THE WAITING ROOM

From The Raven James Chronicles by B.H. Wydeven

Raven awoke on a small couch in a doctor’s office. He felt dizzy, like he had just gotten off a roller coaster. As he slowly sat up, his weary eyes failed to focus. The white lights in the room were so bright, he was practically blind, but his auditory senses seemed significantly heightened. He could hear chains gently rattling in the distance. Using the walls for support, he worked his way to the door and carefully opened it a crack.

Outside the room was a long hallway with barren white walls. The overhead florescent lights flickered and several were dead, leaving sinister blotches of gray shadows along the walls, and deep black voids on the floor. At the end of the hall, about 20 feet from the office where Raven awoke, was a steel gate with large metal chains and a fat padlock sealing the hallway from the room behind it.

As Raven slowly made his way down the hallway toward the gate, the big round padlock knocked gently against the bars and echoed its steady tone down the hallway like heavy wind chimes.

CLANK

CLANK

CLANK

The other side of the gate, a waiting room, was ridden with obscure shadows and dim light over an array of chairs and tables. There was just enough light to see that no one was there.

When Raven reached the gate, he pulled on the padlock. The round heavy metal felt like a ball of ice in his bare hands. He let it drop and collide against its ringing chains and bars. A fine layer of frost shivered away as the dead metal clashed with the bars. Raven shivered and backed away from the gate.

A steady murmur came from the waiting room.

“Excuse me, sir?” Came a man’s raspy voice in a desperate tone. He wheezed and coughed in between pleas. “Sir? Can you help me? I really need your help!

Suddenly a human form cloaked in a white sheet appeared on the other side of the gate. A hand quickly pulled away the sheet and disclosed a disheveled man with short grayish black hair and dressed in a crude hospital gown. His face was pale as if he had just bled to death and his eyes were sunken in and lifeless. Raven took an instinctive step back as the man took a step forward and grabbed the gate’s bars, causing the lock and chains to jangle and swing wildly.

“Please!” He pleaded. “My name is David Fenton. I have a wife and two kids and I need them to know what happened to me!”

David was a burly man, about six feet tall with linebacker shoulders and a beer gut that tightened against the cheap hospital gown. As David stepped forward, Raven was able to see into the man’s soft light brown eyes and his soul; kind and frantically lost.

Suddenly David’s brown eyes widened and he let out a scream, but for some reason he was unable to make a sound. Looking painfully to Raven for help, he grasped the bars harder.

Something made him stop and look down at his chest.

A dark red stain had seeped through the gown. David watched in horror as the stain grew and grew until suddenly a large pool of blood had flooded to the floor, creeping towards Raven. David looked up at Raven with wide, reddened eyes, his lower jaw shivered under his gaping mouth.

 “How did it happen?” Raven said finally, keeping his voice subtle.

“I was supposed to have heart surgery,” David explained. “I have a condition, and I needed a triple bypass. They told me with my health as it was, there would be a risk of complications.”

Raven closed his eyes as the man spoke, and when he opened them again, the blood on the floor was gone and so was the stain on the gown.

“What does your family need to know?”

The man shrugged. “Everything! I wasn’t supposed to die. I have a will but-.” The man stopped to let his lungs catch up. “Why am I still like this? I thought when you die, your body goes back to being perfect?”

“Not if you have loose ends,” Raven said.

“Loose ends?”

“Do you have unfinished business with someone?”

            The man’s face wrinkled with sadness as everything that he ever wanted to accomplish and all the people he left behind rushed to the tip of his tongue. “I was supposed to give away my youngest daughter in three months.” Instead of turning red, David’s face instead turned pale and the bloodstain reappeared at his chest. He grabbed the bars on the gate to catch his fall, gasping in a single labored breath for a lungful of air that never kept its course.

Raven leaned into the gate, glancing over the rest of the waiting room, but all he saw was darkness. To David, he said quietly, “Listen, I can help you, I just need you to do me a favor.”

            “What’s that?”

            “Guard the gate while I finish sleeping.”

            The blood stopped erupting from David’s chest. “You’re asleep?” Raven shushed him and nodded.

            “That’s what the gate is for. But you’re turning my dream into a nightmare. You see, every night, I get myself good and drunk so I can fall asleep. Because while I’m asleep, ghosts like you won’t hesitate bother me and pester me. When I’m drunk, this gate is solid steel and protects me. But I didn’t drink enough last night so I have this.”

            Raven grasped one of the steel chains with both hands and it gently bent with ease with his effortless force. It made a crackling sound like Styrofoam.

            “I’m sobering up too quickly,” Raven whispered through the bars. “Tell me something, who else is in that waiting room with you?”

            David looked around. “Just a few folks here. I actually thought I was alone until I looked around just now. Everyone in here is just being quiet, keeping to themselves.”

            “That’s because they think I’m drunk. They see this gate and this lock and chains and they know I can’t be bothered. Some of the bastards in there have been waiting on me for months. But I don’t help the attention whores. They can fuck with someone else’s subconscious.”

            “You do this a lot?” David asked.

            “Just about every morning,” Raven said with a tired smile. He could see the understanding in David’s eyes. Raven could sense that David was in a lot of pain and that his family was going through a terrible shock over his sudden death. David’s pain hung heavily on Raven’s shoulders, but as long as they interacted within his self conscious, so did fatigue. The longer they talked, the weaker Raven got.

But despite his pain and desperation, Raven saw a kindness in David too. He looked forward to helping the man do whatever he needed to heal the wound in his heart and bypass the plane between the living world and the waking dead.

            He just needed David’s protection until he woke up in the morning.

