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Chapter 3:- Jumper
The door to the basement creaks when it opens. He can probably hear me coming.
One of the things The Ghost likes to do is hide.
The first time I met him he was curled up into a ball inside a rusty old dust-covered dryer. I’d walked right by him once or twice, pacing, until I noticed his pale hands pressed against the glass window, fingers splayed apart as if he were reaching for something.
It had scared the shit out of me.
I’d been unable to do anything but back up, clutching the blanket to my chest, never taking my eyes off the round little window. It swung open, slowly, and an arm reached out and grasped at the concrete. Another arm, then a head, then a body flopping out.
My knees gave out and I tried to lean against the wall behind me, sliding down to the floor. I held my folded blanket up like a shield as he crawled towards me. He kept his face down so all I could see was the top of his head and his eyes. They were unnaturally white.
“So, what’s up with the blanket?” Two expanses of pure white concentrated themselves on me. I couldn't tear my own eyes away from them.
“Whuh, whuh, whuh-”
“Hm?”
“What?”
“Your blanket, what’s the deal with it?”
My mouth refused to work. My brain went right after it. He was lying on the floor in front of me, nearly transparent. “I uh, uh, uh-”
“Do you recognize me at all?”
“What? Uh, no…”
“I used to live in this building.”
“I just moved here.” I shook my head in apology.
“I see.” He rolled over on his back and propped his hands up behind his head. “So, what floor?”
“Um, ah…” I swallowed. “Fourteen. Fourteenth floor.”
A smile. “Not fourteen twenty?”
“Yes, that’s it.” I paused, and it felt like my body was slowly filling with ice water. “Why?”
“No wonder you don’t know me. That used to be my place. I jumped from that balcony.”
* * *
He wasn’t in the dryer this time. I wasn’t really expecting him there. He changes hiding places every time, like some rich debutante who won’t wear the same outfit twice.
Not in the old beat up refrigerator.
Not hovering near the ceiling.
Not under the long table that was slid up against a wall in the furthest room.
A dripping noise in a far corner brought me to him. There was a leak in the ceiling, and the droplets were collecting in a bright yellow plastic bucket. I looked down, and there he was, smiling up at me in a single dimension on the surface of the water.
An arm shot out and grabbed the bucket’s rim, then another, followed by his head. By this time I'd seen the step-by-step introduction so many times it had lost its effect, but it was still fun to watch.
He stepped out of the bucket, covered in water.
“Nice effect,” I said.
“You like?”
“Very dramatic.”
He looked at my blanket. “I take it there’s a storm outside?”
I blushed and nodded.
“You’re really weird. You know that?”
I blushed and nodded again.
“The super brought some big chair down the other day. Why don’t you take a test drive or something?” The Ghost pointed down a darkened hallway at a room I hadn’t been in before.
“All right,” I mumbled, letting him lead me to it.
The door to the basement creaks when it opens. He can probably hear me coming.
One of the things The Ghost likes to do is hide.
The first time I met him he was curled up into a ball inside a rusty old dust-covered dryer. I’d walked right by him once or twice, pacing, until I noticed his pale hands pressed against the glass window, fingers splayed apart as if he were reaching for something.
It had scared the shit out of me.
I’d been unable to do anything but back up, clutching the blanket to my chest, never taking my eyes off the round little window. It swung open, slowly, and an arm reached out and grasped at the concrete. Another arm, then a head, then a body flopping out.
My knees gave out and I tried to lean against the wall behind me, sliding down to the floor. I held my folded blanket up like a shield as he crawled towards me. He kept his face down so all I could see was the top of his head and his eyes. They were unnaturally white.
“So, what’s up with the blanket?” Two expanses of pure white concentrated themselves on me. I couldn't tear my own eyes away from them.
“Whuh, whuh, whuh-”
“Hm?”
“What?”
“Your blanket, what’s the deal with it?”
My mouth refused to work. My brain went right after it. He was lying on the floor in front of me, nearly transparent. “I uh, uh, uh-”
“Do you recognize me at all?”
“What? Uh, no…”
“I used to live in this building.”
“I just moved here.” I shook my head in apology.
“I see.” He rolled over on his back and propped his hands up behind his head. “So, what floor?”
“Um, ah…” I swallowed. “Fourteen. Fourteenth floor.”
A smile. “Not fourteen twenty?”
“Yes, that’s it.” I paused, and it felt like my body was slowly filling with ice water. “Why?”
“No wonder you don’t know me. That used to be my place. I jumped from that balcony.”
* * *
He wasn’t in the dryer this time. I wasn’t really expecting him there. He changes hiding places every time, like some rich debutante who won’t wear the same outfit twice.
Not in the old beat up refrigerator.
Not hovering near the ceiling.
Not under the long table that was slid up against a wall in the furthest room.
A dripping noise in a far corner brought me to him. There was a leak in the ceiling, and the droplets were collecting in a bright yellow plastic bucket. I looked down, and there he was, smiling up at me in a single dimension on the surface of the water.
An arm shot out and grabbed the bucket’s rim, then another, followed by his head. By this time I'd seen the step-by-step introduction so many times it had lost its effect, but it was still fun to watch.
He stepped out of the bucket, covered in water.
“Nice effect,” I said.
“You like?”
“Very dramatic.”
He looked at my blanket. “I take it there’s a storm outside?”
I blushed and nodded.
“You’re really weird. You know that?”
I blushed and nodded again.
“The super brought some big chair down the other day. Why don’t you take a test drive or something?” The Ghost pointed down a darkened hallway at a room I hadn’t been in before.
“All right,” I mumbled, letting him lead me to it.
