Snowbound:A Ghost Tale

Snowbound-A Ghost Tale

         

Another Mid-Atlantic snowstorm. Four inches on the ground already, and with this storm catching the area off-guard, the roads didn't get the pre-treatment they needed. Thankfully, I know how to drive in this kind of weather. Years of Pennsylvania and Ohio Winter driving have fine-tuned me for it. My roommates will be staying at a hotel near where they work tonight. The forecast is calling for nearly twenty inches of heavy snow, and blizzard conditions, so they decided to play it safe. So that leaves me with an empty house, except for the cat, who will be as close to me as possible. I'll heat up some soup, and have that for dinner, with coffee, then head outside to get some early shoveling done. My less winter weather experienced neighbors always give me odd looks when I shovel in the middle of a snowfall, but I have the last laugh when I watch them struggle with their driveways, while drinking a hot chocolate, from inside a warm house.

I can't shake the feeling that I'm not exactly alone, though. Perhaps the knowledge that I will be away from human contact for a few days just has me off kilter a bit. The cat seems to be acting odd, but animals are weather sensitive, so she is probably just reacting to the storm. At least I will have some quality time to work on some video projects that my job has forced me to put on hold. I look outside, and see a swirl of snow vortex in front of my window. Shivering inside, I wish I didn't have to go out in the weather to preclear the driveway, and sidewalk. My German feather bed will feel very nice tonight.

Dinner was tasty, and the coffee gave me a warm start to my shoveling efforts. I have been at it for an hour, and it seems as if I never even started. The snow keeps filling in where I remove snow. I have been over the driveway and walk three times now. I have to fight the urge to do it again, and just wait a few hours to repeat the process before bedtime. The morning shovel will be harsh, but it could be worse. The storm is supposed to end by tomorrow evening, so I will have a few more clearing sessions before it is all over. Looking around, I see one neighbor, further down the street, who has adopted my method for himself. We wave to each other, and I look around at my sidewalk. Wow, filling in again. I'll throw a bit of snowmelt on what I have done so far. It will make the morning shovel a bit easier.

I go into the garage, and grab the salt bucket, and start spreading salt on the driveway with a scoop. With my roommates gone for the evening, I was able to pull my car into the garage for the night. At least that won't be an added headed headache. I never liked clearing my car of snow. Okay, that is enough snowmelt. Only need a bit to do the trick. So many people over salt, and wonder why their grass suffers in the Spring. Well, let's look around a bit and enjoy how pretty this snow actually is.

I scan my surroundings, and focus in on a lone streetlamp two driveways down. The glow through the blowing snow is surreal, and I tell myself that I need to bring my camera down for a shot when I do my last shoveling for the night. My slight daydream is shaken when the wind suddenly picks ups, and starts to howl.

"What the...? Hello?"

I could have sworn I heard my name being called out faintly. It was right as the wind howled, so maybe it was just my imagination. Cabin fever already? If so, then I am in for a long few days.

I start walking back to the garage. I will have to peel off these layers, and throw everything into the dryer to dry so that I can come back out in a few hours. Thank goodness we have power...oh no, the lights just went out in the garage. Transformer must have blown with this wind. I look around, and realize that it is just my house. Everyone else has lights, and the streetlamp is still bright.

"Just my luck. I come out to do things right, and I am the only one to lose power?"

I look to the sky, and shake my head.

"Thanks, a lot."

Might as well go inside and hope for the best. Thank goodness I have a gas fireplace going. I just have to put all this stuff in the garage, and then I can...My name again. Someone is messing with me. I whip around, but there is no one there. I grab a flashlight, and step back out of the garage. It sounded like it came from the side yard, and I shine my flashlight in that direction. Little good that did. The blowing snow just makes my flashlight look like a weapon from "Star Wars". I turn it off, and I can see better. The neighborhood lighting is amplified by the white snow, so everything is lit up better. There is no one in the side yard, of course. Maybe I am just hearing things. My imagination does tend to pick up when I am alone. I hear my name, again, but from behind me, and I spin around ready to throw a punch, if needed. Nothing.

"Dude, you are losing it. Time for some rest."

I turn back around and start for the garage, when something catches my peripheral vision. Do you ever get that odd feeling when, if you don't see it, you can just sense when something has just changed in your surroundings? I look in the sideyard, and there is a long line of footprints! They were not there just a few seconds ago. I looked for footprints in the yard when I heard my name. There is no way someone could have run behind me when I spun around to look the other way. I would have heard someone running, or would I? Was the wind that loud? I suppose that is logical. Okay, my prankster, I will play your little game. I have footprints to follow now.

Just to play it safe, I hold my flashlight like a club, and step out into the sideyard to follow the footsteps. I will have to be as quick as I can, as the snow is filling the prints in. I would have to guess that the snow is coming down at a rate of an inch and a half to two inches per hour. The footprints make a turn and look to be going in the direction of the back corner of the house. It is difficult to see in this wind and snow, but I can just make out the prints. I will just keep my head down and focus on the prints as they lead to...the side of the house?? What the Hell is this? There is only one logical thought here, and I say out loud to my hidden prankster, "Very nice! You stood here long enough for the snow to build up, and walked backwards from the house! Very clever! Ass!"

Another thought hit me. Instead of being pranked, what if I was led here on purpose? The garage is open, and my house is the only one without power. Shit, that's right. I head back to the garage. What better way to break into a house, than under cover of a snowstorm? Someone might be trying to rob the house as I am out here on a wild goose chase. Maybe worse, someone might be intending harm. Good thing I have my flashlight. I'll grab my aluminum bat on the way back in. As I reach the garage, I notice the house has power again.

"At least I can search the house easier now."

I walk into the garage, and into the house, shedding my outer layers by the dryer, and put on an old pair of sneakers. Ballbat in hand, I am off to search the house.

I have spent nearly fourty-five minutes searching the house, and with every light on, and I still haven't found anything, save for one typical horror movie encounter with the cat. Poor thing is probably still under my bed with her spine fur still bristling. It will take some coaxing to get her nerves back in order. I can't blame her. I reacted like a pyromaniac without a lighter.

