Nirvana

Photo by shannon VanDenHeuvel on Unsplash

Jen jiggled her key in the lock of her new apartment. The door opened to the odor of fresh paint. The creamy white interior was the perfect blend of Victorian and modern. Having searched for over two years for a place like this, she let out a sigh of relief.

He heard a sigh. He could see a woman moving around below. Her image was blurry, but it looked like she was unpacking boxes. He had seen many occupants through the years going through this process. It was always the same. Attempts to reach out always went unnoticed. How long had it been?

Shivers caressed Jen’s back. She jumped up from her bed and turned on her small stained-glass lamp. The room glowed with soft light. She pulled out The Call of Cthulhu and began to read. A pungent odor made her nose tingle. Her face twitched as the odor grew stronger.

He twirled through the air with excitement. She could smell him! It had been years since he was able to connect with residents. One time he was able to talk to a boy that lived in the house, but a child couldn’t help him. He needed to find them. Everything was lost. He needed to make it right.

She drifted off to sleep restlessly muttering about fucking Nirvana. She hadn’t thought about Nirvana in years. Her parents would go on about how groundbreaking Kurt Cobain was. It wasn’t her thing. She opened her eyes, fully awake. Teen Spirit echoed in the room as if she had left the stereo on.

A loud pounding on her door pulled her from the sound. She looked through the peephole. A couple, covered in tattoos and piercings, probably mid-forties, stood at her door with their arms crossed.

Opening the door with her brightest smile, “Oh hey, I’m Jen.”

“Your music is too loud.” the woman looked beyond Jen examining her freshly refurbished apartment.

The music stopped.

“Music? I don’t have any music on.”

It was silent.

“Well, keep it down or next time we’ll call the police.”

So, apparently, they were not as progressive as they wanted to appear. People these days! They walked off without saying anything else before Jen had a chance to respond.

In the next few weeks, he spoke to Jen in the only way he could. He made bumps in the attic echo through the house. He blared grunge music as she went to sleep each night. He made sure the neighbors didn’t bother her. She didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts.

One morning he saw Jen, bleary-eyed made a call to her friend.

“Ty, I think I might have a ghost.”

“Excellent, I’ll bring my gear over tomorrow night,” he enthusiastically replied.

He wondered exactly what equipment was being brought over. Who was this Ty? He didn’t want anyone to interfere.

Jen stepped out of the steamy shower as she looked into the foggy mirror. Startled by a figure standing behind her. Not a mysterious figure in black, but a guy, probably around her age. He had long, messy brown hair and a goatee. He wore a brown and yellow striped shirt. Her shrieks echoed as she pulled her towel tightly closed. The apparition in the mirror smiled. A gleaming smile that made him look at least somewhat charming.

“What the Hell?!”

There was a knock at the apartment door and he faded from view.

“Hey, Ty. The sounds are coming from up there. Let me get dressed.”

Ty looked up from Jen’s towel and to the attic door. “How classic, creepy sounds in the attic. Ok, so are you hearing moans, whispers, or rattles?”

“Well, actually it sounds like someone is trying to karaoke to Nirvana at full blast and throwing heavy shit around.”

Giggling, “Nirvana, really? What highly overrated drivel was it?

The coat rack next to Ty fell off the wall.

“Whoa”, Ty stepped aside staring. “Let’s see this attic.”

They crawled into the squeaky attic. Ty’s EMF detector remained silent.

A piercing bright light illuminated in the far corner of the attic. Jen and Ty covered their eyes. They shuffled toward the light around the junk in the attic. Something small on the corner rafter glowed. It was a box no larger than a cell phone, covered in dust. When Ty approached it a shock run through his body causing him to back off.

“I think this one’s for you, Jen.”

Jen walked up to the dusty box. Grabbed it. Tightly closed from the dust sealing it. Jen blew some of the dust off and aggressively worked the lid with her delicate hands. She peered inside, a locket momentarily glinted a deep crimson before returning to its natural silver color. She opened the locket, “It’s warm?” There were 2 photos in it. The first depicted a woman with long, dark hair, deep green eyes, a lacy black shirt with a choker around her neck, and a baby in her arms. On the other side was a guy with light brown hair, a goatee, and a dirty green hooded flannel.

“I’m not really sure what to do with this. There’s no way we’ll know who these people are,” she sighed.

“Try Googling your address.”

She typed into her iPhone as Ty leaned over her. Zillow showed she was paying $300 more than advertised. A coffee shop was opening soon next door.

“Wait, here’s something. Members of Switchlight Dead in Overdose, City in Heroin Crisis!” She scrolled through the article, the same photos were at the end. Three young guys from the second photo stared at her from the page. “That’s got to be him, in the middle.” Under his photo was the caption “Chris Taylor, vocalist.”

Ty got up, “Shit, what time is it? I’ve got to get to work, you going to be okay?”

“Yep.”

She looked up at the ceiling holding the locket, shaking her head. “I know how you died.”

Nothing.

Jen's nose twitched as she smelled the vinegar again. Chris appeared and reached out to her as if to grab her hands, track marks oozed along both of his arms.

Hesitantly he tried grabbing her hands, but of course, he couldn’t. Passing right through, frustrated he disappeared.

Jen twirled the locket between her fingers as she sat at her desk in the living room. Finally, she put the locket back in the box and started Googling: “Switchlight & Chris Taylor & dating” Only one entry came up, it wasn’t the girl in the photo.

The box remained on her desk, Chris sang his noise each night, disturbing her sleep. Jen learned to ignore it.

The new coffee shop opened two months later. Its opening line wound past her apartment. Hipsters from the neighborhood all chatted as they waited to try the latest authentic organic fair-trade coffee from small villages they couldn’t pronounce. Jen’s eye caught a woman standing in line that stood out. A woman around Jen’s age chatted with her. Jen stared at the older woman, recognition in her eyes.

Jen quickly grabbed her phone, leaving the apartment and approached the woman.

“Hi, I know this sounds weird, but have you ever heard of the band Switchlight?”

The woman’s eyes opened wide, “my boyfriend was in that band, years ago, why?”

Hesitantly, “Well, I found something in my house, I think he used to live there.“

“How did you know about Chris’s band?” the woman eyed her suspiciously.

“Well, um, I think he’s a ghost. Really into Nirvana, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” The woman didn’t seem disturbed at all.

“I’m Paula. This is my daughter, Amber. I stayed in the neighborhood after Chris passed away just to feel close to him. I could never get over losing him. No one else compared… do you think he’ll know who we are?”

Jen shrugged, “let’s find out,” and began leading them back to her place. Amber made no eye contact. She followed her mother, disinterested.

After entering her apartment Jen listened for the thumping sounds from the attic that greeted her every time she came home… nothing. Paula looked around, frowning.

“The place looks a lot different.”

Chris watched as they entered the apartment.

“Oh here, this is what we found.”

Paula opened the box and pulled out the locket. Tears welled in her eyes.

“This means so much to me. All I had were band photos.”

How could he forget her dark hair and those brilliant green eyes? So, old. He wanted to tease her about that. Next to her was a young woman with light brown hair. It was their Amber.

“I love you!” Chris shouted.

Nobody could hear him. Chris moved closer to them, but the air became thick and hazy. He could no longer see them. His body pulled painfully and he screamed, “no!”

“We’re going to head out. I am so thankful for this,” the woman held the locket tightly in her hand.

Jen watched them go. She sat at her desk. It was quiet. She smiled, put on her headphones, and blasted Nirvana.