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Ghosts
I was sitting on the bed laughing and staring into
my girlfriends’ beautiful brown eyes when I felt the icy hand of a ghost
on my shoulder.
It was early evening, around seven, and we‘d just made love. We were
enjoying the relaxed high of post-sex intimacy and the after effects of
some vodka. But it wasn’t the alcohol that made me shiver and feel the
presence of an unworldly spirit. Yael had felt it, too. A kind of light
tap on the shoulder and the scratchy fingertips of an icy hand.
I don’t believe in ghosts. So, what could it have been? Some kind of
energy perhaps, or a draught from the cracks around the window frame? It
was an old attic flat that was in bad repair. It’s possible that some
gusts of wind had come through gaps. But it didn’t feel like that. It
had felt like a tap, tap, tap on the shoulder. So strong and noticeable
that we both turned around together. The smiles drained from our faces
and we stared at each other in silence.
We got dressed quickly, all the time looking around the room and behind
us. Yael turned off the music and we listened. Not a sound. I checked
the doors and looked around outside on the roof. Down below all seemed
normal. People were going about their business and the sound of car
horns drifted up from the road. The sun was setting and there was a
chill in the air. Despite this, the temperature in the room was
noticeably lower than it was out on the roof.
We sat on the bed and tried to make some sense of what we had both
experienced. There was no explanation. We left the flat and tried to
wipe our minds clean with more vodka in the bar on the corner.
The next day the sun rose strong and warm. It melted away the thoughts
of the icy hand and we never spoke of it again. We moved out of the flat
6 weeks later and did not look over our shoulder as we closed the door
and walked down the stairs.
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