Everyday Witches

*Author’s note* I wrote this short story earlier this year, before I got entrenched with the novel Everyday Witches. I had intended to make a novel out of it, with a grouping of maybe four or five ghost stories, together in one volume. This one is finished, and I have two more that have been languishing, about halfway done. For some reason though, Everyday Witches was pressing on me, and I decided to go with the novel first. Now that I’ve finished with it though, I’d still like to share some of my work here and I don’t intend to post another novel by chapter. So, I’ve decided to share some short stories, starting with this one that I wrote previously. It’s a bit longish for a blog post, so I’ve sectioned it off and will add links for navigation between parts. I hope you enjoy it!

After Richard’s wife passed away he couldn’t stand being in the house anymore. It seemed almost antogonistic, with all of it’s little beepings and whirrings of the various electronic devices and the myriad pieces of machinery that make up a modern day home. He flinched every time the ice maker came on with a loud buzzing sound that ended in the loud dumping of ice into the bin below. These things had always been comforting background noise before, but since Addie had been gone, the house was just so silent. And every little noise stood out in stark comparison. He couldn’t bear being alone, without her. But he couldn’t stand the thought of company either. In the month since her passing there had been droves of house guests and visits by well meaning but agonizing groups of friends and family. Everyone wanted to know how he was doing. Was he holding up okay? Did he need anything? Food, laundry services, a little bit of unprofessional head shrinking? Did he have the means to keep the house now that he was alone? What were his plans going forward? Richard was sick and tired of all of it. He would be okay in time, but he wasn’t there yet, and no amount of well meaning advice was going to take away the painful, gaping hole in his chest until it was damned well ready to leave.

And then there was the strange sense of urgency that he just couldn’t shake. He had to do something to fix this. He had to bring her back. He had to find a way to move on. Right now. In the past week he had mowed the lawn, cleaned the gutters and the garage, fixed that creaky board in the hall leading to the back bedrooms that he’d been promising to fix for a couple of years now, and probably many other things that he’d lost count of. But none of it made a difference. The pain and the uncertainty after loss is a tricky little gremlin. You can distract it for awhile, convince it that everything is fine. But then it might come bearing down on you at three a.m. while you’re trying unsuccessfully to get some sleep. Heart hammering, pulse racing, skin tingling, mind numbing grief.

He was only fourty two years old. Addie had been forty one. They were supposed to have their whole lives ahead of them. Together. And now what? She had been stolen from him so quickly that he’d barely had a chance to respond, much less prepare. The cancer hadn’t been discovered until it was too late to operate and a mere six weeks later she had been gone. And Richard was left with a silent house full of empty memories. Every little area of this house bore her touch. She was the decorator, an artsy type who put a little bit of her heart and soul into everything she did. Like the picture wall in the hallway leading to the back of the house. She had painstakingly picked out a beautifully mismatched set of picture frames and then sanded and painted them all so that they made a charmingly eclectic tie home for the carefully selected, most important moments of their lives. Their first date. (He still couldn’t believe that she’d kept a photo of that momentous day; but ever the sentimentalist, Addie had captured the moment and thought ahead.) Their wedding and honeymoon, the little vacations to Spain and Italy that they’d scrimped and saved for. And so many other memorable little snapshots in time. There was even an empty frame in the garage that she’d prepared for when they became parents. They’d found each other and gotten married later in life, at the age of thirty six and thirty five. And they had thought that they’d have time. It hadn’t happened yet, but there were plenty of women these days who were putting off having children into their forties and they’d assumed that it would happen soon. But now they’d never have the chance.

He sat, right now, in his favorite arm chair in the living room, nursing a glass of bourbon on the rocks at two o’clock in the afternoon. Anything to take the edge off right now, he told himself. He could go to AA later if he had to; but he’d have to make it through this first year alone before he would even worry too much about the consequences of day drinking. Besides, there were plenty of rich and famous people who indulged in a good glass of high quality liquor in the early hours of the afternoon and, to Richard’s knowledge, nobody told them that they better lay off the bottle. He sighed and gently set his tumbler atop the coaster on the little round table in between the recliners. It was one of a custom set that Addie had ordered from one of those fancy craft websites where they’ll make anything for you if you’re willing to foot the bill. The coaster housed a maple leaf, painted over in silver paint and then enclosed in a clear resin case. A tribute to the lake house a few hours away where they’d been married and then honeymooned afterward. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting over the memory and closed his eyes for a good long moment.

