Eerie Tales

Preface

By

Joleene Naylor

Author of The Amaranthine Series

When I was a kid I lived in a small town with a teeny tiny library. The books inside were second hand, often worn, and stuffed onto the shelves. Among the donated gems were a handful of paperback horror story collections and these were my favorites. I used to hunch over their yellowed pages and devour stories of invisible monsters, creeping ghosts, dark specters, and things beyond the scope of human explanation. No matter what the story, each one had a thrill, a chill, and usually a twist at the end.

L.E. Muesch’s Eerie Tales reminds me of those collections. Though you won’t find a lot of blood and gore, like I often write myself, and no vampires stalking the shadows, you will find the kind of story that makes you look over your shoulder when the sun goes down. Muesch’s love of the paranormal comes through in each tale; though he didn’t always take such things seriously.

In 2004, Muesch and his wife were in Thailand when the Asia Tsunami struck. In his own words, Until that time my interest in the supernatural was purely entertainment. It was during the tsunami, trapped under water, out of air, everything went dark and I had an out of body experience. If felt like a void between two worlds. I've felt a connection to that experience ever since and it's convinced me there's something unexplainable beyond death.

It is that experience and others, many inspired by his extensive travels that he has tried to capture, not only in Eerie Tales, but in his six previous books, including his last release Chacachacare, a mystery story reminiscent of the DaVinci Code. The versatility of his writing is reminiscent of his varied accomplishments. Not only is he an author, but he's been an engineer, corporate director, and has sailed around the world to places that many of us have only seen pictures of or read about.

And it is in writing and reading that L.E. Muesch shares those places and influences with us. Like my twelve year old self once did, we can hunch over the pages – whether paper or virtual – and follow him on any journey he cares to lead us through; from ghosts, to mysteries, to near death experiences. And if, like one of the ghostly heroes in some macabre tale, Mr. Muesch could time travel and stuff a well-worn copy of Eerie Tales onto the shelves of that tiny, small town library I used to frequent, I most certainly would have left the lights on after reading it.

I might now.

.

Ghosts

Deafening booms echoed in the heavens. Dark clouds formed overhead and streaks of finger-like lightening flashed in the dark sky above the Greek Islands, threatening the Aegean coast of Turkey.

Liam sat outside watching this beautiful but deadly spectacle of nature. It reminded him of the powerful forces at work in their lives and how they would soon be making major changes.

Liam and his wife, Helen, decided to return to the U.S. to be near family after living in Turkey for seven years. Their home sold faster than anticipated, so they rented another. A typical Turkish house surrounded by palm trees, and an outside pit lined with hand-woven cushions and kilim carpets where they enjoyed their evenings together. They were fortunate to rent the dwelling from friends living in Europe who came to Turkey for a few weeks each summer. It provided Liam and his wife an opportunity to transition between their life in Turkey and the one they would need to readjust to after returning to America in a few months.

Liam, John is on the phone. Do you want to come up or should I drop the phone to you from up here.

Liam cupped his hands as Helen leaned out the second-floor window and released the phone.

Got it! … Hi John, what’s up?

I wanted to be sure you guys are comfortable and you’ve been able to find everything. You know we’ve never rented the house before so I’m afraid it’s cluttered with all our crap. You’re welcome to use anything, including what’s in the booze cabinet.

Thanks, John, we appreciate it. We’ll replace anything we use before we leave. Listen, before you go. I wanted to ask a question. He cleared his throat. We’ve been hearing noises upstairs when we’re in bed at night and it’s been waking Helen. I’ve gotten out of bed a few times to check it out, but haven’t been able to find out what it is. The shutters are all braced open so it’s not that. I checked to see if the windows were rattling, but that’s not it either. If you have any ideas, maybe I can solve the problem. Static covered a mumbled voice … John, I can’t hear you. Are you still there? He hung up and re-dialed. Again static sounded. He tucked the phone into his pocket.

Helen’s friend, Gulnaz, arrived the next morning. She would stay with them for a month until her home became available. Gulnaz rose each morning, did her yoga exercises, and meditated in the garden before she left for work while Liam and Helen had breakfast and swam in the pool. The unsettling noise during the night prevented everyone from getting a good night’s rest. Liam spent an entire afternoon in search of the source. He looked for vibrations caused by the refrigerator compressor, the kitchen exhaust fan, the upstairs room heater, the fireplace chimney vent, loose windows, doors, and shutters. Absolutely nothing amiss.

They’d usually retire at eleven o’clock. As they settled in for the night, a loud bang reverberated through the house.

Helen shook her husband. Liam! There’s someone upstairs.

Cautiously he rose and grabbed a flashlight. He crept up the steps, inched around the corner, and peered into the living room. The sound ceased. He panned the room with his flashlight. Shadows danced on the wall.

Liam, is everything okay up there?

It’s nothing. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right down. After searching the second floor he returned to rejoin his wife. Her face was ashen.

Over the next few weeks the unexplained noises continued. Helen woke Liam each night to investigate, but when he entered the second-floor living area the sounds ceased. Tuesday evening they enjoyed a pleasant dinner alone in the garden and consumed a bottle of good Turkish wine. They went to bed at eleven o’clock.

Liam looked at his watch as he awoke from a deep sleep. How could it be two o’clock already? Rolling over, he froze. A young woman with copper-colored skin dressed in a colorful ribbon dress sat on the desk not five feet away. Why was Gulnaz sitting here in his bedroom? She had no right to be here. He studied her face. It wasn’t Gulnaz! A stranger gazed at him, someone he’d never seen before. He lay there paralyzed. Fear raked his body. He wanted to wake Helen, but he was incapable of moving. He squeezed shut his eyes and when he opened them the young woman was gone.

