Resurrection ((BigBubbleHead))

[Chessie]

http://i530.photobucket.com/albums/dd346/Scsimaginatives/69360b7f-1262-4496-800b-e5ed5427e0b6_zpsa24e2efa.jpg​

All Lucinda could remember, was those final moments. The arguement that had gone so horribly wrong. From being mildly annoyed, to full out yelling. The hateful things he'd said. The revelation that he'd been cheating. Their impending nupitals, now a shattered dream. How could he do this? She'd roared at him. He'd pushed her back to get her away from him. That final and lingering moment, as she watched him in slow motion as she'd decended the stairs backwards. The look of horror on his face as she'd fallen.

Then nothing.

There were other things she remembered too. Not such unpleasant things. Lucinda seemed to have retained all of her memory. Child hood things like playing at the park with her friends. First boyfriends, and puppy love. The feel of the sun on her skin in the summer. The taste of icecream and chocolate. The summer grass between her toes. All things that she mourned, now that she fully understood. She was stuck here. To live out that awful 10 minutes, over and over again.

Lucinda didn't know how long she'd been stuck here. Or how long she was supposed to stay. What she needed to do to end this eternal reminisence. Apparently this limbo wasn't met with someone holding instructions. It seemed like years. Though it could have been months. Time had ceased to exist, and she'd stopped counting the nights, when she lost track and got so horribly tangled up in them. And then it would start again. Her accusing words, the hate in his eyes. His confession and her reaction. His arm shooting out towards her, and her descent. Falling, always falling. Only to start again.

When she wasnt' falling, Lucinda had taken to exploring. Looking at her things, cherishing the ones that remained. One day, two men she didn't recognise came to take a large amount of stuff away. She'd been scared then. Hiding in the shadows. Then indignant as they'd taken her cherished belongings. Trying to stop them, only to have them walk right through her. Oblivious to her cries. Then they were gone again. With little consequence. Leaving the house empty. Leaving her all alone. With nothing but her torturous memories.

She had to have died. it was the only logical explanation. She couldn't seem to leave. Try as she might. Lucinda had spent an entire day trying to push herself through the door, or the windows. Even the walls.. that was what ghosts did wasn't it? But to no avail . She simply was stuck.. to wander around aimlessly. With no need or wants. But she craved. Oh how she craved! Connection. Contact. She missed talking and laughing. Missed walking outside.

Missed living.

 

[BigBubblehead]

"But someone ... died ... here," Skip struggled to get out, straining as he followed his friend into the house, the lighter yet still heavy end of the entertainment center in his hands. "Not just died ... was murdered!"

The more muscular of the two men -- barely even straining -- laughed. "It wasn't murder. It was manslaughter, and he didn't even get time."

"Chuck! He only got off because he claimed he tried to catch her!"

"Doesn't matter," the big man said, leading them to the living room's far wall. "No one wanted the house ... it was cheap ... I got it ... end of story."

They spent the next hour or so emptying the U-Haul, with Skip continuing to chatter on about the creepy feeling he got just being in there and Chuck laughing about how the story of living in a haunted house was going to score him so many chicks down at the bar.

"Haunted?" Skip asked with an obviously doubtful tone.

"Haunted. When you climb the stairs, you can feel that dead woman's ghost pass through your body. You know, that's where she died."

Skip stared for a moment, then laughed. "Bull shit!"

Chuck pointed at the stairs and said, "Take a hike."

Skip laughed again, then turned and headed to the stairs. He stopped at the bottom, staring upwards. She died right here, he thought, his eyes climbing the stairs one step at a time. Right here ... bounce, bounce, bounce...

A chill ran up his spine -- and then, as Chuck slapped a hand upon his shoulder and hollered Boo!, he nearly jumped out of his shoes. He shrugged off his friends hand and headed for the still open front door, snapping, "Not funny. Let's finish up."

They were done in less than an hour -- Chuck's Ex-girlfriend had kept most of his stuff -- and were sitting on the floor against the wall having beers when Skip looked to the stairway again. "I wonder what she was like ... the dead woman."

"I know what she looked like," Chuck said, leaning to his left to retrieve a framed picture. "Found it behind the book case that was left behind. Musta fallen off the wall and slid down."

"She's beautiful," Skip mused.

"I'd do her," Chuck said, dragging on his beer. When his friend called his crude, he laughed and added with a great laugh, "Do her often and do her hard."

They finished a last couple of tasks, made their farewells, and Skip headed out, taking one last look at the stair case before closing the door behind him. He was glad he wasn't the one living here. He didn't think he could ascend that set of steps day in, day out without thinking of that poor woman being pushed down the case. And now, having seen a picture of her -- of how beautiful she was -- he didn't ever want to go to the second floor.

