Stitch (4 page)

7. Research

Alessa was flooded with relief as she climbed the steps to Zeta Epsilon Pi’s front porch.  Between the exam that morning and her lunchtime rendezvous with the ghost, she was wiped.  Her ethics seminar had dragged on interminably, and as she yawned and drooped in her chair, Alessa had found herself wishing she was back in one of those massive lecture halls so that she could sink into the crowd.

Instead, she had spent the entire class struggling to keep her eyes open in full view of her ethics professor, who quickly took notice given that there were only twenty or so students in the room.  Alessa had spent the better part of the last hour with the professor’s affronted expression boring through her and was glad to put the class behind her.  It felt good to be home at last.

As Alessa opened the front door, she noticed that there was a group of seven or so sorority sisters gathered around the coffee table in the living room.  They alternated between nodding furiously and looking intently at Lizzie’s laptop as she spoke rapidly about something, gesticulating enthusiastically as she went.  Alessa caught wind of the words “party” and “delegate” and quickly scurried up to her room before anyone noticed her presence.

Alessa switched on the light and flopped onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh.  It had been a long day.  At least she could expect a little respite before her next encounter with the ghost, since he didn’t seem to drop in more than once every other week or so.  With the way she was feeling at the moment, she thought she might need that much time to recover.  She ached with exhaustion right down to her bones.

Alessa rolled over facing the wall and pulled her knees toward her chest, her long hair strewn out behind her.  She rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes.  She still hadn’t fully processed everything that had happened earlier, the emotions that had tugged at her from seemingly every direction.  She wondered if there was any validity to Janie’s theory that they were actually the
ghost’s
emotions being projected onto her.

She didn’t want to think about it.  It was bad enough that she was
seeing
the apparition.  Did she really need to feel it too?  She didn’t like the idea of some foreign entity hijacking her emotions, making her feel like someone she wasn’t.  It was troubling to think how little control she had over her own faculties during those moments.  And now it was hours later and she was still feeling the effects.

She needed to get to the bottom of this.  With a weary sigh, Alessa rolled back over and swung her legs to the floor, pushing herself out of bed and over to the desk.  Sinking into the chair, she snatched up her backpack from the floor and slid out her laptop, dropping it onto the desk with a clunk.  She popped the lid open and reattached the power supply while she waited for the system to boot up.  Once the familiar startup chimes sounded, she opened her browser and navigated to a search engine.

Alessa wasn’t even sure where to begin.  She decided to start broad and entered “ghost stories.”  120 million results.  Perhaps she was going to need to be more specific.

This time she tried “real ghost stories.”  That narrowed it down to 5 million results.  She tested to see if adding “emotion” or “feeling” to her query would help, but scanning the results, she didn’t see anything that looked useful.  Alessa backed up to the “real ghost stories” search and randomly opened the first few results.

They were all stories from people who claimed to have experienced a ghost encounter, but the only emotions they reported feeling were the expected ones: that something was “not right,” like they weren’t alone, and of course terror, anxiety, panic.  It sounded pretty similar to Alessa’s first few experiences.

She tried entering “ghosts projecting feelings” which narrowed it down to 3 million results, but still nothing seemed quite right.  One of the top results was a general information page about ghosts, so she decided to check there.  Scanning the page, she noticed that the words “projecting” and “feelings” were there but nowhere near each other, which didn’t really answer her question.  However, there was a list of alternative hypotheses attempting to explain the existence of ghosts, so she decided to read further.

Of course there was all the usual theorizing about the existence of spirits on another dimension or plane, a soul caught between life on earth and the afterlife envisioned by most major religions.  This was generally thought to be caused by “unfinished business” on the part of the deceased or a great trauma experienced at the time of death.  Both scenarios seemed reasonable enough to explain her own experiences, though Alessa didn’t know enough about her ghost to guess what might have been his particular hang-up.  And another issue, of course, was that this entire theory hinged on the premise of being willing to accept the existence of the soul, which Alessa also wasn’t sold on quite yet.

As expected, there was also plenty of scientific skepticism.  Carbon monoxide poisoning, air pressure changes, and mistakes interpreting peripheral vision were all cited as rational explanations behind what one might interpret as a ghost sighting, but none of these rationalizations seemed to hit the mark in Alessa’s case.  Alessa remembered that she had cited many of these same arguments herself in debates with friends over the years, an irony that was not lost on her.