Still, it is a reassurance that there is no one in the house. I checked every nook and cranny, and the house is locked tight. If anyone was here, they are long gone. I'll just hold on to my bat for the night though. I decide to go downstairs and watch the Weather Channel for updates on the storm, and then the local news to what I am sure are stories of stranded motorists on the D.C. Beltway, and surrounding roads.

Just my luck. The storm has knocked out my DirectTV signal. I will have to remember to cancel it, and go to a fiber-optic service after the clean-up from this storm is done. At least I have my radio, and my computer. I won't totally be shut off from the world. I will go outside in a couple more hours to shovel again, and then go to bed, and get some much needed rest. Outside the storm winds pick up, and the howling is much more intense. I suppose it is a good time to go into my studio and work on the spoof commercial I have been tinkering with. That will kill some boredom.

I go down to the basement, which is actually my living space. With the size of a decent efficiency apartment, I decided to live down there, as it offers me more privacy, and gives me room for my bed, and still enough room for a sitting/tv area, and a small corner where I have my videography studio. I have a seperate computer that is dedicated to just my videography projects. I sit down and open the video files on the computer and search for the project I want to work on with my editing software.

A whisper sends a shiver down my spine "~I'm cold.~"

I jump, sending my computer mouse into a rearward arc to hit the floor, and spin around.

"Who's there?", I demand.

Nothing. No one is there. What is going on with me? Am I that tired and weary? There is enough light to allow me to see if anyone is there. I double-take on some of the odd shadows thrown by the light I have on, but there seems to be nothing out of the ordinary. How I hate to be alone. I call for the cat, and after 5 minutes of 'tsking', she comes out, stretches, hops up on my table, and curls up next to my laptop. At least I am not alone, and she will look at me like she understands me when I talk to her.

I work on my video edit for about half an hour when my cell phone rings. Rather, it roars at me. My ringtone is of Chewbacca growling. Silly, I know, but I can definitely distinguish my phone when in a group. I answer, and it is my roommate, checking in on me. He just got to the hotel after a short walk in the snow. I check my watch, and see that is nearly ten o'clock in the evening.

"Yeah, I'm fine, man. Did some shoveling, and will hit it up again here before bed. I'm earning my sleep tonight for sure. I'm so tired I am hearing voices."

Jeff cracks a joke about ghosts, and reminds me that we live in an area that was populated by Native Americans, and was site for Revolutionary War and Civil War battles. I tell him he didn't need to add to my snowbound dementia, and tell him to have a good night's rest. I put the charger on my phone, and set it down. Might as well make sure I have a full charge, in case the power goes out again.

"Well, Friskerkits, I think I had better get back to shoveling, then hit the sack."

The cat lifts her head, and her eyes are half closed as I scratch her chin. I go to stand up when I notice her eyes get wide, and her fur bristles on her back again. A slight startled chirp escapes her, then she jets to go under the bed again.

"Oh come on, you are just too jumpy. I didn't mean to scare you earlier, you twit. Sheesh, you are as skittish as Dora now."

Dora is a cat my friends have down the street. She's a sweet cat, when you actually get to see her.

I stretch, and step away from the desk to go to my dresser for a warm pair of socks to wear for my next shoveling adventure. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Did that shadow just shift? Must have been the angle as I was walking across the room. Come on now. You aren't crazy. Odd, yes, but not crazy.

"What in the Hell was I thinking?"

I have been shoveling for a half an hour, and the winds of the blizzard are possibly the strongest I have ever experienced. The snow has gone from wet and heavy, to a dry, powdery type. At least it will be easier to clear, but the wind seems to take every shovelful, and throw it right back in my face. It makes no difference where I throw the snow. The swirling winds always seem to have the timing to be at the worst angle. I think I should just give in to Mother Nature. She wins this battle, and I need sleep. My back muscles feel like they are on fire.

"Nasty one tonight, huh?"

I nearly jump out of my clothes, and swing around, shovel in hand. Whew! False alarm. It is Ralph, the neighbor who was shoveling his driveway earlier. Ralph is a New York native, and one of the friendlier folks I have met here. He is out walking his dog, Hugo. The irony of Hugo's name is apparant if you ever meet him. He's a long-haired Dachshund, and it is so comical to see him in the snow. With the deep snow, and his short legs, Hugo looks like a furry dolphin swimming at the surface. He is having a blast, and my attention goes back to Ralph.

"Nastiest I have seen in years, Ralph. I'm about to give up on the shoveling for tonight. Want to sled over for coffee in the morning? We can help each other shovel."

Ralph scoops up Hugo's mess in a plastic bag. Maybe that is where he gets his name. That is a lot for such a small rascal. "Sure, thanks. I appreciate the help. We can laugh at the other folks who decided to wait this out. I'm going to bed. You better go in yourself. The news said the worst is yet to come, and you don't want to be like that young lady from ten years ago."

Hooked. Now my curiosity is piqued. "What lady, Ralph? I moved here just a few years ago."

Ralph cocked his head to the side. "Eight years for me. Nah, as I met some of the neighbors, they would tell stories, ya know? One guy around the corner said a lot of the neighbors were still dealing with a woman who died in the neighborhood a couple of years before I moved here. Young couple, I am told, moved in after the husband got a nice job in Fairfax. There was a big Nor'Easter that dumped a ton of snow on the area. The husband was driving home and got into a bad accident that sent him to the hospital. The wife, I think she was 20, maybe...well, she was grief-stricken, and decided she was going to get to the hospital one way or another. Long story short, she slipped and fell while shoveling her driveway to get her car out, and hit her head on the car bumper. Her next door neighbor came out the next morning to shovel his driveway and saw part of her coat sticking out of a lump in the snow. She froze solid. Can you imagine anything like that? I even heard the husband was okay in the hospital. He had a slight concussion, and they had him for observation. The hospital tried to call her to tell her that he was okay. She never got the message.

I hear he moved to Oregon not long after that. Sad story, but every town seems to have one, ya know?"

I nodded, and felt heartbroken by the story. I'm a sap for such things, and I could just imagine the husband when he found out what happened.

