I found the album in a vintage record shop. I had no idea who Connor O’Keiley was, but he played folk music in the early 60’s. He was a sea-faring, mandolin player. I love playing mine and I was always looking for inspiration, so I picked it up in the 50¢ bin. Lots of songs I had heard of, some traditional Irish jigs, sea shanty’s, some old English tunes, but he had some originals too. Very Irish looking dude, in a clean-cut sort of early 60’s way.  

I listened to it when I got home. There was one song he wrote that was a love song, beautiful. He certainly had a muse. His baritone voice was articulate, and strong, yet had a gentleness to it, especially when he sang about this lady. It was called I see your eyes in every port. It was dedicated to her, "My one, My only love, Miranda". The lyrics spoke of his coming back for her, he was at sea and sang about how no other woman could ever win his love.

I Googled him and did not find a thing. Wonder if he is still with us, after all 1961 was a long time ago.

I sat looking at the lyrics when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was alone in the house, I jumped! I turned to find a man standing behind me with a big grin on his face. He had a full head of red hair, and sparkling blue eyes. Slim, freckled-face, probably in his early 20’s.

“What the …?” I screamed. My heart was pounding in my chest. “Who are you, Get, get out of my house!

I picked up the heaviest book within my reach threw it at him. It went right through him, but it couldn’t have. Were my eyes deceiving me?

“How did you get in here?”

His relaxed his smile and spoke. “Sorry, it was the record you see, you brought me here when you bought the album. It’s the last one left in the world.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re a ghost, and this is your long-lost album?”

“I am,” he replied.

I wanted to run, but I was frozen. I tried to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, I just need your help is all,” he stated. “Please sit down.”

Still very nervous, and not trusting my eyes, I managed to sit back down. “How can I help you?” I asked in a quivering voice.  “I don’t understand.”

He walked around the sofa where I was sitting, and tried to turn a wooden chair around. He couldn’t do it. “Hmm, I used up most of my energy tapping your shoulder, anyhow, I will be brief.”

If he wasn’t a dead guy, I’d probably would find that humorous.

“You were reading the lyrics to I see your eyes in every port, well that song is about the only girl I ever loved. She was just 21 then, now, that girl is 82 years old and living in a nursing home, she has something wrong with her mind. She is very ill. She has no family left, no one. I have come for her, but she doesn’t see me. She sees only the evil spirits, that have been manifested by this odd state she is in.  I need to bring her to the light. That way we can finally be together.”

In the eyes of this strange apparition I could see tears. He has clearly been waiting for her all this time. I found my own heart sinking at the state of his loneliness.

He continued. “I died at sea, she mourned me for decades. She tried to find love, but it never worked. We were meant to be together, but there’s something in her mind that is preventing it.”

I was puzzled, clearly this woman had dementia and she was having delusions, but I couldn’t see how I could do anything that could help him.

“Why do you think I can help you?”

“I need you to sing that song to her and tell her Connor is waiting for her. I need you to direct her to me, so her soul can be free.”

He began to fade away and as he did he cried, “Please, she doesn’t have much time left, and I need for her to see me. You CAN help me.”

It took me about a week to learn the song well enough to play it on my mandolin and sing. He hadn’t returned. I wondered if I would ever see Connor O’Keiley again.

I figured that was it. It was a pretty song, but now I needed to move on to something else and not some weird hallucination I may have had. I was beginning to think I had imagined it all. Then, once again, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped.

“Why did you stop? You’re ready.” Connor said.

“I learned it, but honestly if your song on the album is played wouldn’t that work?” I asked.” I really think if she sees your photo on the cover, and hears the song you wrote for her in your own voice, that might help.”

“Bring it with you. It might help for her to see my face. She has not seen this album since sometime before she got sick. It was in her house and got donated to the record store when she was moved into the nursing home. Since then I have seen her withdraw into her own mind and not respond to recordings, but she has reacted a bit to people performing for her,” said the ghost.

