Read Online The Paupers' Crypt by Ron Ripley - Free Book Online

dissipated.
     

Chapter 21: Time Stands Still
     
    Josephus Wahlen stood in the gray world which was his, and his alone.
    There were others in it, of course. They feared him, though, which was as it should be. He smiled as he watched the woman leave.
    The little one, named Ruth, had helped her evade him. Ruth’s sole purpose was to entertain, and she continued to do so. She was afraid of him, yet not paralyzed by the fear. Her actions were unpredictable, and it excited him.
    As he watched the woman leave, he felt certain she would return, soon.
    With the faintest of thoughts, Josephus scattered the fog, sending tendrils of it shooting back along the ground to the marsh. He smiled as he thought of the marsh. When he had been imprisoned in the crypt, the vibrant life from the tall reeds, and still waters had fed him, sustained him as his hatred grew.
    Josephus had lived long enough, hated strong enough in the crypt to leave his flesh before he died.
    He turned away from the road and made his way through the cemetery to the crypt. The other dead scattered, averting their eyes to avoid his wrath.
    Josephus whistled to himself and wondered if Brian and the other one had met Owen yet.
     

Chapter 22: A Knock at the Door, 11:00 AM, May 2 nd , 2016
     
    He studied the chessboard for several minutes and tried to ignore Carl’s smirk.
    “You’re not helping me think,”the other man said in German.
    Carl’s smirk changed into an innocent smile as he replied, “My young friend, I have no idea of what you are speaking.”
    “I’m sure,”he replied.
    The doorbell rang, and Carl looked up, surprised. “I did not know you were expecting company.”
    “I’m not,” he saidwith a sigh. He stood up, left the game and the dead man then went out into the hall. He was still in a pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt, his feet were bare.
    When he reached the front door, he stopped and called out, in English, “Who is it?”
    “My name’s Jenny Roy,” a woman said. “My husband is Brian. I’m looking for someone named Shane.”
    Shane Ryan opened the door and saw an attractive, middle-aged woman, her face pale and her lips pressed tightly together. “I’m Shane. Is everything alright?”
    She shook her head.
    “Come in,” Shane said, and he moved aside. She stepped quickly into the house, her eyes scanning over everything. Shane closed the door and said, “Why don’t we go to the study.”
    He led the way and called out in German, “Carl, I have a guest.”
    When he entered the room, Carl was gone, although the chess game remained where it was with Shane’s king still in check.
    “Please,” Shane said, “sit down.”
    Jenny nodded and took the seat so recently occupied by Carl. If a chair could be occupied by a ghost.
    “Okay,” Shane said, “tell me what’s going on.”
    She quickly spoke to him about Woods Cemetery in Mont Vernon, of the fog, of the phone call with a ghost. Of Brian being trapped.
    At the end, she said, “I need your help.”
    Shane nodded. “We’ll have to figure out what to do. Do you have problems with ghosts, Jenny?”
    “No, not all of the time,” Jenny said. “Why?”
    “I’m going to have to ask a few friends to assist us,” Shane answered. “And not all of them are alive.”
    “Go for it,” Jenny said. “I want my husband back, and I want him alive.”
    “My goal as well,” Shane said. In German, he said, “Carl, can you hear me? If so, will you come to the study?”
    The air to the left of the chess board shimmered, and Carl appeared. Jenny didn’t react.
    “Should I make myself known?”Carl asked in his native language.
    “Please,”Shane answered in the same.
    Carl nodded, and his faint image solidified ever so slightly. He looked like a superimposed image on a photograph, there but not really, and if Shane squinted, he could make out the study wall behind the dead man, but Carl was present enough for Jenny to notice him.
    Her eyes widened, and her hands tightened