There was also some discussion of a phenomenon called infrasound, sound waves emanating at a low enough frequency that they’re inaudible to humans but still detectable in other ways.  There were experiments where people reported seeing things and feeling uneasiness and even sorrow when exposed to sound at these frequencies.  However, in those experiments 20% of the tested population was affected by the presence of infrasound, which meant that if there was some sort of infrasound source affecting her house, at least a handful of her housemates should have experienced something similar.  As far as Alessa knew, no one else had, so that didn’t seem like the culprit.

Other theories hypothesized that ghosts were projections of the viewer’s own emotions, some sort of low-level telepathy that resulted from stress.  Alessa thought this theory might have some merit, especially given the recent loss of her parents and her difficulty coping with the experience.  However, that didn’t explain why her emotions might take the form of a guy from the early 1900s.  Shouldn’t it be her parents she was seeing if in fact her stress over their death was the root of all this?

Yet another set of theories considered the possibility of a time warp.  In these cases, by some unknown process the fabric of time was momentarily folded in such a way that someone in the present either got a glimpse of a person from the past, or – in the case of what was called a “time slip” – was fully transported into the past for a few moments.  Besides the usual lost soul hypothesis, this theory seemed probably the closest of everything Alessa had read.  However, in most reported instances, the person in the past had noticed the person from the present as well, which had not been the case with Alessa’s ghost.  And even if this theory was correct, Alessa didn’t understand
how
it was possible or
why
it was happening to her, in this house, with this ghost.

Alessa closed her laptop lid in frustration, snapping it a little harder than she’d meant to.  All in all, she was disappointed with what she’d been able to turn up.   There was practically nothing she came across that she didn’t already know, and none of the various theories seemed to quite match her experiences.  Most of the information online seemed like it was written by either lunatics or dedicated skeptics, neither of whom she trusted for a reliable opinion.

Most troubling was the fact that she wasn’t able to find
anything
related to the emotional disturbance that had accompanied her recent encounters.  There were occasional stories about feeling sorrow or loneliness when bumping into a spirit, but nothing to the degree of what she had experienced, and certainly no inexplicable sense of allure in addition to the sadness and pain and fear.  She had truly expected to find
something
that might help explain what was going on, or at least accounts from other people who had experienced similar sensations.  Instead, her search had left Alessa feeling more alone than ever.

Glancing at the pile of textbooks on her desk, Alessa remembered the slowly accumulating mountain of reading that she had yet to tackle.  She didn’t even want to try to calculate the number of pages she had due in the next week.  Alessa weighed the possibility of powering through some text tonight, but the thought of delving into economics or physics or history was just more than she could bear at the moment.  The reading would have to wait.

Alessa grabbed a hair tie off the desk and pulled her locks into a low ponytail.  She slid open her closet and dug into a dresser drawer, fishing out a comfortable pair of old sweatpants and a cozy long sleeve tee.  Changing out of her jeans and sweater, she tossed the discarded clothes in the laundry bag then headed for the bathroom.

In the hallway she passed by a sophomore housemate that she’d barely traded ten words with all year.  Sara, was it?  Alessa wasn’t positive.  She forced a quiet smile, a gesture that maybe-Sara returned with a quick wave.  She seemed relieved not to have to make conversation, so Alessa continued on without breaking her stride.

Reaching the bathroom, Alessa was grateful to find that it was empty.  She washed her face in the second of the triple sinks, splashing cool water over her skin until it flushed with pink.  As the water dripped off her chin, she looked up at the mirror, locking sight with her own green and gold eyes.  Janie was right – she looked like shit.  She was glad she’d decided to get some rest tonight instead of trying to force the reading, which would surely have been an exercise in futility.

Alessa dried her face and hands on the fluffy towel she kept hung on a hook by the door and returned to the sink.  As she reached for her toothbrush, she heard footsteps approaching.  She considered forsaking dental hygiene for one night if it would allow her to avoid another awkward exchange with one of her sorority sisters.

It was Janie.  “Hey, Less.”

Alessa breathed a sigh of relief.  “Hey.”

Janie was wrapped in a towel and headed towards one of the shower stalls.  She closed the curtain behind her and flung her towel over the top of the stall as Alessa began brushing her teeth.  A moment after the shower started pattering against the floor, Janie let out a yelp.