            “I’m sorry I bothered you,” David said. “I just didn’t know what to do. I thought you were an angel or something.”

            “Not even close,” Raven said. “But I do help people who have died. But this time, I need your help.”

            “Anything.”

            “All I need you to do, is watch the gate for me. Just hang by it and don’t let anyone near it. If you have problems, shout for me. Hopefully I’ll wake up.”

            David stood up straight. “I can do that.”

            “Thanks,” Raven said, turning back to the office down the hall. “Look me up in the morning and we’ll find your find your family.”

            David smiled and took a deep breath, then exhaled smoothly.

† † †

A HOT SUMMER CHILL

                                    From The Raven James Chronicles by B.H. Wydeven

Raven awoke with malaise; the skin on his forehead felt stretched like a giant rubber band over his skull. His long dark hair was gnarled in a mess atop his head, bundled over his ears and tickling his neck. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He twisted his body, his bare back sticking to the couch with an adhesive of sweat.

It had been this way for the last three weeks as temperatures climbed into the high 90’s. The heat had become unbearable to sleep in and nearly impossible to keep down enough liquor to resist the haunting imagery he endured night after night. Raven peeled himself off the couch and made his way into the kitchen for a tall glass of water, then returned promptly to the couch, chugged and curled back onto the sweaty cushions.

A few seconds later, Benny came barreling in through the front door; his plump face was beat red and his forehead shiny with sweat. Then Raven felt it: the humid air barreled in like a hot oven.

“Good afternoon,” Benny said cheerily, slamming the front door with his cane. His eyes were glazed over and watery. His tank top was sticking to his plump build and his polyester jogging shorts clung to his thick thighs. He looked like a polyester - wrapped chicken.

“I made it to the end of the block today,” he exclaimed with a rough breath as he crossed the living room and into the kitchen. The frig door opened and slammed. Raven heard the crinkle of plastic as Benny opened and chugged a bottle of water, the thin plastic slowly impeding as the contents drained out. The bottle swooshed into a paper bag, and crackled some more.

“Man it is miserable out there,” Benny said, sliding into his recliner. “You just get up?”

Realizing sleep in the heat of the day would be ruthless, Raven slowly sat back up and wiped the heavy, sweat soaked hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s a hot one.”

“Hey so, I’m taking off today. I got the new guy watching the bar. My friend John and his family just moved down the street and he’s invited me to a barbecue tonight. It’ll just be a small group, you me, and his family. You okay with that?”

“Why don’t you take Sarah?”

“Well this is kind of last minute and Sarah has to work."

Raven wiped the sofa lint off his sopping back. “I’m not much for socializing.”

“Nah, you’ll like John, he’s a bartender at Franco’s Martini Bar. Besides, they have a pool and central air.”

Raven got up and took his glass back into the kitchen for a refill. Benny followed.

“Does he think I’m going?” Raven asked.

“I told him I’d be bringing a friend.”

“Did you tell him my name?”

“Not yet.”

“Well just- introduce me as… James,” Raven set the glass in the sink and cupped some water into his hands, splashing it into his face. Benny took several steps back, just in time for Raven to shake his head, firing off beads of sweat in every direction.

“This is why I don’t have a dog,” Benny said, wiping his face.

Raven opened the frig and poured himself a Bloody Mary.

“Go easy on my booze,” Benny said with a smile. “John likes to serve high shelf liquor.”

† † †

John and Dana McWalter lived only six blocks down from Benny’s in an old, two-story, red brick house. As they pulled up to the house, Benny looked at Raven with a questioning gleam. Raven shook his head.

“I’ll let you know if it’s infested,” Raven sighed.

John greeted them at the door. “Come on in guys, I was just about to put the steaks on the grill.” John was tall and slim and had short black hair. He looked like he was about to go swimming; he wore a half buttoned Hawaiian T-shirt and long blue swim trucks.

“John, this is James, a friend of mine. He’s staying at my house for a while.”

“Nice to meet you James,” John said with a smile. "Do you like steaks? I’m making New York strips.”

“I love steak,” Raven said with a smile.

In contrast to the aging brick outside, the interior looked fully remodeled and lively. Raven felt that undeniable central air hit his face as they entered the foyer.

“Guys, this is my wife Dana, John jr. and Olivia. J.J. just turned six and Olivia is eight months,” John said as they passed through the living room.

On the living room rug, the boy was playing with a Jack-in-the-Box, rapidly winding the hand crank. Each time Jack popped out and said a phrase, J.J. would quickly push his head back into the box and wind him up again to see how quickly he could repeat the process.

The spring-bound puppet that emerged had a white clown face with simple red shapes for facial features; eyebrows for triangles, an upside down heart for a nose and  lips, a wide red curvy smile with round dimples. It had a tiny red hat and a dirty white shirt that looked to Raven like a bizarre straight jacket decorated with little green diamonds. The toy looked far from new and the voice box sounded distorted as if the next time it chimed would be it's last.

J.J.’s efforts were overshadowed by a very cartoonish show playing on the TV behind him, featuring what looked like people dressed as life-sized stuffed animals, dancing and singing.

Dana was seated on the couch with little Olivia on her lap. The little girl bounced on her mom’s knee, clapping and cooing to the sing-a-longs. J.J. seemed to be deeply engaged in the Jack-in-the-Box’s limited phrases.

J.J. looked up when the guys passed through and his eyes went directly to Raven’s, but his hand never stopped winding. J.J. had brown eyes and dark brown hair that covered the upper half of his ears. He looked at Raven with a neutral expression, his mouth a straight line across his face, and his big brown eyes gaping wide.