"Which house was this, Ralph? In this neighborhood, right?"

Ralph shrugged, "I'm not sure. I made sure it wasn't my house, that's for sure. Nothing in my house history of anyone dyin' Some illegal immigrants lived there in the past, but no deaths. Speaking of which, I'm going to home and into bed. Get inside yourself. I'll see you for that coffee in the morning. And no decaf. That's just brown hot water. C'mon Hugo, you look like a frosted turd. Night!"

"Night Ralph. Sleep well. Goodnight Hugo!"

I turned back and started for the garage. I stopped and looked at the streetlamp. Damn. Forgot my camera again. Screw it. There will still be some storm tomorrow after sunset. I can get a shot then. I exhaled, and noticed something in the yard. Footsteps again. Only, wait, are they forming as I look at them? That can't be. It has to be the old footprints. Maybe the new snow didn't fill them from the bottom up, and there was a little space under the new snow over the old prints. I guess the weight of the new snow finally collapsed into the impressions from earlier. But damn, I could swear they are caving in, in a row, instead of random intervals. Must be the way I am looking at them, plus I am very tired, and the wind is still strong.

"~So cold~"

I spin around, but all I see is a small swirling vortex of snow. The wind howls, and sounds like someone crying. I am losing it, I think. This kind of storm will have all manner of sounds. I shake my head and go back inside. A night of sleep will be just the medicine I need.

Unseen to me outside, as I close the door, a whispy hand reaches out from a snowy swirl in the wind.

I have been lying in bed for nearly fourty-five minutes now. My lower back is in pain, and I cannot seem to get comfortable. The events of the night have me creeped out, and I cannot shake the story of the neighborhood woman who froze to death nearly ten years ago. The DirectTV dish is covered in snow, and I have no signal, so I pull my laptop over on the bed, and watch some Tosh.0 videos. My reasoning is that if I watch some inanely funny videos, I can laugh, and put the negative thoughts at bay. Maybe then I can get some sleep.

"~It's okay...we're together now...~"

I awaken with a start. When my daily routine is shaken, I tend to have odd dreams. I woke up from what started as a pleasant dream of an old girlfriend. It was so realistic, but I knew I had been dreaming, since she and I broke up years ago. In my dream, I am in bed, and it is dark, but there is some slight ambient light. She had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and I was feeling ill. I was in and out of a restless sleep, and had fallen back to sleep, when I was awakened by the bedroom door opening, and a silhouette coming through the dark. Cassie must have gone downstairs to get me some water. I was feverish and achy, and just had no strength to move. She sat on the edge of the bed next to me, and brushed my damp hair off my forehead. I noticed her fingers were so cold, and they felt good on my skin. I managed to reach up, and hold her hand in mine.

"Sweetheart, come under the covers, your hands are frigid. Come get warm."

I tugged on her hand to pull her into a hug, and when her face came into the slight bit of light that was present, I could see that it was not Cassie. It was a pale woman with long red hair, but her eyes...they were vacant and completely absent of color. They looked like ice cubes. Fear made me rigid, and she spoke to me.

And that is the voice that woke me up. Shaking the cobwebs out of my head, I reached over and hit the side button on my phone to check the time. Three-thirteen in the morning. I don't think I had been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Sleep seems to not be an option, and I turn on the light on my bedstand, and sit up. I pull over my laptop, and decide to do a little bit of research to see if Ralph was just trying to give me a scare. Outside the wind is still howling, and my cat decides to come out of her coma, curl up next to my hip, and then promptly fall right back into her nightly comatose state.

"Must be nice! You have such a hard kitty-life." I shake my head, and start researching local news archives.

The research is frustrating. I started with the Washington Post, but these outer suburbs don't get much attention. The hardest part is trying to find the right timeframe. I knew it was winter of ten years ago, so I started looking up information from more local sources, ranging from December of 2000 to March of 2001. After another hour, I finally find what I am looking for as a headline sticks out from the rest.

'Leesburg woman found frozen to death outside of residence.'

Still not a lot of detail, but it gives a rough location, which is my neighborhood, and it does say she died from exposure after being knocked unconscious. Police determined it to be an accident, and not the result of foul play. Sad. I can only empathize with what the husband had to feel after he got the news. It is heartbreaking, and I stare at the opposite wall for a few moments, trying to shake the feeling of sadness within me. Okay, so that is the first release of the incident. There must be an obituary a couple of days further into the archives. After only a few moments, I find it.

'Mrs. Anna Marie Morgan, 24, of Leesburg,VA, died 12 February 2001,

at her residence from complications of an accident. Mrs. Morgan was

born on June 5, 1976 in Napa, CA, the only daughter of Jason and

Margaret Cramer. Mrs. Morgan, a graduate of UCLA, was living in

Leesburg, as a homemaker, where she was preparing to have a family.

Mrs.Morgan is survived by her husband, Michael Thomas Morgan of

Leesburg, as well as her parents. Services will be held at the Leesburg

Funeral Home on Catoctin Circle on Friday, February 16, 2001.

Cards, and condolences, may be sent to Mrs. Morgan's husband at

44876 Cherry Creek Lane, in Leesburg.'



What the Hell? Fourty-Four, Eight Seventy-Six Cherry Creek? My dread had just reached an all time high. That is my home address. This poor woman died in the very driveway I had been shoveling only hours before. Ralph had her age off by five years, but the story was true, and it happened right here. I rubbed my temples with my middle fingers. Lack of sleep, and staring at the computer screen for a couple of hours, was starting to give me a headache. Hopefully, I have some Excedrin in my medicine cabinet. I slide out of bed, and my cat decides to move and curl up in the spot I occupied. As if the furball didn't generate enough heat on her own.

In the bathroom, I find just a couple of pills in the bottle. At least that will help, and I take them with a gulp of water, and stare at myself in the mirror, not really looking, but just imagining the poor woman, shoveling like I had been doing, and imagine myself falling toward the bumper of my car. An odd sensation hits me, as if a hand is lightly on my shoulder and a pressure between my shoulderblades, oddly like a forehead pressed there. Cassie used to do that. My momentary memory of comfort changes to anxiety, as the sensation has an icy feel to it.