Every little inch of this place reminded him of her. He had never really noticed it when she was here, it was just their home. But now that she was gone he couldn’t help but notice and remember. He ought to go back to work and try to get his mind off of things but he just couldn’t imagine trying to cope with all of that right now. The lawn care business that he’d started with a buddy nearly twenty years ago now was like family, and all of their customers were as well. He could just imaging having to go over the whole story repeatedly, every hour, every day, for weeks. Everyone who knew already would want to know how he was doing now and, even worse, everyone who didn’t would have to hear the story from the beginning, when they asked how his wife was doing. He wasn’t ready for that endless parade of grief just yet.

He sighed again and picked up the bourbon tumbler, taking a big swig before setting it gently back onto the coaster. Then he slid it off onto the table, (who was going to worry about such things now?) and picked up the resin encased leaf, turning it over in his hands a few times and then staring solemnly at it. It was a beautiful little thing, really. Each spidery little vein of leaf was completely enclosed in the silver paint, so that it almost looked as if it had been made of metal. But he knew that a real leaf lay at the center of it. And across the bottom of the coaster there were tiny number shaped beads enclosed in the resin as well; commemorating the year that they had been married. He held on to the thing for several minutes, turning it round and round in a big work worn hand as he stared absently at the wall across the room; lost in thought and memory.

A muted dinging sound from the computer in the other room startled him out of his reverie and he cursed softly under his breath. Why the hell did we need all of these little electronic reminders anyway? Couldn’t a man have a moment of reflection without being interrupted? He downed the last of his drink and then got slowly to his feet. He stretched his arms out wide, feeling the ache in his back from the constant tension and the lack of physical exercise over the past few months. Then he strolled towards the kitchen to rinse out his glass. Or maybe get a refill. He hadn’t decided yet.

As he stood over the kitchen sink, holding the glass steady beneath the running water, Richard thought about the little lake house where he and Addie had shared their wedding and honeymoon. It had been such a beautiful place. They’d been married in the fall, when the leaves were changing colors and thinning, and the fiery backdrop had complemented her strawberry blond hair and pale complexion perfectly. She had been absolutely lovely. He had been quite the lucky man. They’d met a year earlier and Addie had sworn that she’d known after just a few dates that he’d be the man she married. He’d felt the same way about her and after a relatively quick engagement they’d been married and on to the chapter of life that was all about “us” instead of just “me.” He’d never regretted a minute of it, although they’d certainly had their disagreements. It was the kind of love that everyone wanted, if they were honest with themselves. The kind of love that just gets you, or rather doesn’t have to, because it’s right there alongside you, seeing things in the exact same way, wanting things in the exact same way, and complementing everything you are in its own small way. It had started with a chance encounter, followed by a relationship and then the most incredible physical intimacy he’d ever encountered.

With the memories so raw right now, he could almost feel the brush of her lips on his as he remembered the night they’d spent in a high rise hotel in San Francisco before they’d been married. Addie had had a gallery showing and had invited Richard to join her. He’d been wary about taking time off of work last minute but it had been the best decision he’d ever made in his life. Other than asking her to marry him, that is. The memory of her in the hot tub with that bottle of ridiculously priced champagne, and that little feather thing she’d introduced him to, made him ache with desire for a moment, but the memory of loss was too recent and too painful and it faded quickly. Propping his elbows on the edge of the sink, he put his head in his hands and stared blankly at the bourbon tumbler that sat in the sink, the running water now overflowing the glass and swirling swiftly down the drain.

He had to do something to get out of this funk, he thought to himself. Sitting around here, wallowing in all of these memories without doing any real living was absolutely going to kill him. He made up his mind that he’d take a couple more weeks off and go spend some time at the lakeside cabin. Maybe the place where they’d officially begun their lives together would help him to get past this. Addie had loved that place too and while it would hold good memories and a peaceful atmosphere, at least there were new experiences to be had there too. Here he was only running into memories everywhere he looked.

**

The next day Richard pulled up to the quaint little cottage that the lakeside resort used as an office/registration desk. He parked his navy Silverado right in front of the entrance and headed in to greet the desk clerk. He had called ahead and made a reservation the day before, so he figured that the process should be quick. He pulled open the heavy oak door and stepped into a cozy room with wood paneled walls and rustic decor, accented with panels of lace and seemingly hand stitched bolts of fabric. Across the small room stood a heavy oak desk and a pretty, young blond woman sat behind it, riffling through a stack of papers. She looked up as he approached, flashing him a dazzling grin.

