The Dancing Ghost of Webster's Gore

"Where?"

"To your bedchambers. I will make good my side of our bargain."

She held out her hand, and he stood and took it in his own. She walked up the stairs ahead of him and he followed her, almost in a state of bewilderment. He had accepted her existence, but had not really imagined this moment would come.

They entered the dimly lit bedroom. Jared did not see Annabelle undress, but when she turned to face him, she was naked. He quickly shed his own clothing, and when he finished, she stepped into his arms. Her breasts pressed against him, and felt as real as any living woman's. When they kissed, her lips and tongue tasted as sweet.

She moved backward to the bed, and reclined. He lowered himself beside her and they embraced, their arms and legs entangled.

Annabelle rolled Jared on to his back and straddled his waist. She leaned forward and kissed the side of his neck, the line of his jaw, the hollow of his collarbone.

He caressed her hips and her breasts as his arousal surged. He felt goosebumps as her fingertips grazed along his flesh, moving from his shoulders across his abdomen and eventually to his loins. He gasped when she took hold of his penis, and moaned aloud when she lowered herself down upon it.

She put her hands on his shoulders and lowered her head toward his. Her long red hair made a curtain, shielding his face from all light, but even in that darkness, he could still see the faint shimmering in her eyes.

Annabelle remained silent through their coupling; Jared could not even hear her breathe. But the sensation of her body joined with his was as intense as any he had ever experienced, and it was not long before he felt his climax approach. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled Annabelle close to him as he erupted inside her.

When he had finished, she raised herself and gazed down at him. She smiled and tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. Jared hoped that she had felt as much pleasure as she had given him, but she said nothing. He longed to say something himself, but he was at a rare loss for words.

Annabelle slipped off of him and sat, cross legged, on the corner of the bed.

"I would complete my part of out bargain," she said.

Jared sat up. "But, Annabelle..."

"I must finish the telling."

He nodded, startled and confused by the melancholy that had overtaken him. He picked up his laptop and Annabelle continued her story.

"Isaac came to me the next night, and we lay together in the hay loft. We kept our trysts secret, for he was sure his father would not approve, and I was unsure of Miss Caroline. My affections were currency to her, and I did not know if she would prevent our liaisons. Through that summer, we would meet, and we began to dream of a life we might share together."

"It was at the time of first leaf fall when Isaac came to me in the bright light of day and told me of his plan. He would ask of his father for some part of his inheritance, and, whether it be granted or not, he would come for me the following morning and we would leave this place and seek our way west, to Ohio, where farmland was rich and low of purchase price."

She sat in silence. "But it did not happen," Jared said in a soft voice.

Annabelle sighed. "It did not happen. I prepared. I could not sleep. I fetched a burlap sack from the barn and filled it with my clothes and my few possessions, and I awaited the morning. Eventually, sleep overcame me, but it did not last long."

Jared realized that she was crying. He set aside the laptop and moved closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"I was awakened by a commotion and the flicker of torchlight through my window. I hurried down the stairs. Miss Caroline stood on the front porch, Eliza at her side. Isaac's father was in the yard, accompanied by some other townsmen."

She turned her head and stared into Jared's eyes.

"You must tell their names," she said, her voice sharp, "Ezekiel Barkley. Daniel Hathaway, it was he who held the torch. Henry Smith carried a cloth satchel. Percy Mathews and John Wainwright were the others. You must remember their names. The names must be told."

"I will remember," he assured her.

"Mr. Barkley saw me in the doorway and shouted to Miss Caroline that she should bring me out to them. She refused his demand and he stepped on to the porch and seized her by the arm. Eliza attempted to push him away and Mr. Wainwright struck her and knocked her to the ground. I could not stand idle. I stepped through the door and put myself between Miss Caroline and the angry men. I asked Mr. Barkley what he wanted of me and inquired as to the whereabouts of his son."

The flow of Annabelle's words slowed. Jared could sense the pain that accompanied each one.

