Who You Gonna Call?

Britin Manor

It was a cold, dark, and rainy night, and Brian and Justin were sound asleep, wrapped around each other in their kingsize bed. The two lovers were sleeping peacefully through the storm, both having been exhausted after a long day of working and a late night spent lovemaking.

What had started out as drizzle and light rain earlier in the day, had turned into full-fledged pouring rain, and the large raindrops were now rapidly falling and tapping at the windows of the Britin mansion.  

It was a bit cool in their bedroom, the flames from the fireplace having completely died out, and Justin shivered in his sleep, pulled the covers more tightly around himself, and cuddled against Brian, trying to get warmer.

“Jusssstin.”

Justin's eyes fluttered open, the whispered voice having woken him from his slumber. He frowned, a bit disoriented, and turned his head toward his lover.

“Brian?” he whispered, but when he maneuvered his body around to ask why Brian had called out to him, he saw that the older man was sound asleep.  The only noise coming from Brian was the usual slight wheeze from his deviated septum.

“Must have been dreaming,” Justin thought, and turned back onto his side, pulling the covers even tighter around himself and shivering once again. He just couldn't seem to get warm enough, and mentally noted to talk to Brian about investing in an electric blanket, although he was sure his lover would likely object.  It was something they had been arguing about since fall had started.  Brian’s body ran warm, so he liked it cool in the house, and was fine with the temperature.  Justin, on the other hand, hated the cold and lately had to wear layers of clothes just to keep warm.  He had bought a space heater for his studio at Britin, and there was also a fireplace in there as well, which helped a lot.  Their bedroom was another story, though.  They did have a fireplace in there as well, but even with a fire going, it still seemed chilly in that room to Justin.  When Brian was gone on a business trip and Justin was alone, he’d usually wear his sweats to bed and sleep with the heater on.  But obviously, when Brian was home, he couldn’t do that.  Justin remembered one night, when he'd fallen into bed exhausted from a long day of painting, still wearing his plaid pajama pants. Brian was having none of it.    

“Sunshine, you know better than that,” Brian had scoffed.  “No clothes allowed in this bed.  That’s the rule.”

“Brian, it’s fucking freezing in here!” Justin complained.

“Relax.  You’ll warm up in a second,” Brian had smirked, with that knowing look.  “Besides, you know there’s no use in wearing clothes to bed when you’re within fucking distance, anyway.”  

Brian had a point there.

Justin sighed as he lay in bed and contemplated whether he should try going back to sleep or if he should break their “rule” and get up to put on some sweats.  He glanced up at the digital alarm clock by their bed.  The time was 3:33 a.m.  Justin shivered again, as he recalled that in the last five days, he'd looked at the clock at exactly 3:33 in the afternoon. What was weirder, was that this was the third night in a row that he'd woken up at that time.  He thought it was strange and kind of unnerving.

Things had seemed a little weird lately. He couldn’t quite explain it, but Justin had this eerie feeling, like someone was watching him.  He always shrugged it off as being his imagination. He reasoned that it made sense that he'd feel a little creeped out living in that big house sometimes. Britin was an old mansion, and it had the typical creaking and settling noises that old houses tended to have.  It kind of reminded him of all the classic scary movie houses like Hell House or The Haunting.

Justin frowned, forcing any creepy thoughts out of his mind, and decided to try to go back to sleep.  He closed his eyes as he scooted his back against Brian's warm body so that it was to the other man's chest.  

His eyes had been closed for only a few seconds when the sudden sound of crashing thunder startled him, making his body jump and his eyes fly wide open. His heart pounded in his ears and he felt goosebumps spring up on his arms and legs. He heard the wind outside blowing harder, and the rain continued rapping at the window.

Brian shifted in his sleep then, and wrapped his arm around Justin's chest, pulling him closer to him. Brian softly kissed his neck.

“You okay?” Brian mumbled softly, having felt Justin's body jerk and tense up against him. It was an automatic reaction for Brian to wake at sudden moves like that ever since Justin had come to live with him after the bashing. Justin had often had nightmares so severe that sometimes he'd thrash around in bed as if he were trying to fight someone off. Brian would help him to calm down in his sleep by gently stroking his body, and softly whispering words of comfort. The nightmares had gradually occurred less and less, but once in a great while, they still popped up, usually if Justin was under any heavy stress.