“Hello! How are you,” she asked brightly, surreptitiously glancing behind him towards the door; probably looking to see if anyone else was coming in with him.

“Hi,” he said back, not quite as enthusiastically, but with the natural southern charm he’d been born with. “I should have a reservation under the name Richard Beaumont.”

“Beaumont,” she beamed. “Isn’t that a city here in Texas?” She leaned towards him, both elbows propped up on the desk and cradling her face in her cupped hands. The girl was cute, he had to admit it; but he was really not up for this today. Normally, he would go into the etymology of the name, how it was a French term meaning beautiful mountain, and all of the rich history behind it; but today he just nodded and checked his watch.

The girl’s smile dimmed slightly but remained nonetheless. “Yes, I remember taking your call,” she answered. “It’s the only new reservation we’ve gotten in the last twenty four hours. Usually these cabins are booked weeks or even months in advance, but we happened to have one still available.” She shuffled through the pile of papers again, momentarily producing the one she had been looking for. She glanced over the page quickly and then looked back up at Richard.

“Now I remember. You requested a hunting/fishing lodge, but the only thing we had available on such short notice was the honeymoon suite.” She raised her well manicured eyebrows and with an overly innocent look she asked, “Will you be enjoying these accommodations alone, or will you be expecting company?”

Richard suppressed a chuckle, turning it into a faint cough instead and then replied. “It’ll just be me.” Then, after a moment’s consideration, he continued quickly. “My wife died about a month ago and I decided to come up here for a few weeks to get my head on straight.” Better to get it over with now than to let the woman believe that she had a shot.

“Oh, dear,” she replied, her face softening and her eyes growing large. It gave her a much more charming look than when she’d been previously trying so hard, in Richard’s opinion. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she continued. “If there’s anything I can do for you please don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m here business hours Monday through Friday and then half a day on Saturday also.” Her hand twitched a bit, as if she had considered reaching it towards his own, but then had other ideas. He nodded and she gave a small nod in return, then reached a hand beneath the desk. She shuffled around for just a moment before producing a key. Then she laid it down on the counter between them, followed by a piece of paper with his reservation information on it. “If you’d just sign here, and here,” she said kindly, pointing to each place in turn. She handed him a pen and then waited for him to do his thing.

Richard penned his well practiced, flourished signature in both spots and then set the pen back on the desk, picking up the key in turn. They’d changed them up a bit since last they’d visited here. The keychains now were in the shape of an oak leaf, roughly the size of his palm. Engraved in the wooden surface were the name and address of the resort, along with his cabin number. “Thank you so much, Miss…” he let the sentence trail off to suggest that she add her name. She had been so friendly and he didn’t want to come off as a complete dolt, after all.

The woman brightened again and said gratefully, “Rachel! My name is Rachel.” She offered him a small, polished hand and they shook briefly. “It was very nice to meet you Richard. And remember, if there’s anything you need at all, you can call or come down here to the office any time.”

Richard thanked her sincerely and then went back out to his truck. He climbed up into the cab and then puttered on over to the cabin he’d rented, glad that he’d met her even though he didn’t intend to follow through with her offer.

The inside of the honeymoon suite was spacious, for a log cabin anyway. It was the exact same suite that he and Addie had stayed in on their actual honeymoon, and Richard had been pretty wary about coming back to it. Once he actually got there, however, it really wasn’t so bad. Sure, he remembered the absolutely wild night that they’d spent here after getting hitched. And the incredible time they’d spent together afterwards, with the couple’s massages and the hiking and the hours spent just watching tv together and chatting about their future. But it wasn’t nearly as painful as their home, where he was constantly expecting her to come down the hall any moment, just to remember that she never would again.

He tossed his bags on the table beside the door and then lay down, nearly spread eagle on the king sized bed. The ceiling fan was spinning lazily above him but other than that the peace was palpable. No dinging electronics. No grinding ice maker. Just a man alone in a room with his memories. He rolled over to the bedside table and picked up the little stack of brochures the crew left out for every guest. There were fishing tours, hiking tours, the aforementioned massages that were offered by an affiliate of the resort, and ah, here it was- the dining menu. For an extra fee, visitors at the resort could eat up to three meals a day at a dining hall located over by the office. Richard hadn’t wanted to have to bring much food along with him, so he’d decided to opt in to the catering package. It would also get him out of the cabin and out around other people for a little while each day; which he thought would probably be a good thing. He wanted some time to work things out, but he didn’t want to end up as a hermit. It was only 2:00 right now, so he still had several hours before dinner; but he wanted to check out the options beforehand anyway.

