The Spirit of the Season Part One Spoiler October 5th, 2:36 A.M. He couldn’t believe it. Gasping for breath, he stumbled into the bathroom. It was dark, and his fingers fumbled for the switch, but his hands were sweaty and he couldn’t grasp it. He heard a noise behind him; someone was trying to open the front door. He shut the bathroom door with a slam and turned to face the mirror. In the dark, his reflection was hard to see, but he could make out the frightened expression on his own face. Suddenly, his reflection grew calm. He leaned in closer, as his reflection did the same. Then, he saw the smile. He backed up, screaming, but his reflection stood there and smiled on. It was an evil smile, dark and cruel, and without warning, a light came on. It wasn’t the bathroom light; the switch on the wall remained untouched. But it was a light all the same. No, it was the bathroom light… the one on the other side of the mirror. He fell to the floor, sobbing and breathing heavily. The reflection stepped out of the mirror, and stood over his flesh-and-blood self, still smiling down at him as if he were some sort of treat. He began to laugh, quietly at first, getting louder and louder until it rang so loud it echoed through the house, and the man cowering on the floor covered his ears to try and block it out. Suddenly, everything stopped. He sat motionless, waiting for the worst to happen, but nothing came. Tentatively, he opened his eyes. He was alone. He stood shakily to his feet, and found the light switch. Clicking it on, everything was normal. His reflection in the mirror was sweaty and frightened, but it showed no signs of moving on its own. He stood at the door and listened, whatever had been trying to get in was silent, and the only thing he could hear was the sounds of the TV coming from his bedroom. He had been watching a horror movie before he fell asleep. The situation dawned on him and he began to chuckle quietly to himself. Of course it wasn’t real, he thought. That’s what you get for watching a horror movie before bed. Nightmares. Feeling extremely foolish, he opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the dark room. He felt cold and still frightened, but ashamed, he shoved those feelings down and walked boldly to his bed. He drew the covers back and sat down. A woman on the TV screamed, and he jumped up again. He stood for a second, and then grew angry at himself. “Don’t be such a baby,” he said, speaking out loud. “It’s just a TV show, nothing to be afraid of.” He walked over to the TV and switched it off, then climbed into his bed. He drew the covers up to his chin and closed his eyes. The wind howled outside and a tree branch outside was banging against the side of the house. That probably was what he had heard earlier. With his eyes still closed, he chuckled to himself. “It was nothing, nothing at all. Just a bad dream.” As he drifted off to sleep, he remained convinced that it had been, only a dream. When they found him in the morning, he was dead, and his face was completely burned all except for his eyes. They were lying on the ground beside his bed. There was no murder weapon, no signs of a struggle, there wasn’t even a plausible cause of death. The only signs of damage were the burns on his face. There were no fingerprints; no clues anywhere as to who could possible have done this crime. So, the police ruled it suicide and the case was closed. But it was apparent to all concerned that it had been no suicide, and the story spread across the town like wildfire, consuming the minds of the people and dominating every conversation. There were many different rumors going around as to what had happened, but the most popular story was this, and perhaps it was the spirit of the season: He had been murdered by a ghost. Part two Spoiler October 6th, 3:49 P.M. Pushing her brown hair out of her eyes, 23-year-old Stella May Maurice walked down the street to the old church building on the other side of town. It was a brisk day, and as she walked, the wind blew past her, stinging her face and blowing a few early autumn leaves off the golding trees. The sky was cloudy, they had had a storm the night before, and she stopped to look at her reflection in a puddle. She was wearing all black, and she was dressed fancier than she usually dressed, but she barely saw these trivial things. What caught her attention was her face. At first glance, she appeared to be no different than usual, but if you looked closely, if you looked into her eyes, you could see that she had gone through a traumatic experience that had left her on edge, possibly for life. Stella had been the one to find him. She had been the one to phone for the police while she stood over the dead man and she had waited there for them, trying to keep her eyes away from the mutilated face. Always one to keep her cool, she hadn’t shed a tear, she hadn’t even let her voice quiver with the fear she felt. What if the murderer had still been in the house when she dropped by? Shuddering, Stella tried to push these thoughts away from her mind and walked on, leaving the puddle behind her. Before long, she reached the little white church and walked up the front steps to the door, gazing at the freshly-dug hole in the cemetery next to the building. Everyone who had ever died in this neighborhood was buried here, and Stella had come here regularly growing up. Whenever she was depressed or alone or even simply in the mood for a walk, she would come down to the church and read the names off the old tombstones, some dating back over two hundred years. It always calmed her down, it focused her, gave her a chance to think. Somehow, she didn’t see herself coming down here to think anymore. Not now that she knew one of the names engraved in stone. Sighing, she opened the church doors and stepped through. Although the outside of the building was the same way it had looked when it was built two-hundred years ago, the inside was modernized and made to accommodate the people of the day, with a small coffee bar in the foyer and rows of comfortable chairs in the sanctuary. The coffee was fresh and hot, and there were cookies set out for the guests. Grabbing a cookie, Stella skipped over the coffee and went into the sanctuary, eating as she went. There weren’t a lot of people here, only the front two rows were filled. She didn’t feel like sitting so close to the casket, however, so she silently slipped into the back seat and waited for the funeral to start. The old minister stepped up to the lectern and gazed at the people for a moment. There were very few people here, and no wonder, the family had insisted on having the service the day after the body was discovered. Not very many people had time to make it, and some of those that did were scared away by all the rumors about the cause of death. But, his job was to help those that needed it, and the family needed closure. He smiled when Stella came in; she had been a special friend of his ever since she was a little girl and had lost her father. Still, it saddened him to think of what she must have gone through. She had been the one to discover the poor man, and heaven knows what kind of ordeal she had gone through. Something was not right, however. It settled on his heart that there was something different about her, something that hadn’t been there before. He made up his mind to talk with her later, and proceeded with the service. Stella couldn’t handle it. All the pain, all the fear, all the anxiety of the night before overcame her and she rushed from the room, desperate to get out before anyone saw her. She stood in the foyer, leaning over the table. She needed a drink of water. She grabbed the water pitcher and poured herself, a glass, than took a big drink and choked it down, then left the building and sat down on the front steps to think. She couldn’t handle this. She had been friends with him. In fact, she had been more then a friend. Every day, they got closer and closer, he would have asked her out any day now, she was sure of it. She would get over this, she was sure of it; it just would have to take time. She wasn’t ready to accept it just yet. Why had the family decided to have the funeral so soon? The very next day? She couldn’t handle it. Standing up, she finished the water and calmly and coolly, began the walk home.
