All Hope Lost Read online

  The past week or so was so bad; I lost my job due to my mental state. I would come in to work late, tired, upset, ended up sleeping on the job, and ultimately ended up short tempered and rude to my colleagues and customers.

  Employers don’t want you if you have a problem and that’s a fact. Did I get help? No. I was forced to go on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills to control my mood swings and panic attacks, was sent to see a Cognitive Behavioural Therapist which had little impact on my outlook as I had no control over what my neighbour could do and when. I ended up hating my life, which drove me to the suicide attempts. Even then, the bitch next door wasn’t evicted. And now I was dead. I doubted this would make any difference to her being moved, as it wasn’t her who had raped and killed me, but hey, at least the council wouldn’t have to hear me moaning and complaining about living next door to the bitch from hell anymore.

  I fumed at the injustice of it all. The victims always lose it seems.

  Lost in my own turmoil, time had seemed to move on without letting me know. The police and paramedics had departed (excuse the pun), Sam was outside chatting with the crowd and I was still dead. What to do know then? I mused. I searched about my home, spying my PC tucked in the corner. I reached down to the power button, and the machine lit up, fans whirring, the monitor flickering. Hmm, it never used to flicker like that. I stepped away from the screen. The flickering stopped so I moved towards it again, and it started to flicker. Interesting. I stood beneath the ceiling light and waved a ghostly arm beneath it, and it started to flicker on and off. Very interesting, I thought. My ethereal state must have an effect on electricity, plus although I’m a ghost I can still manipulate and touch objects but with no feeling. I gazed at my hands, realising then, that I could see through them faintly. I was even translucent to myself. I sat back in front of the PC, and logged myself in, opening up my blog page and the community forum I was part of. I vaguely wondered what it would be like to see all this happening here, but not seeing anyone to make things happen. Freaky!

  I quickly logged into the forum and went through the stories of other people dealing with anti-social behaviour and noisy neighbours. They had been a lifeline to me on many occasions, but what should I write here now? I can’t just say, “hi all, afraid I’m dead so you won’t be hearing from me anymore.” That felt a bit morbid and like a cruel joke someone would write. I decided to leave it blank and see who was online.

  Realm of Torment

  A few users popped up at the bottom of the screen and so I clicked on one. It was Torment. He was having a tough time right now but not from human neighbours, but from noise coming from some sort of industrial site or so we believed. I wondered about going to see him and experiencing what he had to live with day in day out, twenty-four seven. I nodded to myself. I could manipulate things, even electricity. I concentrated about going to his home. Maybe I could just appear there, like being teleported! Beam me up Scotty! Nothing happened. Ok, too good to be true. I tapped my fingers on the desk, but no noise was heard. I touched the monitor, my fingers lit up with tiny sparks as they touched the screen, and I pushed them inside. My spirit form was sucked into the PC, suddenly feeling alive with the surrounding electrical pulses. I searched the web for Torments’ messages pinging back and forth across the unseen void and found it. I reached out to it and shot forwards along its pathway. A matter of seconds was all it felt like and I appeared suddenly in a crackle of sparks, in a lightly decorated living room.

  Nice, I thought as I patted myself down from head to toe to make sure nothing was left behind. There’s some perks to this whole ghost malarkey, it seems, I chuckled to myself. A moment later I felt it. The house felt like it was vibrating, and a strange humming noise was resonating just behind the thuds and booms of some sort of working machinery. I looked about and saw a man, sitting at his PC with headphones on. The noise was eerie, and I could understand now how bad this could be, my ghostly form felt like it was being shaken violently in the tiniest of movements, goodness knows what it would be doing to a physical body. Whatever it was it couldn’t be good. I hovered behind ‘Torment’ as he continued typing on the community forum. He shivered as I got too close and cold breath emanated from his lips before him. He typed all his reactions about the noise on the site, and then added a quick note about the sudden temperature drop. I moved away from him and wandered outside via his backdoor. Maybe I could help him? I pondered. I felt about for the noise and vibrations and grabbed onto them, feet lifting from the ground I hovered around the strange noise which appeared to be coming from everywhere. I needed to find the source I knew, but how?

