For a number of years after moving onto this small island I fell into a sense of security like the others. Our little island was the safest place to be. A town of exactly two hundred, some of us didn't even have locks on the doors. We simply didn't need it. I was acquainted with every person on the island in some form or another and like myself; each had come to live here to get away from the stress and crime of some big city. In the four years that I have lived here I have accidentally picked up the ghost of the former resident of the house in which I now live. He's of a quite sort and rarely shows himself but suddenly last year I began to get disturbing images and recordings from him. The first of which started when I held a small party for my children. I'm the kindergarten teacher of twelve bright young children and they were going on to first grade on the main land so I held a going away party for them. Upon playing back the footage I'd shot for the parents, something flashed onto the screen and was gone within a split second. I loaded the video into my video maker on my computer and slowed it down, watching frame by frame until I came to the dark flash. To my horror it was a very ghastly ashen face of an older man. It was there for two frames and somehow was followed by two frames of my back door open. The film then returned to what I had been recording before. I was, needless to say, shaken up by the matter and of course edited it from the finished videos. Later that week I was preparing to cook dinner for myself when all of the sudden my TV turned on. I was about to turn it off however I noticed that it was the news and an emergency signal was underway. A murderer had broken out of the mainland jail and was last seen sealing a boat. That meant the man was probably already here. That night I stayed at a friend’s house because mine didn't have locks. The very next day I was folding my laundry near the back door when I distinctly heard angry male voice shouting. "The back door!" I of course screamed and fled back into the house. When I entered I was puzzled to find that absolutely everything that could be on was. The oven was turned on high, the gas stove lit, the microwave oven set to ten minutes, both TVs tuned the news channel, every light on in every room of the house and again I heard "The back door!" This time I ran into my room and slammed the door shut, grabbing the cordless from beside my bed. I sat back against the door and clutched the phone with shaking sweaty hands. I was never so scared in my entire life and suddenly it all stopped. Dead silence. The lights went out, the TVs, the oven and stove and microwave...everything. As I sat there curled up in a tight ball, trembling from the sudden freezing temperature in the room I heard it. At first it was just a whisper but as the seconds ticked by the spirit began to scream at me. "The back door!" Finally I had had enough and I stood, throwing the phone to the floor. "What do you want?! What about the bloody back door?!" And then I heard a different sound. One shuffling feet and suddenly I locked the only door that had one just before someone began to pound on it. I shot to my window and leapt through it, scuffing my hands on the gravel below as I landed. I screamed out as I ran and within a few seconds police arrived. Later I found out that the murder had indeed been on the island. He later confessed that he had seen me doing my laundry and was going to kill me. A sickening feeling came over me as I watched them pull him from my home...it was the same ashen ugly face on the video and he had come in through my back door.
cross posted in my journal and shortly on Fictionpress.com