Read Online Vintage: A Ghost Story by Steve Berman - Free Book Online
Authors: Steve Berman
Tags: Fiction, Horror, Juvenile Fiction, Suicide, Social Issues, Love & Romance, Ghost Stories, Horror & Ghost Stories, Ghosts, Homosexuality, Problem families, Gay teenagers, Runaways, new jersey, Horror stories, Family Problems, Runaway Teenagers, Goth Culture (Subculture)
Ads: Link
eyes when she looks at me now. Pity. I know the girls will never smile at me again. My hand, shaking as if palsied—at only thirtyfive it should not tremble so—slips out from beneath the sheet and moves slowly up to my face. The fingernails are long and scratch my cheek. They should touch my nose but find only a ragged hole and agony…
She grabs my hand and murmurs something, her words more soothing than the morphine they give.
The ache suddenly stopped. I found myself back in the old graveyard at night. The soldier’s ghost had vanished.
The memory of lying in that sick bed hadn’t left me. What had just happened? I seemed to have borrowed a moment from his life, one that seemed so real it might as well have been my own. I could still smell the dying in whatever ward they had me. I leaned over and almost retched, gasping in cool night air. I said a silent apology to the grave I nearly soiled. The marker was decorated with a nurse’s cap below a name I could not make out.
When my head cleared, I stumbled on, absently touching my own face now and then to make sure it was still whole and my own. I leaned against an old tree to catch my breath and get my bearings. The bark scratched my bare neck.
I heard angry muttering from above me. I looked up and in the swaying branches right above me hung a body. The legs thrashed about. I screamed.
“What, no stomach for it?” Another ghost suddenly appeared and startled me. I could see through the scroungy young man. His ragged clothes looked turn-of-the-century. He grabbed one of the hanged man’s legs. “Come on now, ol’ Edward’s left us coin to help.”
I shook my head and watched as the ghost grinned, showing a mouth full of broken and missing teeth. He pulled down hard and I heard the crack of a neck breaking. It echoed through the graveyard.
“There now. All’s well. ’Cept, I hate to be sharing.” The ghost reached into his shoe and took out a knife. The blade looked very real. I swear the moonlight reflected off the metal.
He slashed at me. The knife bit into my stomach, like an icicle. I looked down and saw my shirt ripped open and blood spilling out. I clutched my self and ran. His mocking laughter filled the air.
I hid behind a mausoleum. Chest heaving, I grimaced and moved my hand aside, sure that I would see my innards slipping out. But there was no cut, no wound. My shirt and flesh were intact. My fingers still searched, having trouble believing that I wasn’t injured. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Why was I seeing all the spirits and, even more frightening, why were they so intent on me?
I had to get out of there. I had taken only a few steps when I finally saw Josh. He sat on the ground, his back to a grave marker. When he saw me, he smiled. “I found myself. Looked all over last night but I finally found my self.”
When he stood up I found myself reading the chiseled letters :
J OSHUA W YLE
1939-1957
Still scared, I wanted to leave the graveyard before another spirit came, but I couldn’t abandon Josh. He looked so forlorn staring at his own grave. I’d stay just a little while longer. I worried that maybe freeing him from the highway had been wrong.
“You’re not alone anymore.” I kept my hands underneath my arms to warm the fingers. Standing so close to him made everything that much colder.
In the distance, I caught a glimpse of something pale running through the cemetery in great leaps. I shuddered, not wanting to know who or what it once was.
“I have you,” he said. His words thrilled me.
“We have to leave.” I whispered. The other ghosts could hear me. The sound of my voice drew them like filings to a magnet.
He stared at me intently. “Have you ever touched a boy before?”
Why did he have to say that? I blushed. The sudden image of me, no, not me, lying in bed desiring the nurse rose in my thoughts like bile in my throat. I had to focus on Josh, on how beautiful he looked and how much I wanted to be with
She grabs my hand and murmurs something, her words more soothing than the morphine they give.
The ache suddenly stopped. I found myself back in the old graveyard at night. The soldier’s ghost had vanished.
The memory of lying in that sick bed hadn’t left me. What had just happened? I seemed to have borrowed a moment from his life, one that seemed so real it might as well have been my own. I could still smell the dying in whatever ward they had me. I leaned over and almost retched, gasping in cool night air. I said a silent apology to the grave I nearly soiled. The marker was decorated with a nurse’s cap below a name I could not make out.
When my head cleared, I stumbled on, absently touching my own face now and then to make sure it was still whole and my own. I leaned against an old tree to catch my breath and get my bearings. The bark scratched my bare neck.
I heard angry muttering from above me. I looked up and in the swaying branches right above me hung a body. The legs thrashed about. I screamed.
“What, no stomach for it?” Another ghost suddenly appeared and startled me. I could see through the scroungy young man. His ragged clothes looked turn-of-the-century. He grabbed one of the hanged man’s legs. “Come on now, ol’ Edward’s left us coin to help.”
I shook my head and watched as the ghost grinned, showing a mouth full of broken and missing teeth. He pulled down hard and I heard the crack of a neck breaking. It echoed through the graveyard.
“There now. All’s well. ’Cept, I hate to be sharing.” The ghost reached into his shoe and took out a knife. The blade looked very real. I swear the moonlight reflected off the metal.
He slashed at me. The knife bit into my stomach, like an icicle. I looked down and saw my shirt ripped open and blood spilling out. I clutched my self and ran. His mocking laughter filled the air.
I hid behind a mausoleum. Chest heaving, I grimaced and moved my hand aside, sure that I would see my innards slipping out. But there was no cut, no wound. My shirt and flesh were intact. My fingers still searched, having trouble believing that I wasn’t injured. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Why was I seeing all the spirits and, even more frightening, why were they so intent on me?
I had to get out of there. I had taken only a few steps when I finally saw Josh. He sat on the ground, his back to a grave marker. When he saw me, he smiled. “I found myself. Looked all over last night but I finally found my self.”
When he stood up I found myself reading the chiseled letters :
J OSHUA W YLE
1939-1957
Still scared, I wanted to leave the graveyard before another spirit came, but I couldn’t abandon Josh. He looked so forlorn staring at his own grave. I’d stay just a little while longer. I worried that maybe freeing him from the highway had been wrong.
“You’re not alone anymore.” I kept my hands underneath my arms to warm the fingers. Standing so close to him made everything that much colder.
In the distance, I caught a glimpse of something pale running through the cemetery in great leaps. I shuddered, not wanting to know who or what it once was.
“I have you,” he said. His words thrilled me.
“We have to leave.” I whispered. The other ghosts could hear me. The sound of my voice drew them like filings to a magnet.
He stared at me intently. “Have you ever touched a boy before?”
Why did he have to say that? I blushed. The sudden image of me, no, not me, lying in bed desiring the nurse rose in my thoughts like bile in my throat. I had to focus on Josh, on how beautiful he looked and how much I wanted to be with
Similar Books