  As I floated about, moving one way then another, I could sense a slight rise in vibration from one direction. Follow the loudest source, Sharon. I swept along the unseen force, following the loudest noise I could find, it becoming deafening as I neared the source. The landscape was blurry as I moved fast through the air, until the noise became so loud I had to stop. Below me was some sort of quarry, the machinery drilling into the ground, pistons whirring, and somewhere that horrible vibrating was continuing. I floated lower, getting a good look. Men were working the grounds within huge machines, wearing ear defenders. I must stop this, it is driving my friend crazy and god knows about the other wildlife here. But how? I hovered a moment as the idea formed in my mind. I can manipulate electricity, but can I disrupt it? I thought. I knew of things like EM Pulses, but could I manage that, and how? I understood that my form interrupted the signals of the electricity if I got too close, but I had yet to actually stop it completely. I focused on what I was about to do, reaching out to as much energy as I could muster across the site, and then I screamed. Not just any scream but a full blown exploding scream. My form ripped outwards with a popping noise, the shock wave emanating around me, and shutting down all the noisy machinery in the vicinity. I sucked back together and felt suddenly overwhelmed, the current I came on was fried, so I slowly floated my way back to Torment’s house. Inside, Torment was updating the forum regarding the absence of noise, and how odd it seemed to suddenly stop. Smiling to myself I faded into the PC and grabbed the line back home. Seconds later I appeared with a pop back in my living room. I felt so drained I felt like sleeping. Closing my eyes, I disappeared.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Steve! Yo Steve, you feel that?”

  The man named Steve looked over his shoulder, his shaggy hair flicking into his eyes. “Dude, don’t be perverted!” and stuck a finger up in response.

  “Ah man I aint! You sure you can’t feel that? It’s weird, like cold. Makin’ the hair on me arms stand up!”

  Steve turns back round to face his housemate. “Mike, it’s probably just a draft, that’s all. And go order us a pizza or summat, I’m starvin’.”

  Michael sighed and grabbed the phone, speed dialling their favourite pizza delivery service and ordering two large, one pepperoni and one meat feast with double bacon. He put down the phone, and walked over to the windows, checking they were closed tight, looking for a draft. Finding none there, he headed into the hallway and walked to the kitchen to check the windows and backdoor, but as he neared he stopped suddenly, squinting at the kitchen table. He shivered as cool air floated around him, enticing him closer. Reaching the table, he looked about, confusion on his face. Checking the windows and doors, and finding them closed, he calls Steve over. As Steve walks towards the kitchen, an involuntary shiver goes up his spine.

  “Damn that’s cold” he pointed out needlessly. Michael nods in agreement. “Everything closed here?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it’s weird” Michael replies.

  “I’ll go check upstairs, could be from there” Steve said but he sounded unconvinced himself. He turns and heads upstairs, leaving Michael in the kitchen.

  The underside of the kitchen table once again greets me as I reappear on the floor. I moan. What on earth happened just then? I looked about to see a pair of feet. Surely the police and paramedics have finished by now? My eyes registered t
hat the feet didn’t have shoes on. Ok, not them then…. Oh god, not my murderers! I slid out from the table and stood slowly. The man before me had his back to me.

  “Ok mister, who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen, hm?” The man spun around, his eyes widening as they fixed on me. What the hell?

  I stepped back, shocked by his reaction. Maybe it was a coincidence he had turned at that moment, after all no one could see me. Could they?

  “Wh- wh- who are you?” the man spluttered. “Why are you in our house?”

  I quickly looked behind me, just in case someone had walked in through the door, but that was all there was. A closed door. I turned back to face the man.

  “Your house? This is my house! I should be asking you the same question!” I replied, hands on hips, my brow furrowed giving him a questioning look. The man crossed his arms. “We’ve lived here for a month already, lady. You must have the wrong house! Get out!” And he pointed exaggeratingly to the door.