Alessa spat a mouthful of foam into the sink basin.  “You okay in there?” she asked, glancing in the mirror toward the shower.

“I always forget how cold it is when you first turn it on.”

Alessa knew the feeling.  She finished brushing her teeth and rinsed her toothbrush.

After a short pause, Janie continued.  “So did you get a chance yet to look into my projection theory?”

Putting her toothbrush back in its holder, Alessa turned to face the shower curtain.  “I did actually.  It wasn’t very successful.”  Just thinking about her failed research attempt caused the frustration to well up in her stomach again.  “None of the stories I found involved anything as intense as what I’ve been experiencing.”

“No?” Janie prompted.

“Nah.  There were some people who said they would be overcome with feelings of loneliness or grief, but there was no mention of anyone simultaneously feeling…” Alessa hesitated.  She knew Janie was going to goad her for this.  “… attracted.”

Janie snorted.  “Figures.”  She thought for a moment.  “I don’t know what to tell you, Less.”  Alessa could hear the concern in her friend’s voice.  More playfully Janie added, “Well, maybe your
loins
know something you don’t.  Maybe this ghost was your lover in a past life or something, and just like muscle memory you’re
longing
for him with every cell in your body.  Except the ones in your brain, of course.”

Alessa shook her head and laughed, out of frustration as much as amusement.  Now that she was seeing ghosts, how could she just dismiss other possibilities?  Even reincarnation wasn’t out of the question.  “You know what, Janie?  At this point, I’m not ruling anything out.”

8. Expectation

Alessa had expected to be up half the night reliving her most recent encounter and mulling over the assortment of potential explanations.  But she surprised herself by slipping into the cool dark peace of slumber almost the instant her face struck the pillow.

Unfortunately, her peaceful repose did not last for long.  Halfway through the night she awoke in a cloud of anxiety, a pervasive sense of unease coloring the air around her.  She’d had another nightmare.

This time, instead of a dim prison cell she’d been outside on a brilliant winter morning, the chill air bracing against the cool sweat that dripped from her brow.  She was digging a hole, struggling to pierce the frozen ground as the harsh winter sun glared down on her back.  She felt weak and exhausted, her body fighting her every movement.  And hungry, so hungry.

“Need some help with that?”

She looked up to find a handsome young man, tall, strapping, with short chocolate hair and striking blue eyes.  He looked familiar, like someone she should know, but she couldn’t seem to place his face.  And he was breathtaking; though he approached her with affection and ease, Alessa’s heart pounded at the sight of him.

He took the shovel from her hands and plowed it into the ground, easily loosening the section of dirt that Alessa had been battling with.  Leaning over the shovel, he turned his back to the others working in the courtyard and dropped his voice low enough that only Alessa could hear.

“I have an assignment today.”

She felt her body react with alarm.  She didn’t understand why, but something about his statement rang of danger.

“What kind of assignment?”

“We’re stealing rations.  Everyone is hungry,” he glanced with concern over Alessa’s angular frame, “and we need to keep up our strength.  So we’re going this afternoon.”

Alessa didn’t like the sound of this.  She wished – not for the first time – that he hadn’t gotten involved with these people, regardless of how righteous their mission may be.

“Who’s we?” she asked, wondering who would be accompanying him during this harebrained scheme.

He motioned over his shoulder at another young man.  This one she recognized – it was her ghost.

“
Him?
”

“Yeah, why not?  He’s perfectly capable, and he’s been dying to get more involved.”

“But you’re supposed to be looking out for him!” she heard herself say.  “How can you put him in this kind of danger?”

He shot her a warning look.   Alessa lowered her voice before continuing.

“Has he done
anything
remotely this challenging before?”

Alessa could see the flash of doubt in his eyes, but only for a moment before he set his jaw.  “Listen, he needs to learn sometime.  I can’t hold him off anymore – he wants a part in this, and I can’t protect him forever.  Not to mention, I think it will make him feel better.”

“Better about what?” she hissed.  She still couldn’t believe he was going to go through with this.

He hesitated for a moment.  “I don’t know how to explain this to you.  He feels… responsible, for what happened.  For everything.  He thinks it’s his fault, what happened to our family.”

“What?  How does that make any sense?”

“It doesn’t, but nothing I can say will change his mind – trust me, I’ve tried.  He feels like he needs to prove himself, like he needs to make up for it somehow.  So I’m giving him the opportunity.”

