HAUNTED SIDEWALK

The past comes to life on a ghostly sidewalk.

    Gunshots woke Morton, and he realized they were right outside his window. Pulling on a pair of jeans, he hastily rushed out--and found nothing. The same thing happened the next night and the next. Soon Morton stopped going outside, deciding this was part of a  dream or hallucination; at any rate, it wasn’t real. Then one night he heard the distinct thud of a body hitting the sidewalk.

 

     Too curious to ignore this turn of events, Morton decided to investigate once again. When he got outside, there was no sign of either victim or assailants. But there was fresh blood on the pavement. Morton wondered if he should call 911. But what could he tell them? There was no body to be seen. And the blood was already disappearing.

 

     A patrol car pulled up. “Hey Buddy,” an officer said, suspicious of anyone out on the sidewalk at two AM, “What are you looking at?”

 

     “Blood.”

 

     The patrolman got out to investigate. But the blood was gone. “I don’t see any blood. Sir, where do you live?”

 

     Morton pointed behind him. “That’s my house.”

 

     “Why don’t you go in and get some sleep?” It was not an order but friendly advice. Morton took it. But his curiosity was aroused. Into his uneventful life---boring as a stretch of lonely highway in August--something new and interesting had come. At one-thirty the next morning he stationed himself right inside the front door and peered through the shutters. A little before two he saw a man walking down the sidewalk, short, stocky, in a dark suit. Morton held his breath, suddenly sure of what was going to happen…

 

     And then it happened. Gunshots sounded, and the man fell. Morton ran outside. Surely this was the time to call 911. Blood poured from at least half a dozen wounds. But even as he stood there, the body began to fade. It disappeared along with the blood.

 

     Morton was waiting next morning at the same time, determined to get to the bottom of this. He saw the dark-suited man coming down the sidewalk and went out to intercept him. “Listen, you’re going to get shot. You’d better--”

 

     “I know,” the man said wearily. “That’s what happens. That what has to happen.”

 

     “But why? Why should you stay here and get yourself killed? Explain.”

 

     “There isn’t time.”

 

     “Do it anyway,” Morton insisted.

 

     The man sighed. “Okay. It’s like this. Twenty years ago I was a member of the mob that controlled the west side of the city. Hascombe’s gang ran the east side. There was some dispute over territory. Rather than have a war, the leaders decided to mediate. Hascombe’s only son was sent to our syndicate with a message--a sign--of good faith. Maybe I was nervous, seeing him come toward us"knowing who he was. My finger was on the trigger…it jerked. Suddenly Hascombe’s son was lying on the sidewalk, a bullet through his head…

 

     Then there was a slaughter. Blood was running in the gutters. Both sides lost over a hundred men. I wasn’t killed, and of course, I ran. But it was no use, and I knew it. Hascombe would hunt me to the ends of the earth, and he’d never give up. Finally I stopped and faced the bullets. And I’ve faced them every night for twenty years.”

 

     “What about the people who lived in this house before me? Didn’t they see what was happening?”

 

     “Sure they did. There was a woman around eighty. She saw me killed and had a heart attack. Her son put her in a nursing home. Then there was a family of four-two little kids. They moved out right away. After that a young couple. They were more curious than scared. But after awhile it got to them, and they left. Then you came.”

 

     “Is this just going to go on happening? Forever?”

 

     The man shrugged. “A lot of people died because of me. This is my punishment, and it will happen every night--just like this--till somethin--or someone--interferes, and I don’t get shot. Now move out of the way. They’re coming.”

 

     Morton had only a few seconds, but he used them well. He thought about his dead end job; about his dead end life. He’d never married; would leave no children. He had no relatives, no friends, no one to care about him. His life would make no difference, but his death might…

 

     Morton stepped in front of the man and went down under a volley of gunshots. His lifeless body was found a few hours later. Curiously enough, though the corpse was riddled with bullet holes, there were no bullets found. This fact was not made public.

 

     Morton had no friends, and he had no enemies. No one had reason to kill him. The mystery was never solved, and it was decided that this must be a case of mistaken identity. Which, in a way, it was…

 

     Mr. and Mrs. McGruder took over the house with their two baby boys. They considered themselves very lucky to be living in such a quiet, peaceful neighborhood.

    

Reviews

[Wez Hardyn]

Intriguing yarn. Nicely paced and I was anticipating a good ending, but... I suppose I just don't buy someone committing suicide because he's rather lonely. I think the story would work better if he had a pressing reason for his intervention, betrayal, illness etc. Good writing though.

[Relic]

R.I.P Marie.

[Wez Hardyn]

The author has died? My sincere condolences.

[Taylor]

Neat story. The writing is nice and spare--I found myself reading fast and almost holding my breath. Really fun!

[Marie]

THanks. I may ut this one in a book of ghost stories.

[stansg]

A ghost story with a twist, not scary at all this one, in fact it's really warm. Good story telling. I would buy a copy of your book, if you decide to write a novel someday; or even a compilation of short stories for that matter.

[Marie]

Thanks. If you look up Lela Marie De La Garza on the Internet you will find some of my published stories there; also go to my profile on W/C and find my website, where I also post writing.

[stansg]

I'll check it out. Thanks

[Beccy]

Hi Marie, normally I tend to just read poetry, (so lazy of me,) but I was intrigued by the title of this story and I'm glad I was. Really enjoyed this; it was so well written and the storyline quite original and different.

Beccy.

[Marie]

THank you Beccy. Actually, I don't think this is one of my best stories; the plot is a little weak. But I'm glad you enjoyed it.

[hellenmasido]

I find this beautiful. Reminds me of a reincarnation story about escape from hell into another life by someone who acted in compassion- I think it was Buddha but I'm not sure.

[Marie]

Thanks.It might have been one of the myths about Buddah, yes. Or t migt have been one of the Egyptian gods.

[Woody]

wonderful storytelling Marie. riveting! I've always liked ghost stories so that's probably what made this one so appealing to me.
note: I believe there's a missing "s" in the title.

[Marie]

Thanks for catching that missing "S". I guess I got in to much of a hurry when I was posting and carelessly left it out. I've fixed it.

[wordman]

well marie I think this is the makings of a good book ,it is interesting
and it keeps you in suspence

[Marie]

THanks. But this is the beginning and the end.

[Jimmy Yetts]

Quite a sacrifice for someone who didn't really seem to deserve it.
Still, an intriguing, superbly written tale.
(Believers in reincarnation might want to take a closer look at the McGruder boys.)