Chuck retrieved another beer and was heading for the stairs when he caught sight of the picture sitting atop a box. He picked it up, stared at the woman's face and, particularly, her breasts, then imagined the ass and legs that would have gone along with them. He ascended the steps, ready for a shower and a few minutes of beating the erection that was already forming when--

"Oh, fuck!"

The feeling that surged through him when he reached the middle of the stairs -- the spot where Lucinda's neck had snapped, essentially ending her life -- was electric! He grasped the hand rail, steadying himself for a moment before mumbling, "Man, you gotta stop drinking so much on an empty stomach."

But he'd only had two beers, and he was a big, strong man with a great tolerance for alcohol. He shouldn't have been light headed from just that. He recalled his teasing of Skip about the ghost passing through your body. He'd heard it from a friend who had looked at the house, thought he felt something, and passed. Could there really be a ghost...? Could it -- she -- really be felt passing through your body...?

"Bull shit," he mumbled, laughing as he finished the climb and went to the bathroom to strip for his shower. As he stood in front of the full length mirror on the wall and admired his naked, fit form -- as well as his almost fully hardened cock -- he repeated, "Often ... and hard."

 

[Chessie]

"I never really loved you, you know. You just looked good. We looked good together. But I need something more.. "

Her anger boiled over the hurt and pain. How could he say such things? Hadn't she done so much for him. Moved here? Gave up school? Gave up her friends? And now.. it wasn't enough, he wanted .. more? She shouted at him, begged him to stop saying those things. Moved forward to slap him, when he moved to block her. To shove her away. "You're not even that good a Fuck."

Every time she fell, it was like deja-vu. In the moment, she didn't know she was doing this over and over again. It felt familiar. Like seeing the end of a tragic movie. She knew the outcome, but was still engaged. Hoping this time, it would be different. That this time, that awful grinding snap-crunch would be the final sound in her already verbally battered ears. But when she landed at the bottom of the stairs, she would realise it had happened again. She'd sit up from her 'moment' looking up at the now dark stair case, in the now too-cold, and too-quiet room feeling alone.

But this time something was different. As she'd fallen, she'd become suddenly aware of someone. Someone else was there. Maybe it would be different this time! Someone was going to catch her. To wake her from this awful dream!

As her body made its usual descent, Lucinda grew acutely aware that her hope would not be realised. A shuddering sensation convulsed her as she passed through someone, but still fell down to her death, as it always was. Solid and ever so not final. Like a snippet of movie on repeat, over and over again.

Lucinda sat up in the dark, looking up the stairs to - who was that? The back of a man faced her. Clutching the railing a moment before heartlessly chuckling as he continued up the stairs. Had he seen her? Her face contorted to a puzzled expression. Who was in her house? What was he doing here?

Carefully, she rose pulling herself together again. Straightening arms that had been at odd angles, smoothing out a twisted and mangled torso, straightening her legs before finally running her hands deftly about her neck, straightening it and turning her head so it faced the right way again. Someone was here! A living person in her presence! Lucinda turned to regard the livingroom behind her. Now furnished sparsely with a new entertainment unit, and some other things she didn't recognise. Boxes dotted the room, and as she walked the house she saw them in other rooms too. Someone was moving in. There'd be life in this house again!

Curiousity got the better of her. Lucinda griped the stair rail tightly, and carefully climbed the staircase that she only ever managed to fall downwards from. When she reached the top of the stairs, she took a breath. She hadn't been up here - willingly since the final moments she'd lived. She heard someone shift in the bathroom, and followed the sound. Peaking around the door frame to regard the man standing fully naked and erect in the mirror. His reflection clear and facing her while his actual self was behind the door she looked around.

He was saying something, Lucinda strained to hear. The words lost on her buzzing mind. A naked man was in her house. Admiring, his rather admirable form. In her bathroom. She should be scared. Indignant. Terrified! Instead, she was buzzing with curiosity.

Lucinda stepped into the room boldly, knowing he couldn't see her. He had no way of knowing she was there. She had been alone for so long that the idea intrigued her more than scared her. There were some advantages to the rather depressing situation. She stared in wonder at his rather self assured form. He certainly was virile. If she had to share a space with someone, Lucinda supposed a bit of wicked eye candy would be better than a little old lady at any rate.

Her conscience caught up with her suddenly. As he moved about the room, she averted her gaze and stepped out into the hall again. Her chest heaving in breaths that didnt exist. What was she doing? Had she lost her mind? Did ghosts even have minds?

Lucinda dropped her face into her hands. So that's what she was now? A peeping tom? A peeping Ghost?! She leaned against the wall as she tried to think. Had he felt her? Had she felt him? Was there actually a possibility for contact?

Biting her lip, she peaked around the corner again. She could hear the shower as it turned on. See the steam filling the room. What if... she thought to herself. What if...