When the Veil is Thin : 2
Caroline ... I think a ghost has followed us home! [2 of 3]
CW : Contains moments of intimacy
Lucian Wickham could sense the arrival of All Hallows’ Eve in his ghostly bones. In recent years he’d found he could energize himself to some extent, but not so much that he was able to leave the churchyard. He’d been dead for two centuries, and his ghostly power had increased over time. Lucian was tormented by unfinished business. He was determined to utilise Hallowe’en, when the veil between the dead and the living was at its thinnest.
His plan owed much to his high-born relatives for burying him in such a showy way. They had chosen a tomb shaped like a stone sarcophagus in a sheltered area of the graveyard. In the shade of a yew tree, it was watched over by a statue of the madonna. Most graves only had headstones, in various states of tilt and mossy covering. Lucian’s grander resting place was a magnet for illicit lovers. They met there seeking privacy and an opportunity for intimate caresses. It stood like a stony single bed in a secluded corner.
In yesteryear, lusty young men had brought their coquettish beaus to Lucian’s graveside, and his spirit witnessed many furtive fumbles, hungrily eavesdropping on gasps and sighs. In the early decades of his body’s silent residence, young men from the village walking out with girls would visit his tomb. There they would endeavour to persuade the shy and pure to lower their inhibitions.
The simple act of revealing forbidden fruits to another’s eyes, or touching exposed, tender flesh, evoked strong emotions in the love birds. Sometimes excitement other times chagrin, it was energy either way, and Lucian learned that his spirit could feed off this energy. As time wore on he dared to hope that harvesting such emotions would power him sufficiently to pierce the veil and return to the mortal world. Lucien yearned to walk among the living. He needed to return to his family home, in the village where he’d lived.
During the war years, when soldiers came courting to his grave, they were bolder. Their quest to experience intimacy or love before returning to the front was tangible, it drove them to push their luck. Lucian could savour the heady buzz of desire between febrile bodies. It hummed like a bowstring plucked by lovers, while he watched, unable to participate.
Over the decades, men and women were coaxed to lie on Lucien’s lichen-covered tomb, and indulge in clandestine caresses. Lucian was ever-present; a ghostly third party became an eager voyeur, albeit with entirely different motivations. His aim became to squeeze maximum emotion from each romantic coupling.
Lucien gradually felt his spirit revitalized by the passion accumulating from those stolen moments, feeling more hopeful as his spirit became boosted with energy. Lucian’s grasp on materializing grew incrementally with each embrace and sweet promise from a young lover’s lips. He nurtured hopes of garnering enough to move away from his resting bones. Proximity to intense emotion sent surges of energy to Lucian’s ectoplasm, which accumulated. Perhaps by All Hallows Eve, he would have enough to push aside the veil, to gain access from the valley of death into the modern world.
Tonight’s encounter had tipped the scales. Watching as the two girls kissed urgently against his grave; the curvy female melting into the arms of the tall, slender one, a vital spark had awoken within his long dormant core. Lucian had reached out to the curvy girl, and he had known she felt his touch.
He experienced the throes of a restorative jolt of energy, but her terrified reaction had been so swift, that she denied Lucien the chance to feed off it until he felt replete. The curvy woman had been spooked, grabbing her friend’s hand to hasten away, casting fearful glances over her shoulder.
Despite his presence being detected, he had success. To Lucien’s joyful consolation, tonight he was able to materialize. He had followed the girls to the edge of the graveyard with ease. Then, for the first time in 200 years, his spirit was enabled to cross its boundary.
Lucien fully intended to conclude the matter that had troubled him since his untimely death.
“What’s the hurry?” Caroline sulked as I dragged her along, avoiding the shadows.
“Let’s just get to mine, then I’ll explain.”
I was determined to put maximum distance between myself and Lucien Whats-his-name, plus a bolted door. It was a relief when my maisonette, sturdy and with deadlocks, came within view, under the streetlight’s amber glow. I pulled out my key to open my door, dragged Caroline inside, then turned the lock. I ran around the ground floor, checking the bolts on every window and drawing curtains.
“What’s the matter?” Caroline was still stumbling to remove her trainers. “You act like you saw a ghost.”
“I did - well not saw, felt.”
It was a struggle not to act dramatic because I felt the complete opposite. All colour drained from Caroline’s face.
“Marnie, don’t tease. You know how easily I get spooked!”
“I’m not teasing Caroline, while you were rocking my world, I felt icy lips kiss me and ghostly touches against my breasts.”
“Wha– Seriously?”
“I wouldn't joke about what I felt. Did you sense anything?”
Caroline gaped at me.
“I think it was the ghost from the grave where we were standing.”
“How? Why?”
“It’s only a guess, but I experienced something like a rush when I said his name aloud.” I gestured to my chest, where I’d felt the tremulous vibrations.
“Shit! It’s Hallowe’en,” Caroline checked her watch and showed me it was 1.30 am.
Suddenly, we heard sounds of scraping and clawing at the back door. I used my hand to stifle Caroline’s yelp, then snapped off the main light. We hunkered down and I crawled silently to the kitchen, which gave a clear view of the door. Our hearts leaped in our mouths as the brass handle dipped, operated by someone on the outside.
“It’s followed us home!”
Caroline’s eyes strained wide and her mouth moved. I thought she might scream, or cry, or both. I pressed her finger to her lips to signal quiet, then moved stealthily to fetch cooking salt. Flipping the lid, I poured a line of white granules along the threshold. I did the same at the windows and along the front door sill. I’d read enough supernatural books to believe that a line of salt could be used as a protective ward against evil manifestations.
“What does it want?” Caroline moaned quietly.
[To be continued …]
A more erotic version of Edward’s story first appeared on Tantalizing Tales, a Medium publication.
Definitely go to be looking out for Part 3. As you know I'm fond of stories where the supernatural/dead feed on the living. I loved the voice in the ghost section and the change of POV as it moved to the girls gave it a really creepy feel.