Fever Dreams and Drunken Scribbles

David dropped his book when he saw Jenny drowning. He broke into a sprint towards the water. There were more than a hundred people milling around the beach, but one else saw her trying to keep her head above water. The hot sand burned David"s feet. His heart was pounding, and his eyes were locked on his wife. As he ran, still twenty feet from the water, he began screaming. But he kept running. Did anyone hear him? He didn"t know. He couldn"t take his eyes off her. He saw her disappear beneath the water. There was no more flailing. There was only stillness. Jenny was dead. David sat bolt upright, covered in sweat. Jenny had been gone seven years, and each night he had the same nightmare. And each night, he realized all over again that her death had been his fault. He should have been there. He should have saved her. Each night after waking from this, David got up to check on his sixteen-year-old daughter, Ella. He knew she would be okay—she always was—but he went to look anyway. David couldn"t afford to lose her, too. She was all he had. He climbed out of bed, slid into his slippers, and stepped into the hallway. When he did, he saw something move to his left at the end of the hall. He looked up. His breath stopped, and he was suddenly seized by fear. There was a man, standing there, staring at him. But this wasn"t a man at all, but an apparition! It had a faint glow, and David could see the closet doorknob through it. And now he realized the man wasn"t standing—he was hovering. Was he seeing this? Maybe he was still dreaming. He rubbed his eyes, pulling his fists away just in time to see the apparition disappear into the open doorway to Ella"s room. hoveringDavid gasped. His heart skipped a beat, and his fear increased exponentially. Suddenly, he found that he was no longer frozen with fear. He was still afraid, but his desire to protect his daughter overrode that, setting him into motion, moving him forward, quickly, towards the room. When he came to the doorway, he stood there, peering in, but saw nothing. Nothing supernatural. Just Ella, lying there asleep. He considered waking her but didn"t. What good would that do? Surely he"d imagined it, he told himself. He backed out of the room, not taking his eyes off Ella. But now, it dawned on him that the ghost could be behind him. His breath caught, and a chill ran down his spine. He turned slowly, afraid of what he"d find. When he did, there was nothing. Relief set in. Well, hell, he thought, returning to his room. He stopped and turned, looking back again but seeing nothing. He went to check on Ella one last time but saw nothing. He then returned to bed, trying to understand all this. He"d never been one to believe in things like ghosts or Bigfoot or UFOs, but he"d seen something. But what? somethingHe pushed it from his mind, deciding he wouldn"t tell Ella what he"d seen. If he did, it would only frighten her. Who knows? She might not even want to stay in the house anymore, and that would do no one any good. So it was settled. This would be the end of the ghost business. Or so he thought. However, this conclusion was proven wrong later in the morning when he heard a loud crashing sound followed by Ella screaming. David jumped out of bed and raced towards his daughter. As he made his way down the hallway, he could hear her screaming and screaming, over and over, taking a breath and then screaming again. He came to her door, now closed. He grabbed the knob and turned it, pushing the door open to find Ella sitting up in bed, staring across the room. “Hey,” he said, trying to calm her. “What"s all this?” She looked at him, stunned, her eyes open wide. She pointed, saying nothing. David looked and saw one of Ella"s tennis trophies rammed figure-first into the wall. He looked at her. “That a tennis trophy?” She nodded, still staring at it. “How"d it get there?” “I, I...,” she said, struggling. “Calm down, Pumpkin,” he said. “Take a breath.” She did. Then he asked her again, “What happened?” She was still afraid, breathing hard, her eyes as big as silver dollars. “I heard a loud crashing sound. I woke up and looked over and...” She paused. “It was stuck in the wall like that.” David stared at the trophy, trying not to make eye contact with Ella. He knew who was responsible for this, but he didn"t want to tell her. So instead, he chose to act normal about something that was far from normal. “Where was the trophy?” She pointed at a shelf on the wall. David turned and saw it. There was a framed picture of her boyfriend Kyle, whom David hated, and another trophy. David nodded, trying to come up with a logical conclusion that didn"t involve ghosts. Finding he could not, he said, "I"m sure there"s a logical explanation." As he removed the trophy from the wall, Ella