The Ghost of Oak (4 page)

     
It was only her imagination. It had to be. Katie
sighed. She wished that she wasn't so afraid of absolutely
everything that existed on earth. If only there was a way for her
not to be afraid. "Now, that would really be nice," thought Katie.
She decided to read until her father was to come home. But after a
few chapters, a lonesome feeling took over inside of her, so she
went downstairs and into the living room to watch TV with her
mother. They remained in silence.

"Has the cat got your tongue?" Mr.
Smith asked, walking through the front door.

     
Katie shook her head, not really paying much
attention to anything other than the movie.
 

    
" Katie, how about you go up to your room and
watch some TV up there. I need to talk to your mother." Katie knew
exactly what her parents wanted to discuss, and that was her and
her babyish troubles. She went up the stairs, acting as if she was
going to obey. But when she was about halfway up the stairs, she
crouched down and peeked through the banisters, eavesdropping on
her parents' discussion.

    
Mrs. Smith urged her husband to sit down beside her. He did,
and they began to speak in whispers, which Katie could not
hear.

  
" I'm
really worried about her, Andrew," Mrs Smith said. "She seems to be
hallucinating lately. Today she told me all about what has been
going on. She even thought that I was some old lady who she sees
and hears when I was in the sewing room this morning. First the
noises in her room and now this." Mrs. Smith gave her husband a
worried look, then continued: " She also mentioned seeing faces in
the mirror."

     
Mr. Smith tried to act worried, but truly he was
not. " I'm worried,too, Katrina," he lied. He hugged her, then
replied with a quick "Gotta go." And with that, he got up and
headed for the door.

   
" But Andrew," she called. "I want you to know that I
scheduled an appointment with a counselor for her." He seemed not
to care, and he just headed out the door. Katie had heard that
part, and realizing that her mother had lied to her earlier, she
stormed up to her room, slamming the door behind
her. 

     
Back downstairs, Katrina Smith sighed and thought
just to herself: " Something is up with that
man."

      
She had absolutely no idea whatsoever what those
words could mean, at least not when she said them. But for some
strange reason, she felt that her husband knew something about what
was happening to their daughter. Whatever it was, it was nothing
good. For a minute, she thought about the day that Katie had first
began to act strange. It had been the first day of summer vacation.
But what could have happened to her that would have caused all
these problems? She wondered. Then it all came to her as if someone
had thrown a bucket of cold water over her head. The second puzzle
piece was clicked into place. A light bulb turned on inside her
head.

       
Then she said the two words that seemed to fit into place.
"The locket."

 
That night
Katie slept soundly, for her recent lack of sleep had worn her out
so much that she did not even notice any peculiar goings on if, in
fact there were any. As you might have picked up on already,
Katie's full name is Katrina, (after her mother) but to prevent
confusion she will be know as "Katie" and she is only ten after
all. But let's get back to the story, now shall
we?

     
Mrs. Smith, However, stayed up for most of night
worrying about her daughter, and about her husband's sudden "cold"
attitude and lack of concern in regard to the entire situation. She
thought about the her strange feeling, and about the way in which
those two small but chilling words had crossed her mind earlier
that evening. Besides, what would that locket, a silly,
miscellaneous item have to do with Katie's odd behavior. Nothing,
that's what. It was silly even to think about it. Thinking that the
locket was some kind of what-some kind of bad omen or something was
as strange and silly as Katie's new behavior.

     
Mrs. Smith sighed. It was getting late. Almost
midnight. Mr. Smith had fallen asleep long
before.

     
"He thinks that it's so hard to be a man, well he
should try to live life as a woman," she thought harshly. And with
that, she fell asleep.

    
The next morning, Mrs. Smith woke up to awful
heavy metal, which drifted from her husband's equally horrendous
glow-in-the-dark sports alarm clock. However, when she looked at
the time on the watch that she had carelessly forgotten to remove,
she realized that it was not morning at all, but early afternoon.
Only an idiot would set their alarm clock just in time for lunch
she thought. But she'd known for some time now that Mr. Smith was a
fool. He was a fool who expected a sandwich right away if and when
he ever got up off his lazy old caboose.

   
Just then, Mrs. Smith heard a loud bang, and it seemed to be
coming from the kitchen. She sighed, then headed downstairs to see
what all the hoopla was about. She found Katie in the kitchen,
stirring a pot of soup, her mother's recipe book in hand. Katrina
(the grown-up one) could not believe her eyes, when she looked into
the pot. Her ten-year-old daughter was making minestrone soup, the
most difficult soup that she, herself, had ever made. It had been
her mother's recipe, and her mother's before that. No one knew for
sure how long it had been in the Spencer family. She was absolutely
delighted, at least until she saw her favorite serving tray, also a
treasured family heirloom, on the ground broken into at least a
dozen pieces.

    
"Katie Marie Smith, I cannot believe that you
broke my favorite platter," she bellowed. "I understand that you
wanted to make a nice lunch for yourself, but.... Her voice trailed
off. Mrs. Smith shook her head. "I'm so sorry, it was my fault for
sleeping so late, and I should have known that you needed lunch and
couldn't make it yourself! Though, I might add that your cooking is
delicious. "However," she began, wearing a stern look on her face.
"You are never to cook by yourself again. Next time, yell up to us
to get up if it's after 7:30 in the morning. The raven haired woman
handed her daughter a dustpan and broom, and with that, left the
kitchen.

