The Return of a Friend
By Regalo3000
REPORT TO BUCKAROO
FROM SLOW MOTION:
It was the scream that had woke everybody up that night. A woman's scream. Security came running, pushing itself past the crowd of students that had gathered outside the young lady's room. Once inside they asked the same questions the other students had asked, but the woman would not cooperate. She was so afraid she could not speak. It was one of her fellow students that had answered the question: She saw a ghost.
The young lady in question shall go unnamed. She has since left the Banzai Institute. As to her condition since her departure I'll leave that for another to report. I only hope that she is well and being given the proper treatment after so close an encounter with the paranormal. Most people if they were to come face to face with an apparition would react the way she had, with fear.
The description she later gave of the ghostly figure that appeared in her bedroom led me to believe that the apparition in question might be my old college buddy R.W.J. Stanton whom I had no other choice but to shoot defending your very life on a sorrowful day so long ago. I took great pains in learning all I could about ghosts, studying books, reading articles, upon great hope that he might appear yet again. But, he did not. It wasn't until the second incident that I was able to gather enough information to begin seeing a pattern to his movements.
The corridor where he appeared first to the young lady was very near the corridor where he died. The second visitation took place near the filing cabinets where he was killed. Numerous drawers had been opened and a student saw him very clearly standing there looking sad and looking through files. During the final insane days of his life he had been under the impression that the BB Institute had been spying on him and had a file on him. This gave me an idea.
Both visitations had taken place on the anniversay of his death, so we would have to wait an entire year before he would appear again. On the third anniversary we were ready. Reno and I had written a script and memorized it. What follows is the actual script that we enacted on the third annivarsary of Stanton's death ... of course the Institute was completely emptied except for Reno and myself.
(At the exact hour of Stanton's death we enter the corridor of death and begin talking normally, calmly, as if nothing is amiss)
SM: Gosh, every time I walk down this corridor, it reminds me of that day.
RENO: Does it still bother you?
SM: Oh, yes. It does. Greatly. I didn't want to kill Stanton, but he forced my hand. I mean, he was crazy and Buckaroo was in danger. I hesitated for too long then I only had seconds to decide. If he were here today I would tell him how sorry I was for killing him.
RENO: But he's dead and it's too late. He'll never hear you say these things.
SM: Yeah, it's too bad.
RENO: What was he looking for that day? You know, when he had Mrs. Johnson hostage.
SM: A file. A file on him that doesn't exist.
RENO: But one did exist, I mean, it does exist.
SM: You're kidding me.
RENO: No, do you want to see it?
SM: Sure.
RENO: Come with me.
SM: Okay.
(We walk up to a cabinet and Reno looks through a bottom drawer where we have planted a newly written fresh profile on Stanton. He hands it to me. The file should contain a photograph of the man and a profile, nothing too complex, nothing too thought-provoking so as to make the spirit angry)
SM: R. W. J. Stanton. A man saddened by the loss of a great love.
(I close the file quickly) We must burn this!
RENO: Let's shred it.
SM: No, it has to be burned. We have to perform a ceremony. It's the least we can do for him. The poor man.
RENO: Okay. When and where.
(We go outside to the lawn and gather some twigs. A small clearing with nothing but dirt shall be prepared. We light a fire. I give a speech)
SM: I never hated Stanton. I also never knew him very well. He didn't let people get to know him, and that was the saddest thing of all. He may have been strange but, you know, he was a believer in love. He just didn't understand that love can be a fickle thing. Someone can love you one minute and hate you the next. That's just the way life is. I give this folder to the fire. Let no one ever see its contents again. Goodbye, Stanton, wherever you are. Good luck. I hope you find a better place in the afterlife, cause this world was never meant for someone as special as you.
(I toss the file into the fire)
RENO: Amen.
(We stand in silence for a while then we leave the Institute. The Institute remains empty for several days, and then and only then should the students be allowed to return)
On the fourth anniversary there was no sighting at all. Here ends my report.
Signed: Slow Motion.
