The Haunts that Haunt Even Those Who Have Been Haunted

Heather Rogers, a young, widowed mother of three, looked up from her knitting in surprise -- or rather -- shock.

She had never seen such a spectacle in all her life.

Quite frankly, she is dead, and currently a ghost.

(You get the point already; it's a ghost town!) But that's besides the point.

The fact of the matter is, Heather ROgers was quite frightened, indeed!

She did not know what to call the red, flaming flying object she just saw crash into Georges general store across the street - not that some of the employees didn't deserve it - what with their haughty, rude, mannerisms and all. From across the parlor window, and across the street, this red, shiny had flames streaming down both sides in a flambuoyant, almost rebellious style. It seemed rather demonic looking to her, what with the flames and all.

But she just couldn't recall mention of it anywhere in the Bible.

Still, it might as well just be the apocalypse -- coming for the dead first, rather than the living. The image would haunt her mind and her dreams for the rest of her days -- (since she was a ghost, basically forever.) Oh, how this thought wrought upon her such unending doom...

She had never been so irrevocably frightened in all her life. Not when she had one, anyway. What an unexpected turn of events.

The Bible did mention unpredictability, but for mere mortal men, who couldn't understand God or his thinking - NOT immortal ghosts. Being dead and haunting their planet in an immortal sort of sense sort of did some things to their pride levels, she had to admit honestly -- not being sure if the Lord, Almighty would approve.

Quite the change she wasn't expecting after 300 years.

She wondered back in her memory to the last time she was surprised when she was a living mortal.

She could pinch herself. She mused silently away in her thoughts, "that is how shocking revelations like this are dealt with, right?"

She shrugged her wispy shoulders with a "Yes, that should do the trick!" - sort of aha-moment. (Just to make sure all of this was real!)

And, do the trick, she did -- or rather, attempted to. But her fingers went through her skin, barely feeling a thing!

"Do ghosts hallucinate visions? Oh, Dear me... after all these years, I'm losing my sanity!" She cried aloud with horror.

After 300 years... under this awful curse where things happened the same way every day, she was beginning to lose her mind! And her marbles. What was she to do?

Either way, the apocalypse, or hallucinations, she needed Pastor Dawes' help. She would have to telegram Pastor Dawes at once!

There was a slight problem with that formulation of a plan, however. Frightened and out of wits as her mind might currently be, she realized for a matter of act that there were only two places other than the courthouse in which you could send a telegram in this town.

One, being George's General Store, which quite ferankly was a mess afger being crashed into -- or appeared to be in her hallucination, whichever. After all, she didn't feel the pinch to make sure it was real.

The second alternative was the train depot, which wasn't open at this hour - though it didn't stop the regular hauntings from happening at all kinds of day and night. So, quite sadly, neither option would quite do.

"By Gads, this is just LORDY Awful!" And just in time, her exclamation brought her oldest into the parlor room with her. She had just tucked in her three youngsters not but ten minutes prior, dutiful single mother that she was. In spite of her heritage in real life, some 300 years later in her ghostly existence, she was making for quite the come-araound right on time, as a modern day feminist - on top of things, without quite needing a man at her side for every little thing like most women in this town deemed was the very equivalent to needing air to exist and even breathe. Much like Sheriff Adam, she too was unaware of some things merely because she had never met or seen any other part of the world - or any other timeframe - up till now. Most of the time she just kept to her lonesome away from gawking and dawdling eyes, or tried to make up for the fact of raising her kids singlehandedly on her own, away from mocks and cries and insults, hurled derogatory slurs aimed her way whenever in the public eye and ear of gossipers this town had in store.

And now, her only option was to alert the sheriff. But she wasn't about to leave her dear precious youngsters, alone or unattended - not without having someone of some authority tending to thier needs in dire emergencies such as this one outside.

"What's all the commotion, ma?" Even for a ghost, james was sleepy and yawned, stretching one arm upward, and rubbing his eyes with the other. He looked simply adorable. And she couldn't help but pause and store a moment like this into her memory - in spite of the horrors outside that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

She had a sudden insight into how to determine the full measure of the situation. She would show James the accident and, if he could see it -- if indeed it was truly an accident, and not a mere hallucination that would clear things up a bit in the cobwebs of her mind over which this was - apocalypse and oncoming doom, or rather, much deserved insanity after 300 years trapped in this curse. Maybe -- no, hopefully -- she wasn't crazy after all...

She would hate to have this be the last goodbye to her kids after heading out the door, brave soul that she was. Whether the demon arrivals in the apocalypse had come for her children first, if she ran fast enough for the Sheriff - Lord only knows what he could do to stop it or prevent further disaster, most capable man that he was. -- or, if she would indeed have to harrowingly report her oncoming diagnoses of insanity to the man she was going to have to find, only to never see her kids again and have them feel as abandoned and lost as she in this moment, did, herself - without a soul to guide her or lead her through this confusing, frightening, horrible unidentifiable experience. Bless their dear hearts, how she hoped for their sakes more than hers that the latter would never come to pass.

