"Forgotten," by Anonymous

It was half past three when the door to Jim Burden’s office slowly creaked open. He looked up from his mounds of legal documents and ledgers, candle wax slowly dripping onto his mahogany desk. The old building sits along the busiest street in New York City, but at this hour, only the weary and wretched stalk the sidewalks and halls. Jim had been in the office since the early hours of the morning, working away at a case. He had not seen the sun for days, let alone grass or the endless fields of his childhood. The air in his office was stifling, but opening a window would only bring in the smog and odor of the bustling city. 

The hinges of the old door squeaked as he blinked his blurry eyes to make sense of the occurrence. 

Surely, there is no one else in this building at this hour, Jim thought. 

As he rose to search the dark hallway, the floorboards began to creak rhythmically, in a slow, dragging, march. 

“H-hello?” he called, but no one replied. A chill caressed the hair on his neck and his breath began to fog before him. Around his ears, the sound of a howling wind took up in harmony with the ghastly footsteps. It reminded him of the miserable footsteps of the farm hands in Nebraska as they trudged their way through the snow. 

He was frozen, unable to make sense of what was happening in his dreary office as he stared in horror at the open door. The footsteps marched their way from the doorway, growing louder, heavier as they approached the desk…

Stomp

Stomp

Stomp

…before they finally ceased at the window behind him. The chill had turned into a bitter cold as he sat still in his chair, afraid to see who- what was there. 

Just then, a hand–grotesquely pale–appeared from over Jim’s shoulder and snuffed out the dwindling candle. 

Oh god- he thought. Or maybe he whispered it? He couldn’t be sure in that moment as he watched the hand creep back over his shoulder. 

He must turn around, he must see what was breathing so haggardly behind him. He could see it out of the corner of his eye, he just needed to look. 

Slowly he turned his body toward the thing in his office, keeping his head turned out of fear. He saw bare feet, as pale as the hand that stole his light. As he began to move his gaze upward he noted dark, frost-covered pants with a white shirt tucked into the waist. The collar of the shirt was turned down, away from the neck, and above it was Mr. Shimerda’s ghostly face staring, head tilted, at Jim. 

“No!” Jim shouted as he leaned back as far as could from the unpleasantly close presence of the very dead Mr. Shimerda. He couldn’t move though–his limbs were frozen to the seat beneath him. 

The ghost stared unblinking at Jim, face blank. Jim tried to shut his eyes against the image but found even that was impossible in his condition. 

He noted then, that Mr. Shimerda wasn’t just staring. No, he was pointing–arm extended all the way from his shoulder to the blackened tips of his grey fingers.  

“The window?” Jim asked, voice shaking. Mr. Shimerda simply stared while pointing to the window. 

“I- I don't understand!” Jim cried. 

Suddenly the ghost bent mechanically at the waist, haunting even closer to Jim’s face until there were only mere centimeters between them and he whispered one word:

“Antonia” 

The unnatural wind picked up and howled around Jim’s office again. The screaming blasts sounded like a freight train as papers blew and scattered around him. Mr. Shimerda leaned back upright again, almost like a puppet as Jim howled in fear.

Antonia’s name swirled around the room, as much a whisper in his ear as it was a screech coming from no ascertainable direction. Mr. Shimerda just stared at him, unmoving against the maelstrom.

Finally, Jim was able to move his arms from the chair. He worked little by little until he arose to push against the vortex to escape his office. Without looking back, he burst out the door and raced out onto the street, met by the humid morning air. He didn’t pause to take a breath as he sprinted toward the train station. He grabbed the first ticket for Nebraska and headed out West for the first time in 20 years–her name chasing him all the way.