Wysi·Wyg Volume I, Issue 3

Ghosts?
by Katherine S.

One dark and slightly overcast night, Bob and Sharon Smith were sitting on the couch in their living room, watching an old horror movie. “Sharon, I wish you’d stop squealing like that every time the ghost pops up,” Bob complained. “I mean, it’s not like it’s real or anything.” He shifted a bit, reaching for the popcorn.

“How do you know ghosts aren’t real?” Sharon replied . “There’s no proof that ghosts don’t exist.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But do you have proof that they do exist?”

Sharon sighed, turning away in frustration, but then gasped and hid her face in Bob’s shirt as a pale specter appeared on the screen. “Okay honey, I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow night we’ll drive up to the Blue Raven Inn and spend the night there. Maybe that’ll stop the argument.”

“The Blue Raven Inn? But that place is haunted!” Sharon exclaimed.

Bob looked at her. “Exactly.”

THE NEXT DAY

The next night (it was dark again, this time with light rain showers), Bob and Sharon drove to the little inn, each determined to prove that their point of view was the right one. They entered the musty lobby and were greeted by a little old lady, asleep at the front desk. The two quietly walked up to her, and just as Bob opened his mouth to speak, she suddenly sat up and stared at them. “One room?” she inquired in a creaky old voice.

“Um, yes, please,” Bob answered.

Handing him a key, the woman gestured up the stairs and to the hallway beyond. “Number 13.” As the couple made their way upstairs, the old lady turned to the door behind her, which led to her office. She stood up and floated right through.

“I can’t believe we got Room number 13!” Sharon complained. “Although I guess this pretty much ensures that we’ll see some ghosts.”

“Come on, Shar, do you really believe in that stuff? It makes no sense. I assure you that there are NO ghosts here.” He paused to open the door of their room. “Wow. Aren’t these old rooms great? Look, this is like a suite! There’s a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a little living area. This is so cool!”

Sharon shivered and looked around herself. “I guess it’s pretty cool, but that old lady freaked me out. This whole building gives me the chills.”

“There’s an easy explanation for that,” Bob said as he strode across the room. “The thermostat is all the way down!”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” Sharon said. She entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Sharon pulled her toothbrush and travel sized tube of toothpaste from her bag and turned the golden handle on the old-fashioned sink. As she brushed her teeth, Sharon looked at her reflection in the mirror. Leaning closer for a better look at her skin, she was startled by the sight of a small, pale child in old-fashioned garb appearing behind her. She dropped her toothbrush and screamed.

Bob was just opening his overnight bag and pulling out his pajamas when he heard a muffled shriek from the bathroom. He rushed into the room. “Sharon, what happened?” he questioned as she ran over to him. “A ghost!” she stammered. “A li-little kid..…he just p-p-popped up behind me and--”

Bob walked across the small bathroom. “Are you talking about this?” He gestured to a small portrait of a child that looked like it dated to the mid-1800s. “Okay, I know this place is spooky, but come on, Shar. It’s just a picture.”

Sharon looked wildly at the portrait. “But that--It wasn’t--but I--” She sighed and followed Bob back into the bedroom, pausing to put away her toothbrush. As she closed the door, the picture on the wall slowly disappeared.

Later on, as the Smiths climbed into bed, Sharon heard an odd growling sound. “What was that?” she whispered fearfully.

“Honey, relax,” Bob reassured her. “That’s just my stomach growling. It’s okay, I can wait for breakfast in the morning.” Outside of the window, a floating ghoul who had been doing his best lion impression stopped and began tapping on the side of the building.

“Do you hear that?” Sharon asked.

Bob sighed sleepily. “YES. It’s just that tree outside the window. You know the one with no leaves and all the skinny branches? It’s pretty windy, remember?”

“I guess so.” The ghost outside, which was that of a scrawny old man, continued trying various scare tactics, and Sharon kept asking Bob if he heard the noises, but he always had an explanation. Eventually, even the ghost fell asleep.

The next morning, when Sharon woke up, Bob was already moving around in the room’s mini-kitchen. “Look at this!” He exclaimed. “The refrigerator is even stocked with food!” Sharon chuckled and got up to help Bob with breakfast. At her warning to check the expiration dates on all of the food, Bob merely scoffed. “Come on, Shar, the orange juice is practically fresh-squeezed!” Gesturing at the pitcher of juice as he reached into the cupboard for a glass, he failed to notice the disembodied head that lay on the shelf. Bob sat at the little table. “Come on, let’s hurry up and eat. I think we’ve been here long enough and I want to catch the second half of the football game.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sharon replied.

Two hours later, Sharon and Bob left the little inn. They climbed into their car and drove down the winding path that led back to the main road. “Well, Bob I guess you were right,” Sharon conceded. “That’s the most ‘haunted’ place around here, and there wasn’t a hint of supernatural activity that I didn’t imagine myself.” As they passed through the iron gate that encircled the inn’s property, it creaked shut behind them.

“That’s funny,” Bob remarked. “I don’t remember the gate being automatic last night.”

Sharon shrugged. “Well, we were both tired last night. We probably just didn’t notice.”

Ghosts? by Katherine S. One dark and slightly overcast night, Bob and Sharon Smith were sitting on the couch in their living room, watching an old horror movie. “Sharon, I wish you’d stop squealing like that every time the ghost pops up,” Bob complained. “I mean, it’s not like it’s real or anything.” He shifted a bit, reaching for the popcorn. “How do you know ghosts aren’t real?” Sharon replied . “There’s no proof that ghosts don’t exist.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But do you have proof that they do exist?” Sharon sighed, turning away in frustration, but then gasped and hid her face in Bob’s shirt as a pale specter appeared on the screen. “Okay honey, I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow night we’ll drive up to the Blue Raven Inn and spend the night there. Maybe that’ll stop the argument.” “The Blue Raven Inn? But that place is haunted!” Sharon exclaimed. Bob looked at her. “Exactly.” THE NEXT DAY The next night (it was dark again, this time with light rain showers), Bob and Sharon drove to the little inn, each determined to prove that their point of view was the right one. They entered the musty lobby and were greeted by a little old lady, asleep at the front desk. The two quietly walked up to her, and just as Bob opened his mouth to speak, she suddenly sat up and stared at them. “One room?” she inquired in a creaky old voice. “Um, yes, please,” Bob answered. Handing him a key, the woman gestured up the stairs and to the hallway beyond. “Number 13.” As the couple made their way upstairs, the old lady turned to the door behind her, which led to her office. She stood up and floated right through. “I can’t believe we got Room number 13!” Sharon complained. “Although I guess this pretty much ensures that we’ll see some ghosts.” “Come on, Shar, do you really believe in that stuff? It makes no sense. I assure you that there are NO ghosts here.” He paused to open the door of their room. “Wow. Aren’t these old rooms great? Look, this is like a suite! There’s a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a little living area. This is so cool!” Sharon shivered and looked around herself. “I guess it’s pretty cool, but that old lady freaked me out. This whole building gives me the chills.” “There’s an easy explanation for that,” Bob said as he strode across the room. “The thermostat is all the way down!” “Whatever. I’m gonna go brush my teeth,” Sharon said. She entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Sharon pulled her toothbrush and travel sized tube of toothpaste from her bag and turned the golden handle on the old-fashioned sink. As she brushed her teeth, Sharon looked at her reflection in the mirror. Leaning closer for a better look at her skin, she was startled by the sight of a small, pale child in old-fashioned garb appearing behind her. She dropped her toothbrush and screamed. Bob was just opening his overnight bag and pulling out his pajamas when he heard a muffled shriek from the bathroom. He rushed into the room. “Sharon, what happened?” he questioned as she ran over to him. “A ghost!” she stammered. “A li-little kid..…he just p-p-popped up behind me and--” Bob walked across the small bathroom. “Are you talking about this?” He gestured to a small portrait of a child that looked like it dated to the mid-1800s. “Okay, I know this place is spooky, but come on, Shar. It’s just a picture.” Sharon looked wildly at the portrait. “But that--It wasn’t--but I--” She sighed and followed Bob back into the bedroom, pausing to put away her toothbrush. As she closed the door, the picture on the wall slowly disappeared. Later on, as the Smiths climbed into bed, Sharon heard an odd growling sound. “What was that?” she whispered fearfully. “Honey, relax,” Bob reassured her. “That’s just my stomach growling. It’s okay, I can wait for breakfast in the morning.” Outside of the window, a floating ghoul who had been doing his best lion impression stopped and began tapping on the side of the building. “Do you hear that?” Sharon asked. Bob sighed sleepily. “YES. It’s just that tree outside the window. You know the one with no leaves and all the skinny branches? It’s pretty windy, remember?” “I guess so.” The ghost outside, which was that of a scrawny old man, continued trying various scare tactics, and Sharon kept asking Bob if he heard the noises, but he always had an explanation. Eventually, even the ghost fell asleep. The next morning, when Sharon woke up, Bob was already moving around in the room’s mini-kitchen. “Look at this!” He exclaimed. “The refrigerator is even stocked with food!” Sharon chuckled and got up to help Bob with breakfast. At her warning to check the expiration dates on all of the food, Bob merely scoffed. “Come on, Shar, the orange juice is practically fresh-squeezed!” Gesturing at the pitcher of juice as he reached into the cupboard for a glass, he failed to notice the disembodied head that lay on the shelf. Bob sat at the little table. “Come on, let’s hurry up and eat. I think we’ve been here long enough and I want to catch the second half of the football game.” “Sounds good to me,” Sharon replied. Two hours later, Sharon and Bob left the little inn. They climbed into their car and drove down the winding path that led back to the main road. “Well, Bob I guess you were right,” Sharon conceded. “That’s the most ‘haunted’ place around here, and there wasn’t a hint of supernatural activity that I didn’t imagine myself.” As they passed through the iron gate that encircled the inn’s property, it creaked shut behind them. “That’s funny,” Bob remarked. “I don’t remember the gate being automatic last night.” Sharon shrugged. “Well, we were both tired last night. We probably just didn’t notice.”