Let’s jam! The Jack-in-the-Box exclaimed as Jack popped out, laughing hysterically. J.J. pounded Jack in the head with his fist, flattened the top with a click, and repeated, all the while his eyes never left Raven’s. It was as if he was testing Raven’s reaction to the odd routine.

John led Benny and Raven into the kitchen where a stack of raw steaks sat on a plate. The kitchen was designed to look like a bar. Above the counter island were a variety of glasses hanging from the ceiling. A wine rack was mounted to the inside wall and three bar stools sat snug underneath the lip of the counter.

Outside, Raven could see smoke coming from the large deck where the grill was warming up. The patio door was open and Raven could smell the intoxicating aroma of charcoal ready to cook. Adjoining the deck was a big, above ground swimming pool.

“Can I get you guys something to drink right away? You name it, I got it!” John said with a smile.

“I’ll just have soda water, John,” Benny said. John nodded.

“James? What can I get you?”

“Smoky martini,” Raven said.

“Ah, good choice. I got some Johnny Walker Gold for it.”

Raven’s face inhabited a large grin. “Excellent,” he said.

As John mixed Raven’s drink, the TV show in the other room went quiet, but the Jack-in-the-Box continued it’s steady jingle and phrase routine.

Let’s Dance! Raven heard it say, more laughter, the wind up jingle then, Let’s Sing!

“Here you are,” John said as he set the drinks on the counter and grabbed the plate of steaks and led the way to the deck.

Outside, the backyard was scattered with toys. Parked at the bottom of the gradual hill was a toy car tipped over on its side. A giant inflatable ball drifted gently around the pool. Inside, Raven could still hear the Jack-in-the-Box routine.

It was much cooler out than it had been when Raven first woke up. The sun was crisp orange behind the trees. In the distance neighborhood kids screamed and shouted, followed by a dog barking.

“It’s a nice house.”

“Oh it’s fantastic. Dana and I got lucky with this place. We got it on foreclosure for 65. We’ve been here three weeks and we couldn’t be happier. How are you holding up?”

Benny shrugged and tapped his right leg. “Living it day by day. I’ve been trying to go for a walk everyday, even if it’s just to the mailbox and back. On a good day, I can make it around the block without falling.”

“Fantastic man! What are the doctors saying?”

“The bone’s healing well so far. I go back in next week for a follow up.”

“Great, great,” John smiled through the charcoal smoke. The steaks sizzled and crackled, like scented candles to the summer stench.

J.J. came out onto the deck and ran down the steps to the toy car. He picked it up, climbed in, and tried to ride it up the hill. After a few attempts, he turned around and drove down the hill. Realizing this took little effort; he got out of the car, and dragged it to the top of the hill near the edge of the house, got back in, and coasted down the hill to great success.

About 15 minutes later, Dana came outside, carrying a baby monitor and a can of cola. She strolled passed her husband kissed him on the lips and said softly, “I got Olivia to sleep.”

“Good timing. The steaks are ready. Honey, you wanna go get the plates?”

As the last of the sun sank into the hazy horizon, they enjoyed their steaks on the patio table next to the pool. J.J. scooted up next to Raven, who was almost on his third martini.

Raven quietly drank his Martini and J.J. sat beside him, also in silence. As the adults spoke amongst themselves, Raven noticed that Dana and John were very keen to their choice of words in front of little J.J. He seemed unusually perceptive for a 6-year-old, a trait Raven encompassed when he was a kid. In fact, Raven was surprised at how closely this boy resembled himself.

The entire time, J.J. hadn’t said a single word. But as soon as his dad went into the house to restock the martinis, J.J. straightened himself up, looked up at Raven and said with a nervous smile: “Hey.”

“Hi,” Raven said, trying to sound as unslurred as he could to the kid.

“I have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She sleeps in my closet.”

Benny and Dana had suddenly turned their attention to J.J.’s unusual comment. J.J. didn’t seem to notice the odd expression on his mom’s face or Benny's look of perplexity. Instead, he seemed wholly fascinated by Raven for some reason, kneeling in his chair and making himself as tall as he could, so he could be almost the same height as the adults.

“Really,” Raven said, playing along, noticing that their conversation was at the center of attention. “What’s her name?”

“McKenzie.”

By this time John had just returned.

“Who’s McKenzie?” John asked.

“J.J.’s imaginary friend,” Dana said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

“She’s not imaginary,” J.J.’s voice got louder. “She talks to me. And we play games.”

John chuckled, handing Raven his drink. “Kids,” he sighed merrily. “Full of imagination.”

“She tickles my feet when I’m in bed. She plays with Olivia too.”

John stopped laughing. The fun dripped off his face like heavy sweat; his eyebrows curled and his cheeks inverted. It was clear he didn’t want his son telling silly stories to his company. But he hid the embarrassment better than his wife did and rearranged his face with a smile. “Okay buddy, I think its time for bed.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“Don’t make me count to three.”

Scoffing, J.J. clambered off the chair and retreated toward the house. Before he opened the sliding screen door, he turned to look back at Raven as if to say ‘You believe me, don’t you?’ Instead, his little voice cracked as he said, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Raven said.

“I’ll be in to tuck you in, in five minutes,” Dana called after him.

“Sorry about that,” John said. “The kids haven’t really settled into the new house very well,” John explained. “They both seem to have trouble sleeping. We listen in on Olivia with a baby monitor because she usually wakes up several times a night.”

“She wakes up giggling in the middle of the night,” Dana explained. “It’s so strange.”

