Ghosts

Ghosts by: Jenna Rich

Another long day at work and another day of trudging up the steps to her apartment. She hoped silently to herself that the lock wouldn’t jam up this time so she could get inside She had talked with management about the lock several times, but it never seemed to get fixed. She still hadn’t quite gotten used to being the one in charge of getting those things done; maybe she needed to ask more often? Flipping through her keys to open the door, she felt herself zoning out, eyes settling on the brightly colored fall wreath on the door.

The fake leaves were fraying at the edges, and the paint on the Styrofoam fruit was chipping, the same as it has always been. In the corners of her eyes, she could see the reds and browns of the neighborhood trees, their fallen plumage dancing by her feet as she got off the school bus and ran for her door. She knew that Dad was inside waiting to give her a bear hug and take her bookbag to help her start on homework. All she had to do was open the door.

The lock clicked open with a dull thud. She tried to flick on the living room light of the apartment, sighing to herself when she remembered that the light had burned out earlier that morning. She made a mental note to call maintenance about it later. Her stomach growled, reminding her that all she had eaten that day, before her shift, was a granola bar and some coffee; the coffee didn’t really count, though. Taking a few steps through the darkness into the kitchen, she was thankful for the gentle glow from the moon-shaped nightlight in the wall’s outlet.

Lightning cracked outside, causing her to jump and clutch her stuffed bear closer to her chest. It was dark, too dark, dark enough that surely monsters would be creeping everywhere she looked. That shadow there must have been one, she was sure of it. She felt ready to cry as she stared down the dark hallway. Had it always been this long? Still, the faint glow of the moon-shaped nightlight at the end shone like a beacon. She knew that once she reached there, Mom would only be a few steps and a bounce into the bed away. Sucking in a breath to build up her courage, she dashed forward towards the light.

In only a few steps from the front door, she was in the small, cramped kitchen. It certainly wasn’t her favorite part of the apartment, but to be fair, she didn’t cook enough for herself to justify anything much bigger than this. Reaching into the pantry, she pulled out a pack of ramen. Chicken flavor; not her favorite, but at least it was something. She rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find the right pot, thinking to herself, too small, too big, that one’s just a pan…perfect. Filling it up with water, she set the pot to start boiling.

The fragrant smell of spices seemed to permeate the entire kitchen. Dad’s homemade Sloppy Joe was always her favorite, and she loved to watch him cook it. She peeked over the counter, asking Dad why the pot was so beat up. After all, it was scratched and banged, so she asked, why didn’t they just get a new one like the ones on TV? Dad gave a smile and shook his head, thinking why would they get a new one when this one worked perfectly fine? Besides, it was a gift from Grandma when he first moved out and couldn’t afford his own. She asked if that meant it would be hers whenever she moved out, too. Dad said, if she wanted it when that time came, it was hers. She perked up as she heard the door to the garage opening and she hopped off the chair to greet Mom as she walked through the door, just in time for dinner.

In the dark, she plopped down on the couch and quietly chewed on the noodles that she had just cooked. They were a little underdone, but she was too tired to care. It was too quiet, so she flipped on the TV to something mindless. The babbling from the cookware infomercial was just enough to distract her. She didn’t know why, but she kept glancing towards the front door, half-hoping someone would walk in to join her. The door remained locked, and she focused back on her dinner.