  “Who’re you talking to Mike?” a voice sounded coming down the stairs.

  “Steve, there’s a woman in our kitchen, stating we’re in her house. She’s clearly mental!” Michael replied, and stepped to the side for Steve to join him in the kitchen doorway.

  “Michael, have you forgotten to take your meds again?”

  Michael looked shocked. “No dude, I took it this morning like always! Tell her this is our house!”

  Steve looked towards me, his gaze searching the kitchen. “There is nobody here Mike! You’re talkin’ to yourself again!” He turns and heads back to the living room. I look at Michael, who appears to be wrestling with some inner turmoil.

  “Are you ok?” I ask sincerely. This guy really doesn’t look well.

  Michael stares at me, and starts hitting the sides of his head with his hands. “Get out, get out, get out, you’re not here, leave me alone!” His eyes clench shut and he starts to mumble.

  Sighing, I move to the table and sit on it, whilst he has a nervous breakdown, swinging my legs back and forwards, waiting. I stare at my nails in feigned boredom, my eyes focused on the strange man in my kitchen. The mumbling stops abruptly and, the man named Michael, releases his head from his hands and opens his eyes.

  “FUCK!” he proclaims. “That normally works, why haven’t you gone?”

  “’Cos it’s my house?” I reply. Though I didn’t think he was expecting one by his reaction.

  “I wasn’t asking you! You’re not really here! Arghhhh, seriously these meds mess me up more than they help! Fuckin’ doctor my ass!” He grabs a chair and drops down into it hard. “Please go, please, I’m not crazy, I’m not fuckin’ crazy” he starts to tear at his hair.

  Uh oh, not good, I decided. The first person, who actually can see you, is a fruit loop. Nice. Do something, Sharon! I reach out to his hands with mine, the cold brush of my deathly shroud startles him, and his eyes once again focus on me, wide with confusion or fear, I couldn’t be sure.

  “Snap out of it Michael. You’re not crazy! I am really here, it’s just….” What do I tell him? It’s gonna freak him out even more, surely?

  Blinking at me, Michael finds his tongue. “Just what? I must be crazy. Steve can’t see you, so it’s me!”

  Frowning I recall his previous statement about living here. “How have you lived here for a month without my knowledge?” I ask him.

  Scratching his chin, he replies. Why should I tell you?”

  “Well technically you would be telling yourself if I’m not really here, eh?” I pointed out.

  “Mmmm. I guess that’s true,” he mused. After a few moments, he began. “Well, to start with, this house was given to us by the council a month back or so. We had been on the housing register for ages, and couldn’t afford anywhere private; we were living on the streets. They got us this place. Rent’s pretty decent. Council wouldn’t tell us why but we found out in the local paper about this area, that something bad had happened to a lady and she was murdered, and the old lady next door told us much of it.”

  I nodded slowly and sighed heavily. Michael continued. “Apparently this place was her house, or so the locals here tell us. So this can’t be your house. Besides, you ain’t real. Why the fuck am I still talkin’ to you!?” Standing quickly, he starts to leave the kitchen.

  “Because that lady was me!” I cried out to his back. Lowering my voice, I continued. “It’s me they were talking about, Michael! I’m a ghost, a spirit, and no one has been able to see me until now! I’m fuckin’ dead, dammit!” My fists clenched at my sides as he turned back to face me. “But I died a few days ago, not a month.”

  Michael looked at me, his eyes lighting up as the realisation of what I just said dawned on him. “Lady, that murder was three months ago. This place was up for let for two months before we got a chance at it. No one would live here ‘cos of what had happened. Me n Steve though, we had no choice. T’was ‘ere or the streets for us.”

  “Michael!” Steve shouted from the other room. “Pizza’s here. Get in ‘ere and stop talking to yourself dammit!” The doorbell rang as the pizza arrived, Steve answering the door, and swapping his money for the hot pizza boxes.

