Ghost in the Attic

Hello, my name is Toby Barnes, and I’m known around here as the ghost in the attic. I’ve been here since I died over two hundred years ago along this rugged shoreline named Captain’s Bend on Muskeg Bay, Minnesota. A shipwreck sent me to these hostile shores where I died during a winter storm. My surviving mates buried me here in 1798. We were searching for the fabled Northwest passage. But the Northwest Passage was not to be found as the expedition discovered at a terrible cost.

Some rich buffoon decided a hundred years later to build his mansion over my grave. Rest in peace, my hindside. I did everything I could think of to discourage him from building his castle over my grave. I used every haunting trick I knew to run them off to let me rest in peace, but all to no avail. They built his castle without any regard to my wishes.

“I am Mr. Titus Harper McCormick, and I will not let a ghost prevent me from building mansion here.” He shook his fist just as the scaffolding collapsed as a blatant warning I had sent to him.

“Can you see me?” I howled preparing to send more scaffolding to the ground, but I could tell, he didn’t see me.And that was fine with me.

“I shall have a séance and present you with an eviction notice.” He bellowed as he shook his fist in the air at no one.

“Father, are you okay?” A bawdy strapping young man asked as he helped the buffoon to his feet.

“I was standing on that scaffolding when it suddenly gave way.” He pointed to the pile of debris left in a heap.

“You were lucky you were not killed.” He put his arm around the gray-haired old man with the bushy sideburns and mustache to compensate for the lack of hair on top of his head.

“Oh, Ceril, I have dreamed of having my castle built along Lake Superior.” He wobbled as he walked next to his son who was about my age when I froze to death in this location a century prior.

Despite my best effort, Titus Harper McCormick completed his castle on Captain’s Bend. From the attic, I could see the enormous lake on three sides.I have to admit this was an impressive edifice when everything is considered.

One thing you must remember about Lake Superior is that it is the largest fresh water lake in the entire world and because of that fact, it is known to have a temper. Trust me, I experienced this first-hand. But the old man had a skiff, and he decided to explore the bay. He sailed in 1902 and hasn’t been seen since. The angry lake ate him and his skiff in a storm that blew in unexpectedly from the north.

His son Ceril put the house up for sale and another rich man bought it. Years later, the house was turned into a trendy bed and breakfast. I would like to say this was a favorable development, but that would be a bold face lie. College kids would come out here and throw wild parties. After some damage was sustained, management decided to put an end to the hijinks and brouhaha. That has made a favorable difference, but sometimes the guests are not the best houseguests either. Several curious customers have come up to the attic, to my eternal sanctuary. None of them can see me, but their earthly presence is a nuance, nonetheless.

“Hi mister.” A small voice startles me. When I turn around, I see a young boy staring directly at me. His eyes are so blue they are almost invisible.

“Can you see me?” I ask with trepidation. He nods instantly. “So, you can see me is that correct?”

“Uh-huh.” He nods again.

“What is your name, little boy?” I ask taking a step back.

“Willie. Willie Joplin. I’m five years old.” He holds up his hand with his finger spread.

“How come you can see me?” I know this is an insidious question that I do not expect an answer from him.

“I can see you, but I can also see right through you.” He answers with a heartfelt sincerity.

“I am Toby Barnes, the ghost of the attic.” I reply.

“I know.” He giggles.

“How do you know?” I did not have time for childish games.

“There’s a picture of you down near the kitchen.” He shrugs.

“Really?” I am somewhat ashamed that I had never noticed this before.

“It has your name under the painting.” He steps close to me and peers out the window. “Wow, what a view.”

“Do you like it?” I asked as I sat in a chair that had been brought up here many years ago.

“Yes, it’s awesome.” He wiped the window with his hand to get a better view.

“I’m glad you like it.” I chuckled realizing that it had been over two hundred years since I had a conversation with someone other than myself. When I was remanded to the attic, my lawyer told me there was quite a backlog. It could be a while before my preliminary hearing.

There were worse places I could be. The attic wasn’t really all that bad. The boredom was the worst part.Talking to Willie made me cognoscente of my boredom. I was beginning to take a shine to the lad since I didn’t scare him away like I had the other children who ventured up here. The fact he could even see me in the first place was amazing.

“Mr. Ghost, I better be going.” Willie shrugged.

“You can call me Mr. Barnes.” I nodded.

“Alright, Mr. Barnes.” He rubbed his hands on his pants as the dust and dirt had accumulated over time, “Can I getcha anything?”

