Something strange about the decrepit apartment in Brooklyn where Jackie Crawford lived for the past six months unnerved her. The lack of heat or hot water didn't set her on edge; neither did the building's decrepit condition; evident from filthy hallways and the numerous cracks in the walls. No, it was something far more ominous...

Her boyfriend, Jeff Dutton, managed to pinpoint it one night while they snuggled on the couch and watched The Exorcist.

She leaned on his broad chest and he wrapped his strong arms around her to keep her warm, both inside and out.

When the tape ended, they heard a loud click that caused Jackie to flinch and set Jeff on edge. At first she though it was the VCR when the tape finished rewinding, but the numbers on the counter were still moving, so she knew it was something much worse...

"What was that noise?" Cringing, Jackie held Jeff tighter.

"Beats me." He got up to look around, straining to see in the dark. "But it sure sounded like a gun being fired, didn't it?" The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

She punched him in the arm, a playful love-tap. "That's not funny."

Jackie stayed curled up on the couch, too scared to budge. "Something's wrong. Go see what it is."

Without hesitating, Jeff flicked the light switch and searched for intruders. There was no one in the living room besides Jackie. For that he was grateful. When the tape finally finished rewinding they both flinched.

Cautiously, he made his way into the bedroom with Jackie following close behind, and turned on the light. They found the room unoccupied, but the window was open halfway despite the brisk temperature. He shut it, shivering on account of the chill.

"Why did you open the window?" he asked, teeth chattering as he shut it.

She frowned. "I didn't. I thought you did."

"Nope, I didn't touch it." Jeff shook his head.

"Well, I must've opened it last night to get some fresh air and forgot to close it." Jackie bit her lip, unable to remember touching the window.

"Why would you do that? It's a bit nippy out this time of year."

Jeff folded his arms and rubbed them to keep warm.

She shrugged. "Why don't you go back into the living room while I whip up some hot chocolate."

He made himself comfortable on the couch while Jackie puttered around in the kitchen.

Five minutes later, she appeared holding two mugs of hot chocolate and set them down on the cluttered coffee table crammed full of books about ghosts, in addition to a collection of Poe's short stories.

"This is guaranteed to warm you up." Jackie smiled and handed a mug to Jeff.

"Not like you do." He kissed her deeply, making her blush.

She took a sip of her hot chocolate.

Jeff hoisted his mug and took a long drink. "You know, Halloween's right around the corner."

"Should I be scared?" Jackie rested her head on his shoulder.

"I think you've got ghosts." He leered at her.

She laughed. "What gives you that idea?"

"You've got a window that opened all by itself and, seeing as how you don't remember doing it what else could it be?" Jeff set his empty mug in his lap.

Jackie finished her hot chocolate and went into the kitchen. "I don't know. That noise we heard could have been anything."

"Like what?" Jeff followed her.

Her eyes lit up. "A stray cat knocking over a garbage pail."

"It sounded worse than that." He put his mug in the sink.

"Let's go see if Sy is home. Maybe he can get to the bottom of this."

"Who's Sy?" Jeff leaned against the wall.

She gave him a dirty look. "The Super, remember?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but Jackie cut him off before he could get a word in edgewise.

"If we know why the spirit is unhappy, we can hold a séance to help undo the wrong, and hopefully put an end to these strange happenings." She bit her lip.

"What's with this spirit mumbo-jumbo? I didn't know you were into that." Jeff frowned.

"You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" Jackie grabbed her keys off the kitchen table.

"Not unless I can see them. You know, like Casper the Friendly Ghost?" He wiggled his fingers in the air for effect.

"There are no 'friendly' ghosts." Jackie pointed to numerous books about the subject stacked on the coffee table.

Jeff slammed the door shut and followed her to the Super's apartment on the first floor. "How would you know?" He frowned.

"I just do." She gave him a dirty look. "You wouldn't understand."

He shrugged.

They walked down three flights of sagging stairs. Jackie knocked once and waited. Sy Mann had the TV blaring, so she knew he was home.

They heard him shuffle over to the door and fumble with all three locks. "Don't get your panties in a knot. I'm comin'," Mr. Mann's stern voice declared.

Jackie cleared her throat and blushed, caught off guard by the old man's choice of words. Jeff snickered. The door creaked open and Sy Mann; a tall, slight man with fluffy tufts of white hair sticking up every which way appeared in the doorway. Mr. Mann smiled when he saw Jackie but looked confused when he realized she wasn't alone.

"Hello, Jackie. I had a feeling it was you." He grinned revealing toothless gums and waved.

"How did you know?" Jackie winked.

