13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days

Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death

They were exactly the kind of guys who would be at a place like Devil’s Tavern at that time of the night. They were there pretty much every night.

They sat at the bar, each trying to convince the other to say hello to the sad girl at the other end. This was also a thing they did pretty much every night.

“Don’t do it,” Bob The Drunk said, appearing out of nowhere behind them. “That girl is a spirit who appears as a portent of death to folks who should not be out this late at night.”

“That’s ridiculous,” John said. “She looks lonely. I’m going to go over and say what’s up.”

Carlos stayed behind and talked to Bob The Drunk. He was glad that John decided to talk to the sad girl, because he was feeling shy and superstitious.

She was dressed in a black sweater and sensible black jeans. A nearly-empty martini glass sat in front of her.

“Weird question,” John said, sliding onto the stool next to her. “Are you a spirit that only appears late at night as a warning to people who should not be out this late?”

The woman looked down at the olive in her glass and sighed. Then she looked up at him and forced a smile.

“That’s me,” she said.

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” John said.

She looked taken aback.

“No one’s ever offered me that before.”

John held up two fingers to the bartender.

“Two of whatever she’s having.”

The bartender took out a mysterious glowing bottle with a giant skull and crossbones on it, shook it in a tumbler with some ice, then poured it into two martini glasses with a bunch of olives. John swore he could hear 1,000 voices crying out in pain as the bartender poured the drink, but he pushed their tortured cries from his mind.

“So you’re not weirded out by my job?” the woman asked.

“I hate my job too,” John said. “I’m John, by the way.”

“Miranda, Who Appears as Portent of Death,” she said. “Pleasure.”

“Likewise,” John said.

“So, what do you do?” Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, asked.

“I sell life insurance,” John said.

“Go figure,” Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, said.

“I imagine we’d make a pretty good team,” he said.

Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, laughed.

“That would be unethical,” she said.

“Must get tough,” he said. “Always appearing as an omen of impending doom.”

“It’s a living,” she said.

They spent the next 20 minutes making small talk. He told her he’d recently gotten back from a weekend in Montreal. She said she’d always wanted to visit, but work kept her pretty busy. He showed her a picture of the old town on his phone. She showed him a picture of her cat.

“You know what’s funny?” Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, said. “I studied poetry in school. This was the only job I could find. Never thought I’d still be doing it this long.”

“I wanted to be an architect,” John said.

Carlos tapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m calling it a night,” he said. “Bob The Drunk is driving me crazy.”

John looked up to the corner of the bar where Bob The Drunk was wagging his finger ominously.

“Ah,” John said. “I should probably go too. I have work in the morning.”

“No, don’t,” Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, said. “Maybe you could walk me home later?”

John looked at Carlos and shrugged.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Carlos said.

An hour later, John and Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, left the bar. Flashing lights lit up the parking lot. Five cop cars and an empty ambulance blocked the exit. A bloody-faced drunk was being led handcuffed into the back of the ambulances. Carlos never saw the car jump the curb, one of the cops told John.

“Oh,” Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, said. “I was having so much fun, I guess I forgot why I came here in the first place.”

The coroner arrived and zipped Carlos into a body bag.

Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, covered her eyes with shame.

“My boss is going to kill me,” she said.

John looked over as they hauled his friend’s lifeless body away and shrugged. Who was he to judge how someone makes their money?

“My boss is a jerk too,” he said.

She smiled at him through the hands covering her face.

“You should probably deal with this,” she said. “I’ll call a cab.”

Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, was right. He had to notify Carlos’ next of kin. But it had been so long since he’d enjoyed a conversation like that.

“Hey,” he said. “You wanna get a cup of coffee sometime?”

“I’d like that,” Miranda, Who Appears as a Portent of Death, said. She took his phone and put her number into it. Behind them, one of the cops radioed for the coroner.

The only rule of 13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days is that the story must be posted the same night I started it.

Previously on 13 Ghost Stories in 13 Days:
Day 1 The Ghost’s Girlfriend
Day 2 The Girl with the Puka Shell Necklace
Day 3 The Time I Went to the Old Church Later Than I Should Have
Day 4 Ride Scare