Libby's evening

Libby's evening
Meanwhile at the Cook/Walker house

Libby pulled her 2023 Land Rover into the middle of the garage. Michael had started parking his old sedan in the drive to prevent the Rover from getting dings. She carefully opened the door, making sure it didn’t touch any of the junk she had moved out here when she moved in. On the left side of the garage is what Libby assumed an old ladies wet dream looked like, mostly old furniture and porcelain knickknacks. She walked around the vehicle to the rear hatch to unload her finds. Not wanting to make multiple trips, she rolled the little black shopping cart that Norma Rae had used to haul groceries into the house. Libby didn’t buy enough groceries to ever need it for that. However, a day spent at Legacy West in Plano had given her a trunk full of shoes and other bags that could fit. While loading the shoes into the bottom of the cart, she felt eyes on her. Poking her head around the car, she expected to see Michael coming to help her. Seeing no one there, she turned in a circle, looking for anyone.

“I’m losing my mind. Stupid ghost.” Libby muttered under her breath as continued loading her bags. She had grown to hate this house. Every room felt like there was already someone in there and she wasn’t welcomed to join them. Her favorite stiletto heel had been used to break the old TV. She didn’t object to upgrading to the Sixty-five-inch flat screen. Her objection was that the ghost had used her nude Louboutin. The heel broke and she had to go buy a new pair. Her bags filled the cart causing her to have to carefully tilt it so the rest could balance on the handle. Slowly she rolled the cart to the front passenger door to retrieve her giant handbag with the golden MK on it.

The slight step into the house rattled the cart. Libby swore under her breath, hoping Michael wouldn’t hear. He was always reminding her that ladies didn’t use such language. She liked his old fashion manners, but wished he had a little more updated vocabulary. Thankfully he didn’t know anything about designer clothes, so he had no idea how much money was in the little cart. The garage door rattled down after she pushed the button that looked like a doorbell by the door. After the deadbolt was thrown, she moved into the main part of the house.

“Baby I’m home!” She called out as she rolled the cart down the hall to the master bedroom. The bedroom was closed. That’s odd. They never closed the door during the day. The doorknob wouldn’t turn under her hand. She tried turning it the either way. It wouldn’t budge. Finally, she knocked. “Baby are you in there?”

There was no response from the other side. Frustrated, she kicked the door. It swung open easily. Sighing with frustration she rolled the cart inside to the master closet. “Stupid old house. Doors never stuck in my townhouse.”

Joyfully, she began arranging her new shoes into the custom shoe rack Michael had installed for her. It ran the width of the longest wall of the master closet. Once she was satisfied with her shoes, she moved to hang her new clothes on the opposite wall. To make them fit, she had to remove some of her summer clothes. Those would have to be hung in her overflow closet in the office. Libby still felt like she was being watched. Michael was obviously not in the house. He had probably gone for his evening walk around the neighborhood.  A chill ran down her spine as the laminate floor creaked behind her. She felt her breathing speed up. The feeling that someone was standing right behind her was triggering her freeze response. “There’s no one there. Just turn around and look.” She muttered to herself. With a steading breath, she slowly turned around.

The closet was empty except for her. Quickly she gathered up her summer clothes. Still feeling the effects of the adrenaline rush, she all but ran across the living room to the office. The closet door opened slowly with a creak. Telling herself it was opening because of her stepping on the wood floor, she hung the clothes in her arms and fled the room to the kitchen.

“It’s just your imagination.” She tried to ignore the heavy steps that seemed to mimic the softer clink her red bottom shoes made.  In the kitchen she made a light dinner salad from kale which she took along with a bottle of mineral water to the living room. Once settled on the couch, she turned on the sixty-five inch TV they had bought to replace the one that had been pulled of the wall to watch The Real Housewives of The OC. She had only watched for a few minutes when she began hearing a thunking noise from the master bedroom. At first, she tried to ignore it. The psychic said that the ghosts weren’t there to hurt them. So even if she wasn’t imagining it, there was no danger. She went back to watch her show.

Halfway through the episode the scratching sound of something sliding across laminate pulled her attention from the TV. With trepidation, Libby carefully sat down her salad bowl to pick up the metal object that had bumped against the couch leg. It was a gold MK insignia. Furious, she jumped to her feet and ran to the master bedroom, bouncing off the door when it slammed in her face. She took a step back to rub her forehead. The door creaked open slowly again. For a moment, Libby thought she heard a female snicker. When the door was fully open, she darted into the master closet.

Expletives rolled off her tongue as she took in the scene. Every one of her new shoes had been removed from their boxes, then placed in a raising pyramid shape on the floor. On the tip of the pyramid was the ugly broken figurine that the hot psychic had been so interested in. Shrieking with rage, she stormed the closet to put away her shoes. The ugly figurine was thrown carelessly over her shoulder. As she reached for the first shoe, an ice-cold hand wrapped around her wrist. Libby couldn’t see the hand, only the indentation on her wrist where it was squeezing her. The cold from the invisible hand was radiating up her arm.

Shrieking with terror this time she ran from the closet not slowing until she reached the bedroom door. She risked a glance back over her shoulder. Standing at the foot of the bed was a smoky figure. It appeared to female with no distinguishable features. Libby could feel the anger coming off it in waves. With a whimper, she turned to flee from the house only to abruptly stop. Standing at the end of the hall was another smoky angry featureless figure. Sobbing with fear, she slid down the wall at the end of the hall, convinced she was going to die.