Ghost Story Frank I. Sillay

Ghost Story

I struggled to my feet, in hope of reaching the alluring vision.

By Frank I. Sillay During the year I was stationed in Iceland, I took a few weeks of leave and spent it doing the tourist thing around Britain and Europe.

Due to a series of accidents and misunderstandings, I found myself, at one point, hitchhiking from Copenhagen to Frankfurt. I had almost despaired of getting a ride, darkness and snow were setting in, when a rattletrap panel truck stopped and picked me up. The driver’s English was of the same feeble level as my scraps of German -- that is to say, totally inadequate, so we discovered that both of us had almost enough schoolboy French to meet our limited needs.

To summarize, August was a student at a polytech nearby, which was having a mid-term break, and he had stepped in to fill a last-minute vacancy as handyman/driver at the residential dormitory to help the supervisor, who was committed to attending a conference over the break. He was coming back from restocking essentials in the nearby market town and assured me I could have a bed overnight.

Rooms in the main building were all tenanted, though their occupants were away for a few days, but there were several cottages out back which were sometimes used for staff. My kind host unlocked one of these, and a quick look revealing that it was ready for use, he left me to it.

The cottage was small and simple, but perfectly comfortable, especially as a sack of coal had been provided for the small fireplace. I soon had a cozy fire going, which took the chill off nicely. After my day in the cold, I was soon sleeping that deep, impenetrable sleep that is only accessible to the young and fit, regardless of the state of their conscience.

I found myself in that state of cognitive dissonance where I knew I was awake, but at the same time, I knew I was dreaming. The room was warm, and past the foot of my bed was the most voluptuous woman my febrile imagination could conjure. She wasn’t naked, but her physical assets were somehow fully revealed, yet at the same time kept enticingly just out of sight by some diaphanous wisp of fabric that defied the laws of optics. Quite apart from her state of aesthetic perfection, she exuded a raw, primal attraction which must be comparable to that exerted by a black hole, so beloved of astronomers.

Her voice was like a sensuous massage. She spoke no recognizable language, but her meaning was transparent and persuasive. She didn’t exactly sound like Julie London, but shared the same ability to weave an alluring trance that could deprive the hearer of any will to resist. If the hearer was a sufficiently libidinous young male.

My thorax seemed to be filled with fluttering butterflies, and the blood in my veins to have been replaced with champagne. Despite being sound asleep, I struggled to my feet, in hope of reaching the alluring vision.

I awoke alone on the floor of the freezing room, just short of the door, the coal fire having burnt away. Trembling with cold, I quickly returned to my bed, and as soon as I warmed up, sleep returned, though without erotic dreams.

I awoke in the morning refreshed, but with an unusual awareness of my vivid dream. As arranged with August, I went to the kitchen in the main building for breakfast, where we were soon interrupted by the arrival of the supervisor, back from her seminar. After perfunctory introductions, they reverted to German while the situation was explained. The supervisor suddenly became visibly alarmed, or angry; it wasn’t altogether clear to me. It seemed August was in serious trouble, though I couldn’t figure out why.

After they had settled matters to their satisfaction, the supervisor turned to me, and explained the matter in English.

Unknown to my host, the cabin I had occupied had, a century earlier, been the site of the suicide of a young female student, who suffered from an unrequited obsession with one of her classmates. Tragic as this was, it gradually became apparent that whenever a male was housed in that cabin, he would be found dead the next morning just outside the cabin door. It took several such deaths for the pattern to become apparent, since which time the cabin had been withdrawn from use and kept locked.

When I told the supervisor of my experience the night before, she was stunned, and we both were left reflecting on my narrow escape.