This is the continuation of The Ghosts of Emmett Hill series. Parts One and Two can be found here: (Part 1 and Part 2)
Part Three
Simon was sobbing inconsolably. He had never received such terrible news. Was it not enough that he now found himself on the dead side of life? And in a big old house with only one other ghost for company. But no drinks. Ever! Simon started to feel that perhaps it would have been wiser if he had partied harder when he was still alive. No making up for lost time now, he thought.
“You'll get over,” Emmett offered, as a form of condolence. “I did, eventually.”
“Yes, but how long did it take you? Not one hundred years I hope? I can't possibly grieve over this loss for such a long time!”
“Out there, are those who grieve for you,” Emmett said, pointing out to the world beyond Emmett Hill. “Yet in here you grieve for alcohol! Perhaps a little perspective could help you cope.”
“You really are not helping.” Simon blurted out as he went for another round of tears and self pity.
“Come outside and get some fresh air.” Emmett attempted to take control of events, and get Simon to snap out of his melancholy. He had truly been there himself, when he first started to learn the do's and don'ts of ghosthood. He had to learn it all from the ground up. No instruction manual was provided. No welcoming committee was here to greet him. Perhaps it was his stubborn refusal to move on. Or perhaps the powers that be wanted him to remain here at Emmett Hill. He never did find out. But this is where he was, and this is where he had always been. He knew the place inside out. And he knew what he could and couldn't get away with. Believe me, he had tried.
Emmett and Simon wandered, slowly, as was dictated by Simon's still somewhat depressive mood. But he attempted to cooperate. Through the grand old dining hall, where Emmett made his proclamation. It was as if the room was speaking to him, reminding him, asking him even; “Did you really truly want company that badly?” The house it seemed had it's own personality. Emmett looked intently into the dining room, as if to say “be quiet!” The last thing he needed right at that moment was some cheeky dining room stirring the pot. Next thing you know the furniture would start joining in, raising all sorts of hell. An out of control dining room was the last thing Emmett needed, especially today. The dining room gave Emmett an ethereal wink, as if to say “I was just playing with you my good friend,” and left it that.
“Thank God,” Emmett spoke aloud before he even realised what he had done.
“Thank who?” Simon responded, taken by surprised, having had no idea of the conversation that had taken place between Emmett and the dining room.
“Oh, I was just thinking out loud. Mine was the only voice I have heard for the last hundred years,” he explained, in a vain attempt to not have to truly explain himself. And besides, it was a factual comment. He had only had himself to talk to for so long. He had had many an interesting conversation with himself. Out loud, as all the best conversations tend to be. Even if there was only one participant. “I tend to converse with myself, quite often. Out loud too. You'll get used to it.”
As they reached the door, Emmett paused, as he considered the fact that he had not been outside in quite some time. Many years, although he could no longer remember the exact number. He had been throughout the grounds. Was often on the veranda, over looking the town below. But he slowly grew bored of it all. Same thing, everyday. Same company, everyday. Perhaps Simon's arrival wouldn't be so bad after all.
“What's the matter?” Simon paused with Emmett, but only out of politeness. He had no idea the reasons why. Ever so curious, he felt the need to enquire.
“I was just thinking.” Emmett was deep in thought, but was able to offer up a brief explanation. “This will be the first time I have walked through this door in many years.”
“Would you like me to go first?” Simon was keen. Trying to balance his eagerness and his politeness was tiring him. He didn't wait for an answer. He opened the door, and through he went.
“Hey, I was just thinking,” he quickly added, hoping to cut off any offence before it arose. “If we're ghosts, why can't we just go through the door? Without opening it. And walls too.”
“If that was the case, what would stop us also going through the floor?” Emmett had wondered the same thing himself, for so long. His disappointment at realising doors and walls were solid, even to ghosts was great. As was his headaches from his many attempts to override his continual failures to accomplish what he believed was ghost behaviour 101.
Simon looked out at the surrounding vista, took a big deep breathe of air into his lungs. It was truly refreshing to him, no matter his corporeal state. Then he remembered his train of thought.
“So no moving through walls, like ghosts are depicted as doing?”
“No, I'm terribly sorry to have to inform you.”
“So are there any advantages to being a ghost then?”
“Sure, take seat and I will tell you all about them.”
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To Be Continued