📖 The Ghost of Emily - Chapter 1

The first chapter of the first book of The Ghosts of Men Trilogy, in which we meet the Thorne family and learn of their troubling dysfunction.

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“Breathe, Gussy.”

Had he been holding his breath? Papa was right. So nervous had he been about his first kill, that Gus had held the air in his lungs, almost to the point of dizziness. He let it out slowly, as silently as he could, its mist momentarily clouding his view. Stay, he thought. To his relief, the target remained, still eating, unaware as Gus pressed down on the trigger. Crack! The beast raised its head in panic. Too late!

Time seemed to slow for Gus. He’d never felt so thrilled. The bullet tore through the cold air, sun-rays bursting in its wake and drops of dew evaporating ahead of its trajectory. It found its mark true, and the huge kangaroo fell to the ground with a burst of red.

Gus raised his head above the rifle stock. The blood had already formed a tiny rivulet, winding around a pinecone. Had time sped up again? Nothing felt normal to Gus. He almost couldn’t believe what he had just done. He only now noticed that his heart was pounding in his chest and throat, and with that observation, he felt the passage of time return to normal. It was the most wonderful feeling of his life.

“Nice shot, Gus!” Jake stood and took the rifle from his son. Gus smiled up at him. Maisie sat quietly nearby, her back against a tree. She licked her lips, anticipating the meal ahead. “Come on, kids,” said Jake.

Jake and Gus leapt over the mossy fallen tree that had been their cover, and down into the valley below. Gus ran ahead, taking advantage of the adrenaline bursting through his young, gangly legs. He’s going to be taller than me, Jake thought, as he watched Gus slide along the rotting leaves, surfing them down, then bound towards his quarry. And a better hunter, one day. Jake chuckled as he trailed behind, navigating the contours of the land with more care than his son. A moment ago Gus had been so still and disciplined. Now he was just an excitable kid again. Don’t grow up too fast, he thought as he arrived at the fallen roo. Gus was kneeling cautiously by the twitching carcass, his hands hovering above it, nervously, as if on guard for a sudden resurrection.

“It’s dead, Gussy. The twitching will stop soon. This was a clean kill.” He put his finger on the animal’s body, right next to its wound. “Your bullet went through his neck, just below his skull here. He would’ve been dead before he hit the ground. Well done, son.”

Gus was silently beaming. He finally touched it. “It’s hot!”

“For a little while yet. We should skin and butcher it right away. You brought the plastic bags, right?”

“Sure did, Papa!”

“Push your knife in here,” he instructed, as Gus drew his blade, “and slice it along here. Might need a little sawing motion, these big boys have thick skin.”

Jake heard a groan from Gus’s hungry belly as he began butchering. It had been a week since they had eaten any fresh game, the last being an undernourished brush turkey that Jake caught with his hands and cooked over the fire one evening. Its meat was tough and sinewy and did little to quell their recent famine. Other meals this week had consisted of raw grubs and insects, the odd wild strawberry or bush lemon, an assortment of bitter-tasting leaves. Yesterday, Jake had caught the smell of this roo’s droppings on the daily forage. It was late, so they had turned in, planning to rise before dawn to start on its trail.

“When we find him, Gus, he’s yours to kill," Jake had said as he tucked his son into his furs by their open hearth.

“Mine? Why?” Gus had trembled with excitement.

“Because tomorrow you turn eight years old, son,” Jake smiled “and you’re getting really good at shooting bush lemons." He winked. Gus blushed.

“How do you know it’s my birthday, Papa?”

Jake patted the notebook in the pocket of his mud-crusted trousers.

“Will I be able to write like you one day?”

Jake’s smile dimmed. “One day, son, but tomorrow you’ll make your first kill.”

Jake had tucked him into his furs, by his sleeping sister’s side, and stepped away to attend the fire. Gus had called out to him softly. “Papa...”

“Yeah?”

“I only shoot the rotten lemons.”

“I know, darling. Time for sleep now. Tomorrow, you’ll take a life.”

