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One evening two old high school friends passionately meet.

It felt solid, but not, like thick, electric water. He felt an immediate smack along the right of he face. The sound was very real.

Hmph! The sensation in the air swam around him, and the presence, whatever it was - wherever she was, began to fade away.

Freddy sighed, feeling stupid. He thanked God he wasn't in a horror movie. No, He thought with a level head. My story is more akin to a badly written attempt at fiction.

Silence hung in the air a moment, and Freddy glanced around a moment, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched by more than one presence. He itched nervously at the back of his neck, and chocked at least some of it as paranoia.

Like anyone would ever read his story anyway

Freddy closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing, steadying his voice. "My name is Frederick - Freddy - Gordon. My car broke down a way back. I need a phone - a telephone. I couldn't find one. Can you help me?"

The hair on the back of his neck stood up.

No. He felt her say. There was a definite current in the air, the same energy he felt in an electric storm, or near the generators in the basement at J. Carrol Brady Publishing.

"I don't believe in ghosts." He said in a tone that reflected fact, but a voice that resembled fear. "I'm a Christian."

Good for you.

Freddy got the impression that it - she - wasn't too far away from him. Idle conversation wasn't doing any good, considering that she wasn't really talking. For all he knew, and it was likely, it could all be his imagination. It certainly made sense, considering the strange circumstances.

You will have to wait until after the storm. Her voice carried this time, in a whisper. Faint enough to be a breeze, strong enough that he could tell for certain it was in fact a girl.

"You can talk."

He felt her shaking her head.

"You can't talk?"

I can... but...

Freddy felt the sudden urge to stretch, and yawn. "...but it makes you tired."

The room grew a little cooler. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, the feeling of cold in his bones. "Where are you?"

Knocking from the rafters.

"If you're trying not to scare me, you're doing a terrible, terrible job. I'm not used to this."

Who ever is?

He shrugged. "I'm not going to go up into the attic. I saw this movie. The dumb guy dies. I don't want to be that guy."

Her presence shifted in the hallway. I'm not going to hurt you.

"No, but maybe the evil presence that is imprisoning you here will. Or the curse. Or the object you're bound to."

Idiot.

"I read what the experts on the afterlife say."

...if they're not dead, they're not experts."

Behind him, there was a brief clack of sliding metal, followed by a hiss of stale air. He heard, rather than saw the ladder descending, touching lightly on the carpeted hall.

"No."

...why not?

"I don't want to die."

No one wants to die. I'll take away your lights..."

"You're not inspiring a lot of confidence in me, uh..."

Fereshte.

"Bless you."

There was an empty silence, where all at once her presence was gone. The hall was quiet the way a library is quiet, or an empty garage is quiet. Then, at once her presence was back, heavily, and he felt a subtle pat on the back of his head.

Jerk.

Freddy shook his head. "I don't believe in ghosts. I'm sorry, eh - Fere..."

Fereshte. Fair. Esh. Teh.

"...Fereshte. I'm overtired, terrified of this empty town, and this empty house, and this storm, and just about everything in between."

There is no one else.

"In this house?"

...in this town. More knocking from the attic rafters. Deliberate knocking. Shave and a haircut.

"...two bits." Freddy whispered, and then: "Fine. I admit you're definitely here, but I'm not going into the attic of an old house in the middle of an old town where there's no phones, or cars, or - "

- escape.

"That's not funny.

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