Proving Spirits

A dim glow illuminated from the basement windows, invitingly warm on this chilly evening. Past the tiger-embroidered curtains were four manly-men, past their prime, playing a losing card game, more for the purpose of camaraderie than anything else, although none would admit it. Pete was the newest member, but eagerly holding his own. The basement was a true man-cave, complete with a claw-footed Honduras mahogany card table, fur-lined seats, multiple big screens and hunter trophy’s of long gone adventures. Louie’s pride was in this corner of the universe, bestowed to impress.

“Spirits! You’ve got to be kidding,” Louie guffawed. “Hell, the only spirits you’re gonna find around here is what’s in that there liquor cabinet.” He made his point by sipping his whiskey and drawing a card, then puffing smoke rings to further his ridicule.

“No, really. Spirits are everywhere. There have been numerous sightings. The Catholic Church even keeps official records on sightings of the Virgin Mary.” Pete, much to his surprise, had stepped in a verbal mosh pit and quickly took the defensive. He looked across the table at the card players and none seemed to entertain his idea that actual spirits existed.

“Yeah, my Grandma used to talk about them all the time. Then they put her in the looney bin. She kept talking about seeing her dead husband,” Melvin, a used car man, belched out.

“Wouldn’t that be your ‘Grandfather’?” Forest inquired, munching on mini-pretzels and making air-quotes with pretzels in each hand.

“Nope. Grandma was married 3, maybe 4 times. The last one said he’d never leave her. I never saw him dead, but she swore he kept his promise after he died. Sounds a bit insecure, to me. Grandma found it quite annoying at times. Even had whole conversations with him trying to get him to shut-up. That’s when Mom couldn’t take it no more herself, and dumped Grandma in with the looneys. Odd thing is, it just got worse from there. The man’s spirit started bothering her all times of day and night. Or at least that’s what she said.” Melvin got busy re-sorting his cards.

“Them’s all looneys, those ‘spirit-seers’. Even them priests that tell you to put a nickel in the box for the spirit Saint to protect you. It’s a load of dung as far as I’m concerned.” Louie made his point with a most displeasing hack and another guffaw to follow.

“I’m telling you. You shouldn’t disrespect so. There are spirits. And there’s probably some listening right now.” Pete pleaded his point. He looked about Louie’s den. It was certainly a man-cave. He eyed the Buffalo head staring down from the wall. Several other severed heads from unwise or inattentive animals were scattered about the room. Including a Meerkat posed most viciously. Above the bar in the back were an exclusive ’50s hubcap collection.

Forest reached for a center snack from the pre-made supermarket snack tray Melvin so graciously brought to their Friday card night. Diplomatically, Forest, lawman at heart, tried to soften the blow to Pete, “Even if there were spirits, they’re certainly not doing much in the way of this world. What good, or bad, would they be for hanging around, even if they were listening. It’s not like they’re contactable. It’s all made up to frighten children anyway.”

“Well, that’s just my point. They are contactable. Some people can contact them. I bet we could call some up right now, and that would prove it to all of you.”

“Pete, you’re taking this way too seriously. Let it rest, only looneys see spirits. If you keep talking like this you’re apt to find yourself in the looney bin. There’s just no such thing is all.” Melvin did his best to reason, looking learned as he re-lit his cigar and leaning sideways to air himself.

Pete recoiled, then spoke, “Louie, did you kill that buck?”

“Hey, hey, you darn right I did. Let me tell you about that one. There he was looking mean and ornery out in the clearing. I quietly positioned him in my illuminated duplex rifle scope and squeezed my Browning trigger and BLAM! Steak!”

“Right. So where did the life go?”

“The hell out of that deer. Who cares. Made good steaks. And a mighty fine headpiece too. Just look at that rack.” He held his glass up toasting his kill.

“It didn’t go nowhere,” Melvin reported, “it’s dead. Things just die. If not from the hunter, starving in winter will kill it. Just ’cause it’s dead doesn’t mean it’s floating around somewhere. Be awful crowded if they did.”

