harms everyone, including himself. I'm trying to keep things from spilling over day to day, keep things calm.

Eunice reassures me she won't kill me as long as I dance to her tune, so I've been doing my best to see to her every need.

I don't trust either of them. Honestly? I don't trust myself at this point.

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