The Greensgate Ghost

by A.A. Azariah-Kribbs

About the Author: A. A. Azariah-Kribbs is a part-time cryptozoologist with her associates Fuffle and Wallie the Imp. She writes speculative fiction and has been published in several venues, including "Cicada," "The Bards and Sages Quarterly," "Felan," "The Donut Factory," and "The Bethlehem Writers’ Roundtable." Her blog, “Wallie’s Wentletrap,” features original speculative art and fiction and follows the adventures of Wallie the Imp.

Excerpt

I have been practicing my shorthand.

There is little else to do. Business is rare. Even so, there is more work than you might suppose for a paranormal detective at the bends of the Chesapeake. It is in quiet, drab little towns where the strangest sights are seen, and from this flat, dull land spring the most fantastic rumors.

The Vane family have lived at Greensgate since I can remember. Mrs. Vane the elder is a widow. Mr. Vane the younger, her son, manages her estate. There is a bit of mystery around his wife, Lynette Vane’s death. It was curiously sudden. His little daughter Charlie is the family diplomat. I often hear her springing step some paces before she reaches my door, skipping like a deer and eager for another “scary” story.

I do hear someone on the way. There is a violent storm outside, and I am half-worried it is my little friend.

It isn’t.

“Mr. Vane—are you well? Charlotte—”

He shuts the door like he means to murder it.

Mr. Vane is a long-limbed man. There is strength in the line of his shoulder and angle of his jaw, but a suggestion of inner weakness and sensitivity in the height of his forehead and largeness of his eyes. He is soaked with rain and a violent shiver almost convulses him. I would take his coat, but he thrusts me aside and advances further into the room.

“You are Ms. Cobble?” he asks.

“Detective Cobble. Let me—”

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