Alessa’s head thrummed with apprehension – she had a very bad feeling about this – but she knew she couldn’t change his mind.  She stepped forward and grabbed hold of his shovel, locking her eyes with his.  “Just be careful.”

He smiled brightly, suddenly cocksure.  “You know I’ve got this.  Don’t even worry about it.”

His grin was meant to be reassuring, but Alessa knew better.  If there was one thing she’d learned here, it was that nothing was ever as it seemed – and there were no sure bets.

“Be careful,” she reiterated, the undercurrent of fear sharpening her voice.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he replied, intrepid as ever.  “Bring your appetite.”

Despite the sense of foreboding that had draped itself about her after that strange dream, Alessa had been able to fall back asleep, and the next morning she woke feeling rested and refreshed.  The prior day’s excitement – and the emotional toll it’d taken on her – seemed almost surreal.

After a solid night of sleep, Alessa’s muscles were eager for a little movement.  She indulged in a long feline stretch, finishing with a gratifying shiver as she rolled over to face the window.  Sunlight streamed through the windowpanes, catching on the countless little flecks of dust floating lazily through the air.  Alessa watched absently for a few moments, breathing deeply and enjoying the unseasonal brilliance of the sun.

She tossed the covers to the side and sat up, swinging her feet to the floor.  Sliding into her desk chair, she gave her email inbox a cursory glance, scanning the subject lines for anything that might be important.  As was usually the case, there wasn’t much there besides a lot of insubstantial chit-chat on her sorority’s discussion alias.  As she finished skimming the list of messages, a new one popped to the top of her inbox:

[Z-E-Pi Action Required] Party Prep Assignments!

Alessa groaned.  On her way into the house last night she’d thought she’d overheard Lizzie and Co. discussing a party, but she had been hoping she was wrong.  Now her suspicions were confirmed.

The last party Z-E-Pi threw over Halloween weekend had attracted a crowd of 300.  The house had been overrun with a rowdy jumble of drunken coeds decked out as everything from a bloody vampire to a sexy bumblebee.  By the end of the night, the acrid smell of vomit had wafted under the door of Alessa’s room all the way from the bathroom down the hall.  On that occasion Alessa had been stuck on cleanup duty.  The smell of stale beer still gave her flashbacks.

She made a quick decision to ignore the email and continue on with her day, rationalizing that she couldn’t possibly feel guilty for neglecting her “sisterly duties” if she didn’t know what they were.  If anyone asked, she’d just pretend she hadn’t seen the email yet.  Hopefully no one would ask.

The rest of Alessa’s day was unremarkable, as was the next.  She went to class and did her best to pay attention.  She chipped away at the bulk of the reading she’d amassed.  She checked in to see what Janie was up to every so often.  And whenever she found her mind unoccupied, her thoughts unfailingly drifted back to the ghost.

Her last encounter had been nothing short of disturbing, but after a couple of days, the unpleasantness had faded and she found herself anticipating her next opportunity to see the ghost.  Alessa knew that looking forward to that sort of harrowing emotional experience probably wasn’t healthy, but she couldn’t help herself.  If the encounters continued getting more and more intense, she couldn’t imagine the toll it might take on her, but it was no use trying to resist.  Alessa’s curiosity had overtaken her sense of self-preservation.

She’d been meaning to make it back to the library to finish the search for the house’s previous inhabitants, but had yet to find the time.  William, Isaac, Albert… Alessa rolled their names on her tongue, wondering if her ghost was one of them.  At this point, all she really had to go on to narrow down the time period was the style of his clothes, and it seemed to her like any of them could be a fit.  Albert was probably a stretch given that the records showed he’d survived well past his teenage years, but she was still hesitant to cross anyone off her list just yet. And then there were the remaining volumes of records to consider.  Who knew how many other potential names she might uncover?

Once she had compiled a list of possibilities, she planned to research each one to see if she could discover the manner of each person’s death or any other major events in their lives.  If there was anything traumatic, she hoped the library might have some old local newspapers documenting what had happened.  It was probably a longshot, though.  In all likelihood, she would leave this experience knowing exactly as much as she did coming in, which was nothing.  Alessa couldn’t imagine anything more demoralizing.

After a busy Thursday attending physics and ethics class and cramming reading for world history and econ in between, Alessa was back in her room preparing for bed.  She heard a quick knock on her door and a bright voice asking, “Alessa?  Are you there?”

