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Wednesday, 21 March 2012

The truth revealed

Of course when I say the truth, I do of course mean the truth as perceived by the majority.

My phone rang at 7AM, it was Patrick.

'Tom.' His voice was urgent.
'Yes.' I responded, now completely awake.
'You'd better sit down, I think.'
'It's 7AM Patrick, I'm still lying down.'
'Ah, right. But it's important.'
'It sounds like it, are you OK.'
'What? Me? Yeah, of course I'm OK. It's you I'm worried about.'
'You ARE worrying me, for fucks sake mate get to the point.'
'Right.' He paused and could hear him lick his lips. 'You know Dirty Gary?
'He's dead.'
'Yes,' his tone was tired and irritated. 'He's a ghost Tom, it's not his fault he's dead.'
'Yes it is he got caught trying to rape some poor woman, her husband threw him out of a window.'

Dirty Gary was a notorious sex pest in Portsmouth in the late fifties, he had terrorised neighbourhoods for years before getting caught forcing his attentions on the wife of a local sailor. He had thankfully returned home unexpected, Gary tended to research his victims well, unfortunately for him his victim lived on the sixth floor of a block of newly built flats. His body had disintegrated as it struck the asphalt, the local kids still stripped his ruined body bare. The police, well aware of his antics were more than happy to write this off as an unfortunate suicide. As Patrick had pointed out to Steve, raping the wife of a twenty stone stoker was suicide. No-one knows why some spirits manage to remain earthbound nor how some manage to return from whatever afterlife they find immediately following their death. Even speaking with some ghosts has shed little light on the subject, they know as much, or indeed as little as the rest of us. Dirty Gary was consumed with perverted passions and had remained, using his afterlife as a means to hang around female changing rooms in the region. One of his favourite haunts was the local police station and as such was always a convenient means to learn what was really going on in the area. He was also a buzzing fly within the ghostly community, an irritating parasite that traded in gossip.

'Listen,' Patrick hissed, 'you've really pissed someone off, I mean really pissed them off.'
'Get to the point Pat.'
'Do you know someone called Karl?'
I paused and thought, 'Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Why?'
'Flowers Barrow?'
My skin crawled, I felt sick. 'He's dead right?'
The phone went quiet, 'Pat?' A pause. 'Pat? You there?'
'Yes, he's dead and it's evident he wants you that way too.'
'Just tell me what you know.' Forcing myself to remain calm and clear, enunciating very word carefully.
'There's a new project, after Flowers Barrow, Silver Puppet.' He paused, obviously for me to interject, I didn't. 'After Flower's Barrow collapsed, the same company started a new project. The end result of Flowers Barrow, and indeed you, was that the suits were now aware that we exist.'
'What do you mean, we? I knew exactly what he meant but wanted a delay in order to think.
'Us, you know, us.' I nodded, ridiculous I know but I found I couldn't answer. 'This Karl, has been telling all that'll listen that you are the witch finder, you are their means to identify and sentence those that they need to use.'
I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
'Me?' I had nothing to do with the fucking thing.' My head was spinning.
'I know, I know mate. But, he is an artefact of Flower's fucking Barrow, he's popular mate. He will be listened to.'
The enormity of Patrick's words began to sink in, I was now a pariah in the world I had come to think of as my own.
'Where does that leave me?' I whispered.
'In a bad place Tom. Of course there are those that still believe that you would never do such a thing but...'
'But what?' I shouted.
'But, then again there are those who don't want to take the chance. I'll be honest buddy, if you were dead a lot of people would feel a lot more secure.'
'Including you?' I felt guilty straight away.
'Of course not. You can be a right prick sometimes.'
'Sorry mate, I'm feeling a bit, er, concerned.'
'Listen, sit tight and get Gareth to call me will you, I need to come up with something.'
'OK matey, just promise you'll get back to me.'
'Probably tomorrow, take it easy and don't go out for fucks sake.'
'No prob with that mate.'
'Talk soon.' He hung up.

That was hours ago. I had at Pat's request asked Gareth to give him a call, which he did but had subsequently disappeared to go to work. I have been sitting here on my own ever since, shitting myself and waiting for either Pat to ring or Gareth to return. I can't even bring myself to watch TV. I'll have a go at Gareth's XBOX then go to bed. Shit, my fingers are finding it hard to type.

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