asked, "Like what? What explanation could there be?” whatThe ghost, he thought. But he didn"t say it. “Maybe it was a micro-burst,” he said. “Or straight-line winds. Maybe even be a tiny earthquake. They do have those around here, you know.” Ella looked at him, her eyes pleading. “That doesn"t make sense, Daddy. Nothing else moved.” He looked around the room, searching for something else to point to but found nothing. He shrugged. He sat the trophy on her bed. “I don"t know, Pumpkin. Let"s not worry about it. In the grand scheme of things, it"s not that important.” He turned to leave, took a step into the hallway, and stopped, remembering something. He turned back towards her. “Did you get up in the night and close this door? Or maybe this morning?” “No,” she said. “Why?” He shook his head. “Just wondering.” David went to the kitchen and fixed pancakes, but the ghost never left his mind. He made Ella"s pancakes with light butter and sugar-free syrup. The kid weighed ten pounds less than nothing, but she worried about her weight. But not David, who slathered his with butter and syrup. The sugary, sugary, extra-sugar kind. The two of them then sat and ate their pancakes, talking some before Ella returned to her room. Alone now, David eased into his recliner and grabbed the television remote. He switched it on, scanning through the channels. Finally, he found an old black-and-white episode of Gunsmoke and flipped to it. He"d seen the episode before, but then he"d seen them all. Just as things were starting to get good, Marshall Dillon about to deal with a no-good horse thief, David saw a blur of motion go past the television. Before it registered, he heard a crash and the shattering of glass to his right, startling him. Looking over, he saw that a framed photo from the fireplace mantle had somehow flung itself across the room and into the wall. And again, David knew it was the ghost. GunsmokeWhat did one do about ghosts? He didn"t know. In the movies, they called in experts from some nearby college or called in a priest to come and cleanse the house. David wondered if any of that was real. If ghosts were real, then maybe that stuff was too. He stood and approached the mess, looking down at the photo lying there amid shards of glass and pieces of the broken frame. It was a photo of Ella playing tennis at regionals. He stood there staring at it for a moment. Finally, David knelt down and began picking up shards of glass. A piece cut his finger as he did, and blood emerged instantly. “God bless America!” he screamed, trying to keep from taking the Lord"s name in vain. He raised his bleeding finger to his lips and stuck it in his mouth like a child. Finally, after another fifteen minutes, all the pieces were picked up and discarded. David then ran the vacuum cleaner over the area. “God bless America!”David put on a pot of coffee and returned to the television. By now, Gunsmoke had concluded, and MASH was on, so he watched that. He"d always liked MASH. He wanted to enjoy the episode, but his mind kept turning back to the ghost. When the episode was over, he went to the bathroom and ran some hot water, filling the tub. He poured in some bubble bath—a habit he"d picked up from Jenny. He got undressed and climbed in. He settled down into the water before reaching over and picking up his Grisham book, trying to keep it elevated above the foamy bubbles. GunsmokeMASHMASHHe"d read sixteen pages before he heard Ella start to scream again. His body once again switched to autopilot. Before he was even aware he was doing so, he was in the hallway, making his way towards Ella"s room. He was a couple of feet away from the door when it slammed shut hard. This startled him, and he jerked back, stopping. Ella was still screaming. hard“Ella?!” he cried. “Ella?!”And she stopped screaming but continued to cry loudly. David tried the door, but it was locked. “Open this door, Ella!” “Open this door, Ella!”The door didn"t open. Afraid, David slammed his body hard against the flimsy wood-panel door, splintering it easily. He pushed it open and stood in the doorway staring at the girl, sitting on her bed with her arms across her chest. She was terrified and crying, turned away. “What is it?” “What is it?”“I... I...” “What?” “What?”“I saw him.” She turned to look at him. “It was a ghost.” sawDavid said nothing. “I could see through him!” she said as if trying to convince herself. "He... he was a ghost...” “I could see through him!”ghost“Ella,” said David. It was all he knew to say. She looked at him. “He was standing right here, right in front of me! He... he...” right in front of me!