The Ghost Within Us: Unabridged

By Pete Nunweiler

Time to dance!

Toby and Alex are trapped in a place they thought would help them.  Alex has been threatened by an entity strong enough to silence the chaotic apparitions that have haunted his house.

What did they mean?  Was it more of a warning than a threat?  The only guidance they have now is an absu

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter J Nunweiler
• Release date: Sep 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532397738

Pete Nunweiler

Pete Nunweiler is an emerging multi-genre author and motivational speaker. "His books do what all books are supposed to do...draw you in, and make the characters real enough to the point of feeling like you're going through the events as they unfold."Pete is dedicated to building partnerships with independent bookstores. He's been the best selling author at one of his bookstore partners and best selling local author at another."Thank you for the amazing books. Keep writing, please. Patterson was my favorite writer, but I think you knocked him down to #2."Visit him at www.petenunweiler.com and sign up for email alerts to stay informed of upcoming releases and updates. email Pete at [e-mail]. Follow him on Facebook @authorpetenunweiler.

Book preview

We Ain’t Broke Yet

My name is Alex Reagan. I was born and raised right here in Sevier County, Tennessee. Momma and Daddy were the best parents a kid could ask for. Josephine was my Momma. She was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known in all my life. Not only in appearance, but deep on the inside. My Daddy’s name was Stephen. They met as a young couple trying to make it in this big ol’ world when Momma was working several jobs. She had big goals in life, but a cashier’s pay at the thrift store wasn’t enough to be independent in 1969. Momma defined independence as not needing anybody for any reason. That’s how she raised me and Seraphina; she’s my twin sister, but everybody calls her Sara.

Momma taught us Southern respect and Daddy taught us that there was no such thing as a woman’s job or a man’s job. He and Momma cooked together, cleaned together, and shopped together. Hell, they did everything together; most of the time, anyway. Sometimes, when Momma felt lazy, Daddy would do all the housekeeping by himself. It wasn’t all one-sided though. Their combined responsibilities didn’t start and end with two little girls and housekeeping. I remember when Daddy was sick, he started to get out of bed and Momma yelled at him, You get back in that bed right now. You ain’t doing nobody no good by staying sick.

I’m fine. I’ve got plenty to do today anyway and it ain’t gonna get done by itself.

Like what?

I gotta change the spark plugs and make some adjustments to the carburetor. It ain’t running right.

Momma brought him breakfast then went out to the drive, fired up the car and got a screwdriver. Me and Sara were eight or nine at the time. I can still hear it. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still hear that engine. Sara and I ran to the window and Momma had her hair pulled back and leaned over into the engine. It only took her a minute or so—in kid time, anyway. The engine of that bright yellow Nova purred like a kitten. Momma got the idle just right, put the screwdriver away, washed her hands and walked back inside. She told Daddy, The engine’s fixed. Did you buy spark plugs or do I need to run out to Lefty’s and pick some up?

Daddy smiled and told her, They’re in the brown bag on the workbench. He knew better than to argue anymore.

I could do the same until they made all the cars computerized. I wouldn’t know where to start now.

Wow, sometimes, that feels like it just happened last week. Other times, like now, I feel like it was a whole other lifetime ago.

They loved each other so much, God took them both home the same day. It was a car accident fifteen years ago. There was nothing they could do. It was raining and a dump truck with bald tires slid across the center line. They said there was no pain—both died instantly.

Sara and me—we’ve been alone since then. I’m a realtor in the area. Most of my business comes from referrals, so I guess I’m not doing bad. Sara is—well—a year ago, Sara died too, so I’m all that’s left. I guess Momma didn’t quite finish her lessons. She prepared us to be independent, that’s a fact. But I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.

My life is so different today than it was a year ago. I was the housekeeper for Sara’s place after it all happened that night. Her husband, Daryl, was manipulative and controlling. Over time, he secluded her from anyone else, including me. When she realized how bad things had gotten, she stood up to him. She told him, in so many words, that his behavior was unacceptable and she was going out with me that night. Well, that started a fight. They fought a lot, but that was the first time that guns were involved—and the last time.

Week after week, I walked into that home and stared at the corner cabinet where she fell and into the galley kitchen where he did. Like slow motion, bang, then screams. Another bang and more screams. I had to shake it off every time I walked in there until—Tobias happened.

