He reached over the side of the bed for his water bottle, hoping that nothing would grab his hand. Because that had happened before. Looking back over
his life a lot of 'stuff' had happened to Marcus at night as he'd tried to sleep. Nowadays, there just seemed to be more of it more often.
He'd read somewhere that the veil thins as one nears death and he wondered when he could expect to see dead friends and relatives hovering round the
bed. He'd already felt that the old lady he'd suspected of haunting the place was becoming a bit more obvious.
He'd noticed the odd smells since moving in, usually perfume but sometimes less pleasant. Sometimes he'd just had a sense of her. But yesterday...
why'd he have to think of that?
A few creaks issued from the walls as he thought about it. He'd gone into the spare room for his toothbrush and, for some reason, thought of her.
Obligingly the smell of perfumed wafted in front of him. He'd half laughed to himself and issued some sort of challenge. Even more obligingly the
sound of water running down the plug-hole had issued from the wash basin right beside him. But, he wasn't running any water. Not there in the spare
room, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen. No dishwasher or washing machine was running. The lavatory hadn't been recently flushed, and yet he
heard water draining away.
He'd gone off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and, upon his return discovered the tube of toothpaste standing just outside the cabinet, not inside
it where he usually left it. He'd tried to write it all off. He was ill and teeth cleaning was stressful. It wasn't so far fetched to think that he'd
just absent-mindedly put the toothpaste in the wrong place, especially after what had just happened.
Marcus tried not to dwell on it. He didn't like the spare room. He'd had an action figure in there that was motion sensitive. It spoke when anyone
walked near it. Except, since it had been in the spare room, it spoke when nobody was near it. 'Nobody living, anyway' he thought, grimly.
Not grim – ahh – don't think of that again. He'd been trying so hard not to notice those feelings of something brushing against him. Something as
light as a feather at various points on his body. Or, surely, that was just a loose hair on his shoulder. A loose hair wouldn't feel like breath on
his forearm, though.
Perhaps he'd just give in to it, like he had with the ghost yesterday. Open his mind and see if it would speak to him.
A low laugh echoed in his mind 'I already spoke to you'.
'You mean I didn't imagine it before?'
'What did I tell you?'
'That you'd come for me when it suited you. And it's your body I'm lying on and you have me in your embrace. But we won't be going anywhere
'That if your presence, and that of your nibbling little pet, bothers me that much then I should write it all down'.
edit on 31-5-2016 by berenike because: (no reason given)