"Just a hunch. Who's that young fella?" He pointed a trembling finger at Jeff.

She sighed, embarrassed that he forgot so soon. "This is my boyfriend, Jeff. I introduced you to him a few weeks ago."

Jeff extended a hand and Sy shook it.

"Ah, of course. He looks like a fine young man." Sy scratched his head, looking confused. He opened the door wide and led them inside. Jackie and Jeff had to step carefully to avoid slipping on the worn linoleum and old newspapers with yellow stains scattered about.

"Are you wondering why my hands shake, boy? I saw you staring." Mr. Mann leered at Jeff.

He nodded slowly, dreaded the answer.

"My nerves are shot, but you don't want to hear about that, it's an awful story." Sy shook his head.

Jeff admired his own strong, steady hands. "I'm sorry."

Mr. Mann petted the ancient calico with rheumy, green eyes sprawled out next to him on the unmade bed. He sat on the edge and motioned for Jackie and Jeff to take a seat. They sat on the rickety, wooden chairs that faced the bed and creaked under their weight.

"What can I do for you?" He scratched Tiger's chin.

Jackie leaned forward so Mr. Mann could hear her clearly. "Do you remember why the last tenant who lived in my apartment moved?"

"What?" Sy frowned, eyeing Jeff suspiciously.

Tiger purred, too content to realize the conversation did not match his mood.

Jeff sighed. "The tenant who lived in the apartment before Jackie moved in. What happened to him? Did he commit suicide, or did he die of natural causes?"

"The guy who used to live in Jackie's apartment?" His eyes lit up, full of recognition. "Oh, sure, I remember Marty Leary now; odd fellow. Always came and went at weird hours, usually in the dead of night. Never did figure out what he did for a living. I just know the rent was always paid on time. That's all the landlord really cared about." He scratched his head. "Why do you want to know how he died?"

"Strange things have been happening in my apartment lately." Jackie sat forward and bit her lip.

Sy rubbed his pointy chin. "Could you be more specific?"

Jeff folded his arms. "Yeah, like strange noises and windows opening by themselves."

"Sounds like you've got a spook. Maybe even a couple of 'em." Mr. Mann chuckled.

"I think knowing how the last tenant died might help solve the problem." Jackie took Jeff's hand in hers and squeezed.

Sy studied Jackie. "Let's see...It's coming back to me. He'd been dead for a couple of weeks last summer when the tenants complained about the stench coming from the place; smelled just like rotten meat, they said. So I dug up the spare key I had for apartment 4-D and went to investigate. I found poor Marty in bed, blue eyes glazed over and wide with fright. The covers pulled up to his chin his fingers curled up into claws." Mr. Mann pulled a cat treat out of his shirt pocket and fed it to Tiger. "The coroner came to remove the body at night, that made the chances of someone seeing were less likely. According to the autopsy, a heart attack did him in. But from the look on his face, I'd say he was scared to death by someone he didn't expect to see, and that's what killed him!"

Deep in thought, Jeff shuddered. "So much for your theory, Jackie." He shot her a dirty look.

"What theory would that be?" Sy shifted his weight on the bed.

She lowered her head, feeling dejected. "I told Jeff if we contacted the spirit of the deceased we could find out what made it unhappy and we could correct the problem so the strange occurrences would stop."

"How long have these 'strange occurrences' been going on?" Sy frowned.

Tiger made himself comfortable on Mr. Mann's lap, and settled down for a nap.

Jackie crossed her legs. "Over a month now."

"I see. Is it unusually cold in your apartment?"

"Yeah, why?" Jeff folded his arms. "I think the radiator's busted."

Sy's green eyes twinkled. "No, it isn't the radiator; the spirit's presence is making your apartment so cold. I can prove it."

Jeff stood and started to pace. "I've heard just about enough of this nonsense! If you're so sure it's Mr. Leary's ghost, show us how to drive it out."

"Don't show anger, or try to chase it. That will only make things worse. Take it from someone who knows...." Mr. Mann stroked Tiger.

He rolled his eyes. "How do you chase a ghost?"

"There are ways son, but I don't think you'd understand." Sy chuckled.

Jackie sat forward in her chair. "I suggested holding a séance."

"That might just do the trick." Sy nodded.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Would you do the honors, Sy?"

"Why me?" He set a frail hand on his chest.

Jackie smiled, putting him at ease. "You knew the dearly departed."

"Not very well I'm afraid," Sy shook his head.

Jeff shook his head.

She leaned back in her chair, feeling more relaxed. "But you were on good terms with him, weren't you?"

"Oh, I suppose." Mr. Mann stared at Jackie, taking her questions seriously.

