I’ve had my moments with the supernatural.
Many of you know today’s guest post writer, Mel of World According to Mags, for the venerable Ketchup With Us linkup she ran with Michele of Old Dog New Tits. (That’s the first time that last word has appeared on this blog, me thinks).
She’s also a talented writer – with her own set of ghosts stories.
Here we go. Try not to freak out.
Have you ever had those moments where you think of a song and a few minutes later it comes on the radio? Or you walk into a room and you feel like you’re not alone? Maybe you catch something out of the corner of your eye? Often, people shake off these moments. Explain them away. But some people eventually give in, let go, dig a little deeper and open themselves up to…possibilities.
By Mel Bugaj
The familiar whimper of the baby mixed with static from the monitor came like clockwork. It was 2:13 a.m. The woman knew the vent must have shut again. Her husband told her the bolts were loose on the wheel, but she knew better. She knew instinctively that her daughter was cold. She forced her own covers off in a huff, her bare feet the first to be assaulted by the cold air. She moved half awake out of her room and stood in the baby’s doorway gathering her strength. The exhaustion and heaviness threatened to overtake her. She was hesitant to enter and lingered with her hands tightly intertwined over her chest for a few moments. Maternal instinct moved her forward.
“It’s so cold,” she murmured as if coming out of a trance.
He watched her as she came in the room, as he had for many nights. The woman moved curtly past him, past the crib, and over to the closed heat vent. With an audible sigh, she gingerly rolled the wheel under the ball of her foot. The squeak of the vent turned to release the trapped air. Warmth rose up her body, removing the chill. Like a dance they had shared many nights since his arrival, she moved cautiously toward the crib and stood beside him. Goosebumps rose instantaneously and she fought the urge to speak. She didn’t want to disturb the tiny, peaceful dreamer. She leaned into him as if to acknowledge his hard work and reached over to cover her daughter with the thick, purple blanket. The baby gave a small residual whimper like a kitten as she settled securely under the new found warmth.
The woman gazed with him, in unison, for several minutes. She then made her way out of the room with a feeling of insecurity, of denial. He could feel it. He tried to talk with her, but she was not ready to hear him. One day she would hear his reasoning and it would make his presence bearable.
“I was unable to save my own children from the heat. I will watch for the fire. I will keep it away from her skin. When she stirs, I will sing to her. She is getting to know my voice, my presence. She will not be afraid. I promise.”
He drifted over to the warm, open vent and with all his focus and energy, forced it closed.
“She is safe,” he whispered as he gazed over at the crib. “The heat will not touch her.”
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Melissa is the proud mom of a 9-year-old boy and 7-year-old girl. She is a special educator in her sixteenth year of teaching. Mel has taught all grade levels from preschool to grade five in both general and special education. This past year, however, she left the world of elementary school to teach Special Education in a High School Conceptual Physics and Chemistry classes. She survived her first year of being the shortest person in the classroom and was enthusiastic to get back to teaching velocity, gravity and atoms for the 2014-2015 school year. In her “free time,” she co-produces a children’s story podcast with her husband called Night Light Stories and writes a blog about the silly antics of her family called According To Mags.