Somewhere Among The Stars |
“A dog?” he asked skeptically looking in disgust.
“A dog.” He said reassuringly “His name is Oogly according to his tag.” “Yes, very ugly. I’ll call the pound to pick it up, though I doubt it’ll get adopted.” Richman was probably right; no self-respecting person would ever adopt the dirty mop with legs. Luckily Sam had very little self-respect. “There’s no need for that if you’d let me take him. Just a little cleaning up and he’ll look fine. Isn’t that right little guy?” he asked holding it up in the air. He had apparently been holding it upside down and soon realized he had been talking to its hind quarters upon seeing the wagging tail. He walked back to the truck and placed it on the passenger seat. He noticed the air was chillier than when he arrived “Ok Mr. Richman I think I’m done here, unless you would like the scanner installations?” Mr. Richman nodded his head slowly. “I’ll take the installations, just to be safe.” Sam went to the back of the truck and pulled out a box labelled DETECTION and placed it on the ground. He walked back inside and plugged a few detectors into the walls explaining if they found anything they would notify the Paranormal Exorcism and Extermination Corporation directly. With that Sam wrote up a short report sending it in through the iPad to his boss. A message responded saying “Thank you for your service, Have a nice night.” And he drove home with the little dog fast asleep in his lap.
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He opened the door to an old room, barren only containing a few boxes and found the open vent which the sound was loudest. He slammed his wrench on the metal creating an echo down the vent.
A scatter of solid feet was the next sound he heard which eventually came to a stop somewhere else. He slammed the wrench on the vent again. Not long after came the little pitter patter of animal feet, not big enough to be a raccoon but not small enough to be the typical house rat. This time he decided to whistle down the vent. Sure enough there was a running of feet and not a moment later he was tackled aggressively by a tiny shaky dog with scraggly hair. Its collar was ensnared in its tangles but he managed to find the tag soon enough. Oogly, it said on it, and it couldn’t have been more true to its name. This was possibly the ugliest dog Sam had ever seen with wild hair that resembled a shower drain nightmare. It was very oily and for some reason, sticky. Gross. “Some ghosts you are.” Sam said half joking half disappointed. He scooped up the… dog with one arm and walked back down the stairs. Mr. Richman seemed less than relieved at the sight of the little dog. “My god. What an ugly rat! Aren’t you going to kill it? Surely that’s not the cause of all the noise.” He said spitefully. “Nope it’s just a little dog, your father must have had him around before his death. He’s seemed to have been in there a long time.” “You live here?” Sam asked examining the layer of dust with his finger.
“I do now, you see my father passed away in this very house almost a month ago, this is the inheritance he left me and I plan on keeping it.” “You don’t seem to be grieving much over his death.” He tested steadily. He noticed the small array of cobwebs on the ceiling. “Didn’t know him well enough to, he left my mother and I when I was only five.” Richman seemed slightly unnerved about the scenario. “Hmm.” Sam started with a pause arriving at the staircase. “And now you believe he’s haunting you out of grief or something right?” “Day and night.” He responded affirmatively. A loud banging happened as well as a shatter coming from the upstairs; eagerly Sam brought out his scanner and ran his way up the stairs only stopping to listen. Richman he noticed did not follow him remaining as white as a ghost on the first floor. Silent and listening Sam focused his attentions between the sounds and his scanner, which had picked up no readings. A howl vocalized through the house that was quite ghastly, but defiantly not like a human spirit in theory would. He noticed how much louder it was in e vents than anywhere else, explaining how it could seem everywhere at once. In apartment 21 on Walker Street the ghost busters themed played in a constant repeat as the movie kept rolling hours on end. A popcorn bowl had spilled over onto the floor where it had scattered in random patterns. The setting sun struggled to poke out form the dusty molding curtains, succeeding only a thin beam that ran along the room. It was ten PM when the alarm went off in frequent consistent beeps. Among the clutter of empty pizza boxes arose a porky man of about twenty who was less than ready for his night job. Last night this same man had received a notification retaining a brief description about mysterious clattering in the upstairs room of an old house and the address. Unable to find the source of the sound Mr. Proffit, if that was his real name, had called him suspecting the presence of a supernatural being giving the description of a possible poltergeist. The one called for the job was none other than Sam, the county loser and ghostbuster enthusiast. Sam, an investigator of the organization Paranormal Exorcisms and Extermination, was a huge hit on conspiracy sites as he strives day after day to prove the existence of the paranormal. Without realizing it he on a daily basis did the opposite, his only findings being the rats and shadows which roamed the walls of old buildings and spooked the locals but was little more than superstition. This particular call happened to be exactly that. He arrived at the house which was larger than the entire complex he lived in. Richard waited for him with darkened sockets for eyes, a scowl that could make demons whimper, and an irritated tapping of his foot. Despite his proud posture and fancy clothing he seemed less than gentlemanly. “Finally!” he said exasperated. “How do you do?” Sam asked in a polite manner tipping his hat. Something about the place made him want to seem as professional as possible, for Mr. Proffit, not so much. “Not an ounce of sleep! Not a wink!” he continued to say sternly. His left eye twitched a little as he spoke. “Day and night there’s a ghostly howling and the banging, what awful horrible sounds. No matter where I go in the house the awful banging follows me around everywhere! I swear if it’s my old man you send him to hell for the hell he gave me! You got me?” Sam took off his hat to scratch his head and placed it back on considering the scenario. Mr. Proffit looked between the acronym on his vest and truck. “Pee?” he asked with a confused face. Sam hung his head low knowing full well what was written in bright bold yellow. There goes being professional. “I didn’t make it up…” he said defensively. It was a stupid name for a company acronym, he was sure it was done on purpose as a joke. “Never mind then,” Proffit continued “Just kill whatever it is and be done with it. I’m exhausted on a daily basis because of some stupid noise.” “Can I have a look about then?” Sam asked remaining uninvited to the house. The thought seemed to have struck exhausted Mr. Proffit only then. “Yes, of course.” He answered meekly. The inside of the house was just as big as it seemed on the outside. There had been no evidence of major aging other than the large amount of dust covering the walls and floor. |
AuthorFiction and science fiction short stories written by Alanna Shae. Reveiws and random writings also by Alanna Shae. Also inspirational works not done by Alanna Shae. Archives
April 2017
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