© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
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A ball game’s a ball game even at “The K” in Kansas City.
Jeff scored a hot dog and watered-down beer and relaxed back into his seat. The Royals were playing against the Texas Rangers but that didn’t matter much to him. It was kind of strange to be watching baseball in February, but it was in the low 50s, so he thought a light jacket would do.
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I can barely see them inside because of the glare on the window, but they all look like ordinary people flying out or flying in. Ordinary people getting on with their lives, unlike me. In the window, I can see the reflection of the plane behind me, the luggage carts, the main terminal, everything out here except my own rather ordinary face. You see, I don’t have one yet.
I caught “CBS Sunday Morning” on the tube and saw the front page of “USA Today.” It’s Wednesday, 11 July 2018. If I can keep from losing my mind another ten years or so, I’ll be back, at least that’s my theory. I’m glad I’m the inventor and not a test pilot. One of them wouldn’t have a clue as to what happened.
Oh, my name is Ernie Pratt. Actually, Dr. Ernest Irving Pratt (no relation to the actor), Ph.D in Temporal Mechanics, though I never thought I’d be the one to invent a time machine, even by accident. I was working on the core of an experimental time-space drive that would manipulate a tertiary quantum realm, ultimately propelling a vessel faster than light.
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“I saw the ghost again, Grandpa. I saw it when I was taking a shower.” Little Josh dissolved into tears in front of his grandparents.
“It’s okay, Josh. We’re here.” Grandpa hugged the sobbing child.
“I’m right here, little one. It’s going to be alright. We won’t let any ghost hurt you.”
“But…but how can you stop it?” His voice was muffled against the old man’s chest as Josh tried to stretch both arms around Grandpa and Bubbe.
“We’ll find a way, sweetheart.” Bubbe kissed Josh on the top of his head.
“That’s right, Josh. We’ll find a way, I promise.
Grandpa and Bubbe sat their six-year-old grandson on the sofa and held him until he felt more secure.
Grandpa knew exactly what to do to get rid of the ghost. Fortunately, his son was finally beginning to come around, and was starting to realize the woman he proposed to was only a fantasy, not a loving companion.
She was the ghost in the bathroom, the manipulator in his mind, the child abuser disguised as a future step-mom. Horribly insecure, she needed to control everyone around her. She thought she controlled Josh’s Dad, but doubt had entered his mind.
She needed to control Josh, make Josh believe she would be his new mother, that she’d be closer to him than his own Mom and even his Dad, that she’d replace everyone who really loved Josh. The little boy was terrified.
Grandpa was meeting with Josh’s Dad after the young father got off of work. Grandpa would help his son stand up for what’s right, help him protect his little boy.
Together, they were going to exorcise a ghost. In a month, little Josh would never be haunted again.
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Brent hated Halloween. He’d hated it for the past twenty years, and he had a very good reason to. Twenty years ago tonight she had died and it was all his fault.
Twenty years ago tonight, Brent took his eight-year old daughter Evelyn out trick or treating. His wife Marie stayed home to give out candy to the children who would be visiting their house.
It happened so fast. Evelyn saw her best friend across the street and ran over to see her without looking. A teenager driving too fast in a neighborhood full of children. Brent froze at the sickening thud of her body being crushed by the impact. Mercifully, she died instantly.
Brent wasn’t the only one to blame him for little Evie’s death. His wife divorced him six-months later. Evie was their only child.
For the past twenty years, Brent lived alone. He never remarried. Who would have him anyway? Oh, he’s kept a job, had a small comfortable house to live in, he even had a few friends, but the spark of life and of living died along with his little girl.
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