The Haunted Street

John Smith sat looking through his window at the falling rain. He wondered if the rumor of a ghost was a true story. Did a ghost truly haunt the streets of Baltimore, particularly his own neighborhood?

It had been years since the apparition was allegedly first sighted. He pulled at his beard and sighed.

A knock came from his front door. He stood and opened the door to reveal a man in a trench coat.

“Brian, nice to see you. What brings you here in a sore deluge?”

“May I come in, John?”

John nodded and Brian entered.

“What’s up?”

Brian took off his coat. “There has been another sighting. This time from the Walker family.”

“When?”

“Last night. I tell you I am ready to leave this place. There is something about this ghost that ills me.”

John raised his eyebrows and narrowed his gaze. “You believe the tales are true.”

“Like I said, I am ready to leave. Sometimes you gotta travel on and seek a better environment.”

John pulled at his chin. “Perhaps you could take the train to another neighborhood?”

“I’ve gotta thing with trains. I’ll take the bus somewhere instead. What about you?”

“I…am not sure. The tales may be real or not. But I won’t take such measures.”

“Do as you will. I’ve had it with this creepy place.”

John looked outside the window and the rain had ceased. “Well, the rain has stopped. I appreciate you telling me this. Just call me every so often, wherever you go.”

The two shook and Brian left.

John approached a desk and took out a pen and paper. John was a musician and he was gifted with a sure hit writer’s pen.

He picked up his pen.

“What to write about this time?” he said to himself. He sat for a time thinking then dropped his pen and stood. “Writer’s block. I hate it when this happens! I’ll sleep on it. It’s nearly 4 pm.”

John laid on his couch and slept.

That evening he had a disturbing dream. He found himself in a broad desert being chased by a dark, ominous figure. The form gained on John and tackled him. The figure took him by the throat and glared at him. “I’m coming for you next, John!”

John jolted awake in a sweat. “What just happened!” He stood and ran a palm down his face. It was now 7 pm. Because of sleeping during the day for three hours, he knew it would be hard to sleep at his bedtime.

John took a deep breath and turned on his tv and watched the news. Time went by quickly and soon it was 10 pm.

Suddenly the tv turned off.

John gasped. “What on Earth? Must be a power surge.” He tried turning on the tv manually, but it didn’t do anything. “How odd.”

John went to his garage and checked out the circuit braker and reset the power. “That should do it.”

John returned to his tv and tried to turn it on, but it still didn’t help. “I’ll have to call the power company.”

The lights blacked out and John groped for a flashlight in his cabinet next to his couch and turned the flashlight on. He heard a noise to his left and pointed his flashlight at it but nothing was there.

A shriek came from his hall closet and he flashed his light on it. He breathed heavily and neared the closet door. It threw open and something sent him flying backward over his couch top, landing on his side as the flashlight fell out of his grip.

John scampered to his feet and lunged for his flashlight and turned to the closet and saw a horrid glowing, gaunt old man in a black cloak.

“I told you I would come for you! Ha, ha, ha!”

John ran for the front door but it wouldn’t open.

John grabbed a long umbrella, and the ghost passed through the couch and kept cackling.

“Stay back, freakish thing!”

“Prepare for your doom!” said the ghost.

John backed away and bumped into his bookcase and a Bible fell on the ground and landed open.

The ghost looked at it and drew back.

John saw the reaction and picked up the Bible and the spirit drew back farther. John pursued the ghost and it retreated more. It fled to the master bedroom and John followed it but when he entered it, the ghost was nowhere.

John stood stern and stalwart against the foe. Something rushed by him and chill went down his spine. He turned and saw the back of the spirit running from John. “Oh, no you don’t!” said John as he ran after it.

The spirit faced John and it stretched out his arm and a stream of black fire shot out at John. He shielded his face with the Bible in his hand and the flame stopped short like an invisible barrier was there.

Suddenly the front door flew open and Brian barged in. “John! Read from the Bible!”

“What!”

“Do it!”

“What do I read from?”

“Anything!”

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.”

The ghost grabbed its head and cried out.

“It harms it!” said John.

“Read more!”

“Blessed are those who are poor in spirit,”

John kept reading and the glow of the ghost dimmed until it turned to black ash and blew away like a gale had carried through the house.

“It’s gone right?”

“Yes. How did you know to come here?”

“I had this surreal dream of a man in a white robe told me to go immediate to enter your house any way and to read from your Bible. I knew instantly knew it was the ghost.”

“Now, the sightings will cease,” said John.

“That spirit was obviously evil, that is why the righteous words of the Bible detoured the ghost in that way.”

John chuckled. “Well, it looks like you won’t have to move away.”