“Do you think J.J. sneaks in to tickle her?” Raven asked.

“J.J. doesn’t sleep upstairs,” John said. “His room is downstairs, next to the kitchen. If he were sneaking up the stairs, we’d hear him. The entire house is covered in wood flooring, the staircase is the worst. Every footstep makes a loud creak.” He laughed, then added, “Dana thinks the house is haunted.”

“It’s not funny,” Dana scolded at her husband.

Benny looked at Raven, eyes popping. Raven tipped his martini glass back and finished off Smokey #4. He had anticipated a ghost free evening.

But he knew it was naïve.

Suddenly, a familiar jingle began playing in the living room. It made everyone except for Raven jump.

Let’s Dance! Sang the wind up toy.

John bolted out of his chair and ran into the house. “J.J.’s playing with the damn Jack-in-the-Box again!” He grumbled, booking down the hallway. “God I hate that thing!”

Let’s Sing!

Benny stood up quickly. Comfortably drunk, Raven slowly followed.

“We should get going,” Benny said with a disappointed smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Dana said. “J.J. is not usually this misbehaved.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, we had fun, right Raven?”

“J.J.?” John shouted down the hall.

As Dana, Benny and Raven entered the house, J.J. suddenly wandered into the kitchen from the other side of the house, wearing his pajamas. The Jack-In-The-Box was still jingling in the next room.

“J.J. Stop playing and go to b—” John shouted from the living room.

“Dad?” J.J. said sleepily.

You’re going to die! The Jack-in-the-Box said with its sinister laughter.

“John!” Dana shouted. “J.J. go back in your room!” The Jack-in-the-Box was getting closer.

John appeared around the corner, the Jack-In-The-Box cackling in his shaky hands. J.J. retreated half way through the kitchen then stopped and looked back when he saw his father with his favorite toy.

“GO BACK IN YOUR ROOM J.J.!!” John shouted.

I’m going to kill you! Get the hell out of my house. Jack-In-The-Box chanted gaily, repeating the phrase with a rapid repetition that turned John angrier and angrier at every word.

John’s face turned as red as an apple and his hands shook as he debated what to do with the jeering toy. The Jack’s head swayed cheerfully as it chanted it’s derailed words.

            “John what’s going on?” Dana shrieked.

 “GOD DAMN TOY!” John shouted, throwing the screen door out of his way, the frame grinding furiously on its delicate tracks. John hurried to the edge of the deck, and with no hesitation or emends, threw back his right arm and sent the heckling Jack-In-The-Box flying through the air. It disappeared into the darkness, but seconds later they heard it crash into the swimming pool with a single lifeless splash.

Dana turned on the backlights. John was kneeling near the pool, completely motionless. The Jack-In-The-Box cried out with a distorted dying laugh, submerged at an angle, Jack’s plastic head bobbing above the water. The beach ball bumped against the edge of the pool in the gentle wake. No one moved or said a thing for several minutes.

A terrifying shriek broke the stale silence. Immediately, Dana’s body came to life as she recognized her youngest child’s cries. But it was not like any scream a little baby should ever cry- it was the loudest, most bloodcurdling sound any of them had ever heard, and it jolted everyone into the impulse to hurry upstairs, Dana taking the lead. John rushed back into the house, racing down the hall to his daughter’s rescue.

To Raven, the baby’s cry was as sobering as a horse kick in the face. He wasn’t sure how to handling the situation: a family slammed with poltergeist chaos, and he was too drunk to do anything about it. Benny, cane in hand, took up the rear, climbing the winding staircase slowly with his bum leg. Raven stopped and waited for him.

“Go!” Benny hissed. “You can help them.”

“No I can’t,” Raven said. “I’m drunk. John’s martinis were dirty strong.”

“You can’t pick up anything?”

Raven shook his head. “I’m not here to investigate a frickin’ poltergeist!”

Olivia’s bloodcurdling cries continued above them. As Raven hurried up the old wooden stairs, he caught the brief odor of burning wood. He realized then that he wasn’t drunk enough to completely deflect the spirits’ signs.

When Raven reached the baby room, he found Dana and John embraced with Olivia in her mother’s arms. Both mother and baby were crying intensely. As soon as Raven stepped into Olivia’s room, he felt a drop of about 30 degrees from the hallway, but it wasn’t the central air. He took a deep breath, leaned against the doorframe, and closed his eyes, honing his senses to the room’s untamed energy.

Something negative was in this room.

For several minutes, Raven stood motionless in the doorway, observing the energy in the house.

As he toned out the mother - daughter crying, he heard Benny climbing the stairs, one step at a time. He focused his senses around the baby’s room: there was a closet to the right of the entrance. On the opposite end was the cradle and against the wall to Raven’s left was a playpen and a toy box. And in that corner came a voice…

Get out of my house.

The Raven did not recognize the voice. He tried to sense someone else in the room, J.J.’s girlfriend McKenzie, perhaps, but it was just the four.

The fourth one, a middle-aged man who smelled like burning wood, was angry.

“Is he alright?” John said. The crying had simmered down. Raven opened his eyes.

“The name of the man haunting you is David. He and his daughter McKenzie lived her.”

“What-.”

“David is very possessive of this house but I’m not sure why. I think he may have died in a fire in the house. He wants you to leave.”

John took a step forward. “James, what the hell is going on?”

“Your house is infested with a pissed off ghost.”

“And you can see this ghosts?”

“No, but I can feel that they’re here,” Raven explained. “You need to either get this house blessed by a priest, or move out as soon as you can.”

“No way!” John shouted. “I love this house. I’m not leaving here.”

