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�I didn�t write that,� Francis said loudly, �I definitely didn�t write that!�
There was a loud thud somewhere in the house- it sounded like it came from the bedroom. The wind whistled through the trees. Branches beat against the house. Francis� heart pounded as he ran back to his bedroom. He ran through the doorway- and then jumped back with a yelp of surprise. There was a woman standing on the opposite side of the room, beside the dresser. It was the crying woman from before. She was still crying. Francis was frozen with shock.
�Se�or,� the woman said quietly, �I-I�need help�find�� She broke off, sobbing.
Francis shut his eyes tight. Don�t look, he told himself, don�t look at it and it will go away. The wind picked up suddenly, and then died. Francis opened his eyes. The woman was gone.
�What was that?� he whispered shakily. Then, when he was finally able to move again, he went back to look at the paper.
�If it�s still there,� Francis was saying, �then I know I�m not crazy and something really is wrong here, which may or may not be a good thing, I haven�t decided yet�� He was beginning to sound hysterical. And there it was, the paper, with the message: �Me llamo Julia. �Y t�?�
�Hi, Julia, my name�s Francis,� he said with a sigh of frustration. �What do you want from me?�
Francis came to a few conclusions that night (he had plenty of time, as he was unable to sleep):
1. He wasn�t crazy.
2. Something really was wrong there.
3. His house was haunted- whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Francis believed that, after an event like that, any rational person�s thoughts would have turned to ghosts.
�I don�t believe in ghosts,� he said, �but that was a ghost. It�s the only thing that makes sense- even though it makes no sense. Hallucinations can�t write- but maybe ghosts can�t either, I don�t know�� He took a deep breath and continued. �But that�s what I�m running with for now. So I have a ghost named Julia. How nice. Maybe she can cook.� He laughed to try to take the edge off, but it was no use. He looked down at his hands. They were still shaking.
Try to rationalize it, Francis thought. Always a reasonable explanation. �Okay, her name�s Julia, she�s lost, needs help, and she�s very upset about it. And I am�not afraid, not nervous, I am calm, focused, relaxed. Gonna get through this.� His mind was racing. �Gotta be a reasonable explanation.�
And then it hit him- the story of the woman whose husband had died. He yelled loudly, something that may or may not have been a word, and pointed at something that was really nothing.
�The woman!� he cried. �From the story! The one who disappeared after her husband died! That�s her! She got lost, I guess, and now she needs help. That�s it! That makes sense!�
Of course, Francis was fully aware that that made no sense. But still- they had told him that story when he bought the house, so there must be some truth behind it, right? And that was all he could think of that fit at all (at least in his mind). That�s good, he told himself, that�s something. And at least I know I�m not going crazy- it�s just a ghost. That I can deal with.
�So,� Francis said, �I just need to wait for her to come back. Then I can help her and she�ll leave me alone. That�s easy enough.�
Chapter 5
Francis became aware that it was morning when he almost went blind. After his �paranormal experience�, he had put on every light in the house. Then, when the sun came up- it was like being trapped in a bug zapper.
�I don�t think I should have to go to work today,� Francis said to himself as he waited for the cab to arrive that Tuesday morning. �Isn�t there an excuse for this? I�ll call in, �Yeah, I can�t come in today. I need to stay home to wait for a ghost lady that I need to help so she�ll go away.� That�s perfectly valid.� He realized that wasn�t such a good idea. Man, what is happening to me? Francis thought. I can�t believe I�m even thinking this.
Francis wallowed in sleep deprivation-induced self-pity until his taxi arrived. On time as usual, he thought. I was kind of hoping he wouldn�t show up.
Francis had a terrible day at work- even more so than usual. The phone didn�t seem to want to stop ringing. And that line they made him use when he answered it- �Thank you for calling Perfect Day Graphic Designing. This is Francis Parker. How may I help you?�- he laughed bitterly at the irony of the situation. It�s a perfect day, all right, he thought. Another perfect day at Perfect Day.
When Francis arrived home that evening, he made himself a sandwich (cheese and cheese- the ultimate in comfort food) and promptly parked himself on the sofa. He sat in complete silence, not wanting to be disturbed while he was on �ghost patrol�. As usual, he was bored in five minutes (actually, it was more like four minutes, which was a new record) and turned on the television. The 6:00 news was just starting.
�I don�t want to watch this,� Francis said. �I�m already in a rotten mood.�
