An Unconventional Haunting

Haunted. That’s the only word that adequately describes it. It mightn’t sound like that to other people that have dealt with true hauntings: ghostly apparitions that appear at night in old Victorian houses with more history than future possibility. To be haunted by something is no less unnerving. It conjures up images of Halloween in my soul; the worst parts of it. I feel the prickle of hairs standing on end like pins shoved into voodoo dolls. I feel the tremors that come when my heart is filled with terror, and I can see my breath in front of me – steam reminding me I’m alive whenever it feels like everything else around me is overcome with death and doom.

Let me set the scene for you, to get you into the mindset I’ve been in, to help you to understand my haunting. Otherwise, it couldn’t be easily explained. I have been feeling “off” for as long as I can remember. It might have only been for a small number of months, but the rest of time becomes obsolete when compared with the last ninety days. I am troubled in ways I have never been before – disturbed, in fact.

I met this guy through a dating app. It started off like any other dating dance. We messaged back and forth, we flirted, we agreed to meet up with one another when our time off work aligned. We met at a little restaurant I knew well. The fact it was so familiar to me meant that if the date was disastrous, at least I was in place that felt safe. I know I shouldn’t have thought of that, but sometimes you have to be prepared for the worst in the modern dating world. I know that now more than ever.

He walked in, a few minutes late. I was already keeping our table for us. There was a wine bottle candle in the middle of the place settings. The wax had melted down the sides of the bottle and solidified in sickening chunks. It put me off my meal, but everyone else probably thought it looked charmingly rustic. I knew that was the look they were going for. Quite fittingly, it was Halloween night. The restaurant was decorated with skulls and cobwebs. It gave the room an eerie feel that it didn’t ordinarily have. It was like I was in a different atmosphere – a place I didn’t know so well. There was classical music playing: the spine-chilling clink of piano keys. I wasn’t feeling at ease before he arrived, but whenever he did, things only worsened.

He popped up at the table and I almost jumped. He had a Lurch-like quality but maybe that was on purpose. He might have celebrated Halloween; he had certainly dressed for the occasion. He was wearing a suit. It was the kind that you would expect to find on an exhumed corpse. I didn’t share that thought with him. I thought it might start us off on the wrong foot. Maybe he just wanted to look smart and impress me, but he had a dusty appearance. There was something indistinct about him, like I couldn’t focus on his looks, nor could I figure out his personality.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” he said in a deep tenor tone.

He reminded me of those Halloween doorbells that unpleasantly surprise you whenever all you expected was a conventional ring.

“I’m Lily,” I said, extending my hand to take his.

He gripped it firmly and his palm had an icy chill that transmitted to me and seemed to take all the warmth from my body. How that was possible, I have no idea. We looked at each other, awkwardly. I was still wearing my coat, so I took it off. I probably looked like I was ready to leave any minute. I wanted to feel relaxed – to give him a real chance. I had wasted so much time on dating apps. It felt like statistically speaking, this date had to be the right one. I’d served my time in terms of bad dates. I was due a good one.

“Your eyes are enchanting,” he said, leaning towards me across the table.

He was still holding my hand. I wanted to snatch it back, but I knew it would look suspect if I did. I gradually pulled back from him, and he let me go. I was still under his fixed gaze, like an ant burning under a cruel child’s magnifying glass. I wanted to leave, but it felt too early to do that.

I focused my attention on the pizza oven. They were sliding sourdough bases in and out of it and I could smell the scent of burnt dough edges mixed with basil and oregano. My stomach was hungry, but it felt like my appetite had just vanished. I wished it would return to me, just as I wished words would return to my mouth. I needed to make conversation; I knew that. Knowing that didn’t help me to come up with anything.

“Your beauty is alluring,” he said with gravity.

I had no idea what to say in response. I’d never felt so uncomfortable, and I didn’t know what to make of him. It felt like he had been transported there from another time. I half-expected the staff I knew to pop up from behind the bar, announcing I had been pranked. It didn’t feel like a real experience.

“Lily is a lovely name. Are you named after anyone deceased?” he asked, tilting his head and looking genuinely intrigued.

“Not that I know of,” I said, stumbling over my words. “What about your name? It’s … interesting.”

“Yes, Feodore was my great uncle. He died a while ago, in strange circumstances, I might add,” he said.

He seemed to go into a trance then, like he was communicating with his dead uncle.

I waited. I didn’t know where to rest my eyes. A few minutes later, he snapped out of it.

I didn't ask him to elaborate.

“I’m sorry,” I said, clutching my stomach. “I’m not feeling wonderful. I’m going to have to go.”

“But you haven’t eaten your meal yet. You haven’t even placed your order.”

“I couldn’t face it. Thank you anyway.”

I got to my feet and practically ran from the restaurant. I didn’t even pause to look behind me. The further I was from Feodore, the better. I knew that, even though we’d only spent five minutes in each other’s presence.

I wish I could say that was the end of my horror story, but it wasn’t. Maybe it would have made a disappointing ending. People tend to like more drama than that, even whenever they deny it.

Everywhere I went, I ran into Feodore. At first, I tried to politely pass myself, to put it down to coincidence and shrug it off. But it quickly became apparent that he was following me everywhere I went. How he found out my address, I have no idea. Maybe he followed me home that night. Maybe I should have taken the time to pause and turn around – to check if he was behind me.

He haunts me daily. I envy people that are followed by spirits, because at least there are some boundaries between the spiritual and real worlds. My life has become smaller and smaller, as I seek to avoid Feodore wherever I go. He is always lurking in the background, his enormous frame towering over me in the shadows.

If he wasn’t alive, I could find out why he is haunting me, but since he seems to be breathing, there’s no peace to be made there. Not unless I welcome him into my life wholeheartedly. But truthfully, I’d rather be haunted.