     
Katie cleaned up the mess without complaint. At
least I managed to make the soup before she caught me, and I can
still have it for lunch.... And dinner, she thought. Katie was
stirring and tasting her latest "culinary delight," when she heard
a noise. It sounded very much like footsteps. The young girl turned
around and there, standing right by the table, was the old
woman.

      
It's only my imagination, she thought. But,
despite the fact that she was trying very hard to make the old
woman hallucinations go away, the crone continued to simply "be,"
without saying a word. Katie stood there in awe, with her mouth
hanging open and her body completely frozen on the
spot.

     
"May I taste the soup that you are indeed so fond
of?" Katie was able to let out a squeaky sound, before the elderly
figure spoke again. "You are an extremely vain young lady, you
know. And you know what? I don't like vanity, especially in
children," she hissed. Then, the crone vanished.

 
Katie had
several more encounters with the strange figure, all which she
reported to her mother. Mrs. Smith continued to worry about her
daughter, but Mr. Smith still did not seem to care. When his wife
told him of the things that were happening to their child, he would
just shrug it off like it was nothing. This also continued to worry
Katie's mother. However, it soon came the day for her to take the
young girl for her first appointment with the
counselor.

     
"Do I have to?" Katie asked.

     
"Yes," replied her mother. Later that day, she
and a pouting Katie would pull the Smith family vehicle into the
driveway of the local family counseling center. The mother and
daughter arrived at the waiting room of Dr. Jones' office. Mrs.
Smith urged Katie to sit on one of the typical waiting room-esque
chairs, while she herself checked in at the front desk. After
signing in, she plopped down onto the chair adjacent to Katie's.
And so they waited.

      
Afterwards, Katie sullenly followed her mom into
the tight little room, where she would probably be hypnotized or
something equally horrendous. Instead, she was greeted by a
friendly-looking man who seemed to be roughly in his sixties, and
wore a nice suit, like that of a wealthy entrepreneur. Both the
nervous ten-year-old and her poised mother, sat on the
psychologist's beigesofa, crossing their legs politely. Dr. Jones'
took his seat at the office chair that made his computer desk
complete, then turned to face his patient.

   
"Well, now, what brings this young lady to my office today,"
he asked.

    
Mrs. Smith stepped in. "It appears to be that
Katie is hallucinating quite frequently, lately.

    
They could see the wheels turning in Dr. Jones'
head. Briefly, the counselor asked a few questions regarding
Katie's "recent mental state." Boy, this guy was serious about
using the proper words of a literate person 24/7. Katie wondered if
psychologists talked that way at home, too. She could just picture
him at a barbecue. He would say something like " Excuse me Sir, but
this frankfurter is positively undercooked." She laughed out loud
at that thought, which seemed to irk her mother and the doctor very
much.

    
"What is it that you are laughing at?" he
questioned.

   
"Oh, nothing," Katie said quickly.

    
Then, they discussed Katie's problems, and how
they affected daily activities. They talked about how often and
exactly when the hallucinations were occurring, as well. The
counselor tried to get to the bottom of the situation, along with
Katie's mother. After a short time, he told Katie to go back into
the waiting room, so that he could speak with her mother privately.
And, so she did.

   
During the car ride home to their tranquil neighborhood,
Katie whined about dinner. 

   
   
" Mom," she complained. " Why
can't you let me try to make something for our dinner
tonight?"

 
Her mother
grumbled. " Katie," she began. " I told you already that you are to
young to cook by yourself. However, if you don't keep on pestering,
you can help me out with dinner, later." The young girl pouted
childishly. Unfortunately for Katie, she inadvertently continued to
annoy her mother, and therefore could not assist in the kitchen.
After being told to go up to her room, while Mrs. Smith did the
cooking, Katie stomped upstairs angrily.

         
When she reached the doorway, she stopped dead in
her tracks. For there, sitting atop the bed, with its lemon-yellow
comforter, was the strange elderly woman who Katie had many times
seen and feared. In her left hand, she grasped the locket with the
odd little eagle symbol that she had found on the sidewalk on her
way home from the last day of fourth grade, just a few weeks after
her tenth birthday. Katie was so frightened, that she was sure she
turned whiter than the ghost herself. The old crone just sat there,
waiting patiently for the girl to say something. Nothing came
out.

       
The ghost became impatient, and replied: "If you really want
to know what is going on, then you should ask your father." The
woman's image slowly started to fade. Katie  swatted at the
old lady, just to find that her hand went right through. Within
seconds, the image disappeared.

  
Katie
yelled out for her mother. "Mommy!" she screamed.

     
She stopped for a split second, just to think
about what she had just said. Katie hadn't called her mother
"Mommy" in nearly two years. Nope. Not even once since the first
day of third grade. But, this time, things were different. She
wasn't just being a baby. She was really, truly scared for her
life. Any adult would have done the same. At least in Katie's
opinion, anyway. Mrs. Smith came running up into Katie's room, in
panic.

     
"What's the matter, darling."

      
Katie, still shocked, could only make out a few
words. " T- the g-g- ghost. Her again."

      
Katrina, (the older one of course) replied with a
sympathetic "Everything is going to be all right." She coaxed her
daughter, petting her hair and trying to calm her
down.