“Haven’t any of you heard of Buddhism? Hinduism? Japanese Shinto? Christianity? Any of the world’s religions? They each believe in some sort of spirits. Spirits that transcend this world to the next, spirits that guide us, spirits that protect us...”

“Sounds like a hell of a lot of preppy balderdash to me! Ghosts is ghosts. And there ain’t no ghosts.” Louie tossed down a card and inhaled mightily only to get interrupted by a deep guttural cough.”

Forest, maintaining diplomacy, took pity, “You’re not going to win this one, boy. No one here believes in that childish hocus-pocus. Just give it up. It’s not something anyone can prove. But it is a money-maker. Sort of like elections. Would the country be any different if the other guy got elected? It’s all speculation. But you’re certainly entitled to your opinion.”

“Ok, I can prove it to you.” Pete frowned determinedly.

“Oh, you’re going to start talking to them up like my Grandma did? Look, I already told you, she saw them, but I didn’t. It’s in her head, not mine. I see what’s in front of me, not something else. Like right now I got three sorry card players I’m looking at, all 5 o’clock shadows, and stuffed guts.”

“Hey, watch it punk,” Louie barked, grabbing a handful of mid section, “this here is muscle.”

“I’ll do better than talk to them. I’ll let you see them for yourself.” Pete threw his cards down, clearly getting tense.

“Ah, don’t go getting all hot headed. This is just a friendly game.” Forest putting on his peace officer voice, “You’re new to us, we’re just razzing you is all. No need to get uppity. You have to realize ghosts is a pretty wild topic. Sorry to have to blow it up for you. But, there’s no such thing as spirits. People invented them to make a buck or two. Or to gain some control, like the witch doctors do. It’s just a racket is all. I know rackets. I’ve been busting them for years.” Forest pointed to his ‘Deputy Sheriff- Retired’ shirt, quite pleased with himself, being a cut above the others.

“Ok, so if I prove it, you won’t get mad at me then will you?”

“Oh, heck no,” Melvin said, “I mean there ain’t no way to prove it, but even if you did, we’re not sore losers.”

Pete looked at each of their faces across the table. They all nodded in accord. A sore loser was certainly a pariah here.

“Ok, so give me three tries. If you can’t experience anything on the first two, the third one I know for sure you will. Works every time.”

“Well, why not just skip to that one then? I mean let’s get on with it.” Louie prodded.

“It’s a bit extreme. I’d rather do the others first and see if I can win you over.”

“Have it your way,” Louie sat back, ready to be entertained. The others looked at Pete as if preparing for a first grade recital their wives dragged them to.

Pete slid back from the table. “Are you aware of the history of this part of town?”

Forest piped up, “Certainly. I used to do calls out this way.”

“Did you ever get a very strange call. One from a woman who described her attackers, after they had murdered her?”

“Oh, that old myth. Yea, someone prank called it in. Papers loved it. A sick joke at that. Story goes: Ms. Beckum was murdered by her sisters for flirting with their boyfriends. One kicked her in the head while the other stabbed her. Coroner’s report showed blunt force to the head and a nasty knife wound in her chest. Split her heart in two, in fact. Her sisters were at the scene, blood all over them. They tried to blame it on some boy, but it was obvious. Clearly, was high school rivalry that got out of hand. Pure jealousy really. Some idiot called after pretending to be her, blaming the boyfriend. We never did find the prankster, so the ghost story goes on.”

“I heard she was more than just flirting with the beaus. She was downright double-dipping each. Hot and sexy she was at that.” Melvin added, puffing his cigar and giving it a double tap in the lava rock ash tray.

“So you know the story. That Judith Beckum called the sheriff after her demise.” Pete re-iterated.

“No, some prankster did.”

“I thought you’d say that. I chose her as first, thinking she’d be familiar. As you say, she’s quite comfortable with men and a man-cave.” Pete turned to the basement window, “Judith would you mind making an appearance? This is Forest, a deputy sheriff that worked on your case.”