He swung his feet to the floor and cupped his face in his hands. It wasn’t a dream, it couldn’t be. The way she looked at him … that wasn’t an illusion. Every detail about her was as real to him as Helen in the bed next to him. He lay shaking.

The next morning he told Helen. Her caustic smile caused him to believe she’d dismissed it as a dream. The next night he woke at two o’clock. The same young woman sat on the desk watching him. Frozen, he lay staring at her. A young man knelt with his face hidden in his elbow. A child peeked out from behind the end table. The boy attempted to pet a stuffed animal that Liam kept on the end table. When the child realized that Liam saw him he jerked his arm away and ducked back behind the end table. Liam squeezed his eyes shut. When he reopened them he and his wife were alone.

The next morning Liam said, I saw her again with two others. The same woman I’d seen before, a man and a child.

Helen rolled her eyes.

I know the woman saw me, but I don’t think she’s aware I could see her. The man grieved about something. I never saw his face. I’m confident the child was afraid of me. That’s how I knew he could see me, but I don’t believe the others knew I saw them.

This is nonsense. You had a dream. That’s all.

I’m telling you I was wide awake and I saw three people last night in the bedroom and don’t look at me like that. You heard those noises upstairs.

She shook her head. Listen to me - - this is an old house that creaks. It doesn’t mean they’re ghosts. Isn’t it easier to believe it was nothing more than a dream?

He’d never been so sure of anything in his life, but this wasn’t the time to argue about it. Their long-awaited guests would be arriving from America and they needed to straighten up the spare bedroom, vacuum the house, and clean up outside. He took their dirty laundry to the washing machine.

That evening their guests from America arrived. They enjoyed dinner and discussed life back in the United States. Liam and Helen planned to return to an area they lived in many years before and yearned to hear about life there today. As the evening progressed, their guests grew weary so they retired at 11. Liam woke at 2. He feared looking in the direction of the desk.

Horror engulfed him. A young thin woman wearing tight black-leather pants and a white shirt sat on the desk, holding a can of beer. She didn’t look at him, but kept taking slugs of beer. The liquid dribbled down her chin onto her white blouse. He squeezed his eyes shut and when he re-opened them she’d disappeared.

The next night he switched sides in bed with Helen. He awoke several times, but avoided looking in the direction of the desk. He felt refreshed from a full night’s sleep. Each night he’d gotten similar results, but something was wrong. He’d come to accept these people meant him no harm. They were just there watching him. He felt sorry for the man kneeling, hiding his face in his arm. Did he feel remorse for something he’d done? Was he trapped here? But what about the others? He didn’t have the impression they were trapped. But why were they always on his side of the room? Why didn’t they move around the house? Maybe no answers existed. Nevertheless, he felt an odd sense of obligation to them. Did they need his help? He needed to find the answer.

That night Liam chose to return to his own side of the bed. He awoke several times. A child’s motionless arm rested on the stuffed animal on the end table next to him. He summoned his courage and slid his hand across the bed. For the first time he’d moved in their presence. Cautiously he pressed a finger against the child’s arm, but his hand passed through it. The child remained unaware of his attempt to touch him. Afraid to rise, he lay there until he fell to sleep.

The next morning Denny inquired, Did you hear strange noises during the night? We did.

Liam asked, What kind of noises?

We heard footsteps and feared someone had broken into the house, but because it lasted all night, JoAnn and I figured they were just the creaking sounds of an old house.

Liam asked, Did you see anything?

Denny’s eyes grew large as saucers. See anything? As a matter of fact, JoAnn insisted I go upstairs, but when I got there the noise stopped.

Helen placed a coffee pot on the table. We’ve heard the same things. It used to bother us, but it happens so often now we don’t pay attention to it anymore. Helen sent a cool glare to her husband, daring him to say something. The subject was dropped.

Two days later Liam drove their American guests to the airport. On the way back he considered informing his wife of the things that happened while she slept, but decided it wasn’t in his best interest. He didn’t want to add to the pressure they were already under. Instead they talked about what needed to be done before they returned to America, the many cartons to be packed, preparing for a party they planned to give to say goodbye to their Turkish and expatriate friends. They stopped at a supermarket to get supplies for their upcoming party. At home, Helen went about putting away groceries. Liam discreetly continued searching upstairs for the source of the sounds they and their guests heard during the night.

Liam, I need your help. Come down here will you please.

What’s up? What do you need? he asked as he rushed downstairs.

I need something to put food on tomorrow for the party. Will you clean the desk off and put the things away neatly. She placed her hands on her hips. I‘ll need your help in carrying it outside.

His voice wavered. I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Why not? It’s perfect for the party and besides, there’s nothing else in the house I can use to hold the platters. She waited for an answer. When none came, she said, It’s those ghosts you’ve been dreaming about isn’t it?

He bit down hard on his lip. I don’t know what they are, but they’re as real as you and me.

Look, Liam, unless you can come up with a good reason I can’t use the desk or - -

All right! If you don’t need to move this thing until the morning I’ll try and come up with something else you can use.

She shook her head and marched out of the room.

The desk must be connected to the presence. It wasn’t something he wished to risk by moving it.

That night they went to dinner at Jan’s Turkish restaurant. On a narrow cobblestone street they sat at a table decorated with a small lighted lamp, pink flowers, and white linen napkins. They were surrounded by young couples holding hands and whispering to one another.

Helen said, I really do need that desk for the party tomorrow. After a lengthy pause, she said, Look, if this is about those dreams you’ve been having I assure you there’s nothing to it. She slid her hand across the table to take hold of his and gently whispered, Please, Liam, I really need that desk for the party.

All right! We’ll carry it out in the morning. Her disarming smile didn’t displace his fear that it wasn’t the right thing to do. Everything he’d seen was somehow tied to the desk and moving it could result in something terrible. The remainder of the evening weighed heavy