Ghosts of the Past

Originally Published Dec. 2012 (My first attempt at writing fiction.)

Emily turned thirteen in January and it was now June.  Ever since her birthday, she had been trying to convince her parents that she was now old enough to stay by herself.  No more babysitters.  Every week, she would recite her long litany of reasons why she should be allowed to show that she was quite capable of being alone for two or three hours while her parents went out to eat or to a movie.

But, they continued to say, “no.”  They lived out in the country.  The nearest neighbor was a mile away.  They always had other flimsy excuses; such as, “What if the electricity went out?” or “what if a tornado hit us?”  

Finally, Emily’s parents gave in.  They made her promise to lock all the doors and windows.  They were only going to the neighbors about five miles away and would come home as soon as she called.  Her mother wrote all the emergency numbers she would need and taped it next to the phone.  She even cooked her a four-course dinner that she could microwave when she got hungry.

Finally!  Emily was alone.  She double-checked all the locks.   She was the queen of the house for now and could do whatever she wanted.  TV?  Sure.  Food?  Any time she wanted.  Heck, she could even eat in front of the TV if she wanted.  So, she did.  See?  She was old enough to take care of herself.

Around 9:00, she started to doze a little in front of the TV.  Suddenly, she noticed a dim glow outside the window of the den.  And then nothing.  Was someone out there?  She was pretty sure what she saw was the beam of a flashlight.  But, there was no reason for anybody to be prowling the grounds with a flashlight.  Just in case, Emily checked all the locks on the doors and windows again and turned on all the lights in the house.   She turned off the TV so she could hear anything outside.  She sat in perfect silence on the sofa in the living room and listened.

“This is dumb,” she thought.  There is no one out there.  I must have imagined the light.  Yes, it probably was the TV flashing against the window.  

Wait!

A noise.

A creak of wood.  Coming from the laundry room in the back of the house.

Emily ran to the phone and started to dial 9-1-1.  She dialed the 9.  And heard footsteps coming toward her.  She dialed the first 1.  More footsteps.  Closer.  She didn’t have time to dial the other 1.  She knew she had to get out of there.  Dropping the phone, Emily quickly unlocked the kitchen door and ran as fast as she could to the nearest neighbor.  She was already at the edge of the woods when she heard the intruder yell, “Emily!  I’ll be back!”

Emily never saw her would-be attacker; but, her family decided they wouldn’t ever be safe again unless they moved to another state.  So, they changed their names and moved to California.

Fast forward ten years.  Emily - now re-named “Amanda” -- graduated from UCLA with a degree in Marketing.  About the same time she was promoted to Marketing Manager, she got engaged to Ryan – her boyfriend since her junior year in college.  Life was good.  Amanda and her mother were very busy planning the wedding of the century.  Ryan tried to stay out of the way as much as he could.  Finally, the big day arrived.  Amanda had her dream wedding and soon she and Ryan were on their honeymoon.

Amanda stayed in the bathroom of their hotel room probably a little bit longer than she had planned.  But, she wanted to make sure she looked perfect for Ryan on their wedding night.  Her new husband was waiting for her when she climbed into the bed.  As she leaned in for a kiss, she heard Ryan say, “Emily….. I’m back!”