He gave me the name and address of the nursing home and we planned to meet in her room after he had time to recharge his energy.

I got into the facility by convincing them that I wanted to entertain the residents, especially those who didn’t have love ones to visit. I told them it was my quest to “do a good deed day” (which I made up on the spot) so that was my in. I also gave them some of my cds.

Soon, I was setting up my gear and a group of elderly folks were sitting in front of me. I asked their names, but none were called Miranda. I did a short set. They seemed to like it. I asked if there was anyone there on hospice. I said I have a friend whose old neighbor might be there. She asked if I could play a couple of songs for her. Her name is Miranda Devenaugh.

Kelly, the aide, face lit up. “Yes, Miranda is here. I can bring you there. I hope you can bring a smile to her face.”

Miranda was in bed looking up at the ceiling in fear as if something was coming at her. She seemed frozen.

“Miranda, you have a visitor.” Kelly shrugged her shoulders.

The old woman ignored her.

“Sorry, she doesn’t respond much to anyone.”

Connor was standing next her trying to talk to her. The aide was oblivious to him. Along with the rest of the gear I did bring a record player. I plugged it in and put the ghost’s album on. “I hear this is one of her favorite albums. I’d like to play it if I can.” Then to Miranda I said, “Connor is here!” for which I got a puzzled look from Kelly the aide.

I cleared my throat, “He was an old friend of Miranda’s, I explained to the aide. Then to Maranda, “Connor is here on the record, listen.”

I see your eyes in every port played on the somewhat scratchy vinyl. Conner called to her, tried to touch her, but she just stayed where she was. I brought the cover to her. “Hi Miranda, I am Jill. I have something you might remember. I walked over to her and showed her the cover with Connor’s smiling face. She finally looked away from the ceiling and grabbed the cover in her hands. She pulled it to her chest.

Connor nodded to me. I turned off the turntable, sat and played my mandolin. I sang Connor’s song to her and Kelly. Miranda sat up in bed and looked over at me. Her lips turned up in a sad smile, and in her eyes, were tears. Kelly looked at me wide-eyed, smiling. Connor started singing along. I continued to play but stopped singing to let him carry the tune. She was turning towards his voice. She could hear it.

She raised her arms and reached out to him. “Connor, my love!”

He smiled. “It’s time to come with me Miranda. We will be together,” he said.

She laid back down and in a short while she died. I saw her spirit rise out of her body and join her lost love. Meanwhile, Kelly rushed to the side of the bed to aide her patient, alerting her co-workers.

I was rushed out of the room by the staff, but not before I saw Conner and Miranda, now young, and beautiful, disappear into the light. Waving thank you. They were going to be one with all of the stars.

At first Mark enjoyed belonging to the Truth. They were a friendly group of people and took an interest in Mark, who had always been lonely until he met them. He didn't really think much about their mission of exposing what they called; media lies. Mark just wanted somewhere that he felt he belonged.

Tonight things changed. Late at night, they brought him to a secret meeting place. Where they said that the greatest Truth would be revealed to all of them.

When Mark saw what they believed and idolized, he began to panic. In the abandoned building they had brought him too, there was a glittering hideous orange mass of slime that seemed to be silently communicating with some of the members of the Truth. The jello mass was the size of an above ground swimming pool.

The dark orange gelatinous shape undulated before them. One by one the members of the Truth marched to the grotesque blob and were absorbed into its mass. Mark didn’t want to go. He could see their bodies dissolving inside the putrid thing.

Mark felt a voice in his head, it was calling him to tell him to obey. Mark, belong to the Truth.The Truth loves you. You will be part of the Truth.

Mark wanted to belong, but he knew this was wrong. He ran out of the building. No one tried to stop him, they were all focused on awaiting their turn to be devoured by that grotesque amorphous thing.
            Mark ran until he found a police officer.

