I don’t believe in ghosts, but..

I don’t believe in ghosts, but..

A few years ago, I was on my way to Alabama for a care-taking job. The woman I was caring for lived alone, as her husband had gone missing years before I knew the lady. Everyone told me the lady kept to herself, hardly ever going out for groceries, even. I figured it was due to the loss of her husband, making her too depressed to leave the house. God, I wish it had just been that. When I arrived, the whole place smelled like cat piss and body odor, not unusual for an elderly lady. She sat staring at the television, not acknowledging I had entered. I smiled, “Hello. I’m Carie, and you must be Miss Moore.” She kept on watching her blank television. “Would you like me to turn that on for you, ma’am?” Finally, I got a response, “No, thank you. I can see it just fine. It’s a private screen, you see, darling.” I nodded, finding my way to the kitchen and setting my belongings down. The house was large, and I decided to take a tour around. “I hope you don’t mind me finding all of the rooms, miss.” I stated, not really asking for permission. “Sure, go ahead. But if a door is locked, it’s locked for a reason, blondie.” That was enough to give me chills. Where was the kind old woman that I spoke to earlier? I explored the house until I came to a locked door. Although I nudged it forcefully, it remained awfully sturdy for such an old home. As soon as I let go of the door, I could’ve sworn I heard a whisper, “No one likes a rule breaker, blondie,” but it must’ve been my fear and uncertainty of the locked door making me imagine things. I continued to explore the house until it was around six in the evening. The house seemed to go on forever, so I headed down to the kitchen to prepare a meal for Ruth— the old woman. As I headed downstairs, I was greeted by a gruesome sight, a dog with no fur, just skin and bones. It shook violently, and I looked away as it made a frightening noise, until it stopped and the dog was gone. I wish that was the worst that I experienced at that house, but it was the least sickening and twisted. When I returned to the den, the woman was holding the dog, petting it gently, but the dog had fur this time, and it seemed to.. smile at me. I cleared my throat and headed to the kitchen, feeling as if I had millions of eyes following me. I just cooked some homemade vegetable soup, but Ruth looked pleased enough. I went to bed, being so tired that I didn’t look which room I went into, I had gone into the now unlocked room from earlier that day. What I saw, oh god, what I saw was a man strapped to a hospital bed, with an oxygen mask on his face, and an IV running into his wrist, Ruth’s husband. Immediately, I called the police. They arrived a moment too late, the man had died before they got to the house, and the woman? Ruth Moore had died 15 years before I knew her.

Submitted April 13, 2019 at 01:43PM by microscintilla

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