<—Part 4
Dust coated the surface of almost everything Amy touched as she explored the old house. Dust and other things she tried not to think too hard on. There were definitely signs that some of the urban wildlife had made use of the shelter provided. Chewed fabric, little scuffed paw prints across the dirty floor, tiny pebbled droppings, and even a faint musty avian scent. She wouldn’t be surprised to discover that some local pigeons had figured a way in.
It was strange to think that this would be part of Pompeii’s Periodical. At first it had seemed a reasonable expansion, but the more Amy perused through the tattered journals, the more she thought of the space as a house, not a store. Now she thought of the two spaces as Pompeii Proper, and Pompeii’s Parlor.
Reading through the unknown writer’s reports was fascinating. She found herself looking up, studying her surroundings, hoping to catch some ephemeral glimpse of whatever had haunted that family all those years ago. She felt positive it had been a haunting, as even now, the rooms held a leashed energy to them. Dormant, but surely on the verge of waking.
Clutching the worn journal to her chest, she gingerly ascended a flight of stairs, testing each step before putting her full weight on it. She would have braced a hand on the wall for support, but the plaster surface had eroded with time, with bits of greyed and damp fuzzy wood peeking out. The idea of touching it gave her the heebie-jeebies.
The second floor landing gave her a view of a dark narrow hallway that led off to the right and left. Amy dug around in her purse until she located her phone. Pulling it out, she set it to flashlight mode and aimed the light to either end of the hallway. The walls on the second floor weren’t any better off than on the stairway. Wood floors had long since lost any gleam, the surface dull with dust and debris. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but the wet, musty smell was even stronger up here.
Uncertain which way to try first, Amy grinned as an idea popped into her head. Lifting the journal into the air, she waved it in an arch from left to right.
“Alright ghosties, tell me which way the pirate treasure is!” It was spontaneous, but Amy hoped using the book as a dowsing tool would work a bit like laying a circle did. Not that she was actually expecting pirate treasure. She’d just go where the energy tingled the most. It wasn’t a tingle like a sleeping limb waking. It wasn’t even a physical itch, but she’d always had an affinity for unseen energies. She would feel it as a faint arcing of energy deeper than skin or bone.
She waited expectantly for five long breaths, slowly waving the book from one end of the hallway to the other. She abruptly stopped when she felt it; a rippling disruption in her energy field when the book was closer to the right side. Triumphant, Amy pointed her cellphone flashlight to the right and continued her exploration.
A part of her almost felt guilty. She was supposed to be sorting the salvageable things and repacking them for further evaluation. The first floor wasn’t cleared yet, but here she was spelunking through abandoned hallways in search of ghosts and pirate treasure. She couldn’t wait to tell the group in her ghost studies class.
The hallway didn’t end with a giant pile of ill-gotten goods, unfortunately. It ended with a wooden door, warped and swollen with moisture, and unable to fully close. Taking a breath, anticipation vibrating down her back, Amy tucked the journal under arm so she could have a hand free. She nudged the door, expecting it to swing open, but it protested the movement. She braced herself to use more force, when her phone went off in a fit of vibration and chimes. Startled nearly out of her skin, Amy barely kept from dropping her phone, but the journal wasn’t so lucky. It fell with a thump to the ground, a small cloud of dust puffing up with the disturbance.
Mashing the green receiver icon on the screen, Amy took a deep breath, laughing nervously. “Hey!”
“Julie said to tell you no go on clean up duty today. Raven left unexpectedly and we need someone to man the coffee counter until Dianne comes in this afternoon.” The woman’s voice was deliberately neutral, and the impersonal sound of it left an aching emptiness in Amy’s heart.
“Got it…” Amy trailed off hesitantly, building up the courage to thank Violet for calling, when the line abruptly went dead. Eyes blurring, Amy knelt down to retrieve the fallen journal.
“Come on, self… no use crying. The past is the past.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt as she stood back up.
Forcing a smile, Amy waved a farewell at the stubborn door.
“Next time, pirate treasure for sure!” She called out to the empty hall as she made her way downstairs and back through the tapestried entrance to Pompeii Proper.