"James dearest, could you look out the window here and tell me what you see?"

"yes , ma!" was his earnest, responsible and obedient reply. James was such a dear, sweet child. Only a rare ornery streak in him ever appeared. She appreciated how easy it had been to raise him. Fat more than the other two, that was for sure.

He gasped aloud. "For the love of the Ghost of Christmas Past!" then he exclaimed, "that's flamin' aimin' fer sure!"

"Watch your language, James!"

"But ma, it's true! That red thing - anyhow, has it got something against Old George? Or his store?"

"I'm afraid so, dear. I hope, not us, too." His mother replied in a grim manner.

The apocalypse theory, at last - won over her theory of going insane after this 300 year old curse they were all stuck in. Though, she considered, old age can make some go senile. Or so the old adage goes. Just not her. Not this time.

He interrupted her by asking, "What is it?"

He expected adults to have ALL the answers.

"I don't know, son. I have to go notify the sheriff and find out for myself. And for the sake of the whole town, for that matter." This was some mission for one single female to do all by herself. But if she had raised three kids alone, maybe there was no telling what she could do.

She continued "Judging by those demonic looking flames, I think it's the apocalypse, but I had better confirm my suspicions before assuming that's fully true, whether i believe it or not. Do you remember the one lesson I once gave you about making sure something is true before spreading it?"

"Yes, ma, I do."

"Good. Very good. I'm so glad you remembered that lesson. That is what I need to do. That, and warn others of impending disaster - whatever it is. "

Such a good, wonderful boy. He was almost a preteen. She wondered where the next several years would take him, in his habits, thoughts, behaviours, and mindsets -- if they ever aged during this curse at all, what WOULD James be like as he continued to grow up? Would he gain a rebellious streak as she had seen others do? What would he like to become? Who would he want to marry? or would he? And what would he like? Prefer? choose in life?"

"What do you think of this demonic looking red - flaming thing, son?" She asked, to give a life lesson and last imparting wisdom before heading out -= as well as satisfy her piqued curiousity as to the secret inner workings in the mind of her eldest.

James secretly wanted to say that he thought the flames were cool, and he wanted to have one of those as a horse someday to win their neighbor Jenny's heart and impress her father - how else could a poor boy win the young lady of his dreams and pay a dowry to her rich, uppity snotty father?

But, disappoint the morals and heart of his mother, he did not. If it truly was the apocalypse, saying so would be considered greedy and worth punishment or jail - with the need for the sheriff on the rise. Or perhaps -- he gulped.... I'm so going to Hell, he thought to himself. But he was taking Jenny with him. To have and hold forever.

"Yes, the apocalypse, mother. Surely, it's the apocalypse. Can I go to bed now?"

"NO, you must watch the young ones, while I'm gone, and be a responsible young lad, making sure that nothing bad happens to either Jake or Lilly. With demons on the loose, there's no telling what kind of babysitting you'll have to do. And James?"

"Yes, Ma..."

She couldn't help but note minor resentment in his voice.

"Go get your lasso in case you have to round a couple up."

"A couple?" he sounded hopeful as he thought of Jenny. Maybe THAT's how folks fell in love and got married. After all, tying the knot WAS said to be part of it! Maybe he wouldn't need to impress her father after all, just lasso the two of them together -- huh. So simple all this was now seeming to be. He couldn't wait to try it!

"Yes, a couple. Or more, if you wish to be a true, brave hero. Those demons need rounding up and tied and thrown back into Hell as their forever prison,. If they so much as lay a devilish fingernail on the door handle you had better use your lasso straightaway! Don't let them lay their slimy hands on Lilly. You hear me, Son?"

"Yes, ma...." he sounded even more disappointed this time. His mother and he were OBVIOULY talking about two different things when the word couple was concerned. Maybe THAT's why he didn't have a father. They'd never be rich, either, if Lilly didn't have to be paid for by a man to the father, either. What a life.

With that final note, she called over her shoulder and told him, "You take care of it, you hear?"

And she went out into the literal great, dark unknown to be the first feminist ghost in the history of forever to do this brave thing she was about to do, flinging her shawl over her shoulders to stop the train of goosebumps from coming on faster than it already was - because, brave as she was, it didn't mean the absence of fear, just the courage to overcome it.

A witch dressed in a red and black, long flowing dress made of satin and velvet, stood around the corner, watching Heather run off into the night. The very one who cast the curse on this - by looks only - barren ghost town, indeed.

THAT, she thought. IF I had never been born a witch in the first place.... This is what I would have liked to become, with feminism and bravery as my magic, and quickness on my feet at the soonest heed of danger instead of my broom, a young, ornery, but honest and reliable boy by my side instead of a cat, and yet - no man by my side to raise them with me, with my magic working by itself without the mans' help. The only moment I race towards chasing a man in my life, when I need the sheriff to save the town - not for romance alone. I truly admire this one, Sammy.

"MEOW" her cat agreed, a twitch in its tail the only movement besides the running woman under the vast glow of the full moon casting its light on the scene below - like a spotlight towards a stage, set just right to highlight a true, REAL hero.