Befriending Ghosts

by

John A. Eyon

While Tom Hansen sleeps, his wife, Jill, sits up in the bed in the darkened room. Her legs are drawn up and she clutches them to herself, her chin resting on her knees, her eyes wide, peering into the darkened hallway. Intermittently, she can make out soft moans and crying from their daughter, Stephanie. Suddenly, Jill's head jerks up. She reaches over to her husband and shoves him frantically, screaming in a tight, high-pitched voice, "Tom! Tom! Wake up!"

Tom starts, raises his head from his pillow, "Huh?"

He notices the direction of Jill's gaze and stares into the blackness of the hall.

"See?" Jill cries, looking down at him, her eyes wide with terror. "Don't you see?"

"Don't see nothin'" mumbles Tom and shoves the blanket aside in order to rise from bed, while reaching for the nightstand lamp. But, Jill is already to her feet and scurrying to the door.

"Stephanie?" she cries. "Stephanie!"

"Mommy!"

As Tom arrives at the door to the hallway, he watches Jill run down the hall towards their daughter's bedroom. Part way down the hall, Jill slows with a sob and ducks to the side of the hall as if she is avoiding something then hurries on and disappears into Stephanie's room. He walks to the bedroom looking about, not seeing anything, and enters to find the two of them in each other's arms, sobbing.

"I told you!" Jill yells at him savagely. "You saw it--didn't you? You saw it?!"

But Tom stands dumbly.

***

It was the Wednesday custom for Tom and his coworkers to convene at their favorite tavern and loosen their tongues. Tom shouldn't have been as surprised at himself as he was when he heard himself blurting, "My house is haunted."

The sudden silence of his table companions alerted him to his indiscretion. He peered around and met five staring faces. His eyes narrowed at the young, bearded fellow sitting across the table from him. This one was new--a friend of one of the coworkers, visiting from San Jose, named Bill Liebert. It was his involvement in parapsychology that was the topic of the moment, that provoked Tom's unwitting revelation.

"Well, my wife and kid claim to have seen a ghost walking down the hallway at night--but I've never seen it," Tom said as he his hand waved a dismissive gesture.

"You've never seen nor heard anything suspicious?" the young man asked him.

Tom shook his head, his mind tripping and stumbling in an effort to extricate himself from the uncomfortable center of this conversation.

"Do you believe in ghosts? The possibility...?" the young man asked.

"Nah!" Tom spat out, scrunching-up his face and emphatically shaking his head.

Some of his companions chuckled at this, some nodded. A sense of relief spread through Tom. He felt he had the situation in hand now, and that he could turn the conversation to something less sensitive.

But before he or anyone else could say something, Liebert leaned on the table towards Tom and asked, "May I talk to your wife and child...tonite? I'm taking a flight out tonite. So could I see them tonite ... before I leave?"

"Why? Whatcha gonna do?"

"Help them. Help you."

"How? Why do ya think we need your help?"

"I'm sorry. I'm guess I'm being presumptuous. I just thought they--your wife and child--were maybe frightened."

Tom, with a grim expression nodded his head absent-mindedly.

Liebert continued, "Do you know what I do? I'm a psychologist, actually. A consultant with a little practice helping people with minor problems. I began a study of the paranormal on the side. Mainly to find out if there really are such things. I know how you feel. I also know that your family is ... probably ... unsettled. So, maybe I can help your family and gather more data at the same time. Well?"

***

The anxiety in the air was immediately apparent to the psychologist when they entered the house. Jill greeted him shyly. The daughter, seated in the living room in front of the television, nodded at him in greeting then turned her attention back to the TV program.

"I think I should tell you about myself," Liebert began.

"Can you help? Can you get rid of the ghost?" blurted out Jill.

"Ah...Jill," interjected her husband with a nervous laugh. "We don't even know if there really is a ghost."

"You do believe we have seen one, don't you?" Jill asked turning to Liebert with a horrified look. "You aren't going to try to tell us we didn't see what we saw? When Tom called, he said he was bringing home a parapsychologist. Someone who could help us."

"Yes. Yes. Yes." insisted Liebert, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Yes, I believe you. And I work with parapsychologists. And I want to help you."

The husband glanced darkly at Liebert and shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.