"~I miss you~"

I jump and turn around. A faint shadow, is that what I see when my eyes focus? I feel sadness, and the shadow seems to dissipate. It was then that I realized that I haven't been alone. This can't be. Okay, someone died here years ago, but there is no such thing as ghosts. Now I remember the joking Jeff did while on the phone with him earlier. Sleep. That is the problem. Lack of sleep, and the coincidence that I live in the home of someone who died in the driveway. I am stuck here from the weather, and am getting a case of cabin fever. That is all it is. It has to be. I look at the time on the clock radio I have in the bathroom. It is nearly five in the morning. I suppose I will get dressed, and do another round of shoveling. The cold air will clear my head, and tire me enough to take a nap later in the morning.

I jump, again, as I exit the bathroom, and hear a loud thump coming from the large storage area on the other side of the stairwell landing. The cat must be awake and playing around in there. I walk in and see a few boxes that have fallen over against the dryer.

I call out to the cat, "Frisker-butts, what are you into now? Do we have a mouse?"

A mouse might help explain the cat's odd behavior earlier in the evening, but then I feel the cat rub up against my leg. She had still been sleeping when I called her. At least she is loyal, or at the least, she is hungry, and ready to be fed. Odd though. Why would those boxes just fall?

"Okay, okay, you furry basketball. Let's have some breakfast. You should be on a diet, Tubby."

The cat gives me a smug look, like, 'Just feed me, fool', and follows me out of the storage room. She suddenly takes off, and I nearly jump out of my skin as a whiring noise erupts behind me. The dryer is running, and I run back into the room. Nothing. And there is no way anyone could have passed me on the landing. There is also no place to hide in the room, so no one is there. Could the power be flickering, and somehow have shorted the dryer into starting? I go to open the door to make the dryer stop, and it stops as my hand touches the door. I start shaking my head again.

"Power surge. Some freak power surge. I'll have to look that up. No ghost. Nope, there cannot be a ghost. Always a logical and rational explanation"

Yes, I have to be tired and I am definitely out of my routine. Why else would I, not only be talking to myself, but verbally trying to convince myself of a scientific explanation for what just happened. I head upstairs, and as I reach the next floor, and turn the corner, I pass through a cold spot in the kitchen. Damn drafts. I'm going to have put a towel under the patio door. I go to get Friskie her food. Behind me, a shadow shifts and drifts towards the living room, as I get the chubby furball her morning feast.

As the sun starts to lighten the sky, I get a different perspective on the amount of snow we have on the ground already. The forecast has extended the storm, and increased the snow totals. Looks like another long day of repeated shoveling. The storm will pass by the early morning hours tomorrow. The ABC Storm Desk is now calling for close to thirty-eight inches by the time the skies clear. There is a slight lull, so now seems to be the best time to clear the driveway. My back is killing me, but I plug away. Oddly enough, the events of the past night have me so transfixed that I barely even realize that I am clearing snow.

Standing back, I can actually see some concrete, and a few spots where the brick accents line the edges of the drive. Of course, now that this round is done, winter has decided to flip me off, and the heavy flakes start again. I drop some salt on my work, and head back inside. Time for a good breakfast, and then I will get back to finishing a few household chores.

Still, my mind keeps drifting to the images in my head of the woman who died at this house. What was she thinking? Perhaps she was like the multitudes of Northern Virginia residents who believe a four-wheel drive vehicle will get them through anything. The news has focused a lot on this particular storm, showing vehicles stranded and covered in snow up on Route 340, heading into Frederick, Maryland. The DC beltway is even worse. Over three hundred vehicles were left abandoned along the highway, and that was just the Virginia portion. Maybe it might have been better if Anna had made it onto the road. She might have gotten stuck, but she might still be alive and raising her family. Such a sad way to go. Alone, and the last thought she had was to get to her husband, who she thought was severely hurt.

I go into the laundry room and throw a load into the dryer, then start folding the clothes I just took out of the dryer. I stop momentarily, and look at the boxes that had fallen over last night. I suppose the cardboard weakened on the lower box, and the whole thing shifted to gravity. I pick them up, and set them differently against the wall. Maybe, once the roads clear, I will run over to Target and get a few storage bins. The storage room is full of different boxes and bins. I decide to pass the time by rearranging everything in here, and clean it up some. The best way to go about this is to take everything out, and put everything back in in a neater order. A good hit with the Shop-Vac will do too. I can't imagine how much dust in in here. That might help my morning sinus issues.

Damn. One hour to clear everything out. I pull the Shop-Vac out, and start in the upper corners. Cobweb city in here. The laundry/storage room is basically just an unfinished space in the basement, so there are a lot of nook and crannies made by studs and timbers. Prior residents made good use of what space was in here, and even made a small space under the stairs. That is going to be a pain in the ass. My knees and back are going to hate me for crawling on the concrete floor under there to vacuum. I find that the single light bulb in the room is just not enough to see under the stairs, so I grab my big flashlight, and set it on the floor pointing to the back of the space, and start to vacuum. I should have a dust mask, as I can taste the dust moving about in the air. I get further back and start vacuuming the tight spots there.

The flashlight still isn't great, and I find myself blocking the beam with my body. I pull it closer and readjust the angle. Over in the right-hand corner, where the stairs meet the floor, something shiny is reflecting the light. I crawl back there and reach out to grab whatever is there. It is a picture. Must be from a former resident. Not surprising, really, to leave behind a picture here or there. I crawl backwards to where I can sit up, and get a better look. I lean over to where I can see it in the main light, and my body goes rigid and cold. The picture is of a young couple vacationing somewhere tropical. Normally, I would have some amused curiosity at looking at someone else's picture, but this one causes me to jump, and bump my head on the stairframe. The woman in the picture is pale, with red hair, and blue eyes. This is the woman who sat next to me in my dream. How can this be? I have never seen this woman before. I certainly have never seen this picture.