  “Look,” Michael spoke, “I don’t know why you’re here, but I’m hungry, Steve is getting pissed at me, and if that was you that was murdered, it was three months back. Maybe time is different for you. But why appear now?” He headed off to the living room, me following right behind him.

  “Dammit, not too close”, Michael chastised me. “You’re so cold!”

  “Sorry. Pizza smells good though!”

  “Well you can’t have any!” he replied.

  Steve raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Seriously dude, you need your meds looking at again.”

  Placing the pizza boxes open on the coffee table before them, the 42 inch TV showing reruns of Top Gear, Michael looks at me. “He don’t believe you are here lady. Can you do something to show him I ain’t crazy?”

  Steve paused, a pizza slice half way to his mouth. “Ok, I’ll play. Let’s see this imaginary being then? Come on then, do something!” he urged.

  What to do, what to do? I thought, and then my eyes fell upon the pizza. Well I can’t eat it obviously, but I can manipulate objects. I reach for a slice of pepperoni, my ghostly hand grabbing the crust and pulling, the melted cheese stretching as I pulled a piece from the box.

  “HOLY SHIT!” Steve shouted, and dropped his pizza, leaping off his chair and backing off. His eyes were glued to the floating pizza slice. “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?!”

  Michael stood, careful not to walk into me and my cold aura. “I told you Steve, I told you, but you don’t listen to me! I ain’t crazy….”

  Steve shakes his head. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it, it’s fuckin’ creepy.”

  Michael moves over to Steve and points at me and the pizza. “That ain’t me dude. It’s the dead lady. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

  Steve tried to look defiant. “Fine. Probably a piece of string or summat anyway. I’ll figure it out!” His walk towards me is cautious. Eyes scanning the pizza for any sign of illusionary trickery. Seeing none, he reaches out towards the pizza, passing his hands over and under and around it trying to find a string or something that could be making it float.

  Michael sucks in his breath, as Steve’s hands move through mine. “Shit that’s cold there.” He moves around the coffee table, and is suddenly standing right inside me. My form shimmers, and Steve hugs himself, shivering.

  “Steve move away, you’re standing in the lady!” Michael exclaims. Steve jumps to one side; the pizza knocks from my hand and falls to the floor.

  “Jesus H Christ, Michael! I don’t get it. What are you seeing that I can’t? How did that pizza float like that, and just what the hell is going on?” He flops down into a chair, automatically reaching for another slice of pizza, and quickly devours it.

  “Dude, not so fast. You’ll choke. I don’t want two ghosts in here. One’s enough!”<
br />
  Steve eyed Michael. “You’re serious ain’t ya? There is a ghost in our house?!” Michael nods, silent. This new information sinks slowly into Steve’s head. Michael watches as I bend down to sniff the delightful pizza smell. He laughs at me. “What?” Steve asks, confused, his brow scrunched causing his smooth forehead to wrinkle up.

  “Our ghost appears to like pizza.” He explained to Steve.

  “I love pizza, though mine tends to have pineapple on it.” I reply.

  “Ugh, pineapple? That’s sacrilege! You can’t have fruit on a pizza!” Michael makes a horrified face, and sticks a finger down his throat, feigning to be sick.

  My laughter tinkled around the room, causing Steve and Michael to both hug themselves as the chill settled around them. “What was that?” Steve asked.

  “She laughed.” Michael replied.

  “Heh, let’s not make her laugh again, its bloody freezing in here now!”

  “Sorry!” I spoke. Michael shrugged and Steve looked about the room, as if somehow the more he searched the more he might see me. “Ah, don’t worry. Hell you’re dead, you got nothin’ to apologise for. Anyways, why you haunting us, isn’t there anything else, anything after all this shit to move on to?”

  I glance at my hands, and recall my death in snapshots. Shaking my head I reply, “I don’t know. All I know is I’m here for a reason. Maybe to avenge myself, to bring my murderers to justice? I don’t know. I’m new to this whole, ghost thing too!”