Ghosts are Everywhere

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic


I made sure her cab was delayed, how on earth did she make it here before me? Yet there she is, saying goodbye to her husband.

Whatever. This station is still the gateway to my new life: Doris Michez, a ghost writer. I find it ironic really, a ghost becoming a ghost writer.

I cannot resist the urge to look at her as I pass. Not a bad figure, a bit shorter than me, and nowhere near my eye for style but who could really compete these days. I’ll definitely be an upgrade.

Her soft grey eyes lose focus on her husband and lock with mine.

Oh no. I was staring.

Looking down I hustle a bit faster; I need to make it to the ticket window before her if I want to claim her title.  Allowing her husband to delay her further will be my salvation. My husband I mean, my husband. We met when I was his secretary and eloped when he switched companies. We’ve been married 3 years.

Who was I three years ago? Alexis Croft the hair stylist? Cindy Maul the legal assistant? It’s hard to say. Unlike most ghosts, the past does not interest me. All I am concerned about is my future.

As for Doris Michez, she’ll be a bit confused why they won’t let her on this train, but she’ll go home with him and find the letter saying it was a mistake, and they no longer need her for the job.

Resisting the urge to look back I reach the plexiglass panel as a bored teenager raises his eyebrows.

“Doris Michez, one-way to Aldershot.”

“Seat 12B ma’am. Boarding has begun so please proceed.”

That was easier than I expected. No passport, no birth certificate, no… social security number? I smile, remembering her quivering voice giving me the information over the phone. Since when does a dry cleaner need your social security number? Sometimes people deserve what they get.

Peeking at the pocket watch in my handbag I see we have 10 minutes until boarding ends and 15 minutes until departure. For once, there is too much time. Luckily, children are nuisances… and very fond of ghosts.

Before walking up the stairs to the platform, I glance back and see the two boys selling corkscrews approach her and begin their sales pitch. The five dollars in each of their pockets will keep them in her path until its too late.

I turn my back for what I hope will be the last time and continue up the concrete steps to the rhythm of my new identity:

Doris Michez, Doris Michez, right heel, left heel, Doris Michez…

“Ticket please?”

I bat my eyes at the handsome conductor and present my ticket to the attendant.

“Doris Michez?”

“That’s me.” I reply.

I find my seat and settle in as they make the final boarding call.

Five minutes later the doors close and I smile: I am a ghost no more.


Submitted: May 07, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Rosie K. All rights reserved.

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Short Story / Mystery and Crime