“Yeah, I'm fine. It's just the storm. The thunder surprised me, is all,” he whispered back.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Brian whispered, and he kissed Justin's neck one last time. He felt Justin relax more in his arms and then drifted back to sleep.

Suddenly feeling a lot warmer, Justin smiled, loving the feeling of Brian's warmth and protective arms around him as he snuggled back into him and fell back asleep.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Justin was in his studio working, when he felt a cold draft. He shivered and glanced toward the window across the room, which he noticed was wide open. Justin frowned, swearing that it had not been open when he had first come into the studio that morning. He walked over to the window and closed it, feeling a bit annoyed.  Mrs. Schwartz, the housekeeper, was always lecturing Justin that it wasn’t good for him to breath in all those paint fumes.  He figured she must have come in while he was taking a break for lunch, and opened the window to air out the room.

With it being the end of October, the weather had been considerably chilly, and though it was no longer pouring with rain outside that day, it was still cold and drizzly. One thing Justin knew for sure was that it was too cold to have a window open, and he had been trying to keep the heat in.  He decided that he would talk to Mrs. Schwartz about leaving the windows closed, at least while he was working.

Justin turned his attention back to his work, studying the colors and lines of the painting he'd been working on all week. He was pleased with it, and it made him smile knowing that it was almost finished. The smile quickly disappeared, though, when he felt his hand start to cramp up, and he began to gently massage it. He'd been in the studio since early that morning, only breaking for a short lunch earlier, and knew his hand was starting to give out.  The cold room certainly wasn’t helping any. Knowing that it would only hurt him in the long run if he overworked his hand, Justin decided to call it a day. He sighed, wishing that he could continue working and get the piece finished, but was glad that he had at least made good progress.  He put away his paints and cleaned up, and when he finished, he realized he was feeling a little hungry and wondered what time it was.  Looking at the digital clock on his sketch table, Justin felt a chill run up his arm that he was sure had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.  The clock read 3:33.

“Damn it!” Justin muttered under his breath. The whole 3:33 thing was really starting to get on his nerves.  Suddenly feeling a damper on his mood, he left his studio, closing the door behind him, and headed for the master bedroom. He wanted to take a shower and relax a little before he started dinner.

~**~**~**~**~**~

Justin came out of the bathroom, his towel wrapped securely around his waist. He walked over to the dresser and fished out a clean pair of underwear, socks, and sweats and got dressed.  

Suddenly his heart jumped up into his throat at the sound of an extremely loud bang, followed by a cold draft. Justin spun around toward the disturbance, and immediately noticed that the bedroom window was wide open; the cool, drizzly air now blowing throughout the large room.

Justin stared at the window in disbelief.  There was no reason for it to be open.  Had it been open earlier?  He couldn’t recall.  The only explanation he could think of, was maybe it hadn't been closed all the way and the wind had blown the window open. That had to be it. It was pretty windy outside; it was possible.

Justin nervously walked over to the window and closed and locked it to ensure it wouldn't fly open again.  “What the hell is it with the windows today?” Justin thought out loud.

Justin hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, but the windows being open hadn’t been the only strange thing that had happened lately.  There were things in the house that had moved that he hadn’t moved himself. He’d found drawers throughout the house were randomly left open.  The weirdest thing, though, had happened a few days prior.  Justin had gone into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, but realized he had forgotten his phone in the studio and had gone to retrieve it. When he returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, a bottle of water was sitting on the island.  It was cold, like it had just been taken out of the fridge.  It might not have been strange at all... if he hadn’t been the only one home.

“Mr. Taylor?” Justin was startled by a knock at his bedroom door.  He exhaled and shook his head, frowning at how jumpy he was.

“Come in, Mrs. Schwartz,” Justin called out.

Mrs. Schwartz, a pudgy woman in her fifties, opened the door.  “I’m leaving for the evening.  I made a pecan pie and put it in the fridge.  I know how Mr. Kinney loves my pecan pies,” she smiled proudly.

Justin smiled back at her.  “That was so sweet of you.  Thanks.  You know Brian will complain about how fat you’re making him, but he’ll eat it anyway.”

“Well, good.  He needs some meat on those skinny bones of his!” she laughed.  

Justin laughed with her and shook his head.  “I’m sure he’d disagree.”

“Well, we’ll just have to disagree then.  I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Taylor.”