“Whatever you decide is up to you, but I’m not going to stick around to find out what you do,” Raven said, letting his slur slip. “I’m sorry this happened to you guys, you’re nice people and I had a good time. The poltergeist wasn’t your fault. Thanks for the martinis and steak.” Raven turned and hurried back down the stairs.

“Raven wait!” Benny called after him, but Raven didn’t slow down. Instead, he hurried out the front door and began walking down the street. Several minutes later, Benny’s van rolled up after him.

“I’m walking back,” Raven said. “It’s a warm night and I need to burn off some room for a six pack.

† † †

A thousand raindrops pounded against the picture window as Raven began to awaken. The humidity had dissolved into the drizzle. Raven rolled over on the couch to face what little morning sunshine had broken through the steady rain. Benny was sitting in his recliner, waiting for Raven to wake up. Among the empty beer cans on the coffee table, was a tall glass of Bloody Mary.

“John called this morning,” Benny said.

“Is he still pissed at us?”

“He’s not pissed, he just didn’t know what to think of everything. I think he was pretty disappointed and embarrassed of the whole evening. He did take your advice though.”

“Which part?”

“The moving out part,” Benny said. “He’s moving this weekend. For now they’re staying at Dana’s mom’s. The house has a For Sale sign up already.”

“Damn.” Raven sat up. “That was quick. I feel sorry for the kids to have to go though that. Seeing a ghost and not being able to tell someone can really mess a kid up.”

“What was your childhood like?” Benny asked as Raven took a long sip of the Bloody Mary.

“Not today,” Raven said in between sips.

† † †

Author's Note

All of the short Raven James stories featured in this blog are set chronologically within six months before the events of my novel Drowning Demons. The shorts are intended to explore smaller paranormal investigations that Raven and Benny encounter together.

While some character details may not make sense at this point, rest assured, they will with the novel. Also, the stories are not necessarily being released chronologically- for their correct chronological order, please rely on the "links and stories" list to your right. Enjoy.
B.H.W.

P.S. Keep in mind, if you've seen my short film, The Medium, these stories follow a rebooted incarnation of the characters, similar to the way Christopher Nolan's Batman series was rebooted after the Tim Burton series.

Legal Stuff: All stories published in this blog are original stories by B.H. Wydeven. All rights reserved. Publishing these works to other sites without the express written permission of the author is prohibited.

DELIVERY FOR BENNY CAVOTO

                                 From The Raven James Chronicles by B.H. Wydeven

       A pounding on the front door jolted Raven out of a deep, intoxicated sleep, but he remained curled up on the couch, eyes shut. He listened for Benny to move through the house and answer the door, but the sound never came. Rolling over slowly, bracing for the glare of morning sunlight, he listened again. The house was completely absent of any sound.

       BANG! BANG! BANG!

       As Raven allowed his eyes to open, his eyelids stuck to his pupils opening halfway just long enough for him to hesitate, close them again and snuggle into the pillow. Without opening his eyes fully, Raven could tell the day was going to be overcast- the sun wasn't burning through his eyelids.

       BANG! BANG! BANG!

       This time, his eyes blasted open and Raven sat straight up on Benny's couch. The pounding was getting heavier and Benny wasn’t responding. With a groan, Raven pushed himself to his feet, wiped his face with one hand and brushing his long hair out of his eyes, then sauntered to the door. He wondered where Benny was.

       As Raven reached for the door handle, a surprising feeling overcame him. The person at the door, the person Benny didn't hear pounding….

       (Raven opened the door)

       …Wasn’t dead.

       Standing on Benny's little stoop was a man in a brown uniform, holding a package under one hand and a clipboard in the other.

       "Delivery for Benny Cavoto. Sign here please," he said.

Raven signed for the package, scribbling something completely non descript onto the line, thanked the man and quickly shut the door.

       The package appeared to have some weight to it, about the same as a good-sized encyclopedia. Raven shook the package gently to see if it rattled. The label on the top said E-Bay.

       "Benny?" Raven shouted into the adjoining kitchen. No answer. He made his way though the back of the kitchen, past the dark basement and up to the garage door, where a steady rumble of death metal bass rocked the worst of Raven's hangover back into consciousness. Raven paused at the garage door to grab the wall and halt a twirling dizzy spell.

       In the garage, Raven found Benny working under his van, an old soccer mom-mobile that Benny had bought recently.

       The music rattled throughout the two-car garage, a jack hammering rhythm of bass and drums. Raven closed his eyes and slowly walked around the van until he reached the source of the noise, an old radio with a cassette player, and turned it off. The music reverberated off the unfinished sheet rock walls a half second after Raven hit the switch, then faded into an echo.

       "Raven?" Came Benny's voice from under the van.

       "You got a package," Raven shouted out.

       "Alright!" Metal clanked against the concrete floor as Benny dropped a wretch and slid out from under the van, the sheet of cardboard cushioning his back scratching against the floor under his thick midsection. He took his time getting to his feet, slowly straightening his knees, and using his walker to balance his large frame. While his right foot was no longer in a cast, he still couldn't depend on it for support. As soon as he was on his feet, he pushed the walker aside and grabbed his walking stick. He hated the walker. He detested the idea of needing one while he was still in his thirties. He had once made Raven swear not to tell anyone about the walker. "I can't believe it's here already!"

       "Which one is this?"