I scoot out of the space rapidly, and stand up fast. My head still smarts from bumping it, but that is the least of my concerns. I run back to my laptop, and go back to researching the events of ten years ago. After another hour, I find another article concerning the death of Anna Marie Morgan. It shows me what I feared. This article has a picture of her, and it is the same woman in the picture that I set next to my computer. I lean forward on my elbows, and cup my chin in my hand. The picture I found is of Anna and her husband, Michael, probably from their honeymoon.

"What is going on around here? How did you get into my dream, Anna?"

My answer came in the form of a low growl from behind me, and I whip around. Friskie is standing on my bed, and looking towards the doorway. Her spine hair is on end, and she has the typical Halloween cat pose. She hisses, and jets under my bed, still growling. My eyes drift to the doorway, and to the light bleeding into the room from the other side of the stair landing where the laundry room is. What the Hell? The light shifted, as if something passed in front it briefly. I slowly get up, and grab the broom I propped up in the corner. So, perhaps someone did come into the house. This time, I will be sure. I walk slowly to the laundry room, broom in a defensive position, and reach the landing. The light shifts again, but I see no shadow. Could the bulb just be old and ready to go out? I step into the laundry room, but it is empty. The Shop-Vac is in the middle of the floor, but other than that, nothing.

"I just need to change out that bulb."

Just then the room seemingly grows colder. The storm outside must have found a way to get a draft in here. I will probably have to do some weather-sealing in the Spring. With a shiver, I reach out for the Shop-Vac, and then the dryer starts. Just like last night. There has to be a short in it. I open the door to stop the dryer, and it goes quiet again. A cool whiff of air hits the back of my neck.

"~I'm not done.~"

I start to shake, and I am frozen in place. The cold air still lingers behind me, and I will myself to turn around. As I complete my turn, I briefly see a shadow shift at the landing, and seemingly move to the stairs. I start forward, and nearly trip over the Shop-Vac. That seems to have gotten me out of my trance, and I step quicker to the stairs. I look up, and...

"What the Hell?"

I could have sworn I saw something move to the left of the upper doorway. It looked like the trailing end of long red hair. Okay, I have really lost it. This storm. The isolation. Lack of sleep. The knowledge of something tragic happening at my home. The combination has me in a severe state of cabin fever. Still, I follow. I reach the top of the steps, and notice that I can see my breath.

"Power must be out. The house is starting to get cold without the furnace."

I go to the thermostat, but the power is on. I check a lightswitch and the hall light comes on. I go back to the thermostat to raise the setting, and try to get the house warm again. I adjust the temperature, and hit "Set", then wait to confirm the setting. The current temperature shows sixty-six degrees. A bit low, but not horrible. No problem. The furnace was replaced before I moved in, so it should not take long to get warm again. Maybe the power was out for a short time, and a draft was what I felt before.

Just then, I feel cold building on my neck again, and I am still staring at the thermostat, willing it to warm the house. The current temperature is still at sixty-six. No, it is now sixty-two. Dammit. These new digital thermostats can be frustrating. I must have set the cool air, instead of the heat. Fifty-seven. I reset the the damn thing again, and hit the "On" switch for the fan. Forget the automatic. Fifty-three. Fifty. Fourty-five. My breath is visible still, and I can feel the air chill me deep. I keep resetting the damn thing, and I can hear the furnace come on. The sunlight is filtering through the front window curtains, and throws a glare on the thermostat screen. It is like a little mirror reflecting what is behind me, and I pause to relax a moment. I am panicking at the temperature change. I just need to take a breath, and calmly reset the thermostat. I might have to check the furnace and make sure the element isn't defective at the source. My heart stops. In the reflective surface of the thermostat's screen, I see the sun coming through the window, and a shape in the middle of the window pane. It moves, and I turn around. Nothing.

"This is not happening...no way."

I turn back to the thermostat. Thirty degrees. The wires must be crossed and I am reading the outdoor temperature...right?

"~I'm scared, Michael~"

I spin around, ready to throw a punch at whoever is messing with me.

"SO AM I DAMMIT!"

Take a breath. There is no one here. Cabin Fever. Remember. You are tired. That is all that is going on. I need to take a nap. I need rest. I decide to go out and shovel the drive again, then I will have some thick soup and take a long nap this afternoon. That should clear my head again. I go down to my room and get dressed, then head out to the garage, and grab the snow shovel.

Okay, I feel normal again. The cold air on my face helps, oddly enough, and I start one more round of clearing snow. After a while, I reach the end of the driveway, and wonder where I will be able to pile the rest of the snow that is coming. I know the plows will ruin my work later on, and start thinking of possibly walking shovels of snow across the street. I may do that on the next round. The wind whips around, and the sunlight fades, as the clouds thicken, and the snow starts heavy again. Another twelve hours of this blizzard, and it will be over. I can't wait to go to the store, or the pub, or just to be able to drive. I just want to get away from the house for a bit. Florida is looking like a good option for a trip. I'll book a flight after my nap. I lean against the shovel, and watch the snow fill in where I have cleared. So much for seeing concrete and brick.

I start inside, and hear a thud near me. I turn in all directions, but see nothing. Must be the storm. All kinds of odd noises in the increasing winds. I hit the button for the garage door, then suddenly stop it about a third of the way closed. Something is in the driveway, or rather, not in the driveway. The snow is filling in where I shovelled, except for an oblong patch in the middle. It looks like the depression a body makes when one makes snow angels, only this has no wings. Terrified, I close the garage door the rest of the way, and race upstairs. I start some soup, and make some hot tea. A little Irish whiskey in the tea might help me sleep. In my head, I still see the depression in the snow, but my imagination places a worse image there.

I lean on the kitchen counter and eat my soup.

Downstairs, a door opens from the garage, then closes.

My nap was not very restful. I kept seeing Anna as I dreamt. Rather, I kept seeing her face, blurred by motion, but her long red hair was unmistakeable. Also, I didn't sleep soundly. I kept feeling cold chills, and kept having to wrap myself deeper into my blankets. Perhaps what is really haunting me is empathy towards her demise, added to the isolation this storm has placed me into. There is no ghost. I might be losing my cool, or my mind.

