Nathan

*No Nathans were injured or killed during the writing of this story although one self-proclaimed mercenary might not be so lucky.

 

                                                                        Nathan

Writing out the name, she underlined it. Twice. Why it needed to be underlined two times and not just one, she wasn’t quite sure. Julia never knew where stories were headed when she began writing them and this time was no different. There she sat, pen in hand, staring at the name Nathan and its lines of emphasis.

Minutes passed. She put down her pen and picked up her coffee, cradling the warm mug between her hands, Julia raised her eyes studying the coffee shop’s other patrons.

What kind of a man is this is this character Nathan? What is his story? Is it an adventure? A mystery? A love story?

Hearing raised voices coming from the front of the restaurant, Julia turned her attention in the direction of the offending sounds. A woman was leaning across a table talking to a man. The more quickly she spoke the deeper his face would redden. When the woman closed her mouth, the man opened his. The closer the man got to the end of his response the louder his voice became. He rose from his seat as he finished yelling. Tossing money on to the table in front of him, the man turned, exiting the coffee shop completely.

Julia grimaced, scrunching her nose. Maybe not a love story, she thought.

A ghost story. What about a ghost story?

Is Nathan a ghost? Is he dead?

Julia watched as a handsome gentleman stepped up to the register at the coffee shop’s counter. He smiled at the waitress and chatted a bit as he handed her cash. Julia’s eyes followed his movements as he looked around. He waved, calling out to his fellow patrons in greeting, stopping to visit with one or two of them before walking out the door.

Nathan’s not dead, Julia decided. He’s haunted.

By whom?

Julia continued looking around, her eyes stopping at a little girl playing with her doll in the booth in front of her.

A child?

She shook her head dismissing the idea the moment it emerged.

An older man? The spirit of a relative or an ancestor?

Something flickered past the corner of Julia’s eye, she turned her attention towards movement on the far side of the display window. Leaves were falling outside in bright yellows and bold reds. She watched as a waitress set paper placemats down on a freshly wiped table. They were printed with cheerful looking vampires and werewolves. The monsters stayed in place, waiting patiently for tiny hands to color them in with crayons carefully set next to the napkin dispenser.

Julia looked down at the book sitting on the table in front of her. The House Of Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne. She picked up the book. At least I know where the name came from.

She shook her head.

No, his name is Nathan not Nathaniel.

A man who appeared to be living a quiet life.

To the outside world anyway.

At night, when he was alone, things were quite different.

After darkness had fallen and all had grown quiet, his ghostly visitor would appear.

“Really?” House’s voice echoes through High Command. She sighs. “Bor-ing.”

Writer Lady ignores the comment and continues to type. The theme song from Winnie-The-Pooh invades the room from another part of the house. She absentmindedly begins singing along. “Winnie-The-Pooh is coming out of my mouth while I’m writing a ghost story.” She shakes her head. “This is wrong. So wrong.” Writer Lady raises her eyes in the direction of the ceiling and calls out. “House. Activate sound proofing please.”

“Why?” House responds.

“So I can continue writing undisturbed.”

“I don’t like it.” House says.

“I know.”

“You’re still writing it?” House asks.

“Yes. I am aware of your opinion and I would still like to continue writing, if you would please.”

The music no longer leaks into High Command. Typing commences. “This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on my friends...”begins echoing throughout High Command.

“House.” Writer Lady calls. Footsteps approach, she turns to the entry to find Dobby and Tinkletoes looking in.

“What’s going on? We can hear you in the furthest reaches of hyper space.” Tinkletoes asks.

Writer Lady raises her hands towards the ceiling. “I am working on a new story, I asked for silence and House is being House.”

Dobby nods. “I’ll get TP.” The ginger tabby disappears from sight.

Tinkletoes enters High Command. Writer Lady turns back to her story. The self-proclaimed mercenary watches her as she types. He leans forward studying the words on the screen.

“Who’s Nathan?” He asks.

Writer Lady’s face contorts into something unpleasant. “He’s one of the main characters of the story. Do you mind?”

“What’s he like?” Tinkletoes asks.

“He’s...a man?” She responds. “Living in a big house near the sea where there are cliffs and stuff.”

“Is he...hot?” The self-proclaimed mercenary asks.

“Does it matter?”

“If you’re looking at his name and like thinking about him more than other people…”

Writer Lady sighs and turns around. “He’s a character on paper and I’m writing a ghost story.”

“So he’s gonna die. Cool.”

Writer Lady runs a hand across her forehead, sighs and continues typing. “Just because it’s a ghost story doesn’t mean anyone is going to die. There are lots of excellent stories where no one dies or where only the...” she pauses to glare at Tinkletoes, “...most annoying of characters suffer an untimely fate.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary grins. “You hear that House. Your days are numbered!”

Writer Lady shakes her head and returns to her work.

A ghostly presence with long flowing hair and soft blue eyes.

“Don’t you have blue eyes?” Tinkletoes asks.

Writer Lady turns and fixes her eyes on his.

“Now that you're looking at me I can see there’s nothing soft about your eyes.”

She returns to her story.

The woman wore a white nightgown trimmed in delicate lace always carrying a tall, thick, white candle as she followed Nathan through his nights.

“This isn’t one of those sex books is it?”

"She's a ghost."

"Ghosts still do stuff, sometimes."

"She doesn't have a physical body."

"Can't ghosts send energy pulsing through..."

Writer Lady turns, facing Tinkletoes she sits back in the Big Writing Chair as she folds her arms in front of her.