Halloween Ghost Story Contest -- 2018
Adult Winners

First Place

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Our first place Adult category winner is L. K. D. Jennings of Midvale, Utah.

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The Woman With The Glass Eyes

by
L. K. D. Jennings

“When was the first time you saw her?”

Pacing and limping, James said, “That’s not going to help anything! She’s coming!”

The smoke of the therapist’s cigarette drifted upward. “Mr. Evans. I have to get a full picture of what you’re talking about.”

“I smelled the violets this morning. I heard her. Something is going to happen and it’s going to be bad. You can put me in a rubber room later.”

“The problem with crazy people, Mr. Evans, is they don’t think they’re crazy.” Miller tapped his cigarette into an ashtray. “What you’re talking about is most probably auditory and visual hallucinations caused by residual guilt. If we could get back to the question at hand...”

James sighed and sank onto the couch. “It was the car accident. I smelled the violets for the first time that day. Cloying. Like funeral flowers. I heard the thumping later, in the kitchen.”

“When you were seven?”

“When Bill died, yeah.” James drummed his fingers on the vinyl couch. “She stood in the middle of the road.”

“And you were the only one who saw her.”

“I mean… Bill didn’t react to her at all. I kept my mouth shut. I was scared, but I didn’t want him to think I was a baby. But...” James stared at the cane leaning against the couch.. “… I should have.”

“Losing a brother to trauma, so young… no one gets away from that unscathed, James.”

“But why’d I see her then? None of that guilt was there when I was just kid.”

Miller shrugged. “Retroactive memory. What you remember about that day was placed there afterwards.”

It still hurt to think about Bill. James blinked away tears.

“You feel like you should have warned him. You feel responsible for the accident. But it was just that. An accident.”

“It was Pop’s pickup,” James whispered. He rubbed a hand over his bad knee. “Nothing should’ve taken that truck down. But some backroad streetracer punks…”

He remembered the gleaming grille of the Chevy Bel Air. The explosion of glass and metal that had left Bill dead and him with a bum knee for the rest of his life.

“When did you see her again?”

“Ahhh.” James grimaced and shook his head. “Eleven? Twelve?”

“Another accident.”

“That’s when I figured out the pattern. Flowers first. In my bedroom, I smelled violets.” James lifted a finger. “And then the thumping around lunchtime. Down the hallway.”

“And then what?”

“She was on the stairs. Just standing there. Just like she’d been in the road. I don’t know how long I looked at her before I heard the gunshot.”

“This was your cousin?”

“Peter. How he wanted to see Pop’s rifles. He’d been deer hunting … thought he was the bee’s knees.” James’s hands curled into tight fists.

“You’re angry at him. For being irresponsible.”

“My mother walked in on him. She didn’t deserve that after Bill.”

“It was an accident.”

“He should’ve known better. Who blows the back of their own head off?”

“He was only a boy.”

“So was I.” James turned to look out the window.

“Ah… she… or it…” Miller flipped back through his notes. “Appears as a woman with glass eyes?”

“She’s like a sketch,” James said. “Like she’s made of watercolor … except her eyes. They’re bright and all wrong. Like the eyes of a stuffed animal. And she’s got a wooden tail.”

“That makes the thumping.”

“Yes.” James closed his eyes, resting his head in one hand. “Like a Labrador dog. Polished so you can see the grain.”

“And does she do anything?”

“No. She just stands there. And … wags her tail.” James barked a hoarse laugh.

“I don’t understand.”

“You and me both.” James massaged his right temple. “When I smelled violets in high school, I knew…”

Miller’s notes ruffled. “Tell me about that day.”

“It was chess club.” James rubbed his bad knee. “I came in early and the room smelled like violets. It put me in a panic. By the time the first bell rang, I had a headache from the stuff. I wanted to put my head down and sleep on my desk.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Miller said.

“I heard it. That thump thump thump.” James shook his head. “She was standing at the back of the class. I jumped up and ran. Messed up my knee going down the steps. Needed my cane after that.”

“But you didn’t die,” Miller said. “Thirty other students did that day.”

“Monoxide poisoning,” James said.

“And now this morning,” James said, standing up. “Violets in my car. That thumping out in the waiting room. She’s here.”

“I don’t think that we’re quite finished—”

“Something terrible is going to happen now if we don’t do something!”

“Mr. Evans, I think we need to get you something to calm down. Why don’t we step out into the hallway?”

James didn’t want anything to calm down. But he was glad to be out of the closed, greenish room.

Miller put a hand on his shoulder. “I have some sedatives downstairs.”

A ding. The elevator doors opened. It was crowded, with twelve or more people inside.

“I’ll fetch some myself, and then we’ll have an extended session. All right?”

James froze. Miller’s words had turned to babbling amid the blood pounding in his ears.

Miller stepped inside. People shuffled aside to make room for him. And the glass-eyed woman stood among them.

Miller smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

The doors closed. James turned away, fumbling towards the front desk of the therapy office.

“Can I help you, sir?” The receptionist looked alarmed. “Sir!”

James tried to grab the rotary-dial phone.

But when he heard the shriek of metal and the crash, he dropped it.

Everyone around him was running. Rushing to see how they could help.

But he didn’t.

The woman with the glass eyes knew there was nothing to be done.