I throw back the blankets, and get up, putting on a pair of sweats, then head upstairs to make some hot tea. I think I might just add some Bärenjäger to my tea this late afternoon. It is a thick honey liquer, made in Germany, and it is very good. It just might help me sleep tonight. Upstairs, I put the kettle on to boil, and get the bottle of Bärenjäger out. Friskie is at my feet wanting dinner. No kidding. I feed the furball, and check her water. The kettle starts whistling, which nearly startles me, and the cat, out of our skins. I can't help but laugh at myself for being so jumpy, and go to take the kettle off, which slowly stops whistling as I set it on a cold burner. Odd, the kettle had a weird end to its whistle. Almost like a...

"Oh, screw me...c'mon!"

I didn't want to think it, but I did. A scream. The kettle's whistle sounded like a scream as it trailed off. I start talking to myself, as if I were speaking to one of my friends.

"So, how were your days dealing with the storm and isolation?"

"Oh, just fabulous. I shoveled, and strained my back. I bumped my head, and I fed the cat fifteen million times. Drank a lot of tea, coffee, and alcohol. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I was haunted by a woman who died outside my house ten years ago. Yes, it was a wonderful and relaxing time alone in the friggin blizzard!!"

Pull it together. I can't lose it. The storm will be over sometime tonight, and the plows will come around soon after. The neighborhood will clear out, and things will go back to normal. I know about isolationism, and the effects it can have, but that is usually over a much longer period of time. Stress. Oh, when I can drive out of the neighborhood, I am totally going to eat an entire pizza, and have some drafts.

"~Don't leave me...~"

I nearly drop my cup of spiked tea. I lunged around the wall, and looked into the living room, where I heard the voice. Of course, I see nothing. At this point, I think it is a good thing. At least I can rationalize that I am just hearing things after a restless nap. Damn, it is cold in here. Wait. It is just cold in here. The rest of the house is warm again, but it is just frigid, here, in the living room. I can see my breath, as the light dims from the sun setting beyond my front window. It will be night soon, and within the next several hours the storm should be tapering off, and be done with us. It is about a good a time, as any, to get one more round of shoveling done, and the rest can be done in the morning, for one final time, that is, before the plows shove some back into the driveway. My neighbors are going to be regretting that they didn't follow my strategy. Who knows? I might even help a few, just to have some adult conversation.

I head off for the bedroom, get dressed in warm gear, and then make my way to the garage. This is getting so routine, and I barely do much more than go through the motions. I open the garage door to a sight that will forever be burned into my memory. I really didn't notice it until I started to step out from inside the garage, but there it was. There was an oblong lump in the snow near the center of the driveway. Instantly, I thought to the words Ralph had used last night to describe how Anna was found. Frozen to death. A lump in the driveway.

I stood there for nearly ten minutes, staring at the lump in the driveway. I was very cold, but I didn't even notice. I was too afraid to move. My breath came in shallow gasps, and my heart was pounding.

I got it together for a moment. Someone, maybe even Ralph, was playing a prank on me. Sick bastard. I will flatten his face with my shovel if he did this! Wait...chill out. Can't lose it over a silly prank. Anyway, someone just threw a few piles of snow in the middle of the driveway, and the added snowfall and wind just softened the piles into a person sized lump. No harm really. Well, none, except that is just extra snow to shovel. I walk to the end of the driveway to start Shovelfest, part ten.

Behind me I hear a thud, then a whimper, then a softer thud. I turn and in the middle of the driveway, there is a depression in the snow where the lump was just moments ago.

"Oh, no. No. No. No. No. This is not happening. This is one well thought out prank. OKAY! WHOEVER IS DOING THIS, HA HA. YOU GOT ME. NOW LEAVE ME BE!"

Damn it. This has just gone too far. I am seriously going to lose it, and not mentally. I am just about to the point where I am going to throw some punches when I find out who is screwing with me.

I turn back to my shoveling, when the garage door, next door, starts to open. I look over that way, and my next door neighbor is standing at the opening. I think his name is Fred, but I am not sure. He and his family are not seen often. They tend to keep to themselves. They are from England, and I think he runs a shop in town.

"Hey, do you mind not yelling. You are scaring my kids."

"I'm sorry. I think I am being pranked. Sorry."

"Okay, then. Please just keep it down. Oh, and, would you mind not knocking on your walls at night. My kids watch enough old horror movies as it is, and the knocking has them coming into my bedroom in the night scared as Hell."

What the Hell? "Knocking? I'm not knocking on any walls."

"Well, I have heard it myself, and it is coming from your side of the walls, so unless you want a letter from the HOA, I do recommend you make sure there is no further knocking. Am I clear?"

"Yes, but I wasn't..."

Too late, his door was closing. What the Hell did he mean by knocking on the walls? Even I didn't hear that on my side, even with all the other things happening. Suddenly, I turned back to the middle of the driveway. The lump was back. Pissed off now, I walked over to the lump and slammed the flat part of my shovel down hard on it, and in the high winds, I thought I heard a shriek. I turned toward the sound, and held my shovel like a battle-axe. C'mon, c'mon. Show yourself.  Let's end this right now.

Another thud, whimper, thud sound behind me and, sure enough, there was the depression in the snow where the lump was just at. My eyes widened. This is not happening to me. I have gone insane. I am seeing things. I am hearing things. I am standing here about to go to battle with, what, what am I trying to fight? My own mind?

"~Michael...I'm cold. So tired. Michael.~"

I imagined Anna lying there where the lump was, and felt so incredibly sad at that moment. Her red hair was splayed along the snow, and there was a bruise forming on her temple from the impact she had made with the car. Her eyes were open, and opaque. I was frozen in place, seeing this image play out in front of me, and wondering how her husband had felt when he was told the news. Her husband. His name was Michael. Michael Thomas Morgan. I shook my head.

"His name is Michael. NO WONDER I AM HEARING MY NAME!"

I was feeling so sad about the story of Anna, that my imagination was making it to where I even heard her call my name. Now I really feel stupid. I was doing this to myself, and had the perfect name to set myself up. My next door neighbor's porch light flickered on and off several times, and I looked up to his deck. He was at his window, motioning me to be quiet? I waved back, in a way that seemed to say I was sorry for disturbing him, but muttering under my breath.

"Yes, yes...sorry, you non-social, pompous ass. Put that in your HOA letter, and stick it up your arse, yes, sorry, sorry."

I turned back to finish my shoveling for the night, and there stood a shadow in the light of the garage. I spoke the only word I could choke out.

"Anna?"

Did I really just call out Anna's name? The shadow in the garage door opening was faded and soft on the edge. Was I so tired that my vision was blurred? I shook my head to try and chase out the cobwebs. I bet this is the prankster. Oh, this bastard is going to get it, tired or not.

"Who are you?", I demanded. This joker had better have a good reason for being there.

The shadow just stood there. Standing isn't quite what I would call it. It actually looks like it is floating. It has to be a trick of the bright light coming from the garage. I had my shovel at the ready. If I was in any kind of danger, I wouldn't go down without a fight. I took a step forward, and the shadow darted to the right, and into the side yard. I gave chase, but then the figure was gone. What in the Hell? There were no footprints in the snow. Shaking my head, I stood there, and looked back to the driveway. The lump in the snow was back. Am I going mad?

I went back inside. I am going to grab my baseball bat, and go back to the garage and sit inside and wait for whoever is running around out here. I will turn out the light in the garage and wait. There is a rational reason for this to be happening, and I will be patient enough to figure this out and get this over with.

I sit there for a few hours. I am cold. Very cold. No matter what warm clothes you wear, they really have no effect on keeping you warm unless you are moving around. The sound of the howling winds, and the steady snowfall, just adds to the chilly feeling. My nose starts running, and I grab a clean shop-rag. As cold as I am, I am surprised that I don't have any nose-sicles. I keep seeing the image of Jack Nicholson in the last scene of "The Shining", where is is frozen solid in the hedge maze. That is how I feel sitting in this damn garage, waiting on a prankster who probably had his fun, and went home. Fine, you win. Another few minutes, and I will go inside, grab a hot shower, and just go to bed. My exhaustion is the worst I have had since cramming for exams in college.

I go to get up when I hear a shuffling noise coming from outside of the garage. It is coming from my right, and sounds like it is just outside of the garage just out of view. The sound is coming closer. That's right. Come closer so I can catch you. I get out of my seat, and sneak closer to that side of the garage. The sound is very faint, but it is getting closer. I place myself just inside of the door, in the corner of the garage. Come on, hurry up, and let's get this over with. More shuffling. Very close. It has to just be outside, opposite of the wall I am leaning against. I see a shadow, long and moving, on the snow just outside of the garage. Yes, finally, I have you. I jump out, ready to swing my bat if something lunges at me, and face my prankster. A yelp is what greets me. A yelp, then a whimper.

"Whoa, buddy. What are you doing out here?"

It is a dog. A scraggly, medium-sized mutt of a dog, but it isn't afraid of me. He is tentative, but I talk calmly to him, and his tail gives a weak wag.

"It's okay. C'mere, little guy. I won't hurt you.", I say, as I lean the bat against the door. "You hungry? It's too cold out here for you."

The poor thing is shaking, but it comes to me, and I put my palm out for him to sniff. His tail wags a bit more enthusiastically, and soon enough, he sits at my feet while I give him some attention.

"Okay, okay, buddy. It's alright. Friskie is going to be pissed, but you can come inside tonight, and sleep. We'll figure out where you belong after the storm."

The dog follows me as I head to the inner door, but then I hear him whine a bit. I turn to see what he is whining about, and his fur is standing on on end along his back. He lets out a bit of a growl, and slowly backs away. I motion for him to come to me, but he is having none of that. Maybe he is feral, and not used to going inside of a house. I motion for him again, and he barks once, then jets off into the storm again. Well, shoot. I was going to take care of him, but he ran off. Poor guy is going to freeze tonight if he doesn't find shelter. I go to step out of the garage, and that is when I feel a cold wave pass through me. Like I wasn't cold enough! The wind must have shifted, and hit me full on. Wait, no. It felt like it hit me from behind, from the direction of the garage towards the outside. I look out of the garage and step on out. There. In front of me is a faint shadow. Just standing there in the snow. No footprints leading to it, but it is standing there.

"Okay...who are you? Seriously, this has gone on enough. I'm tired, and don't want to play anymore", I managed to choke out at the form in front of me.

The shadow seems to get more solid. I can still see through it, but it take more of a human shape. A woman. Very pale with...long red hair. Oh my God. It's real, isn't it? I want to believe I am seeing things, but a lot of things hit my mind at once. Friskie's reactions and behavior. The neighbor complaining of knocks on the walls. The dryer starting up. The cold chills, and the temperature dropping in the house. And of course, the stray dog running away. There truly can be only one explanation. This has got to be Anna's ghost.

Skeptical that I am, I try to think of how a ghost could actually exist. Seriously, if a ghost is from a dead person, then why are there not billions of ghosts from all the dead people in history? Perhaps a ghost is just the residual energy left behind when we pass away. Who knows, but all the explanations or theories mean nothing at this moment. She is here. She is standing in front of me. Shit. I don't have my camera.

She is just standing in front of me, but her image seems to shift and flicker, like when a television gets a power surge. She is very pale, and her hair is still. The wind isn't affecting it. Her eyes though. That is what really drives a cold spike of fear in me. They look like frozen grapes, and are clouded over.

"Anna. Why are you here? What do you want?", I manage to weakly say.

What would you ask a ghost? It was the only thing I could say! Anna still stood there, and she had a very sad look on her face. I was about ready to bolt, and run to Ralph's house in the snow. This is just too much. Just as I was feeling my legs twitch, and I was trying to will myself into movement, Anna raised an arm, pointing to the ground. Where she was pointing was to the middle of the driveway, where a depression was forming. She looked back to me, and I could see tears on her face. The most overwhelming feeling of sadness and despair hit me just then. I just stood there as Anna pointed at the depression in the snow. What do I do?

"What are you telling me Anna? Please tell me."

"~So cold~"

"I know, Anna. It is very cold. You should go inside, and wait for the doctor to call you."

What the Hell was I saying? Why did I just say that to her?

