Ghost Story #11

I turned 11 while living with my grandparents, in San Antonio, in a small house, built in 1960.
Having just begun junior high school. I had a white painted, 30’s metal hospital bed which sat high above brown speckled asbestos tile floor. On weekends, I was allowed to stay up to watch inappropriate late night tv programming. I’d turn off the lights, before switching off the old tube tv. Watching the light quickly dwindle down to a single bright dot. I’d place my hand on the faintly glowing gray screen, a tickling sizzle of static, leaving a silhouette image. Often leaving windows open at night, to catch a breeze, I’d hear distant talking from time-to-time while watching the light of the tv fade. There was an ac unit in the kitchen, but it was mostly used when eating supper; during the worst of summer; when there was company. Otherwise, a floor fan to stir the air, Right outside my bedroom window, I distinctly heard a woman say, “Oh, look at that, it’s raining.”, sounding surprised in a melancholic way. I looked out the window to see the sprinkling rain begin. When I told my grandmother about it, she said, “Don’t listen to those voices, that’s how people go crazy!”

artwork by Adriane Shown