“Dr.”
by Bailey Nam
I had lost a bet to my friends. They knew I was scared of haunted mountains like Ho-Ryeong-Kok-San, and they had chosen this place for me to solo camp to spook me out of my guts, but I was fearless. I had put on forest fairy makeup and a cute little outfit for my cosplay because I planned to take some cute pictures, add a creative hashtag, and get 1 million likes on my post.
As it was getting dark, I retreated to my tent and excitedly checked the pictures of the sunset and campfire until my heart dropped. I blinked. There was… this… ghost? A white blob was floating. I could see it, floating a little distance away from me. So I ran. I could almost hear it cackling. As tears blurred my vision, I reached my car, opened the door, slammed it shut, and drove off, leaving everything behind. I bolted inside my house, running around, sprinkling salt around the entrances, and burning some lavender incense. Was this ghost going to kill me? I fumbled with my phone, quickly tapping 911 on the keypad.
“There’s-there’s a stalker in my house!” I said sobbing uncontrollably.
“Do they have a weapon?” asked the operator.
“It’s s-s-something w-worse than a weapon.” I wailed.
“Do not move; we are on our way,” she responded.
All the emergency vehicles pulled up in front of my driveway, and the firefighters broke one of the windows: “WHERE IS THE CRIMINAL?” A police officer yelled.
“R-right there—right where you’re standing,” I replied, trembling.
“Ma’am, why don’t you go to the bathroom and wash up and take a chill pill? We’ll take care of it now.” The EMT said, all business-like.
As I lapped my red, puffy face with cold water, I looked in the mirror, expecting to see the ghost. But no. I looked closely. I didn’t see the ghost. But I did see that my mascara and makeup were gone. Wait a second! I couldn’t believe it. All this chaos for a chunk of my mascara? Yes, I was confident it was all my stupid mascara. Oh, how dumb! Argh! Right then, I swore I never would reveal the truth.
Three days later, the weekly newspaper arrived at my doorstep, and on the cover page, titled “Mysterious Stalker Reported to Police; Culprit Not Yet Found.” It read: At approximately 10:45 pm, Sarah Lee, 23, seemingly in great distress, called 911 and reported a stalker who seemed to have “something worse than a weapon.” Police notified, not able to find culprit. Seemingly no harm done, besides some salt sprinkled around the house for unknown reasons. It is reported that she has not left the house since the incident and is showing early signs of depression. Victim of a terrible night, Sarah Lee refuses to talk about the incident. Perhaps she is too traumatized to speak, or there is something else hidden beneath her sad smile. Perhaps we will never know.