The brochure was kitschy, but not in an annoying way. It had more of those little stylized oak leaves like the ones on the ring to his room key, and cutesy little descriptive images over each section of the menu. There was a buffet offered at every meal and he thought that that would suit him just fine. No need to order in advance if he would be dining alone anyway.

As his gaze wandered over the buffet’s dinner options, he became aware of an odd, buzzing type sound coming from the little kitchenette that was tucked away from view behind a half wall that separated the bedroom from the kitchen/bathing area. “Figures,” he muttered to himself under his breath. Even in a cabin in the middle of the woods he couldn’t get away from these types of annoyances. The buzzing sound continued for quite a bit longer than he thought it should, and then it even began to increase in volume and pitch. His irritation rose in tandem to the noise and finally, he threw himself off of the bed and stalked across the room to find the source of the noise.

At first it appeared to be coming from the mini fridge that sat tucked away in the corner formed by the half wall. He reached a hand out towards it to open the door, but the buzzing abruptly stopped. He froze in place for a moment and then shook his head and turned to head back into the bedroom. But as soon as his back was turned the noise returned. This time it was even louder, a frenzied buzzing, pulsing sound that rattled his teeth and caused an ache at the base of his skull. He turned quickly and lunged for the mini fridge, but when he opened the door, nothing happened. He closed the door unceremoniously and scanned the rest of the room for the source of the offending noise.

Although the light was out, the noise appeared to be coming from the microwave this time. The light up panel on the outside of the device showed a flashing line of dashes rather than the usual numbers, but he was pretty sure that he could see the plate spinning behind the glass paned door. He briefly debated whether it would be smarter to open the door or to pull the plug and quickly decided to pull the plug. With that thing going haywire like it was there was no telling what might happen if he pried the door open. Reaching behind the machine, he ran his hand along the cord, searching for its connection to the wall outlet in the dimly lit area. The entire microwave was now vibrating and practically dancing on the counter top with the strange surge of power.

He located the wall plug and, plucking the end of the cord gingerly with two fingers, he pulled on it gently. As the cord left the wall, a small arc of electricity jumped from the socket to the receding cord with a pop. He dropped the cord quickly and grimaced as he clutched his hand with the other, a dull tingling sensation racing up his hand and then fading out as it reached his forearm. His head was still buzzing, now in response to the sudden lack of sound, and his hand ached a tiny bit; but other than that everything seemed to be fine. He flipped on the overhead light that lit the small kitchenette and pulled the microwave out away from the wall. Now that the power was disconnected he could go ahead and open the door to see what had been going on in there.

The small light that usually lit the interior of the device when it was on had burned out, and there was a blackened circle burned into the white plastic surrounding it. The smell of burnt plastic was unpleasant and he shut the door quickly, in an effort to minimize it. He picked up the offending appliance and took it into the bedroom, setting it on the table beside his bags. He would take it by the office on his way to dinner and explain what had happened. Although he didn’t really understand what had happened himself. He hadn’t been using the microwave at all. It had just come on suddenly and then exploded a little bit. Must’ve been a power surge, but it was definitely odd, considering that none of the other devices plugged into that wall had gone haywire like this one.

Or maybe… he had thought that the noise was coming from the mini fridge at first. He mulled it over, feeling suddenly drained. It was really strange but he could swear that at the time the noise peaked it hadn’t seemed to be coming from any one area in particular. It had been like an overwhelming charge had been suffusing the entire room somehow.

He shook his head gently to clear it and then reached into a small carry on bag he had brought, in addition to his clothes and toiletries. He pulled out the bottle of bourbon he’d already been working on at home and moved back into the kitchenette in search of a glass. Already, this wasn’t turning out to be the relaxing getaway that he’d hoped for. He returned, drink in hand, to the front room and pulled out the rest of the contents of the little carry on. There was a worn copy of an old Dean Koontz novel he’d read and re-read about a billion times, his I-pad and all the charging cables he’d need for his various devices he’d brought along, and a small framed photo of Addie. It had been taken one summer when they’d been on vacation at a little beach resort town on the gulf coast of Texas. It wasn’t terribly far from where they lived and they had tried to visit as often as they could. Addie had always loved the beach. She swore that there was something almost spiritual in the elemental mix of wind, sand, and surf. This photo in particular showed her standing at the edge of the cresting surf, her eyes closed and her hair blowing madly around her face. She had the sweetest little suggestion of a smile and a look of bliss that Richard had always adored. Her tanned skin glowed against the neon pink bikini that she wore to perfection.