Jess climbed through the opening in the chain link fence working her way around thick brush. Spring growth was in full swing with buds yearning to bloom. Her boyfriend Nick was close behind, pulling back branches as he went.

“Where is it?” He growled, getting caught in a tangle of twisted branches. We shouldn’t be here, Jess. It’s private property now. We’re trespassing.”

“I know, but I can see the graffiti. We’re close.”

“It’s nothing but a dumping ground,” he spewed, passing by a heap of old metal with a discarded bicycle on top. “I don’t think you need to do this. You can make your peace from the other side of the fence.”

“No. I can’t. I have to see it. I need to face my past, literally. Once they clear the land, I won’t be able to do that. This will be a good spring cleaning for my mind. Gotta get rid of the debris.”

“You mean demons.”

Jess didn’t reply, brushing her sandy blonde hair away from her face as she pulled away the last branch. A breath caught in her throat as she spied the abandoned office building. There it was in all its ghastly glory, a small cement structure near the old rail road tracks in the middle of nowhere. Colorful graffiti covered every inch from the outside in. Cartoon characters, shapes and designs sprinkled with a few poetic phrases caught her eye. Bright colors of orange, green, red, and yellow had marked the artists’ spot. More than she remembered, turning dingy walls into something creative.

Her heart sank. Yet she felt renewed. Surely a sign of growth, reminding Jess that her lost soul had found its way to the surface in its struggle to be free. Like the building, the past needed to be demolished. A new life was waiting. 

She breathed a sigh of relief and charged ahead, unaware that Nick had stumbled and twisted his ankle. He yelped, but Jess hardly noticed. In fact, she didn’t even hear the birds signing as she climbed the cement steps to the porch and surveyed the mess. Broken windows and glass littered the floor along with an office chair whose seat was ripped to shreds. Doors had been removed, letting in light, revealing a dark cave few knew about. Only the bright colors on the walls told a different story.   

Suddenly sounds of laughter echoed from inside as she crossed the threshold, crunching on glass. The empty space was nothing but an open invitation for critters and other vermin. She knew that all too well. Squatters and druggies using the space for shelter. She saw remnants of charred makeshift beds, a few random crates and trash.  

Jess remembered the parties. At first this was a sanctuary for her and a few select friends until others discovered it. She and Mat had fun here until things got out of control when more drugs came in, followed by loud music. One night someone had brought in a boombox and music had filled the night air, alerting the neighbors. Jess recalled that night with clarity.

She hadn’t had a chance to get too high as it was early and she was trying to stay clean. But she joined her friends anyway because she had nowhere to go. Her parents had thrown her out and Mat had been evicted. She didn’t even have a car she could sleep in. Jess glanced to the back room. Her room. That’s where she and Mat had stayed to get away from the others. He was using heavily and she watched him constantly, but there were only so many times you could be brought back with Narcan. That night he lay comatose beside her when a fight broke out in front and people started screaming when someone started a fire. Everyone scrambled but she couldn’t wake Mat as the fire spread from the bedding near the door and into the back. She couldn’t get out the front and she couldn’t move Mat. He was dead weight.

Panic had set in as she tried to open the stubborn back door. It was metal and wouldn’t budge. Something was blocking it from the outside. Jess screamed and finally jumped out the open window just as the sirens were getting close. She fell in the dark and cut her leg, but luckily a light shined on her and she hobbled to the fireman who made his way around back. They rescued Mat. Everyone else had scattered. Jess never saw them again.

Nick put a hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “It could have been much worse but everyone survived.”

“Except Mat. He od’d a week later.”

Silence filled the space as Jess reflected on her past. She took a deep breath and realized she’d been clean for two years. She was in a much better place now. This property would be revitalized, like her soul.

“Ready?” Nick said, pulling her away.

“Thanks to you. So glad you rescued me that night.”

“It’s my job.”

Jess smiled, knowing Nick was more than a firefighter. He was her savior.