Benny took the package and placed it on the hood of the van. He took a penknife out of his pocket and eagerly sliced the package's brown tape, ripping the flaps open and digging through the white packing peanuts. He removed a zip lock bag with a bundle of rubber coated cable with a small sensor and a red tip. "It's the EMF meter," he said, taking the sensor out of its plastic, giving it a brief curious look and dug back into the box, shoveling away packing peanuts like a kid at Christmas. He removed the main unit, a black rectangular device about the size of a standard bible. On the face of the device was a meter with a series of numbers, some increments of 5 and 10, one level went as low as .5. A long red needle bounced slightly on the far left side. Benny turned the device over and found the battery compartment empty.

       "How do you use this thing?"

       "I don't know," Raven said. "I've never had to use one."

       “From what I've read, this thing is normally used to detect changes in the electromagnetic frequency.”

       “Right. Which means if a spirit is using energy, it’ll make that needle move.”

       Benny looked up from his new toy, a big grin on his face. "Wanna help me try it out?"

       "Not until I've had breakfast," Raven said. "And you should probably finish changing the oil."

       "Give me another fifteen minutes on this. There's still some Bloody Mary mix in the pitcher. Any visitors this morning?"

       "Just the delivery guy, but he was alive."

† † †

       "So where's a good place to go to find ghosts?" Benny asked as they pulled out of the driveway. "The cemetery?"

       "You're not going to find a ghost in the cemetery. Not unless there's a funeral."

       "How about a church?"

       Raven took a deep breath. After two Bloody Mary's, he was feeling pretty good, but not good enough to block the communication of lost spirits.

       "Let’s just drive around for a bit," he said looking out the window. It was early afternoon, Sunday morning and Raven was glad the sun still hadn't fully bloomed.

       There was no ideal place to find ghosts, ghosts were everywhere. As Raven watched the people bustling along on the sidewalk, he suddenly realized where they should look.

       "Benny where's the nearest park?"

       "Well we got the square just down the street here-."

       "Let's go there."

       They parked across the street from a series of older buildings on 4th Street. The road was covered in red brick and the street lamps looked old fashioned, giving the street a sort of nostalgia look. As they walked up the street to the square, Raven noticed one particular building, which looked like it had been an old movie theatre. Now it had a green and white vertical marquee that said "Fillmor."

       A half a block down the street, Raven saw a block made up of concrete paths, park benches and young trees. There wasn't much else to it.

       "This is a park?"

"There used to be a factory on this block, but they tore it down. I think the city plans to do something else with it soon."

       "Great," Raven said. He had been hoping for more of a quiet spot with swings and a baseball diamond, a peaceful place for peaceful ghosts with peaceful problems. Old factory sites brought horrible factory deaths.        And God knows how many people had died suddenly in the old factory.

       "What kind of factory was here?" They began walking down one of the wide concrete paths.

       "I think they made chocolate."

       They sat on a park bench in the center of the square, where the four walking paths came together. Benny began tinkering with his EMF meter, while Raven watched pedestrians walk by. Benny plugged in the sensor and flipped a switch on the main device. Nothing happened.

       "Any ghosts yet?" He asked, the anticipation glowing in his eyes. Raven shook his head, glancing the needle; nothing.

       "Did you put batteries in it?"

       "Of course," Benny said. "Why?"

       "Because if we do ever encounter malicious spirits, you're gonna wanna bring a lot of batteries. They drain everything. That's why we got flares instead of flashlights."

       "We gotta go easy on those flares though, they're kind of expensive."

       “So is getting arrested for performing an exorcism.”

       Suddenly the EMF's needle twitched, causing both Raven and Benny to jump.

       "Wooh!" Benny said, but Raven shushed him. Raven put on his sunglasses. If a ghost did pass by them, he needed to avoid eye contact. If they did, then the ghosts would most likely bug him for help.

       Raven was not interested in helping a lost ghost today.

       From their right side, a woman with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes walked past wearing tight nylon sweatpants, her slim body molded tightly around the stretchy sportswear. But there was something off about her. Her hair was greasy and her face looked like a wave rippled beach. As she passed their park bench, the needle twitched, then spiked, peaking around the middle of the meter. Benny shivered and quickly looked at Raven, whose face had gone rigid and pale.

       Raven grabbed the sensor from Benny and held it out, pointing the woman's direction. The needle flickered into a steady decline as the woman got further away. Raven had noticed distinctive red marks up and down the woman's arms.

       "It works," Raven said quietly, shaken by what he had seen.

Benny shrugged. "What was it? What did you see?"

       "A young woman, maybe in her twenties, needle injected drug overdose. I don’t wanna know any more."

       "Well how close did she get? What kind of range can I get on this thing?"

       "She came right past us, within maybe two feet or so," Raven sighed. “She got pretty close. Too close. I was afraid she was going to stop.”

       "Damn. So I can detect ghosts now too."

       "Sort of."

† † †

The Cat Lady

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From The Raven James Chronicles by B.H. Wydeven

            Raven stared into the creature’s big round eyes, so bright and yellow. They stared right back at him, watching him curiously. Raven extended a hand towards the creature’s soft pointy ears, but it meowed and jumped off its perch from the sofa and dove into the kitchen.

            “That was Jasper,” Mrs. Higgins said softly. Jasper, a yellow and orange tabby cat, was long gone, but in his place four multicolored felines approached Raven curiously, investigating the stranger seated on their couch palace.

            “Your son said you heard the voices at night,” Raven said as the fattest of the feline gang hopped onto the couch next to Raven. He had shaggy orange fur and feet that were barely visible under his round furry body. If the cat had stripes, Raven imagined that it might be mistaken for a fuzzy basketball. Raven winced as the fuzzy basketball trampled his lap and settled in with Mrs. Higgins.

            “That’s right.”

