The Ghost Writer (5)

Copyrighted

Sorry it’s so short…

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“This is it Dean! I can’t take it anymore. I’m really starting to get freaked out,” Casidi greeted Dean when he came to pick her up for church.

“Baby, did it happen again?” His own confusion shown through those dark eyes.

Casidi merely gestured to her bedside.

Crossing the room in three strides, Dean bent over to inspect the typewriter.

“Are you messing with me Casi?” He asked, holding the pages between his thumb and his finger.

“No! I’m not freaking messing with you. Someone is messing with me!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. Where are the other pages?”

“They’re in my desk.”

Dean took a moment to read through the stack.

“This stuff really flows. Your dreams are intense.”

“I’ve never had a dream like this, Dean. And this has never happened. I want you to keep the typewriter in your dorm tonight. Please.”

“Of course. Now, come on if you still want coffee.”

“Please.” She mustered up a smile. Dean put his arm around her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked when she flinched. Casidi slipped her sweater off her shoulder to reveal the bruise.

“Who did that to you?!” His mood turned red.

“I did. In my sleep. Let’s just go.”

Dean hesitantly shut the door behind him. He didn’t like what was happening to his girlfriend. She was a mess. Hopefully getting the typewriter out of the dorm would be enough to calm her down.

Just as the door clicked shut, the window slid open.

“They’re going to move the typewriter. How are we going to monitor her if they take away that element?”

“Well we’ll have to figure out where the boyfriend lives.”

 

The Ghost Writer (3)

(Copyright)


Her attacker stood over her, face hidden in a shadow. Casidi’s side burned again. It’s like it never stopped.

“Casidi,” the sinister voice said hoarsely. “You’re about to be saved.”

Casidi didn’t even have time to be confused. There was a loud clang and her attacker fell to the side, revealing Dean holding a trash can lid.

“Cas! Come on.” He grabbed her hand and helped her up. Suddenly her side was healed.

“Dean, what’s going-“

“Who’s Dean?” He replied.

“That’s… that’s you.”

“No. I’m Charlie.”

“What?” Casidi stumbled as he pulled her along. “You look like Dean. Where are we going?”

“San Antonio.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where we’ll find answers.”

Casidi’s alarm buzzed her back to reality. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and took a moment to realize how weird it was for her to continue a dream the next night. As far as she could remember, that hadn’t happened before.

Her eyes roamed to her typewriter, almost subconsciously.

A fresh page, typed up. There was part two of her dream.

Casidi found Dean at lunch.

“You were there this time. You saved me from the guy who stabbed me.”

“I have been trying to tell you I’m the man of your dreams.”

“Except your name was Charlie.”

“Whoa, who’s Charlie?”

“You.”

“But I’m Dean. Why wasn’t I Dean in your dream? Do you not like the name Dean or something? I could change my name to Charlie if you feel that strongly about it.”

“Oh good grief,” Casidi laughed. “I like your name. I don’t know why you were Charlie.”

“You know, I read this article about how you never see new faces in your dreams. Always someone you already know. So maybe you were just using my face, and that guy isn’t supposed to be me.”

“Maybe. I wonder whose face the attacker had.”

“Who knows. Anymore weird typewriter incidents?”

“Yes, actually. Just like last night, every detail typed up to perfection. There was even a misspelled word crossed out.”

“Huh. What have you been eating before bed? More importantly…” Dean leaned across the table. “What have you been drinking?” He cracked a smile.

“A Dr. Pepper.” Casidi stuck her tongue out at him.

“Mystery solved! Don’t drink Dr. Pepper.”

“I had water the night before.”

Dean huffed and crossed her arms. “Stop poking holes in my half-baked theories.”

The Ghost Writer (2)

Here is the second installment of my pet project The Ghost Writer.

(This idea is copyrighted by me)


The typewriter had been a gift from her boyfriend, Dean Calloway, for her 19th birthday. As far as Casidi knew there wasn’t anything special about it. It couldn’t read minds or anything. How her dream had ended up on there in the perfect mystery novel form was beyond her.

Finally, Casidi pushed the odd incident out of her mind and worked on her Modern World History assignment.

At 7:30, Casidi donned her jacket, packed everything into her book bag, and set out for the café. She and Dean have a standing date every Friday morning at 7:45 and they haven’t missed one since the spring semester began two months ago.

He was waiting for her in their spot. As soon as Dean spotted her, he stood up and pulled out her chair.

“Thanks babe,” She said as he kissed her cheek.

“Anything for you,” Came his reliable answer. He sat across from her and adjusted his brown-rimmed glasses.

“So… something weird happened this morning.”

“What would that be?” Dean pushed a mocha towards Casidi, like he did ever Friday morning.

“You know that typewriter you got me?” Casidi clipped her long auburn hair out of her face.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I had this crazy dream last night, woke me up even, and it had been typed up. Every last detail, just like some fiction piece.”

“You probably did it in your sleep. Didn’t you tell me you sleep walk sometimes?”

“Yeah, but do you really think I could do that in my sleep? I mean, it was written well, the spelling was all correct… I don’t know, I just think it’s really weird.”

“What else could’ve happened though?” Dean asked as he sipped his steaming hot Americano.

“There isn’t really another explanation is there?”

“Well…” Dean got a glint in his eye. “The typewriter could have come alive and read your mind. Or you’re being possessed by some evil Japanese spirit… have you been to Japan recently? Or you are unknowingly part of some dream experiment. Or you are doing drugs. So which is it?”

By this point Casidi was laughing. “Ok, ok, I wrote it up in my sleep.”

“Mystery solved!” Dean spread his arms wide, causing a few sleepy eyes to glare at him with distaste.

They continued on with their conversation, talking about plans for the day and assignments they hated, not knowing that the entire conversation was being listened to.