Macabre Macaroni, second helping

Lisa Burton

Flipping

I pulled into the driveway, and my tires pushed down weeds as I pulled up to the parking circle. It was a long day at work, but I decided to start a little demolition before heading home.

Three stone steps led to the elaborate old front door, but I had to shoulder it open against years of rust and weathering. A thick layer of dust covered the stone entry.

I wound my way to the kitchen and pulled open the tattered old curtains to let some of the setting sunlight into my work area. I worked my crowbar under the stone countertop and looked into the breakfast room. With new windows, that morning view would add another twenty-thousand dollars to my resale value.

My shoulder pushed against the bar, but the stone wouldn’t budge. Then a crystal decanter and glasses appeared on the counter. Had I missed that somehow?

Slow clacking footsteps echoed down the hall to my right. A shapely woman, possibly in her fifties, walked into the room like she owned it. She wore a short, sleeveless dress and pearl colored heels that must have made the sound.

She picked up the decanter and poured herself a drink. An overstuffed chair and end table appeared across the room. Had I overlooked this stuff while I was measuring, or was she a squatter.

She sauntered to it and sat down, crossing her legs. She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke straight up.

My hand tightened around the crowbar, and I nervously checked my exit routes.

“So, what are we going to do about you?” She said in a husky voice.

“You need to leave,” I answered. “This is private property. My private property.”

She picked some invisible tobacco from her tongue. “Is it now? This is my home, and I intend to keep it that way.” She took a sip from her drink, then smirked. “I’d offer you one, but I don’t think it’s possible.”

“I’m the deeded owner of this property. I’m going to gut it, revamp the whole thing, then sell it for a huge profit.”

“Oh yeah. How much did you pay?”

“Over two million.”

“They saw you coming. My husband only paid seven-fifty when he bought it. You’ve got to admit, it’s a beautiful place though. And I’d appreciate it if you’d quit destroying my counters.”

“I’ll have you forcibly evicted if I have to–”

She leaned into the arm of the chair, and I could see the falling wallpaper moving behind her – through her head. “Something tells me that’s not going to work. See I own this house too, and I’m not leaving.”

“But it’s a dump. Maybe you want to check out something better.”

“It’s not a dump. This is one of the top neighborhoods in the city.”

“It was, maybe fifty years ago.”

“Well, it not a dump the way I see it. My beautiful floral wallpaper, the polished wood of the breakfast set. It’s all still here.” She stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray that appeared right before she touched it.

“Those things will kill you.”

“Too late. Besides, if you knew all the things I put in this body, a little cigarette is the least of my worries. Oh the parties I used to host. They were all here, you know. Politicians, movie stars, musicians. We use to put out drugs on one of those three tier serving dishes like some people place out canapés.”

“W-w-we who?”

“Larry and I. He was my husband. House went to me after he died. You can ask him yourself, he usually shows up near the pool on clear nights.”

I pulled the kitchen curtains back. A flurry of moths startled me. The stone around the pool was cracked and small trees pushed up between the stones. A foot of green scum floated on the partially filled pool.

“Not there tonight? That’s where I buried him. A lieutenant detective helped me dig the hole.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I thanked that man proper, right up there.”

“I, I, I don’t need to know this.”

“Lots to know about this place. One night a rockstar banged a socialite on that countertop you’re trying to destroy. The rest of his band cheered him on.”

“Anybody I’d know?”

“Meh, flavor of the month. You know how that business goes.” She finished her drink. “Now what are we going to do about you?”

“I’ll hire an exorcist or someone to clear this place out.”

“You can try. Lot’s of cons in that business, but there are some legit ones. Of course, I could do the same thing.”

“Wh- what do you mean?”

“Things on my side of the veil aren’t so different. Maybe I’ll hire someone to get rid of you. In fact, that would be kind of fun. Tell you what. You hire someone, and I will too. We’ll get them all together one night, and see who prevails. First one to blink has to leave. What do you say? Sounds like a party to me.”

“I’m not playing your stupid game. I’m on the hook for a lot of money here, and I’m in the right.”

“Maybe you could sue me. Good luck serving papers though. No, we’re going to do this my way. We each get two weeks to find someone, then we do battle. If you win, I’ll leave.”

“What about Gary?” I cocked a thumb toward the back.

“Larry. And he’ll do whatever I tell him. He’s a lot calmer since I pulled the trigger. He doesn’t question or doubt me any more.”

“You aren’t giving me much choice here, and I’m the aggrieved party.”

“On your side of the veil, sure. On my side, I’m the aggrieved party, and I’ve owned this house since before you were born. What’s your name again?”

“Carl.”

“You seem like a nice young man, Carl. Find your witch or whatever, and I’ll do the same. And don’t get any ideas about selling this to someone and running off. What I’ll do to them is guaranteed to get you sued at minimum, maybe killed at maximum.” She faded away, along with the chair, decanter, and the rest.

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42 Comments

Filed under Short Stories & Vignettes

42 responses to “Macabre Macaroni, second helping

  1. My God, you must have been inspired when you wrote this one, Craig. Wonderful twist too, please say there will be more?
    If not, you have to make a book out of it…

    Liked by 3 people

  2. harmonykent

    Love this, Craig! I wanna see how it all works out, lol…

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It’s far too early in the month to claim my favorite, but I’m really tempted to do so. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. This would be scary to me if I thought I’d ever be in that economic circle. Seeing as I won’t, it was just twisted fun. Loved it!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Excellent, Craig. Could really feel Carl’s indignation and then his realization that he is screwed.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. You create such fantastic characters, even when you only have a short span to work with them. This was fantastic. One of your best. I could see this developing into a full-fledged novel with dual timelines.

    One of these years you’re going to have to round up all of your Macaroni and put it together in a singular collection.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Well – this was fun Craig! Great characters, great scene definition and use, great twist and even better hook for at least a chapter 2. Seriously, you can’t just leave us hanging – between two worlds and their defendants – with a contest like this pending. I can already see Carl, seething with anger growing, but also trying to manage a vein of inner fear about her threats.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. This is one showdown I’d pay to see – please say it’s being continued?

    Liked by 1 person

  9. OMG. I loved this! Too much fun.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Oh wow! I do hope there is a sequel to this story. I want to see the show-down! Great, Craig!

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Yikes! What ghosts can do!

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Reblogged this on Where Genres Collide and commented:
    Eerie!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. And I don’t suppose there is even a bit of fine print in the sale agreement that will enable him to wriggle out of it. Invalidation clauses in the event of ghosts are unusual. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  14. Cheeky ghost, and really fun scene, Craig. I like her spunk. You do a great job of slipping in the paranormal, can’t wait to see what happens.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Wow! This is some great writing, Craig. I saw everything in my mind like a movie reel. Fantastic and well-written!

    Liked by 1 person

  16. Have to agree with everyone here, this was a killer micro-story, and would keep me reading if it were the hook into a longer short story or novel.

    Like

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