Restless Spirit - Micro Fiction

Chapter One                                                                                  Read Prologue here

Johnnie Blackman yawned and woke up with a start. He had endured a horrible nightmare about his late daughter, Stacie. Even thinking of her made his eyes brim with tears, like a cup overflowing. He glanced at the clock beside his bed, and let out a startled gasp. It was twelve in the noon! He had overslept! He looked to his side, expecting to see Rachel, his wife. But she had gone. 

“Rachel!” He yelled.  No one answered him. Where was she? Expecting the worse, he

walked into the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat at what he saw. 

Rachel lay on the floor, her head pulled off her neck cruelly. What was left of her head was a tiny stump. Inhuman black marks were slashed wildly around her neck. He felt his foot covered with something sticky. It didn’t take him long to realise his feet was covered with blood, and so was most of his kitchen. Feeling faint, he caught hold of a nearby chair to steady himself. Whatever could have happened to Rachel? 

Quickly, he raced to the telephone, and began to stab numbers into the little machine hurriedly. To his astonishment, he found that he had grieved more for his daughter’s death than poor Rachel. Shivering, he realised that his daughter had also died like Rachel had. But who would be so merciless as to do such a thing?  Collapsing upon his sofa, he closed his eyes, not much caring if the world took him as well. 

Chapter Two

Andy Walsterson faced the most disturbing sight in all his life. Having a job as a police officer wasn’t especially easy. The lines in his forehead began to crease in astonishment as he examined the brutal black marks that ran about on Rachel’s stump. He glanced at the head that rolled next to it, and felt his insides churning.

The expression on her face was frightened, her mouth locked in a startled ‘O’.

Quickly, he stole a glance at her husband, his eyes moist, and returned his gaze at the unfortunate victim. The remains of her, the ghastly sight, was too much to bear for Walsterson, and he found that just looking at the horrific display was more heartbreaking than what Rachel had endured.

“I assure you that we will find an answer to this,” Walsterson said to the victim’s husband, uncomfortable to meet his eyes that searched the officers rapidly.   
            

Andy Walsterson walked out, without comforting to say to the grieving man whom he had abandoned so freely, like a parent who left their only child. The image of Rachel came flooding back to him, and he shivered. He only hoped that he would be able to find an answer to this terrible incident.

He walked in the direction of the lift and the great metal doors slid open with a hiss. He walked inside, and pressed to go down. With supernatural power, the lift raced upwards, leaving the officer breathless and bewildered at the mysterious happenings. The police officer banged for the emergency button which refused to do its job and he turned petrified, his face as pale as a white sheet.

Suddenly, the lift halted with a squeal of injured breaks. Where was he? He brought his eyes to observe the lift, checking for any damages and frowned at this unusual happening that had occurred out of the blue. The sight that Walsterson witnessed yet would be beyond his wildest dreams. He reached out for his walkie-talkie and spoke three words to a fellow police officer before fate arrived.

“Melinda Hotel. NOW!”

Walsterson gave a threatening roar, but within moments he had stopped breathing.

Chapter Three

Johnnie Blackman couldn’t understand the death of Andy Walsterson. It had hit the headlines on almost every newspaper. If the police themselves couldn’t track the killer down, who could? Sighing briefly, he slumped on the coach, turning his telly on. The death of Andy Walsterson was broadcast on the news channels. The TV was reporting something worth watching! A hidden CCTV camera rigged in the lift has captured Walsterson’s mysterious death and the film was put up on television. Bafflement took Johnnie by surprise as he could clearly make out a transparent spirit appear out of nowhere, hovering a foot from the ground. 

Johnnie’s heart skipped a beat, as he recognised the face of his daughter. Surely he was mistaken! It couldn’t be! But indeed it was. His face turned crimson in disbelief as his wife appeared next to Stacie, her head floating inches away from her body; like her body was when she was killed. Blackman eyed the blaring television feeling weak at the news and rubbed his bleary eyes. Without a sound, he soundlessly switched off the telly. Rachel and Stacie’s spirit would forever haunt his nightmares, he was aware. 

What the CCTV cameras had captured was unbelievable. He just consoled himself that it was just the trick of the light. There was no way he could believe that the two spirits were Rachel or Stacie. Or could it? 

He sauntered toward the kitchen and glanced at the bottle of ale that stared temptingly at him. He allowed himself to greedily gulp the drink and there was a moment of bliss as he relished in the taste. Then, he sashayed to his dull and leaden bedroom that seemed void without his wife, his eyes drooped as he hit the soft surface of the pillow.

  

No other word could describe this particular moment like peace.  

Chapter Four

He raced down the roads, disturbing people. Any second I am going to die, he told himself. Any second. With a sudden thrust of speed, he raced forward. He was running as fast as he could from his life. He was out of breath, but still he kept going. Within seconds I will die, he thought. At once the sudden thought of his cherished mother came to him. It seemed like time eternal had come to an impetuous stop.

“MOTHER!” he screamed.

Johnnie’s eyelids clamped open. He had that terrible nightmare again. It had evolved since the last time he had it, and he was sure that if he did stop thinking about his beloved mother, he would be sure to die. Funny that the dream he had only started on the night that Rachel died. Maybe she was in contact with his soul? No, that was too impracticable for words. He was feeling too delirious for words. He started to think about yesterday’s encounter of seeing Rachel and Stacie on television.­­­­­­­ Or was it them?

He replayed the scene over again in his head, and finally came to a conclusion. He had to be mistaken. It was much too of an impish thought to believe that the spirits were actually them, he decided.

Blackman yawned, his nostrils exhilarated. Where had Rachel gone to? Then he remembered. Stinging tears sprang to his eyes. If the police couldn’t find Rachel, then definitely nobody could. It was time to take matters into his own hands. 

Chapter Five

Johnnie Blackman pulled into the 9^th Avenue of Rose Hill in his green Lamborghini Veneno. He sighed as a police car raced, closely followed by an ambulance. Suddenly, a terrible thought crossed his mind. He shook it off quickly. No, he must not think of such things. But could it be possible that if he carefully followed the police, he could possibly murder one, burry them and take his place, crack Rachel’s mystery once and for all?

Indeed, it was a very childish thought, but might it work? It would be jolly difficult though. Quickly, he raced in the direction of the police car, hoping he hadn’t lost them. He pulled over to the side, parked his Lamborghini Veneno in a nearby parking slot and rushed towards the police car.

 A young police officer stood next to an oak tree, whistling softly to himself. Johnnie rushed towards him. There wasn’t a soul about on the road.  Slowly, he advanced behind the policeman, and kicked him hard. The young officer fell to the ground, his head cracking open as it hit the brick pavement.  Blackman could hear distant footsteps approaching, and he swiftly hid behind a great tree, which covered him well, and he dragged the police he had murdered along with him. There was blood on the roads. There was no way he could convince anyone that it wasn’t blood.

To his fear, he noticed that a team of police were advancing toward his hiding spot. Help! He must do something. It would never do to have the police knowing that their young officer was murdered! Quickly, he strapped of his clothes and exchanged his with the officers. Their faces and skin colour looked alike fortunately. He wasn’t so sure about how they spoke. Now what should he do with the body?

He dumped the body by the tree, the leaves hiding it well. Whistling to himself in the same tone the officer had not so long ago, he paced up and down. A sharp tug on his shoulder made him wince in pain.

“And just what do you think your doing?” an angry voice shouted. 

Coming up Chapter Six...