Friday, July 26, 2013

What You Can See and What You Can't. Story 3


The clock levitated, all by itself, a good foot off of the table, and propelled itself across the room, and whacked the wall hard.

"Geesh!" Larry said.

Omega, John-John, and Petey were living in the basement of an abandoned church.  The congregation had outgrown the church, moved out, and hadn't been able to sell it.  Out-moded churches, zoned in family neighborhoods, were not high on people's priorities.  Omega had asked if they could be the night watchmen, guards, and pay a little bit in rent.  The congregation kept the water and the electricity for them.  Since, they had "decorated" with yard sale finds:  aging bean bag chairs, cups and bowels decades old, old, but intact, couches that doubled as beds.  Living and serving on the dime.  And that's about it.

When all seven kids came over for a visit, the place was packed.  Marcus, the kid they'd encountered in Rome, stayed with Larry, and was picking up clues about this new world right, left, and center.  He was boggled by television and his mind was blown by computers.  Those things were not any part of his consciousness.  When he found out that kids his age were learning to drive big, honking machines, he ran away, screaming in terror.

A levitating clock didn't register either, nor did it register with any of the other kids.

"You think, maybe, ghosts?"  Julie asked.

"Maybe," said  John-John.  "The other things is this:  we've had odd things happen all month."

"Yeah,"  Petey explained.  "There were those screams in the night, and nobody here but us kids—and we were not screaming.  And then the oatmeal got changed into green Jello.  That was weird."

"Ghosts rank up there in weirdness as odd as computers and those mysterious little phones," Marcus was adamant.  "At least you can see computers and phones."

"Maybe you can see ghosts too,"  Larry said.

"You see ghosts?"  Omega asked Larry.

"Seein' 'em right now."

"What do they look like?"  Omega asked.

"They look like me and Tim and Rick."

"How?"

"They are three teen-aged boys, laughing their heads off, cause they can scare the wits right out of us.  They can make noise and move things around, change stuff once in awhile."

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah.  And that's a problem for me."

"Why?"

"Cause I don't believe in ghosts."
















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