Do You Believe - Part One

   This is a true story and it started seven nights ago.

   Every time I was sleeping for a couple of hours someone or something would wake me up.

   The first three nights I was awaken by a unfamiliar woman's voice calling out my name so loud that I would sit up in bed, look around, and ask, "Who's there?" But no one ever replied to my query.

   The forth night I heard a crashing sound, as if something was knock off my bathroom sink, shattering onto the ceramic floor. Sitting up quickly, I looked for the broken pieces, but there was nothing there.

   Of course on the fifth night it took a lot longer for me to fall asleep, but once I did, it didn't take long for a male voice to call out to wake me up.

   "Hey mon. Wake up."

   Before I opened up my eyes, I knew that my phone was sitting on the night stand right next to my bed, so I planned what I was going to do next.

   I half jump out of bed, immediately grabbed for my phone, looked at my assailant to show him that I was calling the police and pressed the numbers; 9-1-...

   I was frozen in place. Sitting on a bedroom chair was a, Rastafarian. A see-through Rastafarian, but a Rastafarian nonetheless.

   He had the rainbow color hat on, the long braided dreadlocks, a neatly trimmed beard, and a dovetail ganja joint hanging from his lips.

   "Who are you? What do you want?" I finally got up the nerve to ask.

   He blows a small cloud of smoke straight up into the air and asked, "What mon? You don't know who I am? Have I been gone that long?"

   "Well, to me, you look a lot like Bob Marley,"

   "Ha ha," he laughs joyously, "Right you are mon. I am Bob Marley." He takes a long drag on his joint, smiling triumphantly.

   "Why are you here," I ask, while wondering why his joint isn't stinking up the place.

    "I'm here because you need me mon. You need me to show you the why and wherefore of your past, present, and future." he says while blowing smoke.

   "What a minute," I say a little confused. "Isn't that Jacob Marley's job? And why would the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future come to visit me? I'm not some crazy, greedy billionaire, who hordes all his money and laughs at the suffering of others. I'm just me."

   "You read too many books mon." and blows a huge cloud of smoke my way, which encompasses me completely.

 

   To Be Continued...

 

This is,

Do You Believe In Ghosts?

Well I Do!

Jim Hauenstein

 

And

 

“The ghosts of things that never happened are worse than the ghosts of things that did.” - L.M. Montgomery -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

 

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I'll be seeing you

 

I haven't written the next part yet

so each one will probably be posted a few days apart

Thanks again