"~Michael~"

I think I get it now. She was pointing to where she fell in the snow, after hitting her head on her car's bumper. Her husband had been in an accident during a storm like this, and she was so desperate to get to him. She had been knocked unconscious during the storm, and froze to death. And all just because her fear for her husband led her to irrational thinking. She should not have died. She should have weathered the storm and waited for the hospital to contact her. It was unfair. She should be a mother now, and living in this very house.

"Anna. I'm sorry. I don't know what you want, but, well, you are a ghost now. You died on a night like this ten years ago. I'm so sorry."

Again, I really have no idea why I was telling her these things. Maybe she just didn't know. I bet she died with so many questions forming into her mind before she finally drifted away.

Anna's arm dropped to her side and she looked right through me. Tears formed, and her shoulders slumped...or at least that is how it appeared to me. She just stood there. And I could hear a faint whimpering. She didn't know. She was spending the past couple of days replaying out her last hours. The dryer, movement around the house, and finally heading out to the shovel her car out. She was doing it over and over again. And now, what is left of her conscious being has just found out what happened.

"~Don't go...~"

Why tell me that? Was she even saying that to me, or referring to another. Did someone pass by and miss seeing her in the snow? Was she conscious for a brief moment and try to call for help? I spent the next few minutes trying to wrap my mind around why she said that. Meanwhile, Anna turned her head, and looked up the road. What was she looking at? Was she looking to see if someone was coming for her? I was sickened by the large bruise forming on her temple as she stared up the road. My God, how awful her husband must have felt when he got the news, and then had to identify her body, just to see the same bruise I was seeing now. I cannot imagine how much they must have loved each other for these events to have occured.

Love! That's it!! That is what kept her here. She was so in love with her husband, and passed away long before her time. That was the energy that must have allowed her to remain. And I believe that is why she is appearing to me. Her spirit must have been hearing my name being used since I moved in. Her spirit must gather energy during snowstorms. I don't know why, but it was the only theory I had. Her spirit must have been too weak to appear to her husband when he moved out of the house. She was always here, but just couldn't gather the energy to try to get him to stay here. Love is cruel like that sometimes. I shook my head.

"~Anna. I am not your Michael. I am someone else. Your Michael moved away. He just couldn't live here with the memories. I'm sorry." Anna continued to cry, but I had to go on. "It is time for you to move on. You have to go wherever people go when they pass on."

But, really, where do they go? Is there a "hereafter"? Do they all go to the same place? Do they reincarnate? Apparantly, some do not know where to go, and they stay in the same place, waiting for something, perhaps not knowing they are dead. I think this is Anna's plight.

Somehow, for a reason I still, to this day, do not know the reason for, I stepped to Anna, and held out my hand. She tilted her head, and looked confused. I just stood there, merely two feet from her, and offered the only comfort I could. She looked down at my hand and then back to my eyes. Her form drifted backwards, and pointed at the depression in the snow again. She shook her head, and pointed at me, then back to the depression. Then she pointed towards the house.

"I...I don't understand, Anna. What are you trying to say? Please."

I was truly confused. She kept repeating the motions, and I realized my hand was still extended to her. It was then I realized that I was no longer scared. Obviously, she meant me no harm. If she did, I would have known by now. Instead, she just kept appearing, and making noises throughout the house, and falling into the snow, over and over. But now, things have changed. I think she now knows that she is not living anymore, but her energy refuses to move on. What is she saying to me? Why is she pointing at where she passed, then at me, then to the house? It is like...hold on. Is she warning me? I think that is what she doing. She has been watching me shovel every few hours, and since she died that way, she might be telling me to stop and go inside.

"You want me to go inside, Anna? You want me out of the cold? Is that what you are telling me?", I finally asked.

What she did next almost made me laugh. She tilted her head and smiled. It made me think in my head, with her voice, "Well Duh!". She pointed to the house, and smiled. For a moment her eyes cleared, and they were a sharp hue of green. She was a beautiful woman in life. It was so wrong that she was taken away from this world.

I turned and started to go inside. As I opened the door, I turned back, and wanted to offer her to come inside, but she was looking at the ground, where a lump had formed in the snow. She let out a whimper, then all of a sudden she looked straight up to the sky, and as the wind picked up in a snowy howl, she opened her mouth and screamed a wailing scream that paralleled the winds. She now knew, and the horror of it finally hit her.

I whispered, "You are free now, Anna. I'm so sorry this happened to you."

I walked inside, and went to my room. I took a long, warming shower, and stood there as the hot water cascaded over me. My thoughts were of Anna, and how these past few days played out. Wow. Ghosts are real. This changes everything. Thank goodness my ghost wasn't a bad one. She was just a leftover of love and desperation.

I went to bed, and pulled the covers over me. It did not take long before I felt the wave of exhaustion drift me into slumber. Perhaps I will sleep for ten hours or more. It felt peaceful.

Next to my bed, as I fell into a deep sleep, a form appeared, and touched my shoulder. I shuffled in my sleep, and snuggled into my covers more. Anna smiled and dissipated.



Epilogue:

I never saw Anna again, since those nights of the big storm. I kept it to myself for the past two years. Honestly, anyone I would tell would just tell me I had a severe case of cabin fever. After I spent some time getting over the events of those nights, I looked her husband up. He was still living in Oregon, and he had remarried. I wanted to contact him and tell him what happened here, but I decided that it was best to leave him alone. He had healed, and it would not be fair to dredge up the pain of his past. I just wish Anna knew that he was okay. Maybe, wherever she went, she knows. It would only be right.

Well, I guess I better make sure my winter gear is ready for the next few nights. The forecast calls for a monster of a winter storm. We have been lucky over the past couple of years, but this is an El Nino year. Outside, the first flakes are falling, and the sun is just starting to set. I look out my window, and take a sip of my coffee. Friskie is figure-eighting around my legs, and purring. Yep, she's hungry...again. I bend down, and go to pet her, but she suddenly jumps and races off to the downstairs. I stand up, and a slight cool chill hits my neck.

I chuckle slightly.

"Don't worry. I bought a snowblower...Anna."

The End.