Now, as Gus carefully began dismantling the carcass of this first fallen prey, he wore an enormous smile, mirroring his father’s pride.

“You keep going here, I’ll go down to the stream to get my canteen and some help from Mais...” Jake caught the name of his daughter between his teeth, as his head jerked around in all directions. “Where’s your sister?” he asked, not expecting an answer. He leapt to his feet and ran back across the valley. “Come on, Gus!” he shouted back.

Gus scrambled after his father. When Jake reached the fallen tree, he did not stop running. He turned his head to his right, glancing at the tree Maisie had been sitting against, but he already knew she would not be there.

Clutching the Lee-Enfield in both hands, and without breaking his stride, he launched himself over the log in a single bound, landing on the steep outer incline of the ridge. He began to slide rapidly down its slope, dragging leaves and small branches along with him. His eyes never left the glistening of the stream ahead as he drew back the rifle’s bolt with a tremendous snapping sound, releasing the expended shell to the earth. Jake sensed his son trailing behind, as he hit level ground near the outer edge of the wood. He broke into a sprint.

As he entered the clearing, his worst fears were realised when he saw the figure of a woman sitting on her haunches next to Maisie, smiling and brushing strands of hair out of her face. Jake could hear his daughter giggling as he crunched into a rifle-ready kneel on the pebbles of the bank.

“STEP BACK!” He spat the words with such fury that Maisie jolted upright, spinning to face him. Her hands swung up to her ears, the blood rushed from her face and she began to sob in terror at the image of her father pointing a rifle in her direction.

The woman’s hand moved to Maisie’s shoulder. “It’s okay sweetie, it’s just Papa”.

“STEP AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!” Jake roared, rising to his feet and stepping surely towards her.

She rose in tempo, and took one step to the side, away from Maisie.

“Papa, don’t! It’s... it’s Mama. She’s back!”

Jake, with rifle still aimed, marched straight towards the woman. She was the image of Emily, his wife, the long green dress she had worn on their wedding day flowing around her legs. As he reached her, he pressed the rifle menacingly into her forehead. Maisie shrieked.

“Maisie,” Jake growled, not moving his eye from Emily’s face, “run to the tree line and find your brother! Find him and hide, now!”

Maisie wailed, confused, as she broke into a feeble run towards the forest, stumbling on the rocks, looking back over her shoulder every few steps. Gus grabbed her protectively, squinting to see what was happening ahead in the glare.

“Gussy...” Maisie pleaded between her sobs, “it’s Mama!”

“W- what?!” Gus coughed.

“Gus! Take your sister and run!” shouted Jake. “Run and hide! Don’t look back! GO NOW!”.

As Gus obeyed and the children vanished into the woods, Jake stood silently, still poised to shoot, point-blank. His face was red with rage, a single tear forming in the corner of his eye, his tangled black beard concealing his trembling lips.

“Jakey,” she whispered.

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped, pushing forward slightly.

“Jake, you can put the gun away, you know how this goes.”

He fixed his gaze upon the tip of his rifle, not letting his eyes wander to her face. In the blur beyond his vision, he noticed her cheekbones and the soft flow of her flaxen hair. Mustn't look at her! he silently commanded himself, drawing his focus closer to his hands.

“You won’t hurt me, Jake. Put it down.” She put her hand atop the shaft. As she pressed down, he eased his resistance and lowered the rifle down her torso, past her feet, to the rocks between them.

As her hand retreated, the tip of her finger brushed against his, and he leapt back as if a violent shock of electricity had transferred between them.

“Jake, we need to talk about the children, about their future. How much longer can you put them through this life out here? There’s something better waiting for you!”

He shook his head and looked downward, seeing the sparkling surface of the water rushing behind her, and summoned all of his will just to not look upon her face.

“Jake, look at me!”

“No!” he grimaced, the tear rolled down his cheek.

She took a step towards him.

He jumped back, throwing the end of the rifle skyward and catching it in his left hand, taking aim once more straight at her head. This time though, his eyes betrayed him and took focus on her face.

