The Apparition

Image by Caralyn YoungThe Apparition

Sylvia searched for a dry spot on her handkerchief before dabbing at her eyes.

“Are you Sylvia?” a man asked, startling her. He was rough-shaven and wore a wool beanie and a navy peacoat.

She looked around the crowded bar, but no one else was paying attention. “Are you The Apparition?”

“Do you have the money?” he asked.

She slid the envelope across the table. He slipped it into an inner pocket and said, “The Apparition will contact you,” turning to leave.

“Wait, how do I—”

“He’ll contact you.”

Sylvia nursed Cosmo after Cosmo until closing, but he never showed. Now she felt stupid on top of heartbroken and guilty.

She took an Uber home and prepared the couch for sleep. Sylvia still couldn’t bear to lie in their bed alone.

An hour later, she woke, hearing her name. Instantly alert, she scanned the dark room, gasping when she saw a figure standing in front of the window.

“Do not be alarmed,” the man said.

But she was alarmed. She could see the trees of her side yard through the man, and he was wearing clothing a hundred years out of fashion. “Who do you want killed?” he asked.

It was the Apparition! Sylvia sat up. “My husband. George Aikman. I have his address here.” She reached for the Post-it on the end table.

“Tell me. I cannot touch it, but I’ll remember.”

Realization dawned, and Sylvia picked up her keys instead, tossing them toward the man. They passed right through him. “How can you kill him if you can’t touch him?”

“Like this,” he said. In an instant he stood in front of her. He plunged his fist into her chest.

Searing cold spread through her, stilling her breath until he removed his hand.

Sylvia smiled and read off George’s address.

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