The day I moved into the lovely old house, was one of the best days of my life, I was elated. Even though it needed some work, it was perfect, the house was built a, good distance from the road, away from noisy neighbors, it was just what I wanted, secluded and quite. Being a writer, I needed no distractions. Tomorrow, I would start to unpack, I had taken out fresh sheets earlier today. I was ready for bed, as I drifted off, I thought about all that had to be done. Sometime later, I was awakened by a strange voice, it was barely audible, I could not make it out, I thought I was dreaming, then the voice got louder, it was a man's voice, it seemed to be saying, "write the story", I turned on the light, no one was there, turning off the light, pulling the blanket over my head, I finally fell asleep. I was awake at dawn, I jumped out of bed, grabbed my red velvet robe, tied it snugly around my waist, heading down the stairs to make some coffee. Sitting at the big oak table, I looked around my kitchen as I sipped my coffee. It was small and cozy, I could hardly wait to decorate, then I heard the voice again, loud and clear, "write the story", I knew, I must go to the computer room, feeling a little frightened, I sat down at my desk and turned on the computer, what did he want me to write, was I hearing the voice of a ghost? The voice said, I will help you. I placed my fingers on the keypad, instantly they began to type, having a will of their own, what is going on, I thought, I had been here like this for hours, I wanted to stop, but I could not move. After three or four hours, the story was finished, my fingers stopped, I went to make a sandwich, I was almost finished eating, when the voice said, "you must read the story", sometime today. Go get some sleep, I will wake you soon, I did not argue. Two hours later, I was awakened by the voice, Get up and read the story, I did as he said, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a cup of cold coffee, on the way to my desk. Slowly I began to read. My name is David, I lived in this house ninety-three years ago, yes, I am a ghost. My wife and her lover, killed me and buried the body in the back yard, under the elm tree, buried with me are my poems, I want you to dig up my body and retrieve my poems. I have many poem, I would like you to read them. My wife and her lover got away with murder, please don't let them get away with with the death of my poems. Tears were streaming down my face, as I finished reading his words. I went outside, grabbed a shovel, started digging by the elm. I had been digging for some time, before the shovel struck something, I do not know where I got the strength to keep digging, finally, I uncovered a casket, made of wood, I bent down and opened the lid, laying in the casket, were David's bones. I reached underneath him, I pulled out the poems, securely wrapped in a burlap bag. I closed the lid to the casket and went inside. I carefully removed the poems from the bag. They were still intact, I started to read, I was mesmerized, they were the most breath- taking poems, I had ever read, The voice said, thank you Lisa, for saving my poems, I simply said, no problem, I was thinking, I will have to listen to David's voice, for a long time to come, I really don't mind.

Copyright © 2004 lois thurman