The Ghost In My House Are My Friends Part I

Last week was horrible for Ella, and she decided to treat herself to something she had never had before. So, she went to the Lieu où Les Rêves Deviennent Réalité.

French for ‘place where dreams come true.’

Ella knows nothing about France or French food except for French fries.

P.S. French fries aren’t French food.

Waiting to be served dessert after enjoying Poulet au cidre. A traditional French dish from the region of Brittany. It’s made with a combination of chicken breasts, onions, apples, butter, cream, nutmeg, and hard cider. Her attention was drawn to three females in their late thirties talking about everything they have tried to get rid of ghosts in their houses that didn’t work.

Her uncontrollable laughter grabbed their attention.

She stopped and covered her mouth, while they rolled their eyes at her, then she said, “ever tried living in peace with them?”

“What!” they shout in unison.

“I have a few living in my house in my country and we became friends,” she shared.

In seconds, three plates of food, along with glasses of various colored wine and three females, were at her table.

“What the hell do you mean, you friend the ghost in your house?” the blond asks her glass of yellow wine beside her.

“Yeah,” a red-haired one adds. A glass of deep burgundy-colored wine was beside her plate in front of her on the square-shaped table.

Ella was drawn to an orange-haired female with a matching color wine.

‘Damn,’ her instincts alerted.

“You live with ghost?” they all sang in chorus.

“Well,” Ella explained. “I was sleeping in one of the bedrooms in my house in my country and woke up when someone touched me on my heel.”

They gasped, their right hand on their chest, “Which country are you from?” Red-haired asked.

“Jamaica,” Ella said.

“That beautiful island has ghost?” Blondie asked.

Her two friends stared at her, and Orange-hair said, “really.”

Ella’s eyes moved from her blond hair to the matching color glass of wine on the table, thinking, damn, she couldn’t be that dumb.

“Honey,” Ella said, reaching over to caress her hand, “ghosts are more in numbers than the living,” thinking about what she just said. Damn, there are more dead people, than living.

Their eyes popped as Ella pulled her hand away. The realization of what she just said put a tag on her brain. For a second that thought pulled fear towards her brain. Gazing at the terror on the faces of the three women in front of her, she shoved it back where it belong and smiled.

“You don’t look like someone who lives or his friends with ghost,” Blondie pushed out.

“How does people who lives with ghost looks?” Ella asks, her eyes moving from the glass of wine to her head, thinking, maybe it’s the alcohol.

“Frightened,” she explained.

“Damn,” sprouted from Ella’s lips under her breath. She made sense, then shares, “I refuse to go around living all of my life in fear of people I don’t know or can’t see.”

“Not even for a moment, you weren’t afraid?” Blondie stressed.

“Well, I don’t understand how the living can be afraid of the dead,” Ella said fighting to keep her real emotions below the surface. These females were sending her deeper than she wanted to go.

“Maybe the ghost in your house is friendly?” Orange-hair suggested.

“What did you do when the ghost touched you?” Red hair asked.

“I knew I was alone, so I checked all of the rooms in my house. No one was there. When I check the bathroom, my faucet was running. We have lots of water issues in my country and some days my husband or I left the faucet on by mistake,” Ella shared.

They gasped again.

“You didn’t scream, or try to run?” Blondie asked.

“From what?” Ella asked.

“The person you can’t, see?” Red hair said.

Thank you for reading this piece. I hope you enjoy it.