Ghost Digs Into The Past

Here is the opening scene of Ghost’s new story. I’m treading new ground here, so feedback will be greatly appreciated.

 

His whiskers twitched and all his senses came alert when David carried him into the new place. Ghost ignored his human doing human things involving writing and the thing called a credit card. This place was old, even older than their place in the city. He had never smelled so many layers of thoughts and feelings in all his young life.

The recent scents were of travelers looking for a pleasant place to den. Underlying that were the same sort of jumbled emotions he had observed being left in most places humans gathered. In the older layers though, the everyday ones had long since worn away, leaving strong traces of more significant events. He could feel profound turmoil in the deepest layers that he’d have to work to reach.

He wished David would hurry up and let him out. He wanted to explore.

“Such a handsome fellow.” Ghost felt the lady’s eyes on him, her scent was admiring. “I don’t mind if you want to let him out of your room, so long as he’s well behaved. Cats and old inns just seem to go together.”

David’s thoughts, as well as his scent, were surprised. Ghost squeezed his eyes in approval and purred at the lady. She was more discerning than most humans he encountered.

“As you can see, he also knows who has the keys to the kitchen,” David replied, amusement colored his voice and Ghost stared at him. He had not even been thinking about food. The nerve!

His ire at David using him to gain favor with the lady dissolved as the ancient stench of fear and horror assailed his senses again for just a second. It puzzled him that it should be that strong and then disappear that fast. A deep growl rumbled in his throat in reflex. He subdued the reaction. Whatever he sensed, his voice would not warn it away like some dog in the park.

“Let’s get him settled in your room. You are here for the summer?” she asked as she led them up stairs smelling pleasantly of well-oiled wood.

As soon as they were through the door, David placed his carrier on the floor and opened it. He ignored the routine of being shown where his water and sandbox were placed. Even the mild irritation that David didn’t realize he could find his own water bowl from quite a distance, barely registered as a thought. He began to prowl the room, all his fur sticking out in response to the sense of the place.

Something had happened here. Something horrible. He approached the rug on the floor warily. It could not cover up the pain and despair radiating from that spot -or the darkness of death. With infinite care, he wove his way through the other impressions surrounding that central one. He inhaled deeply, trying to separate the long ago impressions into something he could understand.

“What’s he doing?” the lady asked David, with an odd note in her voice as if she almost knew, or suspected she knew.

“Ghost is unusually sensitive to all sorts of things. I would have had to put Gran in a nursing home much sooner if he had not helped keep an eye on her.” His voice shifted strangely as he continued, “I realize that sounds a little weird.”

Finally, Ghost growled at them to be quiet. To his satisfaction, even the lady was silent. He refocused his attention on the traces before him. He could feel where they had been, like shadows that moved through the room. There had been four of them with the woman and infant that had been their prey. It had not been just a random slaying; they had wanted something from her. Something Ghost sensed she had not known. There was a tiny thread of satisfaction underlying the ancient traces of the woman as well. They had not gotten, had not even tried to get, what she sought to protect.

He placed his paws with care as he wove between the shadows to reach the spot that drew him. He had a strong aversion to touching those fragments of memory. There. The woman had lain here in her final moments of life. He pawed at the rug, as if he could move it and then planted both front paws on the spot. Ghost closed his eyes and concentrated on the fragment of memory. Two memories. One of offspring hidden from predators, another of a secret sent to safety. The memories warred in him for attention. He had to back away.

As he moved to the side, the shadows dissipated and his fur lay down again. He groomed it meticulously to calm his thoughts. He looked up at the humans. David was as full of questions as ever underneath the travel weariness. The lady, however, was pale and he sensed the shock in her thoughts. He did not usually feel the minds of strangers that strongly.

“I’ve never seen him act quite like that. Did something happen here?” David asked.

The lady shook her self, focusing on David’s question. Ghost listened closely. “There is an old story, I’m not sure if I believe it, that a woman and her baby were killed here by a squad of British soldiers in the early days of the Revolution. It was said they were looking for rebels and tortured her and her husband for information.” She looked up at David in entreaty. “It’s not the sort of thing we want to tell about the inn.”

David smiled, “If I see a ghost of a lady, I promise not to tell, and my Ghost won’t either.” Ghost felt his desire to put her at ease.

She laughed nervously. “No, I suppose he won’t at that. Did you name him that because of his odd markings?”

It was David’s turn to laugh. “Nope, my grandmother named him. He can get from one place to another without being seen to move. It’s uncanny.” Ghost decided to demonstrate. He avoided their gaze easily to leap on the bed. A slight sound gave him away as he landed, much to his disgust.

“Wow, he teleports!”

David gave him the tiniest of nods in approval. “I’ll be back with our stuff, Ghost. Behave and I’ll see if I can find you some fish for supper.”

Ghost looked at the golden bar of warm sun on the cover and stretched out in it. It had been a long trip, even before the intrusion of old memories.