"I'll bet he had an unresolved gripe; that might explain why his ghost lingers in Jackie's apartment, looking for closure. Isn't that right?" Jeff smirked, feeling smug.

"Could be, but I think Marty wants revenge." Sy grinned.

Tiger twitched in his sleep, dreaming of big, black birds.

"Will you help us?" Jackie clasped her hands together, practically begging.

Gingerly, Mr. Mann lifted Tiger up and set him down on the bed. "I'd be happy to oblige." He got to his feet slowly, with a little help from Jackie.

She smiled, obviously relieved. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Yeah, things that go bump in the night are downright scary when they aren't on the big screen." Jeff shivered.

She led them back to her apartment. On the way out, Mr. Mann grabbed a white candle and a book of matches.

When they got upstairs Jackie unlocked the door and switched on the light. "Jeff, go check the radiator while Mr. Mann prepares the kitchen table."

"Sure." He walked over to the radiator under the open window and cautiously reached out to touch it. Hot metal scalded his hand. Jeff screamed, ran into the kitchen and grabbed some ice cubes from the freezer to soothe his throbbing fingers.

Sy winked. "I told you the heater wasn't broken. Now do you believe me?"

"I sure do!" Jeff licked his swollen fingers.

Jackie rushed him over to the sink and ran cold water over the burn."Oh my God, Jeff! Are you ok?!"

"I don't know, but my hand is killing me." He pressed a cold, damp cloth over his swollen hand. Mr. Mann lit the candle in the middle of the kitchen table and shut off the light, bathing them in its eerie glow. "Sit down. It's time."

Jackie and Jeff reluctantly followed.

"Now, take my hands. Bow your heads and keep quiet." He took a deep breath before he began.

They each took a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand, focused on the candle's flickering flame and waited.

"Marty, if you're here, give us a sign. This is Sy Mann, the superintendent of the building you died in." He cased the room.

A minute later all the books in the bookcase near the kitchen came tumbling down. Jeff gasped. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."

"It's too late to turn back now." Sy winked.

Startled, Jackie tried to bolt from the table, but Jeff held her in place.

The dictionary landed at Sy's feet. He leaned over for a closer look. Coincidentally, it opened to the M's; a minute later, a raven flew into the room and landed between the pages. Mr. Mann addressed the raven. "Marty, tell us how you died."

In answer, the raven rested its beak on the word murder and pecked a hole in the page.

"Do you know who killed you? Caw twice for yes; once for no."

They all looked on in awe as the raven cocked its head to one side, as if to ponder the question for a moment before cawing twice.

Sy smiled expectantly.

Jackie and Jeff gawked at the raven, unable to believe their luck. They leaned in for a better look at the mysterious messenger. Mr. Mann followed his hunch. "Did Al Ash kill you?"

The raven cawed twice more and flapped its wings.

"Do you know why?" Sy smiled.

This time, a single caw was the reply. "Will you rest in peace if we get Al to confess?"

The raven cawed twice more before flying off.

The candle went out, casting them in darkness.

Jackie jumped up and fumbled for the light switch.

"Does that guy still live in the building?" Jeff wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.

Mr. Mann rested his hand on his chin. "He sure does. Come on, I'll introduce you." He got to his feet and shuffled over to the door. Jeff followed close behind. Jackie closed and locked the door behind her.

Al Ash lived on the fourth floor, in the apartment directly across from Jackie; the climb seemed to take forever, since Mr. Mann had to stop often to catch his breath.

Jeff whispered in Jackie's ear: "I can feel myself growing older."

"Shut up, Jeff." She jabbed him in the ribs. "You'll be old too someday."

He gritted his teeth. "Not if I can help it."

Jackie gave him a dirty look.

When they reached the top, Sy knocked on the door and waited.

A gruff voice answered: "Who is it?!"

"Sy. Can I come in?" He smiled broadly.

He peered through the peephole. "Who's that with you?" Al cracked the door for a closer look. "I don't like the looks of them!"

"Jackie and Jeff. She lives in Marty Leary's old apartment. He's her boyfriend."

"What do they want? They aren't cops, are they?" Al studied his uninvited guests.

Sy shook his head. "They just want to ask you some questions about Marty's death. Some strange things have been happening in the apartment lately."

"Is that my fault?" He laid a hand on his chest.

"Maybe." Mr. Mann wedged his foot in the doorjamb, before Al slammed it shut. "Maybe not."

Reluctantly, Al undid all three locks and opened the door.

He stepped aside and they went in. Unlike Sy's place, this apartment was immaculate; there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. Copies of The New York Times and The Rifle Rack were stacked neatly on the antique coffee table in date order, and from the glimpse they caught of the bedroom, they noticed a bedspread pulled so taut you could bounce a quarter off it.