“No thank you, William. Ghosts don’t need to anything really.”

“William? My mom is the only one who calls me William, and she only calls me William when I’m in trouble.” His eyes went wide.

“Oh no, you’re not in trouble.” I shook my head, “Not with me anyway.”

“Good. I hate being in trouble. Mom makes me sit in the corner. I hate it.” His facial expression looked as if he had tasted something unpleasant.

“Toddle along so you won’t get in trouble, William.” I told him.

“Oh, alright.” He rolled his eyes and asked, “Can I come up later?”

“If you do what you’re told.” I shook my head, “We will see.”

“See you later, Mr. Barnes.” He waved as he was leaving.

What a remarkable young man he is, I thought as I put my hand to my chin. I was not used to having company. Most people would see my shadow and hear my voice, and they would run away screaming. It was nice to have a civil conversation even if he was just a lad. It was nice.

“Toby.” I heard someone say my name.

“What?” I sat in my chair.

“It’s me, Mr. Witherspoon.” His fat little poltergeist body appeared next to me.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“Well, I am trying to get you on the next docket.” He opened his briefcase.

“What if I don’t want to go to a preliminary hearing?” I brushed my fingernails against my shirt.

Witherspoon looked over at me as if I lost my mind. His mouth hung open, but he was unable to give voice to what he was thinking. Finally, he managed to say a few words, “Have you lost your mind?”

“I find being the ghost in the attic suits me.” I raised my eyebrow as I scanned the attic.

“Is that what this is about? Are you feeling slighted because of the length of time you have been haunting here?” Witherspoon rolled his dark eyes. “Time is of no consequence to the dead, Toby.”

“I realize that.” I pursed his lips.

“I have pleaded your case in front of the judge, and he agreed it is time to bring you up to a hearing.” His face reddened a bit.

“I am afraid that I done things in my life that I’m ashamed of.” I informed him.

“What kind of things?” Witherspoon squinted.

“I killed a man.” I coughed into his hand.

“No, you didn’t.” Witherspoon shook his head with an expression of exasperation.

“I thought about it.” I sneered.

“If we were judged on some of thoughts we have had in our time here, none of us would be proclaimed innocent.” Witherspoon waved his hand at me. Once he had gotten control of himself, he asked, “Who was it?”

“It was my father.” I confessed, “He was the reason I set sail on the Cabana in search of the passage.” I folded my arms over his chest.

“I would say according to the court records, he was guilty of a lot more than you’ll ever be.” Witherspoon put his finger on the document for Wilmer P. Barnes, “He did finance the expedition.”

“He did.” I concurred with a nod.

“He knew he was sending you to your doom.” Witherspoon shook his head.

“He lied to me then.”

“It would appear so, Toby.” Witherspoon continued, “His motive was to send you into a place where three other vessels had met their doom. He knew you had no chance to succeed.”

“I never trusted him, you know.” I leaned back in my chair. “He needed to get rid of me because I knew too much.”

“He was not a man to be trusted. The entire crew succumbed to the brutal weather conditions.” Witherspoon flipped the page of the document.

“I was not aware they all perished.” I glanced out the window as a hard rain was splattering against the window pane.

“Eventually.” He sighed, “There were rumors that some of the crew resorted to cannibalism.”

“Dreadful.” I wave my hand. Just the thought of such desperation was enough to make me mourn them all.

“During their hearings, they were not judged so harshly.” Witherspoon nodded.

“What was that supposed to mean?” I snapped as I came to my feet.

“That under the circumstances-“

“Are you serious?” I gnashed my teeth together, but the gesture as a ghost was not so menacing. “Court martial offense.”

“I understand, but when you are trying to survive…it seems like the natural course of survival.” Witherspoon shrugged as he closed his briefcase.

“So, I’ve been in this attic for no reason?”

“I thought you wanted to be here.” Witherspoon put his hands up in case I decided to strike him in my anger. I turned my head away from him, that fat little bald man with the glasses perched at the end of his nose.

“Was I given a choice?” I held out my hands.

“You were buried here.” Witherspoon pointed out.

“I did not ask for this monstrosity to be built over my grave.Was there not a marker to tell some one that this was a final resting place. That this was sacred land?” My voice was shrill.

“This was sacred land to the Red Cliff people, but that didn’t stop anyone from claiming the land regardless.” Witherspoon argued.