“Yeah.  Have a good night,” Justin replied.  Mrs. Schwartz turned around to leave, when Justin remembered he needed to talk to her.  “Oh, Mrs. Schwartz, just one thing.”

Mrs. Schwartz turned to Justin.  “Yes?”

“I know that you mean well and are always telling me that I need to keep that window open in my studio, but the weather has been really chilly and this house takes a while to heat up, so I’d prefer if you’d leave all the windows closed.  It was really cold in the studio today, and it’s more difficult for me to work in those conditions. The muscles in my hand get stiff.”

Mrs. Schwartz seemed confused as she looked at Justin.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor.  I don’t understand.  I didn’t open any windows today.  Mr. Kinney told me this morning before he left for work that you were complaining about the temperature in the house and to keep all the windows closed, so I left them closed.”

Justin tried to hide his surprise.  “Oh.  Um, my mistake.  Thanks.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

Mrs. Schwartz nodded with a smile, leaving Justin standing there with a confused look on his face.   He continued to stand there for a moment, trying to come to terms with all the strangeness he had been experiencing.  He forced himself to put it all to the back of his mind and decided to go down to the kitchen to prepare dinner.  As he left the room, he couldn’t help but have the feeling that someone was watching him as he walked away.

~**~**~**~**~**~

That night, Justin and Brian were lying in bed having just fucked for the second time that evening, when Brian looked over at Justin, and tried not to show his concern.

“Okay.  So are you going to tell me what's wrong now?” he asked.

Justin looked up at Brian with a confused expression. “What?”

Brian rolled his eyes at his partner. “Okay, let's pretend that we've been together for more than a few years, and that I know you pretty well,” he said sarcastically.

“Brian, I'm fine,” Justin said, avoiding the man's eyes.

“Bullshit. You were quiet when I came home, which, let’s face it, you are never quiet unless you're working in the studio. Then after dinner you suddenly drag me into the bedroom and attack me like an animal. Not that I'm complaining about that, because there's nothing hotter than you being aggressive and horny and impatient. But this time you were aggressive and horny and impatient and ... quiet. We both know how vocal you like to be when you're excited.”  Justin blushed. “There's something very wrong with this picture,” Brian pointed out.

Justin sighed.  “It’s stupid, really.”

“Care to enlighten me on what’s so stupid?”

“You’d probably just tell me that I’m overreacting.”

“Probably.”  

Justin laughed and lightly pinched Brian on the arm.  “Asshole.”   

“Well?”

Justin shrugged, not wanting to talk about it.

Brian rolled his eyes at his lover.  “Why are you making me drag this out of you?  It’s getting boring.”

Justin sighed, and sat up in bed.  He ran his hands through his hair nervously and avoided Brian’s eyes.  “Something very weird has been going on.”

Brian frowned.  “Weird?  Weird, how?” he asked, starting to feel a little alarmed.

“You promise you won’t laugh?” Justin asked.

“No.  But tell me anyway.”  

Justin looked at Brian again.  “Brian… I think that Britin is haunted.”

Brian stared at Justin, waiting for him to crack a smile to let him know that he wasn’t being serious.  When that didn’t happen, Brian gave an incredulous laugh.  “Justin, come on.  Really.  Tell me what’s going on.”

“See, I knew you wouldn’t take me seriously!” Justin said, covering his face with his hands.  He was embarrassed to even be having this conversation.

Confused, Brian stared at Justin.  “Wait.   Justin, are you being serious?  You’re saying that you think we’re living in a haunted mansion?”

“Yes.  That is what I’m saying.  And trust me, I know how this sounds, but I’m not kidding.  So either you’ve been fucking with me, or there’s a fucking ghost living with us.”

Brian covered his mouth, trying not to laugh.  

“You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” Justin frowned.  

“No, I didn’t,” Brian mumbled behind his hand which was covering his smile.

“Okay, let’s just forget it,” Justin said, crossing his arms and turning his head away.

Brian forced himself to stop smiling.  “Okay, okay.  So tell me what’s happened to make you believe that Casper the Friendly Ghost is roaming the halls.”

Justin looked at Brian, his arms still crossed against his chest.  “For one thing, the fucking windows.  They’re always open!” he pointed out.

Brian stared at Justin.  “And...?”

“Brian, don’t look at me like that.  I know what I saw.  The window to the studio was closed this morning, and when I went back in, it was wide open.  Explain that to me,” Justin demanded.