Sy sat between Jackie and Jeff on the couch. Al made himself comfortable in his worn recliner and stretched his long legs. Mr. Mann clasped his hands together so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Al, why did you kill Marty?"

Al laced his fingers and rested them in back of his head. "Give me one good reason why I should tell you?"

Sy pointed an accusing finger at Al. "If you confess, I promise you'll be happier. I don't think you know how miserable all this guilt has made you."

He gnashed his teeth for a few minutes before answering. "All right! He stole my wife!" When he spoke, his voice was icily calm.

Jackie's jaw dropped. "You're kidding!"

"Could you be more specific?" Jeff frowned.

"Are you people stupid?! He had an affair with her! When I caught them in bed together, I just snapped." Al rubbed his sweaty palms together and glared at his firing squad.

Sy shook his head. A raven flew into the room and landed on his shoulder to listen in. "Al, when I found Marty's body he was in bed alone. You're wife was nowhere to be seen. And there were no signs of forced entry." His green eyes locked on Al's pale, blue ones.

Al nodded slowly and finally broke down: "I found a spare key to his apartment under her pillow while I made the bed one morning. When I saw that I went berserk. I rushed over to Marty's place, slipped the key into the lock, and stepped inside. I found my wife wiggling around beneath him and told her to get out of my sight while the getting was good. She struggled to break free from Marty's firm grip, scooped her clothes up off the floor, and hightailed it out of there before I could get my hands on her. It's a good thing, too, because there's no telling what I would've done." He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and stopped to collect his thoughts.

"When Marty saw me coming with my hands balled up into fists, he pulled the sheets up to his nose and seemed to be bracing himself for the worst beating of his life. Just when I was getting ready to strangle him, I bent over, half expecting him to beg for forgiveness, but he didn't say a word, even though his mouth was wide open. I thought he'd be screaming or trying to run away, so I leaned in close to his face to see if he was breathing, but he was already dead."

Sy shook his head. "You sound disappointed, Al."

Al did a double take when he saw the raven perched on Mr. Mann's shoulder. "How'd that damn raven get in here?"

"Maybe you left a window open." Jeff snickered.

Jackie nodded. "You never know who might drop in, especially in New York."

"Sy, what the hell are they talking about?" His eyes locked on the raven and he spat on the bird.

He scratched his head. "Al, that raven has something important to tell you."

The raven cawed twice in agreement.

Al stood up and walked over to Sy for a closer look. "I hate ravens, they're evil!"

"That's Marty Leary's ghost, Al. His spirit has been lingering in my apartment ever since the day you scared the life out of him. He's got a score to settle with you." Jackie stared at Al, eyes full of contempt.

"Give me a break, that's no ghost! It's just a damn bird!" He reached out to grab the raven and missed. "Prove that's Marty's ghost."

In response the raven swooped down and let something shiny slip from its sharp talons. The object landed on Al's lap with distinct click!

He picked it up and stared; it was a key with Apt. 4-D written on a scrap of paper taped to the top.

"That's pretty wild!" Jeff grinned.

Jackie patted Mr. Mann on the back. "Nice work."

"Boy, that Marty sure is clever! I have a feeling he's just getting warmed up." Sy's eyes twinkled.

Al let the key dangle between slender fingers. "Apartment 4-D. Isn't that where Marty lived?"

Mr. Mann clapped his hands softly. "Congratulations! You won the grand prize!"

"What am I supposed to do with this damn key?" Al waved it in the air.

Jackie shook her head. "You'd better think fast, the raven is headed straight for you."

"Turn around or you'll miss it!" Jeff pointed to the black bird.

Al shifted his gaze at the exact moment the raven made a beeline for his face. He swatted blindly at it until the raven plucked his eyes out swiftly, and devoured them. Still clutching the key, overturning the coffee table while crimson tears flowed freely from the new holes in his dense head, Al shrieked and stumbled, scattering the neat piles of magazines and newspapers everywhere.

Sy smiled, happy to see a wrong righted at last.

Jackie screamed and buried her face in her hands, shocked by the raven's gruesome act.

Unable to tear his eyes away, Jeff looked on, lost in morbid fascination.

Al's massive hands continued to grab and swat, missing the raven by a mile, until it pecked his meaty neck with its pointy beak, piercing his jugular vein. He howled as his hand found his attacker, seizing the bird in a death grip and squeezing, until all the life flowed out of him, and the raven broke free.

Bruised and battered...nevermore.

The End

Back to Twisted Tales.