The recessed lights dimmed and flickered. A draft blew in from nowhere. A blue-green flickering vision of a young lady dressed in a nightgown and robe floated forward to the table. The image was fully transparent, yet was indeed present. She blew a kiss to Forest and perched herself on the table. She began stroking a cigar he had placed on the table next to his munchies pile.

“Damn power surge.” Louie said, “Does it every time the wind blows hard. I’m thinking of installing the power lines underground to avoid that.” He coughed brutally.

“It would be polite to acknowledge Judith, gentleman.” Pete pointed out.

“May she rest in peace. Is that what you mean? Because you brought her up?” Melvin puzzled.

“No, because she is right next to me. Forest, certainly, you see her?”

“Hell, I don’t even remember what she looked like. After so many years of law work, all those details sort of blend. Only remember the story as it was talk of the town for so long. It was a pity she died so young though.” He tapped a card on edge and sipped his beer.

“Well if you listen closely, you just might hear her. She has something to reconcile with you.” Pete insisted, completely baffled that they couldn’t see her.

Judith began to speak. An eery whisper could be heard by even Louie. He dismissed it as the house settling down.

“My sisters didn’t kill me. That’s the first thing you need to fix. I most certainly was ‘familiar’ with Bobby Greenbaum, the Mayor’s son.” She stroked the cigar most handsomely and licked her lips.

“That night he stopped by unannounced. My sisters began fussing over him. Even brought out cake. I let it slip that he liked me best. Maggie became furious. She pushed me calling me a whore. So, I slapped her, playfully, of course. Shaming her for her misdeeds. Well, that was more than Bobby could stand.” Judith giggled, “He flew at me and knocked me back. I always loved it when he got rough. But I fell off-balance and hit my head hard on the wooden chair on the way down. I reached for my head and kicked him where it counts. He reached for the cake knife and shoved it into me.” With that, Judith stabbed the cigar into Forest’s chest. “I was done. Bobby ran home.” Viridescent arms attempted to massage Forest’s shoulder as she moved behind him.

Forest batted at the cigar. “Melvin, quit throwing things. You’re so childish sometimes.”

“What? ME?” Melvin defended.

“You hear that? Bobby Greenbaum murdered Judith after the girls fought over him!” Pete looked dismayed seeing their inattention and just fiddling with cards and snacks.

“That’s one of them ‘conspiracy theories’ I guess. Would make great headlines, ‘Mayor’s son murders girl’. Sorry, the evidence was all over the sisters.” Forest told Pete.

“That’s because they were trying to save me and stop the bleeding!” Judith moved through the table in front of Forest. He paid her no heed. She pouted. Rebuffed by their inattention, she vanished, only to upturn a standing lamp on her departure.

“Lay off the pranks, Melvin.” Louie scolded. “Go pick it up.”

Melvin dutifully obeyed.

“Ok, gentlemen. That was number one. I, for certain, believed you would be able to see her. Or at least hear her. Did you at least notice the draft and light change? The lamp?”

“I told you the lights change all the time when the wind blows.” Louie said. “Sounds like the neighbors got their radio on, too.

“Melvin needs to quit yanking the lamp cord with his big ol’ feet. Get on with it would you? Some ghost story about a dead blonde isn’t gonna do much to convince us. I’ve sat around camp fires for years and listened to hundreds of ghost stories. Boo.”

“Right,” said Pete.

Melvin acted wiser, “As the doctor explained it to my Grandma, the reason there ain’t no real ghosts, except in stories, is because when a person dies, the chemical interactions stop. All those ideas one gets are all a complex series of chemical interchanges. When death comes, it’s over. Sort of like when you take a steak off the grill. When the cooking stops, it’s just dead meat.”

“I see where we're at,” Pete said, with a hint of sarcastic frustration, “Let’s move on to my second attempt.

“Do any of you favor folklore?”