He saw his wife before him, the sparkle of her sharp blue eyes, the bottomless black of their centres. A breeze suddenly blew through the clearing and her hair flicked across her face. She tucked the stray tuft behind her ear, a movement both familiar and unbearably sorrowful for Jake to witness. Her broadening smile broke Jake’s freeze, and he braced himself and leaned forward slightly, twisting his grip around the stock of the rifle and closing his left eye firmly to take aim.

“Jake, you can’t hurt me! You won’t,” she repeated with a condescending giggle.

The breeze rose again, its cold force bringing a bloom of gooseflesh across the back of Jake’s neck. Emily’s hair blew wildly behind her, turning Jake’s stomach in knots at the sight of it. His eyes traced along the arching curve of her neck, her collarbone. The green dress he knew so well looked brand new. His hands remembered the feeling of the cloth. His chest remembered her warmth. His vision clouded with more tears, as he noticed her pointed chin, and the fullness of her pink lips.

The breeze intensified. A thick cloud enveloped the sunlight around them, the shimmering light upon the water dying all at once. There in the shadows, he looked upon the face of his wife and was reminded of her true nature. No shadow fell across her. As the world around them fell into the murky grey of choked and diffused light, she stood luminescent, in full clarity: unextinguished; undiminished. He suddenly remembered everything and his momentary intoxication at the sight of his lover evaporated into total sobriety.

“No. You’re right," he growled, relaxing his stance, tears flowing freely now down his cheeks, his eyes fixed on hers.

Her piteous face turned to horror as Jake suddenly swung the rifle upward, digging it into the soft flesh under his chin as he repositioned his thumb on the trigger. Emily stepped back, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “No!” she gasped.

“You’re right. I can’t hurt you. But I can end myself!” he cried, “and if I die, you lose everything!”

“Alright, Jake! Just stop!” she moaned, retreating towards the water behind her.

“I’ll do it, Emily! I’ll kill myself! Then what will you do?”

“Please don’t!”

“Then leave! Get out of here and don’t come back!” he bellowed.

Emily retreated several more steps, then, with a weary collapse of her shoulders, she turned away and stepped through the ice-cold water of the stream, without flinching, and disappeared into the forest on its far bank. Jake watched her out of sight, seeing her soft glow fade and shrink, until it was completely obscured by the cedar and pine trees in the enveloping darkness of the evening.

He stood still, under a sudden clap of lightning that shocked him back into an awareness of the rifle he was holding to his chin. As the flash of light sparked off the stream before him, and the first raindrops began to splatter upon the rocks at his feet, he lowered the rifle, released its bolt, and walked to the tree line to find his children.

No brass fell to the rocks. After the fatal round through the neck of Gus’s kangaroo, Jake had never reloaded.

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter of the first book! This was originally written back in 2015, as the story was in its earliest stages, and the prose has changed a lot since first draft. This is actually the third re-edited draft which has been published. I first self-published Emily in 2017 under the nom-de-plume James Fox Higgins (see this post for the story of that name and why it has changed), then with the release of Book 2, The Ghost of Delacroix, I trimmed and refined the text of Emily in order to bring up the standard of writing to the level I had reached by the end of writing Delacroix. Pride and self-satisfaction still prevented me from making it the best it could be, and it wasn’t until 2023 that I started re-editing again, along with writing Book 3 The Ghost of Melchizedek (still underway at time of publication) and produced this text as you read it above. I’ll write now and then about my writing, editing, and re-writing processes if that is of interest to readers. Be sure to comment on this post to let me know if that appeals, or with any other thoughts about the chapter above!

The rest of The Ghost of Emily will be published here for all free subscribers, including the new 2024 audiobook which is being produced right now and will be released chapter by chapter on the Ghosts of Men Podcast, right here! I’m excited to launch this new audiobook, because it features Stephen Wells as the main narrator, but, unlike most audiobooks, it will also feature a full cast of voice actors including myself as Jake Thorne, and my son Ruben as Gus. Stay tuned here, and be sure to subscribe to get the latest chapters and audiobook/radioplay episodes!