“What?” "He was talking. But I couldn"t hear the words. His mouth was moving, and he was staring at me, talking. But.. but... there was no... sound.” sound“Ella.” She looked into his eyes now. “It was weird, Dad...” David said nothing. “He looked like...” And she stopped. “What?” “He looked like... you.” youHe didn"t understand. “I saw his face, Dad,” she said. “He was you. Literally you.” you“That"s not possible.” “I saw it.” “Are you sure?” She gave him a pissy look. “I"ve known you my whole life. Don"t you think I know what you look like?” She looked down at his body now, seeing that he was naked. David looked down and was instantly embarrassed. Thirty minutes later, they were both in the living room. David was dressed, in his recliner, staring at John Wayne on the television. Ella sitting on the couch, criss-cross applesauce, researching ghosts on her laptop. “Do you believe in ghosts?” “I don"t know,” he said. “I mean, I didn"t. Not before..” “But you do now?” "Well," he said, considering telling her what he"d seen but deciding against it. "What do you think?” you“Of course I do. I saw one!” I saw one!“You said he looked like me. I"m not dead, so it can"t be a ghost.” She looked up at him with a disapproving expression. “So what then? What makes more sense? That"s he"s your doppelganger? And not just that, but the world"s best doppelganger ever. And not just that, but a doppelganger you can see through?” She stared at him. “It"s a ghost.” He stared at the TV. “None of this makes sense, does it?” David looked over at Ella. “Are you scared?” “Of the ghost?” “Yeah.” “No,” she answered, still staring at the laptop. “Why not?” She looked at him. “Because it was you. You would never hurt me.” And she was right. She was his everything. “None of this makes sense,” he said. “Maybe it just looks like me.” She was staring at her laptop. “Hold on,” she said, still reading. David watched as she did, waiting to find out what had her attention. She looked up at him. “I think I got it.” “What?” “How the ghost could be you and still be a ghost.” “I don"t see how—” “Just listen,” she said. “This guy, this doctor, uh...” She looked down at the screen to read the name. “Dr. Kyle Hermant at Edinburgh University wrote a paper stating that he believes ghosts can travel through time.” David looked at her skeptically. “Time-traveling ghosts?” “Not exactly,” she said, looking down. She read. “According to Hermant, spirits are not constrained to the way we perceive time.” She looked at him. “That means they"re on a different plane, so they can slide through time, going wherever they like. So theoretically, a ghost exists at all times in history.” David stared at her, trying to comprehend. “It means it could very well be your ghost,” she said. “From the future, where you"re already dead.” “I don"t like that.” “What?” “Me being dead.” “What? Did you think you were gonna be the first person to live forever? Even Jesus died.” “Yeah, but he came back.” She stared at him. “So did you.” “Okay then, why? Why would I come back?” “How the hell should I know? You"re the ghost, not me!” David nodded, trying to think of a reason he might come back from the dead to haunt himself. “I don"t get it.” The two of them sat for a while, discussing life and school and Jenny. As Ella talked, reminiscing about her mother, she reminded him of Jenny. Staring at her now, he saw Jenny again, alive and well. But she wasn"t Jenny. No, as wonderful and special as Jenny had been, Ella was somehow something more. She was more than both of them. Finally, she stood and went to get ready for her tennis meet. David didn"t want her to go, but his reasons were purely selfish. He knew it would do her good to get away from the house, but he hated the thought of being there alone. It frightened him. But if Ella"s conclusion that the ghost was him were correct, he wouldn"t be in danger. A half-hour later, Ella reemerged, wearing her tennis uniform and sweats. Staring at her bouncing around happily, David felt proud. He himself had been an awkward, uncoordinated kid, but not Ella. She was a confident, athletic girl. She approached him, still sitting in his recliner. She leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Daddy." He smiled as she did this, and she stood up again, turning to go. "I"ll be late," she said, going off through the kitchen. “I love you, kid,” he said. A moment later, he heard her yell, “Daddy! Can you come help me?” “Daddy! Can you come help me?”David stood and made his way to the backdoor, where he found Ella standing there, staring at the door and looking upset. “What?” “It"s this dumb door,” she said. “It won"t open.” "That"s odd," he said. He grabbed the knob, turned it, and then pushed, but the door didn"t budge. He kept trying and eventually gave up. He stood back, staring at it. "What the hell"s that about?" He turned and saw that Ella was gone. He then went through the house, finding her standing beside the front door. She looked at him. "This one won"t open