Liebert continued, "Actually, I'm a psychologist. And I can help you deal with the situation using the tools of my practice. But, first show me where you saw this thing."

Jill lead Liebert upstairs to the hallway, with Tom and Stephanie following behind. Pointing to one end of the hallway, she nervously describing the ghost and the path it took.

"Just all of a sudden it began appearing. A couple of weeks ago. I--and Stephanie--began hearing these sounds late at night. We didn't see anything then. But we heard shuffling sounds. And we sensed it, didn't we Stephanie?

Stephanie, standing under her father's arm, nodded.

"Only a couple nights ago, we saw it for the first time."

Jill's voice cracked and put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, then she abruptly headed back down the hall to the stairs saying, "I don't want to stay in this house anymore. Stephanie and I will go to a hotel or something. But we're not going to stay here overnight anymore?"

Tom glanced at Liebert expectedly, then, with Stephanie under his arm, started after Jill. Liebert followed, his hands in his coat pockets and head bowed in thought. They all arrived at the living room and everyone but Liebert sat down.

"Have you ever been hypnotized?" Liebert asked looking at Jill.

Jill shook her head.

"Why don't I see the damn thing?" Tom interjected.

"Yes. Why doesn't he see it, too?" Jill asked.

"It could be that you and Stephanie are more sensitive to the paranormal. Tom, for some reason, is not...not in tune."

Tom made a face and said, "Can't it be that they're having hallucinations?"

"Both of us? The same one?" cried Jill.

"Yeah. Well, maybe you planted the idea in Stephanie's mind," retorted Tom.

"Hold it! Now, wait a minute," consoled Liebert.

After a moment for cooling off, Liebert continued, "I'm not an investigator. I don't have the equipment nor the psychic ability to look into the question of whether it's real or not. But I can help in another way. Remember? I'm a psychologist. I can help you, as a temporary solution, control your fears. Until we can deal with the ghost, that is. Until it can be exorcised, if that's necessary. When I get back to San Jose, I can contact the appropriate people who'll come here to help you in that respect."

The husband groaned.

Liebert continued, "You've never been hypnotized, you said?"

Jill shook her head.

"I haven't either," Tom said without being asked.

"Me neither," cried out Stephanie, raising her hand as if in school.

"Would you like to be?" Liebert said to her and she nodded excitedly.

"Then let's test your ability," Liebert said turn to Jill who looked a little puzzled. "Stand up, please. You too, Stephanie. You may, if you want to," he said looking at Tom, "But, there's no need to hypnotize you."

So Tom remained seated as his wife and daughter rose from their chairs. In the meantime, Liebert went around the room turning off lights and turning some back on until he seemed satisfied with the lighting.

"Maybe you could join us, Tom ... just for this testing part."

Puzzled, Tom stood up. They were told to close their eyes. Then, they were told to imagine that their right hand and arm were as light as air and were not affected by gravity. Liebert repeated this in many different ways. Liebert noted the subtle tension in Tom's arms as it remained down at his side. But, Jill's and Stephanie's were lifted high in the air, towards the ceiling. Liebert told them to open their eyes and notice their arm positions. Tom grunted at his lowered hand, but seemed surprised when he noticed the raised positions of Jill and Stephanie. He sat down sourly. Jill and Stephanie were startled at what happened to them. Stephanie seemed particularly delighted.

"You two will make good subjects for hypnosis," Liebert said. After noting their surprised and pleased expressions, he said, "Please sit down."

"Sit comfortably. Feet flat on the floor, Jill. Hands on your lap or resting comfortably on the armrest or in your lap, whichever is more comfortable. Relax. Now take a deep breath."

Tom looked on skeptically. Liebert spent some time counting down and telling the subjects that they were going into a deep trance. Tom acknowledged that they did look very relaxed, but nothing was being said or done that was out-of-the-ordinary. Just normal talk, everyday words, but in a quiet, monotone voice. It was hard to figure how anything could really be accomplished. Then, he realized that Liebert had changed his topic.

"Our studies in San Jose have found that ghosts do not hurt people. It's the people who have been terrified of ghost stories, who scare themselves, and hurt themselves. Our studies have found that it is only in movies or storytelling that ghosts terrorize people. It's only in stories that people have made up. All confirmed ghostly sightings have resulted in no harm. No injury. No death. Now why would ghosts want to hurt people? Ghosts are simply lost souls, unable to find their way to the afterworld. We should pity them--not fear them.