"He told me that Isaac was locked away and that they had come to ensure that he would not see me again. He grabbed the collar of my nightgown and Mr. Wainwright gripped my wrist. They pulled me from the porch and I fell to the ground. I fell a hand grasp my hair and I was dragged across the yard. My gown was torn from my body and I felt blows from fists and booted feet."

Jared wrapped his arms around her. His own tears flowed as he imagined the scene she described. He felt a swelling affection for her and a yearning to comfort and console her.

"The blows ceased and I raised my head to see what they were doing. Mr. Smith dropped his satchel to the ground. He opened it and brought forth a length of rough hempen rope."

She shuddered, hesitated, then said, "At one end they had tied a noose. Cruel hands pulled me to my feet as Mr. Smith tossed the rope over the lowest branch of the oak. I could hear Miss Caroline screaming, but one of the men held her back. I struggled mightily, but they held my arms tight as they forced the noose over my head and tightened it about my throat. It grew taut, biting into my tender flesh. I rose, and the men stepped away to watch my struggle. The torment was unbearable. I clawed at the rope until my arms grew too weary to rise, but gained no relieve. My chest burned for lack of air and the pressure in my head was unbearable. Yet, the body holds hope, even when the heart has given up. As I felt my life fade, I continued to struggle, my feet searching for some purchase to hold me and appease the terrible weight that slowly strangled me."

You danced, Jared thought, and grew nauseous at the realization.

Annabelle pushed Jared's arms away and stood. "You must write it down, as I told it."

Jared picked up his laptop. He had long practice at remembering snips of dialogue, and had little trouble transcribing her words. When it came to the names of the men involved, he hesitated. He was always careful not to use the names of real people, either deliberately or inadvertently. But Annabelle had been adamant that naming the names of her murderers was necessary if she was to be freed from her long torment. He started to type the names, but his fingers froze.

He looked up into Annabelle's eyes. They no longer seemed to shimmer. They appeared as natural as any woman's would. Her countenance was no longer forlorn; her expression was one of exuberance. And still he did not type the names.

"Have you finished?" she asked, eagerly.

Jared hung his head and muttered, "I...I don't want you to go."

"You must write the words."

Tears ran down Jared's cheeks. "I don't know if I can."

"We had a bargain!" Annabelle shrieked.

"I think I am in love with you."

Annabelle's visage dimmed. "You condemn me," she cried, pointing a finger at Jared, "You sentence me to suffer..."

Jared cast aside the laptop and stood, raising his hands toward her, but she was barely there.

"Is this how you love?" he heard her faint voice ask, and then he was alone in the room.

He went to the window and looked into the shadows of the yard. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the light, but then he saw her feet, dangling below the canopy of the oak tree.

He picked up the laptop and ran down the stairs and out to the yard. He fell to his knees when he saw her. Her full figure was visible now, hanging from from the lowest bough. Her back was to him and he watched, weeping, while she slowly turned in his direction. Her shoulders shook, her hips swayed and her legs stretched and bent, searching for the unreachable ground.

He watched her dance of death until she had turned completely toward him, then, stealing himself, his eyes rose to look at her face. Her mouth gaped open, her tongue protruding. Her eyes bulged but he sensed that they still saw. He sensed they were pleading with him.

Jared scrambled backwards and ran to the house. He reached inside the door and found the switch for the porch light. Sitting on the top step, he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and typed in the names. Ezekial Barkley. Daniel Hathaway. Henry Smith. Percy Mathews. John Wainwright.

Looking up, he saw Annabelle, still hanging beneath the tree. All motion seemed to have stopped. His vision was blurred by his tears and he could not be certain, but he thought she had faded somewhat from view.

He clicked save on his document and opened his email account. Typing as quickly as he could he addressed a message to his literary agent.

Ted- Rough draft for my next attached. Wanted to tell the story to someone asap.

It took a long moment for the email to send. When it finally did, he closed the laptop and looked toward the tree again, but Annabelle was no longer there. He rose to go inside, but then, he saw her. She was standing in the road, beyond the tumbled stone wall. The moonlight was no longer shining on her, but through her. She smiled at him and nodded her head, and then he saw her no more.