“You know that Mrs. Schwartz has a habit of opening windows to let the fresh air in.  And don’t worry about it anymore.  I asked her to leave them closed from now on.”

“That’s just it.  She told me that she hadn’t opened any windows.  She had already talked to you.”

Brian shook his head.  “Sorry, Sunshine, but that’s not enough to convince me that ghosts are among us.”

Justin sat up, exasperated.  “What about 3:33?”

“What?” Brian asked confused.

“Every time I look at the clock, it says 3:33.  I’ve woken up every night this week at the same exact fucking time.  When I check the time, it’s 3:33.”

“Ever heard of coincidence?”

Justin sighed and laid his head back on the pillow, feeling defeated.  “Let’s just forget I mentioned it.  Okay?”

Brian leaned in and kissed Justin lightly on the lips.  “You know what I think?  I think you’ve been working too hard.  You’ve been stressing yourself out with preparing for this gallery opening in December.  You’re not sleeping well, you’re not eating as much as you should, and it’s catching up with you.  You’ve got to take a breath and relax, Justin.  Your work is fucking brilliant.  You’re brilliant, and you’re going to knock their fucking socks off and sell the whole damn place out.”

“Brian…”

“You need to learn to slow down.  You’re not doing yourself any favors, you know,” he said, softly.  

“You’re one to talk,” Justin smiled.  

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Justin teased.

“Ha-ha.  Very funny,” Brian said, and kissed his lover.  The kiss deepened, and soon thoughts of ghosts was the furthest thing from their minds.  For the time being, at least.

~**~**~**~**~**~

 “Brian.”  

Brian’s eyes opened at the sound of his name.  He turned to see Justin sleeping on his side. 

“Shit.  Another bad dream,” Brian thought.

Justin sometimes talked in his sleep, but it was more frequent with nightmares.  He gently ran his hand against Justin’s back in little circles, something that he knew helped calm Justin when he was having a bad dream.  Brian noticed goosebumps on Justin’s arms, but his breathing was even and he seemed to be calm.  

Brian closed his eyes and started to fall asleep again.

“Jussssstin.”

Brian’s eyes shot open.  “Justin?” he whispered, looking over at his lover.  Justin was still asleep, slightly snoring.  Brian frowned in confusion.  He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. It said 3:33.

Brian dropped his head back on his pillow and turned away.  “Bullshit!” he loudly whispered to himself, feeling annoyed that he was getting sucked into Justin’s paranoia about living in a haunted house.

When Brian turned back around to wrap his arm around Justin, he froze, first in astonishment and then in fear, hardly able to believe what his eyes were seeing.  His breathing quickened, and as he exhaled, he saw his breath in front of him.  

A tall shadowy figure stood over Justin, seemingly running its ghostly fingers down his face. Justin shivered, but did not awaken.  

“What the fuck,” Brian whispered, still in shock.  “I’m dreaming.  This is a fucking dream,” Brian said in a hushed panic.  The shadow figure seemed to turn its attention to him then.  “Get the fuck out of here!” Brian said under his breath, his heart practically beating out of his chest.

Next thing he knew, he saw the shadow figure float up higher and higher until it disappeared into the ceiling.  

Brian sat frozen for a few seconds, and then shot up out of bed and immediately went over to the drinking cart that held his Jim Beam.  He didn’t bother pouring the strong liquid into a glass, but instead chugged it straight from the bottle.  After a few chugs, he wiped his mouth with his hand and tried to make sense of what he’d just seen.  

“Brian?”  Brian spun around towards the bed and saw Justin sitting up in bed and staring at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.  Go back to sleep.”

Justin suddenly got goosebumps, and he rubbed his arms as he stared at Brian.  “What happened? You should see your face right now.  You look like you’ve seen a --”

“A what?  A ghost?” Brian asked, and then took another swig of the bottle of Beam.  Then he started laughing. It started off small and turned hysterical, as he kept the bottle clutched in his hand.  

“Brian...” Justin wasn’t sure what was going on or what he should say.  “Brian, what the fuck?  You’re scaring the shit out of me right now!”

Brian stopped laughing and put the bottle down. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Justin, slinging an arm around his shoulder.  

“So...  You know the number to a good ghostbuster around here?”

The End.

Feedback for Trishwish

or email to slashwritergirl@gmail.com

Return to The Scary Things Challenge