"You are not afraid right now, are you? We are here together, as a group. Try to imagine that you see the ghost. When you can picture that ghost, when you sense the fear, take a deep breath. Release it slowly. Relax and remember this: ghosts are poor, lost souls to be pitied."

This tact startled Tom and he almost uttered something aloud but managed to control himself in time. He settled back into his chair as Liebert continued in this vein for awhile. Then, he was startled again.

"I want you to imagine a protector. A large, ghostly guardian. Think of someone--some hero you've heard about who is no longer alive. Someone big and strong and fearless who'll stand guard for you at all times. Give him a name. The next see this pitiful ghost, call your protector and he'll appear beside you. Even though you know the ghost is harmless, you'll always feel much more safe and secure with your protector right there."

After repeating and refining these instructions, Liebert counted down again, explaining in measured tones that he was taking them deeper into the trance, then added, "The next time you encounter a ghost, you will take a deep breath--take a deep breath now--and, as you exhale, you will relax and call your protector, and you will remember that ghosts are harmless.

"I'm going to count from five to one. When I reach the count of one, you will open your eyes."

***

It was a rush get to the airport in time for Liebert to catch his flight. They didn't speak for long stretches.

Liebert finally broke the silence, "I don't know when someone can get to you to investigate your ghost properly."

Tom shrugged.

Liebert added, "I only hope the one induction works on your wife and daughter. I wish I had more time to reinforce it."

"Do you really think that--what you've done--is going to help? Fighting ghosts with hypnotism. Geez! I thought you were gonna make them see the light. That you'd prove there really wasn't a ghost or somethin' like that. Now you've got 'em..."

"Do you think that by contradicting someone you can convince them?" Liebert said. "If someone told you that you were wrong, so wise up, would you change your mind?"

Hansen said, "Do you really believe all that you said?"

"Okay, I don't know whether ghosts are real or not. But your wife and daughter do. And I believe that if ghosts are real, they are harmless. Most of the injury we have seen has actually come from the terror..."

"Yeah, you said that already," interrupted Tom.

Liebert continued, "I do know, though, that our minds are tremendously powerful. All I did was have your wife and daughter harness that power in the form of a protector. And I had them change their attitude from fear to sympathy. But, one time is sometimes not enough. You need to reinforce these things.

"If it doesn't do the job, I hope you remove them from the house. But I guess I don't need to tell you that. They're sure to leave themselves--with or without you."

"You've been a big help," Hansen said sarcastically as he pulled into the curb in front of the airport. He watched as Liebert got out and retrieve his luggage from the back seat.

Before closing the door Liebert said, "Someone from the parapsychology lab will get in touch with you about the investigation soon, I hope. I hope I did some good. Thank you and goodbye."

"We'll see," Hansen said. He waved his hand as Liebert closed the car door. He then uttered a one-word comment as he pulled away from the curb which Liebert, to his amusement, clearly read on Hansen's lips.

***

While her husband lies on his side, snoring contentedly, Jill sits up in bed, clutching her pillow to her chest, half burying her face in it, he eyes peeping over the top towards the hallway. Her breaths are shallow and panicky. Then, slowly she straightens her back. She takes a deep, slow breath. Her eyes close. Her grip on the pillow relaxes. After a few breaths, she whispers "Lancelot," then opens her eyes. She glances to her side, her eyes traveling upward.

"Come on," she says in a hushed voice, and she slips quickly from the bed and walks to the hall. At the doorway, she looks down the hall and sees Stephanie standing nonchalantly at her bedroom door. Stephanie waves to her, then stiffens as she glances past her down the hall. The little girl quickly regains her composure. Glancing back into her room, she beckons to someone within, then starts down the hall. She glances up at her mother as she passes, her face a mixture of fear and excitement. She boldly approaches the familiar shadowy figure and starts talking quietly. Jill strains to hear. "Poor ghost," is all that she could clearly make out.

THE END

A practice story written so many years ago I can't remember when. I've never submitted it to be published, altho a couple friends who read the story recommended that. For some reason, I don't rate it highly. Maybe because it has many elements in common with another practice story written earlier. (I notice my stories seem simply to be a variation of the previous ones.)

Copyright 2003 by John A. Eyon