            “And you’re sure it wasn’t one of the cats?”

“The cats stay downstairs. Except for Jasper. He likes to sleep at the foot of my bed. He was Jacob’s cat.”

            “Your husband.”

            “That’s right.”

            “And you think Jacob still visits the house?”

            “I know he does. I heard him whispering in my ear,” she said. “But never when I’m awake. I’m always asleep when he does it. It’s as if he knows I’ll always listen then.”

            Raven felt something soft rub against his legs. This one was completely black except for a mark of white on the tip of his tail.

            “How many cats do you have ma’m?”

            “Oh I think there’s probably about fifteen now.”

            Raven lightly shoed the black cat with a light push and glanced at his friend Benny Cavoto, sitting in a large arm chair with a big fat gray cat cradled in his arms. Benny had dragged him to this house of cats and strange old lady smells (and strange cat smells) because he believed Raven could help her. Benny owned a bar on the north side of town and more than a few people knew that he and Raven specialized in ghosts, or spiritual communication as it was called among the general population.

One of Benny’s regulars, a young conservative lawyer by the name of Neil Higgins, had spilled the embarrassing details to Benny about how his mom was convinced his late father was visiting her at night. What normally would have been a tight lipped secret spilled to the floor after a few speedballs.

           

            “Hey Cavoto, I heard you help people with fake ghost problems.” Neil had said to Benny as he polished off a Long Island ice tea, his third.” There was a lot of distress in the man’s voice, despite a conflicting comical demeanor. Benny glanced over at Raven, a lump of long hair slumped on his usual spot at the far end of the bar.  It was almost closing time and Raven was right on schedule.

            “That’s not really how I would describe it,” Benny smiled. “My friend Raven actually sees ghosts, and sometimes people really are hearing what they think they’re hearing.”

            “But most of the time they’re not right?”

            “Most of the time,” Benny explained with a grin. “People don’t really know what the hell they’re hearing.”

            It didn’t take much effort on Benny’s part to convince Raven to meet with kind old Mrs. Higgins; Benny promised to get him drunk at the bar afterwards. Being drunk was Raven’s only remedy against the misery of his sixth sense. Helping spirits make peace with the ones they left on earth, usually rather suddenly, helped manage Raven’s aggravating headaches and night terrors.

            But Benny never said anything about the damn cats.

            “You’re the spiritual medium right?” Mrs. Higgins said to Raven. Raven nodded. “I don’t want anybody to provoke my Jacob to prove he’s here like on TV, I just want to know what he’s trying to tell me.”

            “You don’t know what he was saying to you?”

            “I can never remember. By the time I wake up, it always feels like it was just a dream. But then one time I awoke, I looked over and he was sitting in the rocking chair in our bedroom. And he was just sittin’ there, watchin’ me sleep. He looked so peaceful and content. It was just about the break of dawn, so his shape was all in silhouette, but I knew it was my Jacob. His silver hair was all curly and it glowed in the early morning light you know? When I saw him sittin’ there, I just couldn’t believe my eyes, but I couldn’t look away either. Finally, I blinked and he was gone. But the rocking chair, the rocking chair was still moving. Jasper saw it too. He was meowing all morning that day, telling me what he saw.”

            Mrs. Higgins smiled a glowing glee as she recalled the encounter fondly. Her hair was short and her bright blue eyes revealed a hint of carefully reserved youth behind thick glasses. She seemed to be very convinced that her husband had visited her and she seemed very encouraging of Raven’s ability to discredit her claim. Her knowledge of spiritualism was better than most people he’s helped. Raven carefully considered that it was more likely that she wanted to see her husband’s ghost, but he couldn’t help but feel the positive energy living in her living room.

            “How did your husband die?”
            “Heart attack. Died in his sleep. Nice and peaceful I say. He fought in World War II and there he could have gone slowly and painful. His brother Greg did, and many of his friends, but fortunately he didn’t. No, he came home and gave me three beautiful boys. He lived a good long life my Jacob did.”

            “Could I see your room please?”

            “Of course. That’s what you came here for isn’t it?”

            As Mrs. Higgins slowly raised herself from the couch, a cat mewed and several balls of fur dashed about like flying bullets. The house was neat and surprisingly clean considering the amount of traffic. She led them through the kitchen to an old wooden staircase concealed by a door.

            “Jacob put the door in to keep the cats downstairs,” she explained. “He didn’t want them getting into his study with all his old books. He collected first editions. I’ve given most of them to the boys but I don’t have the heart to part with his favorites. He was big fan of Hemmingway and of course Edgar Allen Poe. He had a first edition of Poe’s.”

            At the top of the stairs, Raven unzipped his backpack handed Benny his EMF meter. The meter was about the size of a DVD case and was connected to a small red sensor. If Raven couldn’t feel the presence of Jacob Higgins, the EMF meter would.

            The hardwood floor creaked under Raven’s feet as they entered the bedroom. Raven entered first and motioned Benny to wait at the door. The room had windows on two sides, letting in a healthy dose of sunlight. Beside the door was a small closet, closed, and in the far corner was the old wooden rocking chair, a lace sheet draped over the back. Raven rested his hands on the metal end frame of the bed and closed his eyes, inhaling with all senses the flavors of the room.

            It was mid afternoon and the birds were chirping their rush hour chorus. The traffic was thin outside. Higgins lived on a quiet country road. Fifty years ago, the house was the heart of a dairy farm but now it sat just outside the town of Lafayette, in the former dairy land of America.