Alessa sighed.  It was Lizzie Green.  Her time on the lam had come to an end.  “Yeah, come on in,” Alessa called out.

“Hey Alessa!”

“Hey Lizzie.”  Alessa was already dreading the next part of the conversation.

“So, you haven’t stopped by yet to pick up your flyers for the party…”

Alessa put on her best befuddled face.  “My what for the what?”

Lizzie hardened.  She didn’t look amused.  “Your flyers?  For the big anniversary party on Saturday?  Didn’t you see the email that went out yesterday morning?”

“Oh…” Alessa paused and pretended to think for a moment.  “I guess not?  Sorry.”

Lizzie’s expression softened, though she was still grimacing.  It was clear that she was making an effort to be nice.  Alessa assumed that for someone who was used to being listened to, it must be difficult to feel ignored.  She decided to be more compliant.  She didn’t really have a choice, anyway.

Lizzie continued.  “Okay, well, you must have missed it, no worries…  You were assigned to marketing duty this time, so there’s a bunch of flyers that we need you to hand out and hang up around campus.  Preferably tomorrow,” she added.  She extended a stack of brightly colored paper towards Alessa.

Help the Girls of Z-E-Pi Ring In

40 Fabulous Years!

Party at the Chapter House

Saturday @ 10 PM

Alessa looked up from the flyers and smiled at Lizzie.  “Okay, no problem.  I should be able to take care of it in between class tomorrow – I have a light schedule, just a lab and a lecture.”  She would have preferred to go back to the library and continue her research, but decided to keep her reservations to herself.

“Ok great!  Thanks for your help.”  Lizzie beamed her million dollar smile and headed for the door.  She paused before exiting.  “Oh, and Alessa?  Remember to recruit lots of boys. 
Cute
boys.”

“Sure.”  Alessa breathed a sigh of relief as Lizzie closed the door.  That wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d expected.  On the spectrum of party prep assignments, flyer duty was about as good as it could get.  Nothing heavy to lug, no money to spend, and no chunks of puke to pick out of the carpet and couch cushions.  Given Alessa’s surly temperament towards most of the girls in the house, she had expected to get sallied with something on the lower end of the spectrum, if not clean-up again, at least something cumbersome like transporting the keg.  Flyers she could handle.

Alessa put the stack of paper in her backpack along with a stapler and some tape, then promptly crawled into bed and drifted off to sleep.

Alessa woke with a start.  Frantic, she gasped for air as her eyes struggled to focus in the dark.  What is this place?  Alessa searched her mind, the strange surroundings taking their time to resolve.  The mantle, the desk, the bedspread… she was in her room at school.  She glanced at the clock – 3:47 AM.  It was only a dream.

She was in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, her heart still pounding against her chest.  She wiped the tears from her face and tried to get a grip on her emotions as fear and panic continued to surge through her body.  She felt vigilant, ready to jump at a moment’s notice.  What had she been so afraid of?

Alessa could feel the tendrils of the dream slipping back into her subconscious, even as she strained to weave them together into a cohesive whole once more.  She felt like she was looking through a fog.  She remembered being crouched in some small dark place, hiding, the feel of cold metal seeping through the thin leg of her pants.  She wasn’t alone.  She was holding someone’s hand, clutching it, not daring to breath.  She knew they were being stalked.

Who was hunting them?  She couldn’t remember.  Boot steps…  She remembered the sound of boot steps approaching their hiding place.  She remembered panic welling up in her chest, tingling in her fingertips, her muscles taut and ready to spring.  She remembered regret, thinking of the sturdy knife stored inaccessibly in her knapsack, the hopelessness of fighting.  Most of all she remembered dread.  She knew that if she was caught, it would be the end.

Finally she recalled the light, a bright dazzling light suddenly filling the alcove, blinding her.  She remembered a dark gloved hand emerging through the light, snatching at her, at him.  Him…  The ghost!  But not a ghost – he was alive, next to her, grasping her hand in the same grip of terror as the gloved arm reached for them.

What happened next? The dream was slipping… The images frosted over in her mind and she could feel them sliding from her grasp.  They had grabbed him, yanked him from her side.  She knew it was over.  She couldn’t face what came next.  A crushing sorrow descended on her, the tears streaming down her face.  And then she had woken up.