I stopped for a moment. I remembered how peaceful those people were and how they greeted us with warmth and humanity, but Captain Wingate order the soldiers to fire upon them as they ran for cover leaving the snow red with their blood. And then silence followed until the screeching crows came to eat their remains. I stood watching from the rails and rigging of the ship thoroughly disgusted.

“Do you remember?” Witherspoon said as he licked the nib of his pen.

“Yes.” I bowed my head, “I remember. Captain Wingate just stood there proud of what the crew had done.”

“When we are at the preliminary hearing, please do not bring that up.” Whitherspoon adjusted his glasses, “It has been a long time ago and sometimes the judge does not always remember some of the finer points of contention.”

“I won’t.” My head continued to stay bowed in shame.

“Who is he?” Willie’s voice asked as he pointed to Witherspoon.

“Ah Willie, this is a friend of mine.” I pointed to Witherspoon.

“There’s another ghost? Neat.” He smiled.

“He can see us?” Witherspoon face was set in shock.

“Apparently so.” I chuckled. “Mr. Witherspoon, this young man is Willie Joplin.”

“How old are you, Willie?” Witherspoon inquired.

“I am five years old.” He held up his hand just like he had done for me earlier.

“Are you here with your family?” Witherspoon glance at me for support, but he was still befuddled that the child could see us.

“Yeah.” Willie moved his head up and down as Witherspoon laughed out loud.

“So, Willie can see ghosts.” I inquired.

“I had no idea the living could see us.” Witherspoon shrugged.

“I’ve always been able to see ghosts.” He opened a chest that was not locked. “I saw my grandma’s ghost, ya know.”

“You did?” Witherspoon put his finger to his mouth.

“She had cancer.” He began to examine some of the things inside the chest. “Is this a pirate’s chest?”

“No, Willie, it’s just some old junk somebody put up here one day.” I answered. I could see he was disappointed.

“My grandma had some neat stuff.” He rubbed his nose with his hand, “She had a picture of grandpa who died in the war. He visited me in my dream one time.”

“Amazing.” Witherspoon gasped.

“I have to go now.” Willie said as he walked toward the stairs, “It was nice meeting you both.”

“Nice meeting you as well.” I waved.

“How do you suppose he can see us?” Witherspoon voice was a harsh whisper.

“I guess sometimes the lines are crossed no matter how careful you are.” I was guessing, but what other explanation did I have?

“So, Toby, are you ready for the preliminary?” Witherspoon asked.

“I guess I’ve been in this place long enough.” I stared down at my feet, “I’ve scared enough of the guests and have played a lot of tricks on the gullible. I suppose it’s time to get this over, eh?”

“I just thought you were ready.” Witherspoon slapped me on the shoulder.

The room became dark and the next thing I knew I was standing in the courthouse.

“Just follow my lead.” Witherspoon winked at me.

“Whatever you say.” I followed him through the door. The judge was sitting on his bench.

“Next case is Mr. Toby Barnes.” The judge slammed his gavel, “Are you ready?”

“We are your honor.” Witherspoon nodded.

“Very well.” He slammed his gavel once again. “You must be Mr. Barnes?”

“I am your honor.” I nodded, but then something caught my eye. Sitting in the gallery, I saw Willie Joplin. “What is he doing here?”

I did not whisper, because the judge smiled, “That is Willie.”

“I know. I met him in the attic.” I shook my head.

“Willie is special. He died in a car accident when he was five years old.” The judge explained.

“So, he’s one of us? A ghost?” I felt exasperated as he told me.

“Yes, but I felt so bad for him when he came to us that I allowed his spirit to remain with the Joplin family. In doing so his spirit comforted them in their time of loss. He is happy to when he is with them.” The judge smiled as he waved at Willie. “He came here today as a character witness for you Toby Barnes.”

When I looked over, Willie waved, “Hello Mr. Barnes.”

“Hello Willie.”

Don’t ask me why we do the things we do. Or what motivates us to do the things that make no sense. Witherspoon was baffled at the outcome of my preliminary hearing. I’m sure he thought I had lost my mind, but when the judge brought down his gavel for the last time, I stood there feeling as if I had achieved a major concession.

“Mr. Bates, the wind is starting to blow.” Willie stands at the attic window looking through my spyglass.

“What shall we do, matie?” I ask him.

“Seek shelter on Captain’s Bend.” He answers.

“Fine idea. Fine idea indeed.” I chuckle.

“Set the heading for due south.” He calls out.

Witherspoon told me that this place will burn down in the near future, but until it does, I will continue to be the ghost in the attic along with my first mate Willie Joplin and together we will find the mythological Northwest Passage.