            Carefully, his mind checked off all the noises outside the windows and moved closer to the ones within reach. A clock in the hallway tapped steadily, but soon his mind wandered to the rocking chair, which stood in silence in its corner, soaking in the afternoon sun. Raven gave the chair a moment to move if it wanted to. He listened carefully for a creak or a rock but the rocking chair had no comment.

            Raven let go of the brass end board and held his hands before him, fingertips up, eyes still shut.

            “Jacob Higgins, my name is Raven James. I am here to help you communicate with your wife.”

            There was a light tap that sounded like a heater. It came from behind the chair. It tapped again six times in a rhythm. When the tapping finally stopped the room went quiet again.

            A draft touched Raven’s long brown hair, tickling his ears and neck.

            “Raven,” came Benny’s whisper behind him. “Full throttle.”

            Full throttle meant the needle on the EMF meter had spiked. There was an unseen spirit in the room with them.

            Eyes still closed, palms still up, Raven walked three paces forward, near the old rocking chair.

            “Jacob Higgins,” he said softly. “Can you give us a sign of your presence?”

            “Yes,” whispered a voice. “But my name is not Jacob Higgins.” Raven’s spine grew cold. This was no longer the peaceful encounter he thought it was. This man’s voice was deep and scornful, not the gentle sweet voice Mrs. Higgins had hyped. There was a strange tone to the room, the difference between baby blue and blood red. Opening his eyes, he looked around the empty room, and then turned to Mrs. Higgins. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t expel the words, the frustration that sat in the back of his throat. Yes, your bedroom is haunted, but it’s not the man you were married to for 65 years, he wanted to say. He only gave her a dirty look, that wrinkled face and bright eyes did not deserve a rude comment. Or did they?

            “Go get your cat,” he said finally.

            “Which one?” Oh that’s right. You have 15 fricken cats in this house.

            “Jasper. The one who knows your husband.” Raven listened for Mrs. Higgins to descend the creaky wooden stairwell before whispering to Benny: “Who the hell is this woman?”

            “I don’t know her personally,” Benny whispered back. “Her son Neil is a year older than me. All I know is what he told me. You know my meter spiked, right? Did you see him, Jacob? Is her house really haunted?”

            “It wasn’t Jacob.”

            “Then who is it?”

            Creak. Creak. Creak. Raven’s eyes got wide as he heard the sound behind him. Benny’s eyes did the same and his mouth gapped as well as he looked behind Raven. Raven turned back to see the old rocking chair swinging slowly back and forth on its wooden crests. “What is your name spirit?” Raven insisted, loosing the soft calm voice he had channeled a moment ago.

            “Charles,” the voice said. There was no apparition but Raven could feel the man’s presence turning the sunny bedroom into a walk in freezer.

            The downstairs door opened with a creak, followed by slow footsteps up the old wooden stairs. Every single step made a loud creaking noise. At one point, Raven heard a dramatic meow.

            “Let him in here,” Raven said when Mrs. Higgins had returned. She let Jasper down and he ran into the bedroom, hoping up on the bed. The rocking chair had since stopped. Everyone watched to see what the cat would do, but he remained seated at the foot of the bed, watching the motionless rocking chair as if someone he knew was seated there.

            “Who’s Charles?” Raven said with bluntness, yet constrain.

            “My brother,” Mrs. Higgins said surprised.

            “Does he have sort of a deep voice?”

            “Yes. How did you know?”

            “He’s the one in your bedroom.”

            “No,” Mrs. Higgins said quickly. “It’s got to be a different Charles. Charlie isn’t dead.”

            Raven looked at her firmly. He wanted to know it was true. He hated delivering bad news. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

            Mrs. Higgins didn’t respond. Her face was grim and it was obvious that it was not an easy answer. It seemed the old cat lady was not as straightforward as she seemed.

            He turned back to the rocking chair and closed his eyes. “Charles, we’d like to ask you some questions. Would that be alright?”

            Creak. Creak. Creak. The rocking chair rocked again. Ms. Higgins let out a quiet gasp. Jasper meowed. Raven heard his paws click softly against the hardwood floor. Raven slowly opened his eyes to see an elderly man in a blue and white flannel shirt and jeans rocking in the chair.

            “My mother used to rock us to sleep in this chair,” Charles said slowly. “Tell Ruth that. She remembers.”

            “That rocking chair was your mother’s,” Raven said without looking back at Mrs. Higgins. “She’d rock you in it.”

            Mrs. Higgins slowly walked up to her bed on the side closest to the creaking rocking chair and sat down.

            “And Jasper,” Charles continued. “Was born at my house.”

            “You got Jasper from Charles,” Raven said to Mrs. Higgins, who watched the chair rock hypnotically. “Why are you here Charles?”

            “To say goodbye to my sister,” He said. “We haven’t talked in years and I’ve been, well I’m on my death bed. Tell her Jacob is watching over her. He’s at peace. Just like I will be soon.”

            “Charlie; your brother,” Raven choked. “Came to say goodbye. He wants you to know that Jacob is here too.”

            Mrs. Higgins's weathered face grew dim, but her eyes stayed dry. “Charlie and I haven’t spoken in three years,” she said.

            “It’s okay,” Raven said. “You don’t need to explain it to me. I’m not a therapist.”

            “But I do! Because I need you to ask him something. It’s not going to make sense to you, but he’ll know what I mean.”

            “He can hear you. Talk to the rocking chair.” The rocking chair stopped rocking but Charles did not disappear.

            “Charlie, did you repent for what you did?”

            “Yes, Ruth I did. Tell her—tell her I repented to a priest and that I am truly sorry for what I did.”

            Raven repeated the message. Ruth Higgins began to sob.

† † †