The Visit

This week’s Indie Ink Challenge came from Chaos Mandy, who gave me this prompt: Ghosts and Ghouls. I challenged Liz Culver with the prompt: Your worst nightmare just turned into the best thing ever.


She felt like she was being watched, again. That was impossible though, as she was laying in bed beside her sleeping new husband. The feeling grew so intense that she opened her eyes. Her eyes would not focus in the darkness of the room. There was no light coming into the room through the open curtains – there was no moon. Still the feeling grew stronger. This had been going on for a week – the week before her wedding.

As she lay there, she felt someone or something sit down on the bed. She reached out in the darkness and felt nothing. Now she was afraid. There was no one there. Was she dreaming this?

She felt a whisper of touch against her face, “oh dear lord, please let me wake up,” she thought. The touch continued along her neck and down her arms, almost a caress but not quite.

She strained to see what was touching her, seeing nothing. She reached out to stop the caressing hand, feeling nothing. She was truly frightened. She jumped out of bed and ran for the bedroom door that was closed. Suddenly, she was pulled by her hair to the floor. She attempted to scream, but felt her mouth being covered. Still, she could see nothing. She struggled to get away, but she was being held down by this invisible…what? She couldn’t think what was holding her down. She couldn’t see nor feel it, but yet, something was here.

“Who are you,” she asked. “I am your worse nightmare,” he replied. “You know who I am.”

Whatever had held of her started to caress her neck again. Only now it felt like two hands caressing her neck. It was not a caress of caring or passion, it was a menacing caress as she felt her neck slowly being squeezed.

As she struggled beneath the feeling of being strangled, she tried in vain to see what was holding her in place. Slowly she could see shapes being formed. The shapes took the form of a man and a child – perhaps about 10 years of age. In her frightened state, she thought he looked familiar. “I know him,” she thought. “How do I know him?” She vaguely recognized the child, who was standing next to the figure.

The man looked at her and smiled as he started to tighten his caress around her throat. It wasn’t a grip per se, it was more like pressure. She looked at the smile that was full of teeth. It was not a welcoming smile at all. The child, a girl, pulled on him to stop.

The child chided the figure “You know you’re not supposed to touch her, you’re only supposed to look at her, to frighten her.” The man looked at the child and then at her and sneered, “It is no fun to just look.” He let up on some of the pressure, but still had his hands around her neck.

She was thankful for the release of pressure, but didn’t understand what they were talking about. The shapes seem to waver before her, going solid, going wispy, at times transparent. Thoughts of passing out, or worse, dying played through her head.

The man looked at her again and reapplied the pressure. He laughed a laugh which sounded vaguely familiar – but still she could not place it. As the pressure increased, she started to see stars and she knew she was going to die. The child cried for the man to stop, “you’re not supposed to be doing this.” The man looked at the child. “I am getting impatient.” The child, speaking softly, replied “she doesn’t recognize us.”

Somewhere among the stars she heard the man’s voice. The voice was sounding more and more familiar as the brightness seemed to overtake her. The voice sounded like it was whispering in her ear but yet, was so far away. He abruptly released the pressure around her neck.

Gasping for air, she was startled at the vehemence in his voice.

The man’s voice grew louder in her ear. “Did you think that you could forget about us?” “Did you think we wouldn’t come back for you?”

She strained to understand what the man was talking about. “I don’t know who you are.”

The man made an ungodly sound and cried out “yes, you do know who we are.” “We are the reason you are able to live this life you do with a new husband.” “We are the ones you destroyed…for money.” With that, the man and child fully revealed themselves to her. They had been horribly maimed in the accident, before dying. An accident she had caused…on purpose.

She looked at the man and then at the child, remembered and then smiled. It was not a pretty smile, but a smile of satisfaction. Rubbing her neck, she looked at them for quite a while before speaking.

“So, it’s been you that has watched me all week in the dark.” “Why?” “There is nothing you can do to change things. Not now, not ever.”

The man looked at her with pure malice in his eyes. “Don’t be too sure of that, he said.” “We’re not going anywhere and you’re coming with us.”

She looked at the ghosts of her former husband and child and laughed. “There is no way I’m coming with you as I am alive and well, and well, you’re not. I can’t imagine you’re going to want to watch me have a happy life.” “Surely you can see that I’m not frightened of you.” “Once again, you have failed to carry out what you set out to do. Just like everything you attempted when you were alive.”

The man looked at the child, then at her. With a murderous rage in his eyes, he once again clasped his hands around her neck. This time, he was not going to let go.


The coroner’s report said she died of a brain aneurysm.



9 thoughts on “The Visit

  1. Pingback: Indieink | The Visit

    • Wow, thanks Brandon for that compliment.

      As I mentioned to Liz, considering the left turns I took and where I ended up, I’m surprised it made sense. Too be honest, I really don’t like it — another dark piece. 🙂

      I remembered the very first critique you gave me when I first started doing this — so really, I have you to thank for the readability and flow. “Grasshopper” paid attention!

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