The Ghosts of Emmett Hill: Part 2 (Original Steemit Serial)

This is the continuation of The Ghosts of Emmett Hill series. Part One can be found here: (LINK)

Part Two

Emmett stared at Simon intently. And he stared at him intensely. He did both. At the same time.

“What do you mean, “The Others”?”, Emmett put great emphasis on “The Others” as he asked his question. “What others? Which others?” Emmett was flustered. It showed. Somewhat amused, Simon sought to reassure him.

“I have no idea if there are to be others,” he added quickly, in an attempt to unfluster Emmett. “I arrived here alone. I'm still not sure how that happened. One moment I wasn't here. The next moment I was here. If there were any moments in between those two then I do not recall them. And that is my recollection of events. As for others I cannot add any more to our present conversation, except to say that I saw so many spare rooms, I made an assumption. Perhaps as I arrived out of nowhere, maybe others shall join us in a similar fashion.”

“Oh, I do hope not. One is enough, at least until I get to know you.” Emmett was starting to regret his request for company. “I don't want this to become a ghost hotel.” 

Simon took a look around at his room. Saw how dusty everything was.

“Not been cleaned in awhile, I see,” he was cheeky, if not observant.

“I wasn't expecting company.”

Simon ran his finger along the top of the chest of draws. A mound of dust came off thicker than his finger. Simon looked at the dust, then looked at Emmett. “Obviously!” He went to the window to open it, hoping for some fresh air to assist with his soon to begin deodorising attempt. “Well best I clean this room, if it's going to be mine,” he said as he heaved at the window, unable to open it.

“That hasn't been opened in a little while, I'm afraid,” Emmett offered.

“How long is a little while?”

“Well that all depends.”

“On what, exactly.” Simon believed quick questions should be followed by quick answers. Not this drawn out expedition to nowhere.

“What year this is.” Emmett hadn't given much thought to time or dates, and particularly not to the year in, well, many years. So many years that he had lost count. The year was 1916 when he failed to move on. Died is usually how it is referred to, but Emmett has he own style. We've covered that, have we not! It could now be any time, as far as Emmett was concerned. 

“The year is 2016,” Simon told him. “Unless some strange time dilation occurred between my death and my arrival here. It was most certainly 2016 when I died. I remember it like it was yesterday.” Simon paused for a second, considering what he had just said. “Actually, I think it may have been yesterday. Wow, my funeral will be being held very soon. And I won't be there!”

“Well of course you won't be there. You're dead. Dead people can't go to their own funerals.”

“Why not? Who made that rule? Clearly we have to go somewhere. Why else would I be here? I would love to haunt my own funeral. Quietly, that is. I wouldn't really want to upset the grieving. But I would love to watch it. It's not something you give much thought to when you are still alive. They're all there grieving over me, yet I am here, in some form of aliveness. Or deadness. And I thought life was complicated!” Simon was talking himself in to a dreadful confusion.

“Say, so you died in 1916. So you're one hundred then. You're one hundred dead years old. How do you say it? You've been dead one hundred years. Surely that's some sort of a milestone. Well thank god you got company then. Wouldn't have been much of a celebration on your own.”

Emmett just stared at his new house guest with quiet disbelief. He had forgotten how annoying people could be.

“Do you have any thing to drink? We need to celebrate.” Simon started out of the room before Emmett had a chance to answer. 

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you keep the alcohol around here?” Simon had never met a one hundred year old before. Alive or dead. He needed to celebrate the occasion. Even if Emmett failed to see the need to be festive.

“Wait,” he called after Simon, who had walked very briskly, almost jogged, one could say, to then end of the hallway.

“Come on old man! Hurry up, it won't kill you!” 

It was beginning to dawn on Emmett that he may be faced with this level of humour for some time.

“And what doesn't kill you will make you stronger!” Simon felt like he was on a roll. He started mentally high-fiving himself. He was getting ready to go with one more, when Emmett spoke up.

“We're ghosts, Simon. Dead, D E A D. We don't eat, We don't drink.” 

Simon stared in disbelief at the news he was receiving.

“We can't drink? Even alcohol.”

“No, it just goes straight through us, literally.” Emmett had been through this disappointment himself, many years earlier. And a disappointment usually requires a stiff drink to take the edge off. And there in lies the dilemma. He felt Simon's pain.

“So this is hell? We're in hell then?”

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To Be Continued