He smiled sadly at the little silver framed portrait, while his heart ached in a way that he had never known was possible. God, he just missed her so much! Looking at her photo brought on such an overwhelmingly strange mix of emotions that he could hardly stand it. His desire for her was aroused, and the memory of what her skin had felt like beneath his rough hands was almost palpable. But knowing that he’d never get the opportunity to massage her toned shoulders, to gently smooth the tangled hair back from her face, and to lean down and kiss her soft lips left such a deep ache in the gaping hole that should be his chest that it almost felt hard to breathe.

He gently set the picture frame down on the nightstand beside the bed and quickly downed the remainder of his drink. As he walked back across the room towards the kitchen to pour another drink the overhead lights began to flicker strangely. Sharp distinct flashes of light and then their absence created a strobe effect as he made his way to the kitchenette. A low buzzing sound rose in accompaniment to the odd light show, and instead of getting a refill he set the glass down on the bar counter and returned to the other room. The buzzing and strobing continued and a flash of anger came over him. What the hell was all this, really? Couldn’t a man have a few moments of peace anywhere?

He found the light switch panel across the room by the door and flipped the switch with great irritation. The lights instantly went out but the buzzing noise continued for a few moments after the power was cut. Then it began to fade in intensity until it finally died out completely. He whispered an ungentlemanly oath under his breath and then tried the light switch again. This time the lights stayed constant, lighting the room without a trace of the previous trouble. There must be some kind of power overload going on in here, he thought to himself as he continued to look up at the light fixtures warily. He really hoped that it wouldn’t continue because there were no other rooms available, and he didn’t want to end his little vacation before it had really even begun. A vein had begun to pulse on the right side of his forehead and he massaged it gently. Hell, if this was the way things were going to be here then maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to call it off early.

A strange scraping sound issued from the back room and he flinched, his back tightening and the pulsing vein going into overdrive. It sounded as if something heavy and perhaps sharp were being dragged across some unknown surface. Before he could make it across the room to investigate, the scraping intensified until suddenly a mini explosion sounded, followed by the sound of broken glass tinkling to the floor. He practically vaulted over the bed and made it to the doorway framed by the half wall in a few giant leaps. There was broken glass scattered across the floor on the side of the room opposite of where the microwave had been. There was also a divot in the wall, about the height of his head, where the glass must’ve somehow been thrown when it shattered. He looked at the counter where he had set his bourbon glass only a few short minutes ago, and sure enough it was empty now. Then he looked closer and could see that there was a shallow furrow dug into the surface of the well oiled wooden countertop. His forehead pulsed again, with a vengeance this time, and he once again brought a hand up to massage at the painful spot.

He gingerly stepped closer to the place where he had set the glass and looked around the room, mystified. Could there be a reasonable cause as to how it had been dragged across the counter and then hurled against the wall? There was nothing in evidence to explain what had happened. He ran a hand slowly across the counter top, barely believing that the damage to the wood could be real. But it was. There was definitely a groove dug into the top layer of the surface, about the width of the heavy square bottom of the now shattered glass. He almost expected something to jump out at him as he stood with a hand on the counter surveying the room. A chill ran from the middle of his back up to the base of his skull and he shivered. What the hell was going on in this place? Forcing himself to action, he pulled the small two seater table away from the wall and peered up beneath it. Of course there was nothing there. Then he went into the bathroom and checked behind the door and then pulled back the shower curtain on the little shower that stood to one side of the large hot tub sized bathtub. Nothing there either.

Finally he returned to the kitchenette and located a broom that was hung on a peg, on the wall beside the dining area. He returned to the doorway where the pile of glass lay and began to sweep it up. There were goose bumps visible on both arms as he leaned down to sweep and he stopped for a moment to rub them away, warming the skin that had chilled with the strange goings on. He gathered all of the remnants of glass into the dust pan and then dropped them in the trash, banging the dustpan against the side of the trash can a little harder than necessary. This place was getting to be seriously creepy. He had to get out of here for a little while.

Once the mess was cleaned up he hurried back to the table by the front door, scooped up the malfunctioning microwave and left the cabin as quickly as he could. He hadn’t expected to call on Rachel again during his stay but right now that sounded a hell of a lot better than staying in that cabin alone.

For part 2, click here- https://everydaywitches.blog/2026/09/21/grief-a-short-ghost-story-part-2/

If you’d like to check out the novel Everyday Witches, click here- Everyday Witches: chapter listing