Toby Miller lost his wife in a car accident a few months before the anniversary of the night Daryl killed my sister. He and his wife had a dream to live their lives the best way they could; go on a cruise, photograph waterfalls, live in the mountains of Tennessee and—chase ghosts. She had a big life insurance policy and told him before she died to keep following those dreams.

The two of them stayed in a cabin I sold to a couple from Ohio, Doug and Linda, in the Fall, and Linda introduced him to me. He was a lonely man. I’ve never seen love like I’ve learned of the love between Toby and Anna. Love, like that, is only found in fairy tales. We can assume, anyway. All fairy tales end with 'they lived happily ever after'. The reason they end that way is because nobody knows what ‘happily ever’ after is like. Toby and Anna were the 'happily ever after'.

I met him and took him to a picnic area in the park. For the next ten minutes, Toby described his Forever House; a fairy tale piece of property that doesn’t exist. Except, it did exist. What Toby described was the very house that my sister and her husband were killed in and that I took care of for a year. The problem is—Sara’s still there. She was, anyway. At least, until the second time she possessed my body and rode with us to an asylum in Louisville, KY.

Somewhere along this ragged timeline, I fell for Toby. He’s the kindest man I have ever met and the only one who has made me feel like a woman, while still comfortable being me. We made a deal as friends that we would learn to live our lives again—together. I haven’t always kept my part of the deal. It’s all new to me. I’m not used to another person being in my life. I’ve kept secrets. I’ve lied. None of it was malicious; but rather, excessive independence. Now, as I sit here writing this, the only things I was once confident about don’t make any sense.

Everything I knew, I didn’t. Everything that was, wasn’t. Everything I am, I’m not. I don’t even know who I am anymore. When I first met Toby, I was the confident, strong, independent woman that Momma and Daddy brought me up to be. Now, I’m just a scared little girl. I learned, only a short time ago, that I had another sister I have never met—and I never will. She died in a car accident a few months before the anniversary of the night Sara was killed, and I’m left wondering how I can be the woman he needs me to be. How can I fill the void left for him? How can I love him like she loved him?

It’s so fast, but I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I fear, though, that Toby hasn’t given enough time to process his emotions. He told me once that sometimes things suck and you just have to let them. Has he let them suck for long enough? Is he ready for a relationship? Most of all, if he’s not ready, when will he realize it and where will that leave me? See—scared little school girl.

Love, alone, is not the only thing that makes me feel this way and scared doesn’t even begin to cover it. The events of the past few months have been a nightmare for Toby and me. I’ve talked to Sara. I sat at the table and had a conversation with her. She also possessed me and wanted Toby to herself. I’ve seen wicked things I can’t begin to describe. Now, there’s someone—or something—after me. Daryl and Sara are gone, but it’s only a matter of time before they show up again. That is a certainty.

I just wish I knew where it all comes from. How do we get rid of them for good? How do we cross them over into a world we’ve never seen? Every answer prompts more questions, but there’s something I’ve learned.

I’m sure it will be mentally exhausting to recall the events that have happened since we left Callosity, but we’ll do our best. I refuse to allow these entities to take me down. I’m losing myself. I want my confidence back. I want what’s rightfully mine; a peaceful life that’s free of ghosts and monsters. I’ll have that again, but it will cost, and there’s no amount of money that can pay off a debt like that, no. We will pay, but we’ll pay in humility and a dance.

Jimmy’s message was clear. I didn’t want to accept it, but I had to. Not for him or Toby, not for Daryl or Sara. I did it for me.

There is a simple truth that lies within the secrets we hold, lies we tell, and excuses we make for our actions; if we continue to ignore them, shut them out and pretend they don’t exist, they will haunt us for a lifetime. Sometimes, we have to dance with our Ghosts so we can learn to smile at them when they try to break us.

We ain’t broke yet.

Escape from Callosity

Alex and I stared at the edge, astonished. Jimmy’s apparition crossed his hands over his chest and jumped, feet first, off the asylum’s roof. Seeing him jump cleared any doubts I still had that it was Jimmy I saw when the tour of the asylum first began. I recalled our guide, Patty’s answer when I asked if there were any documented suicides.

Just one; Jimmy. He likes to hang out on the roof.

Alex was staring at the edge with her eyes wide open. Her only movement was the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed short, deep breaths.

Alex.

