Ghost Killer

Chapter One

It was a quiet peaceful afternoon in the town of St. Augustine. Palm trees swayed back and forth with the wind. The citizens chattered amongst themselves about random things. Except for one person. A 47 year-old superstitious person, named Jared Davis, had been thinking about his house. Was it haunted? Almost everyone’s house was haunted in St. Augustine. Except his. It seemed that there’s no paranormal phenomenon going on in his house. He already tried to catch EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomenon), videos, and pictures, but nothing. It felt different. It didn’t feel right.

How he became to believe ghosts, no one really knows. He believed almost anything, from the Loch Ness Monster to Bigfoot, he was interested in it. He knew every myth, although ghosts were his last myth to find out. Were ghosts real? Of course they were. He had watched documentaries about ghosts, looked at photos taken by ghost hunters (mostly T.A.P.S.), and listened to EVPs so many times, he quickly moved down from Dunbar, West Virginia to St. Augustine, Florida. This place was known for being the 3rd most friendly haunted town in the United States, so Jared decided to move down to here to see if he could bunk with a friendly ghost. No luck.

He had already asked his neighbors if they had ghosts. Most of them did. He asked, to the people who had ghosts, if they were friendly. All of those people did. He never really asked if he could set up cameras and tape recorders in their homes. It didn’t feel right. Plus, what if the ghost in that house didn’t approve of it? Would it move his equipment? Possibly. Would it be angry and try to harm the occupants of the home. Probably not. He sighed. A thought passed head. If only someone would die here. Then maybe I could get a ghost. But that would be heartless. At least he could retire from his work. He used to work on a famous website that had people solving mysteries. He was a moderator. The 47 year-old man strolled into his newly made home. He felt like a king. He had a new 60 inch plasma screen TV with digital cable, a full new kitchen, a new master bedroom, a new guestroom, 2 large bathrooms, and a large backyard. The neighborhood was awesome. He knew because he already knew everyone in the area. It was nice and peaceful.

Mr. Davis had settled down to read his book, The Haunted Door, a book by Helen White:

"Darkness filled the room as night fell. The two boys stepped cautiously towards the glowing door. Their hearts sank as they heard moans of pain coming from behind it. They shivered and backed up as they saw more light coming from behind the egress. Without a warning, the door flung open and two dark arms reached out and grabbed the unfortunate boys. Their screams of panic were washed out by the cackling darkness. They were swept in and never heard of again."

He put the book away in his cabinet, where he put all his books. Stretching, he yawn a great, tiring yawn and got up from his chair. Scratching his back, he looked at the clock. 11:46 pm. Dang, it’s late! Jared walked over to the door of his bedroom. What if this door were to open up and take me? He smiled. That won’t happen. It’s impossible. Plain, open mumbo jumbo! He opened his door and walked in without hesitation. His beautiful, king-sized bed looked and felt great. Soft as a feather! He didn’t seem to have trouble finding a sleeping position. Even sleeping on his back felt cloud-like. He was all readying liking this house. He couldn’t wait till tomorrow. He wanted to try out his new coffee machine.

Chapter Two

Morning struck the beach of St. Augustine. Seagulls squawked at each other, arguing who would get the last piece of sea bass. The morning sun beamed through the closed curtains of a neighbor’s house. Watchful eyes looked at a married couple heading downstairs to get breakfast. It looked at the digital clock. 9:02 am. “Huh, these modern folks sure get up late.” A female voice came from nowhere. It was a ghost. “You say that every morning, Dominga.” A male voice came from the left. Dominga looked beside her. A tall Hispanic man wearing 1700 century clothing was looking down on the ghost woman. She, too, was wearing the same kind of clothing. “Ah, Pablo, good morning! Did you enjoy watching the cat purr himself asleep?”

“Actually, I did. He seemed happy to wake up, me petting him and all.” Dominga smiled. “Oh! You’re going soft, aren’t you? The old Mexican warrior is going all loveable on a pretty kitty. Aw! So cute!” She teased. “Ha ha ha, very funny! That was three centuries ago. That canon ball killed me, so now I’m officially retired from my duties to my army.” Pablo said in a deep, great voice. “Oh ho! Well, are you the brave one?” She smiled. “Let’s do this when they leave for church. They don’t want their kids influenced.” Dominga scoffed. “We’re spirits. It won’t matter what we do. We can’t feel a thing. Example.” Suddenly, she leaped up, grabbed hold of his face, and kissed him on the lips. “Did you feel a thing?”

“No, how could I?” he laughed. “Oh, shut up, you soldado mudo!” She scolded. “Dumb soldier? Well, that’s not very nice.” They heard voices coming from downstairs. “Come on, kids! We’re going to be late for church!” “Kids, listen to your mother.” After a few noises, the door finally closed and the car engine started. “Ah, church. Too bad I didn’t die in one. That way, I could become a church ghost.” Dominga picked up a mirror, frowning to see that she couldn’t see herself. “I hope you weren’t trying to make a pun.” Pablo uttered. Hearing on what he said, she put her hands on her hips. “No, but what’s wrong with being a church ghost?” Pablo sighed. “Nothing.” “Good.” He walked towards the bedroom window. “You overreact sometimes. You know that?” She rolled her eyes. “I do not! This is overreacting. ‘EXCUSE ME?! DID YOU JUST SAY I OVERRACT?! FORGET YOU, MISTER!’” Pablo started laughing, turning around at her. “You have me there! That is overreacting! Hahaha!”
She giggled a bit. She walked over to him as he sat down on the bed. “I heard a neighbor moved in yesterday. I wonder who he is.” “Probably some hypocrite.” He replied, stretching to get the cold “blood” moving in his “body”. “Oh, shut up! Really, we are not bond to this house, only this neighborhood. Let us go see him! You know I love new neighbors!” She said, grasping his arm. “Oh, alright. Plus, what harm can he do? Nothing, but scream and point at us.” He lazily opened one eye at her. “You never know. The guy was asking about ghosts the other day. He seemed to be interested in us undead." He looked at her. “Are you saying there is a ghost hunter next door?” “Yes.” He groaned. “Oh! Those people are so nosy! They are always peeking around every corner trying to talk to us. We don’t always want to talk to you, gente estúpida!” She sighed. “Do not worry. The guy seems to be slowing down. He did not even ask to put thingymabobbies in the house.” He looked at the white, fluffy cat coming in. “Meaning?” She looked at him with an annoyed look. “Meaning that he might be retiring soon.” Pablo started petting, as he called, the pretty kitty. “Oh. Oh! Got’cha! Ah! Oo! Yes.”
Dominga scoffed, hitting him on the arm gently. “Oh stop it! You know you want to meet him too. He laid back upon the bed, his hands under the back of his head. “Maybe.”

Work In Progress