Jeff Bennington - The Ghost Named Earl + Contest

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The Ghost Named Earl by Jeff Bennington

In the fall of 2010, my wife and I went on a weekend getaway with some friends of ours. We rented a really cool cabin in Nashville, Indiana, equipped with hot tub, gas grill and pool table. Nestled on a cozy hillside, the place had a beautiful wraparound porch and an exquisite view of the southern Indiana countryside. The sun shone through the trees and the air felt crisp and cool.

I was in heaven.

We unpacked, started the gas logs and settled into our perfect retreat. We had a fun evening of shopping, cards and watching horror flicks planned. After we settled in, we decided to head into town to walk through the many shops and galleries. The storefronts were lined with pumpkins and hay bales, tempting us with hot deals and hot apple cider. The evening went as planned and we returned to our cabin, ready to warm our bones and watch House on Haunted Hill.

Before I knew it, the other three started getting sleepy and we decided to hit the sack.

•••

A couple of hours later, around two the morning, I woke up, dripping with sweat. The upper loft had very little airflow. I felt so hot I couldn’t stand it. My wife was sleeping like a baby, but I had to get out of there.

I lumbered down the steps and listened to the creaks and cracks in the rafters caused by the whistling wind. Believe it or not, I enjoyed the sounds coming from the rustic structure. I peered at the leather couch; it looked so cool and inviting. For a moment I imagined sprawling out ointo its cushiony spread, but I heard a strange noise coming from the kitchen and my skin felt like it melted off my face.

I looked around and didn’t see anything unusual. The open floor plan left nothing to hide. The stairs opened to the living room, dining room and kitchen. Our friends’ bedroom and bath were the only other rooms on the first floor, and they, too, were within eyeshot. After giving the cabin a final inspection from where I stood, I lay down on the couch, snuggled into my bedsheet and closed my eyes.

The noises continued.

I listened carefully, trying to make sense of it all. The squeaks and groans seemed to be coming from every direction. No big deal, I thought. It’s just a cabin. Get over it and fall asleep.

Then, something curious happened. The creaking floorboards began to move closer to me. One at a time I’d hear what sounded like footsteps rolling across the wood floor, carefully pressing down, trying not to be heard. My heart, as you can imagine, hammered in my chest, nearly bursting through my rib cage. I looked at the reflection in the TV screen to see if there was anyone walking behind me, but I didn’t see anything. Then when this thing, whatever it was, pressed on the floor right next to the couch, I couldn’t take it. I sat up, turned my head toward the open space and heard a voice forcefully whisper, “Hello!”

This wasn’t a quiet, “don’t let them hear you” whisper. Oh, no! This was an “I’m not presently living in your dimension, so I’m screaming at you” type whisper.

I panicked, jumping straight up like the scaredy-cat that I was, nearly falling off the couch.

As I turned I saw a dark silhouette, adding to my terrifying experience. Seconds later, I realized that the shape beside me was only a floor lamp, but that didn’t make me feel any better. My heart continued pounding like a jackhammer.

•••

For no less than thirty minutes, I felt an electric energy buzzing through my body. I felt as if something hovered over me, almost nose to nose, staring at me. I peered through the corner of my eye but couldn’t see anything—nothing physical, anyway. But I knew in the deepest part of my soul that something was there. I lay frozen in place, like an icy Neanderthal in the Tibetan ice caps.

My eyes searched for movement but found nothing. I did see, however, a shadowy figure moving from side to side in the reflection from the microwave door. It was the strangest thing. There were no ceiling fans spinning or curtains waving. Everything stood still—everything except the dancing shadow. At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran back up the stairs to my personal boiler room and slid under the covers with my wife.

Still, the energy followed me.

After several minutes of fighting my fears, I finally fell asleep.

•••

The next morning, I woke to the smell of biscuits and gravy and the sound of coffee percolating in the kitchen. My wife and friends, like myself, were shuffling their feet like the undead, trying their best to navigate with squinted, puffy eyes. We eventually sat down to eat.

In a moment of silence, Sarah, my friend’s wife, asked if anyone heard anything during the night. I looked at her curiously and asked why. She said, “Because someone was tugging at our doorknob off and on for about an hour sometime around three in the morning.” She thought we had mistaken her room for the bathroom, but she had been too tired to get out of bed. She also said that at one point in the night she felt like someone was standing beside her, but she was too scared to look.

After she told her story, I shared my experience. I affirmed that I never left the living room until I ran upstairs and that I never walked toward their bedroom.

We all let our suspicions cool for a while. But then my buddy opened up the guest logbook, the kind where each visitor can leave a message to the cabin’s owners about their experience. And wouldn’t you know it, the book was filled with story after story about a spirit that inhabited the structure.

They called him Earl.

Some of the visitors claimed he was a gentle ghost, mostly curious, and only somewhat troublesome. Others rebuked the owners for not disclosing the fact that malevolent spirits haunted the cabin. Me? I don’t know what that thing was, but it scared the hell out of me. The upside to coming face-to-face with Earl is, when I write supernatural thrillers, I can honestly communicate what it feels like to be petrified by something that you can’t explain. I know what it sounds like when a spirit is moving. I know that electrifying sensation when a ghost is standing beside me. I know that there are things out there—things we can’t see. But I also know that, where there is darkness, there is also light, and that is all I need to know to keep my sanity. – The End

By Jeff Bennington, author of CREEPY and REUNION

Reunion Link: http://www.amazon.com/Reunion-ebook/dp/B004S7AR0E

Creepy Link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005SHXW8C

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