Her arms were by her side without a response. I stepped towards her, touched her arm and whispered her name, Alex.

She turned slowly with her eyes still gazing. Toby, what did he mean?

I don’t know exactly, I said, then looked around the dark rooftop towards the guard structure. There was a chill from the breeze fluttering towards me. Alex, we have to get out of here.

What did he mean, Toby? Before he jumped, he said, ‘Everybody answers for their crimes, eventually.’ He looked right at me and said, ‘Everybody.’

Can we try to figure it out in the truck?

She looked back at the place he stood before he jumped.

I noticed something from the edge of my peripheral vision. Something moved. I scanned the entire rooftop. The guard station was darker than the rest of the roof. I listened hard. The gusts of air in my ears when the breeze blew were all that broke the silence. Something stepped out onto the rooftop from the guard structure; a shadow within the shadows. It stepped towards us.

Alex, please.

Another stepped out, then another. All of them were walking towards us.

ALEXANDRA! I yelled. She snapped her head towards me, breaking her trance. I demanded, The time is now.

She looked over towards the guard station, shook her head and said, Oh, shit; that’s the way out.

With obvious sarcasm, I said, Thank you, Miss Reagan. Any ideas on how to get past them?

There were dozens of them on the roof, and more coming out of the guard station. They didn’t make a sound as they moved about. I called out, We’re leaving now. Please. Just let us get to the stairwell and we won’t ever come back.

Alex confirmed, You damn sure got that right.

We heard a man’s voice shout, Where is she? It seemed to come from every direction and echoed off every brick. We heard another voice from somewhere out on the grounds, She’s on the roof.

I grabbed Alex’s hand and we broke out in a full sprint towards the stairwell across from the guard station. When we reached the shadow people, they halted our momentum. We tried to keep running, but it felt like we were running chest-deep water. We spent all of our energy but still didn’t get closer to the stairwell. The shadow figures engulfed us, but we couldn’t feel them.

A different apparition appeared on the other side of the figures. He was at least 6 feet tall and stalky. Straight through the shadow figures, he stormed towards us with his head down and charged, like a bull towards a matador in an arena. He stopped an inch from Alex’s nose and said, I know about Daryl, you bitch.

In an instant, he launched her over the short wall, smiled at me with a sinister laugh and disappeared.

Everything moved in slow motion. I yelled, ALEX! and tried to run to the edge. As if in a dream state, I couldn’t move. The shadow figures had me surrounded. There was a flash of light over the wall and I didn’t hesitate to move towards the stairwell again. I didn’t care how long I took to get through those shadows.

Commotion on the lower floors turned to roars of excitement. Children were laughing, adults were shouting and doors were slamming, as if every spirit in the place woke. The shadow people scattered and merrily ran along both wings of the rooftop. I sprinted towards the open door to the stairwell, ran down the first set up steps to the landing, turned to go down to the doors to the third floor to see a flurry of haunts were running up the stairs towards me. I darted into the third-floor corridor and ran towards the stairwell on the East Wing. Nurses ran up and down the halls, shouting for children to get back in their rooms.

Above the hubbub, I heard a distinct child’s voice calling, Mister. Mister!

I looked around for the source. A ghastly young boy with dark eyes was looking directly at me and motioned me to follow him. Come on. This way, he said.

I followed him to the front of the building. He stopped by one opening where a large window once was. He nodded his head towards the opening.

What? Jump? I asked in shock.

He lifted his hand out again as an invitation. I looked down towards the gravel lot surrounding the asylum. I was still three stories up and there was nothing to catch my fall.

Thanks, kid, but no.

I turned back towards the East Wing stairwell. My path was clear. I jumped through the open doors and into the stairwell to the second floor, then the first.

When I accessed the first-floor corridor, all commotion stopped. There were no signs of spirits. Only my labored breathing broke the silence of the night.

I looked around but there was no way out. I ran to the back wall of the building. There were no windows. I ran along the West Wing and out the doors at the end of the hall.

ALEX! I yelled into the still night. The only response was a distant coyote. I tried to run around to the back of the building, but a ten-foot-tall chain-link fence with razor wire coiled on top blocked my access. I ran along the length of the fence to see Alex. The angle of the fence was too sharp and I couldn’t see around the bend of the building towards the East Wing.

On the opposite side of the building from me, there was a long wall that I could