either." David looked around, half expecting to see a ghost appear or toss some s**t around, but nothing happened. He looked at Ella. “Come on.” He led her to the backdoor. “I"ve already broken down one door today,” he said, trying to smile. “Why is this happening?” she asked. “Do you think it"s the ghost?” “No,” he lied. He rammed his shoulder into the door, hearing it make a cracking sound when he struck it, but the door didn"t break. He stepped back against the far wall, hurtling himself into the door a second time. This time the door burst open. His shoulder hurting like hell, he turned towards Ella, grinning, “What do you say to your dear old dad?” “I love you,” she said, hugging him. She stepped outside, and he followed. He asked, “Are you sure you"re not mad that I won"t be there today?” “You"ve been to all the other ones. It"ll be fine. And I know you"ve got paperwork to do.” “More than you know,” he said. “I"m so far behind I"ll never catch up.” She turned towards the little red sports car he"d bought her, and David"s eyes followed. They both saw the words etched into the red paint at the same time: STOP! and NO!. The words were scratched into the paint hundreds of times. STOP!NO!. Ella threw her hands up. “My car! Who would do this?!” She turned towards him, crying now. “I love this car!” “My car! Who would do this?!” “I love this car!”“It was the ghost.” She looked at him like he was nuts. “What?!” “What?!”“I don"t think you should go today. I think maybe this is what he...er, I came back to tell us. That you shouldn"t go.” I “I can"t miss this match,” she pleaded. “I just can"t!” “I just can"t!”“You"re staying home.” “How do you know it was the ghost?” she asked, suddenly hysterical. “You can"t know that! There"s no way you could possibly know that!” “How do you know it was the ghost?”“You can"t know that! There"s no way you could possibly know that!”“Ella,” he said, trying to calm her. She turned back towards the car. “I"m sorry, but I"m going. That"s all there is to it.” At that moment, as they were both turned towards the car, the vehicle erupted into a ball of flames. The inside of the vehicle was on fire, high, dancing flames snaking up from the tops of the windows. More flames were emerging from the edges of the door and the edges of the hood. And somehow, some way, even the painted exterior was in flames. Stunned, Ella dropped her keys. They both stood and watched the fire. Finally, after a long silence, she turned towards him and said, “I"m not going.” Shaken and confused, she stalked past him into the house. David stood there staring at the burning car, thinking what an asshole his ghost was for doing this. A few hours later, David was sitting at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich and looking over some paperwork when Ella walked in, sobbing. He looked up at her, trying to understand what was happening now. She stood there staring at him, her eyes glassy. “You were right.” “What do you mean?” “Tara called.” David didn"t understand. “What?” “The school bus, Daddy.” And she broke down, crying harder. David stood and held her. “What is it, Pumpkin?” “The school bus, Daddy.”She pulled back and looked at him. “There was an accident. The bus went off the road into the Downey River.” Her voice was quivering. “They"re all...” She couldn"t say the words, and she stopped, clutching him tightly and burrowing her head into his chest. He held her for a long while as she cried, her body convulsing. Finally, she pulled back and looked into his eyes. "You saved me, Daddy." “They"re all...”And David began to cry, knowing she was right. But he knew something else. He hadn"t just saved her. He"d saved them both. He held his daughter for an hour, neither of them saying a word. And neither of them ever saw the ghost again. STORY NOTES FOR "A FAMILIAR FACE": I decided to try my hand at writing a ghost story, but I sought to create something different. Otherwise, why do it? I figured out pretty quickly that I wanted the ghost to be someone who was still alive in the story, but I couldn"t quite figure out the logistics of how that would work. I was on a road trip with my The Cinematic Misadventures of Ed Wood co-writer Charles Pratt, and I asked him if he had any ideas. Within seconds, he had it worked out. I then wrote the story, and it became "A Familiar Face." The Cinematic Misadventures of Ed WoodI submitted it to Jeani Rector for a ghost story anthology she was editing. She liked a lot of aspects of the story, but she wanted significant changes that I didn"t wish to make, so I withdrew it. But I greatly admire Jeani as an editor. Her ideas were solid and would have made for a great story, but it wasn"t the one I was interested in telling. Maybe she was right. This story appeared previously in Ssssstories! (2020). Ssssstories!