“Oh, yes, I read up on all kinds. I find the stories pretty amusing. Like Leprechauns, crafty little ones,” Melvin said.

“Exactly. Have you heard of Japanese folklore?”

“All I know of the Japs is we bombed them in World War II,” Louie coughed out, “They would have fought to the last man had we not blown them up. Talk about crafty little bastards.”

“Well, they make good cars.” Forest responded.

“Yes, yes, brutality aside. You’re at least familiar with folklore and Japanese. It’s a very old and proud country. Long before the war they’ve held certain beliefs. Kitsune, the fox, is one of their spirit animals. A magic being, you could say. And since none of you were attune to people as spirits, I thought not to bore you with ancestors and angels and summon an animal to this den.”

“Go right ahead,” Louie said, “I could use a foxtail next to the beaver by the window.”

“Oh, dear. Kitsune, would you please visit us?”

“What the hell is that?” Melvin jumped back from the table. He got down off his chair and looked under, “I felt something brush by my leg. You got a dog in here?”

Forest began sneezing. “Better not, because I’m allergic.”

“Naw, I’m all out of dogs. After my last hunting dog died I figured it too much work to get another.” Louie said.

Suddenly, an elderly man appeared in the room. He wore a traditional Japanese robe and a wide-brimmed hat, however, none of the men noticed.

Kitsune did his best, shape-shifting from one form into another, each of which escaped the men at the table. Forest merely was a bit uncomfortable with the fox dander and Melvin swatted at his ears, thinking it mosquitos, as the fox nipped them playfully. Pete thought Louie was convinced when his ball cap was pushed down over his eyes, but he simply attributed it to hair grease and the hat slipping when he coughed.

Kitsune left, tail drooped behind.

“Well, gentlemen, I’m quite surprised. You’ve managed to avoid seeing the spirits presented.

“Well, had you presented some, I’m sure we’d see them. But as we told you, their ain’t no such thing as spirits,” Louie scoffed.

Melvin followed his lead, “You are starting to sound like my Grandma. But don’t worry, I won’t tell the men in the white coats on you. Just keep it to yourself from now on.”

“With all due respect, as the doctor explained to Melvin, we’re just chemicals. I’ve seen many a murder victim. When they’re gone, they’re gone. Sorry, to have to break it to you.”

Pete slumped in his chair. His jacket crumpled around him. “Well, you leave me no choice but my third option. Do forgive me, will you? You did promise you wouldn’t get mad.”

Pete rose from his chair as quick as a latch, pulled a 9MM from his hip and fired a round into each man’s head, blood spattering the bearskin rug below. Their bodies slumped bleeding and motionless in their chairs.

Melvin was the first to realize what happened and protested looking down at the mess, “Hey! What the hell you do that for? That was a perfectly good body. Now I’ve done soiled myself.”

“That’s murder!” Forest hollered, having slid back from his body and still trying to get it to move.

Louie fell out of his body and started to laugh, looking at the other two dead bodies and his own. “Damn, what a relief that was! Gotta say, I was lying when I said it was muscle. Tumorous fat is what that was. In fact, I figured I had lung cancer too.” Louie zoomed around the room away from his body, chuckling and moving up high to face the deer heads, hub caps and buffalo. “Good times!

“You make a real good point there Pete. Who knew I was a spirit! This is fun!!” Louie’s demeanor change from grumpy old man to spirited youth, was encouraging.

“Well, I hope you all are convinced now,” Pete smiled, “I think you’d agree, spirits do exist.”

“This ain’t so bad,” Melvin consented, “at least I don’t have to go figuring out breakfast now or go back to the dealership to handle those complaints.”

Forest frowned, floating back and forth through his body, “What now?”

“Well, you could always start anew. Or choose a religion. Up to you. I’ll let you talk amongst yourselves. I don’t mean to be rude, but I do have to get back. I’d hate to be picked up for murder.” Pete laughed merrily as he walked through the wall, heading back to the gates to determine his next destination.

The End