She would have laughed in the face of anyone telling her they had seen a ghost.
It was for this reason that she was totally unprepared for the events that took place that evening. She had not long arrived home from work and had scarcely got the kettle on when she became aware of a column of mist hovering in the corner of the lounge. Being the fairly stoic woman that she was, she just stood and watched while the apparition solidified. The only agitation she felt came with the slow recognition of the form that the thing was taking. It was her husband; there could be no doubt about that. Although a bit fuzzy, together with the unnerving fact the she could see right through him, it was definitely him. The thing settled down in his favourite armchair and grinned at her.
Looking around, it said, “I must say you’ve kept the place looking nice,”
The agitation was building to rage, but she said nothing.
“Well then,” it asked, trying to sound cheerful, “what’s been happening?”
Inwardly proud of the way she was handling it, she moved to a chair opposite the ghostly figure and sat thinking about what she would say. “Good question,” she began, “well, where to begin… I think the whole thing began when you had an affair with the lady from the factory, where you worked. Of course, this was followed by her husband finding out and luring you to his home on a false pretext, while she was out. God! You were dumb!”
The thing went to say something.
She held up a finger. “It’s best if you don’t interrupt!” she said, firmly. ‘Let’s see; Oh! Yes, that’s right. He was showing you something in his shed when he pulled a gun and shot you between the eyes.” She sighed heavily. “Of course, all this happened some time ago now, but as you would know, he is serving time and she has left the district. I think that’s a fair summing up, don’t you.”
The ghostly thing stiffened. “Yes dear, very fair. That’s why I’m paying you a visit.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. I have a problem, you see.”
“That is?”
“Well, basically, I can’t move on.”
“You can’t?”
“No.”
“Why ever not?”
“It’s because of the guilt, you see?”
“Hah! There’s not much I can do about that. You made your bed, so you…” she suddenly looked embarrassed and fell silent.
“But there is, you see. You can do something. You can free me from this torment. I could move on.”
Suspicious now, she asked, “What could I do?”
“You could forgive me. That’s all that’s needed. Just your forgiveness and I would be released. Free to go to the other side.” The thing put wispy hands together, as if in prayer. “Please. I’m only allowed to ask once.”
She slowly got up and left the room. She returned with her laptop. She opened it up and began tapping.
Tentatively, the ghostly figure asked. “What are you doing?”
Without lifting her head, she said, “Just looking something up. Yes, that looks promising, I have some of that.”
“What?”
“Eh? Nutmeg, ground nutmeg. I’m sure I have.”
“You always were a good cook,” it said, looking glum.
“Thank you,” she said, getting up. She went into the kitchen and hunted through a cupboard. She came back with a small glass jar. She sat down and looked at the screen again, nodding. “OK.” she said, standing up and tipping a pile of it onto the open palm of her hand.
It said, “I don’t understand.”
She walked towards it, saying, “No. I don’t suppose you do.”
She crouched a little, and with a large breath blew the spice into the thing’s face, while shouting, “Be gone!”
She stood back, looking down into the empty chair.
Looking lovingly at her laptop, she whispered, “Isn’t Google just wonderful!”