[Not Just Any Other] Ghost Story

Chapter 6

"On that note, I'm gonna go take a shower," Sarah said, standing. While she was now certain that Jane's creative explanations for what she considered as weird phenomena in her house were just that--creative explanations--she needed a break from the topic. "Are you good without me down here?"

"Sure, sure," Jane said, rising from the couch, as well. She looked toward the kitchen. "I just need to finish the walnut filling and my sponge should be cool enough to decorate. Don't worry about me. Go ahead and have a nice, relaxing soak."

Sarah did just that, getting lost in the steam for longer than she probably should have. Only after letting the hot water flow over her until her skin was a faint red and began to tingle did she shut off the old-style faucet. Turning with a reluctant creak, it took another few seconds for the water to stop dripping from the showerhead.

Without fully opening the plastic shower curtain, she reached for the towel that should have been hanging on a nearby hook, but her fingers tapped an empty spot on the wall. Peeking out, she found the white cotton towel crumpled on the floor.

"Thanks for nothing, Mabel," she said with equal amounts of sarcasm and humor, bending down. If there really was a motherly ghost in the house, wouldn't picking up a fallen towel be under her responsibilities?

Still smirking at the thought, Sarah stepped out and began to dry herself off when the light flickered. "Oh, no. Don't you dare--"

She couldn't even get the whole threat out before the room went dark.

"Fuuuu--" she exhaled, wrapping the towel around her body and feeling her way around. The wall was on her right and a little further up, if she extended her arm, she could just touch the rim of the pedestal sink.

The ceramic was smooth and cold under her fingers, sending a sudden chill up Sarah's spine. She quickly scurried beside it and was standing in line with the mirror directly above when the light came back on.

Sarah screamed. On the foggy surface, someone had written three letters: H-e-l-l.

Footsteps ran up the stairs.

"What happened? Are you all right?" asked Jane from the other side before trying the door handle. Since it was locked from the inside, the knob just shook in its place.

Sarah couldn't find her voice. Instead, she raised a trembling hand and pointed at the mirror.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, I'm coming in!" Jane exclaimed before a key clicked in the lock and the door opened. There must have been a spare tucked away nearby. "What's going on?"

"Th- th- that word," Sarah stuttered. "The light went out and when it came back, that was on there."

Jane's shoulders relaxed and she looked visibly relieved that despite the blood-curdling shriek, no one had encountered any bodily harm. "Oh, well, is that all?" she asked a little too casually for Sarah's taste, turning toward the foggy mirror where only the fresh outlines of the three letters remained clear. "That could have happened in a number of ways."

Sarah's eyes widened as she pulled the towel closer around herself. A cold draft from the hallway had entered the small bathroom, sucking all the warm air out. "Really? Name one that doesn't involve a ghost named Mabel."

"Mabel? Oh, honey. I knew I probably shouldn't even have told you about her," Jane said with a laugh as she reached up and wiped the mirror off with her palm. "But I thought giving you a safe, lighthearted explanation for the strange stuff that occasionally happens around here would be better than you coming up with your own more creative--and obviously more sinister--reasons."

"It spelled HELL Aunt Jane," Sarah said, unable to hide the creep of emotions into her raised voice. "It can't get more sinister than that."

Jane turned toward her and crossed her arms, pursing her lips as she thought. "All right, you got me there. But maybe it wasn't hell, but rather HELLO," she said with a shrug before adding. "And I bet it wasn't even recent, but had been scribbled on there some time ago. The steam just revealed it."

Sarah scoffed. "Did you write it?" she asked.

Jane bit her lip. "Well, no."

"Do you have a cleaning lady with access to this bathroom?" Sarah tried again.

Jane rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, but . . .," she trailed off and turned to leave, but she suddenly pivoted back. "Quinn! They came up here to use the toilet last Friday. It must have been Alex who wrote that as a joke for me, but they must have gotten interrupted before finishing."

"Officer Quinn?" asked Sarah, wanting to believe the theory, but somehow still remaining skeptical.

"Yeah," Jane responded, stepping out into the hallway. "It makes perfect sense."

Sarah sighed. "I guess," she said, preferring it to the alternative. Because if Jane was wrong, then there was a ghost in the house who wasn't as friendly as her aunt had asserted.

* * *

"Ouch," Sarah blurted out as a hypodermic needle poked her in the shoulder. The first two vaccinations she took without much ado, but the third time apparently wasn't the charm.

"Sorry about that, young lady," Dr. Lee said, pushing the clear liquid through the syringe before covering the tiny drop of blood left in its wake with a Band-aid. "There. All done."

"So, can I go now?" she asked, ready to hop off the exam table.

The old man put up his hand. "We may have gotten you caught up against tetanus, meningitis, and our silent, but often deadly nemesis, the good old flu, but I wonder if there are any concerns you'd like to speak with me about today that are less physical and perhaps more psychological?"

"I'm nothing like my mother, if that's what you're getting at," Sarah said abruptly, internally cursing Jane for apparently revealing her private family medical history. Having the right as her current legal guardian was one thing, but still doing it without her knowledge was quite another.

Dr. Lee chuckled nervously. "Oh, no, no, no, my dear. The records your aunt passed on to me contain no information about your mother's health. I simply wanted to ask whether as an adolescent entering adulthood with its associated responsibilities and whatnot, you have any anxieties or other worries. It's merely proper procedure for an annual check-up, nothing more."

"Oh," Sarah muttered, feeling her cheeks redden from the overreaction. "In that case, no, I do not. I'm here basically visiting for two months before I can move out on my own. I have my college acceptance, a scholarship, and a clear plan for my future. I think I've got things covered."

The physician nodded before jotting something down in her chart. "Very well. And I'm glad to hear it," he said before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card. "But in case things change--or get tough for some reason or another--I have a colleague just across the square who sees clients twice a week . Feel free to give her a call."

Sarah scooted off the table and took the card. "I probably won't, but thanks," she said. "Oh, and do I get a copy of my vaccine record from the receptionist or can you just email it to the school? I need them to get it before the next time this one particular class meets."