Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Jul 30, 2020

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2020 #93

The Chief Kapapala went to the edge of the Kīlauea crater and found a group of beautiful women. Pele welcomed him, and they delighted in each other for several days.
Many were the games of love and affection played between the two until Kapapala became too full of himself. He boasted that he could ride a surfboard on the flames of Peleʻs fires without coming to harm. Quick to anger, Pele put him to the test. Defying her, Kapapala threw his board on the ocean of orange and red lava and made a display of his skills. He even went so far as to stand on his head while blazing through the molten earth's cresting tube. Pele called up her ancestors in flames to teach Kapapala a lesson. Listening, they sent smoking lava across the surfboard and knocked Kapapala into the fire. He was consumed whole, and never seen again.

"Mai Kaena," the old Hawaiian elders say. "Donʻt boast."


The edge was convenient for Kalau Kremell. He could be within sight of the proverbial social pool without having to dive in. A foot in the water, testing the temperature, but not really immersing himself meant that he didn't have to try. He didnʻt try at home to help his aged mother in any form; he didnʻt try at work to go above and beyond. He didnʻt try at relationships because thatʻs what the internet was for. He did the bare minimum and hovered at the edge. The time of the evening was eight ʻo clock. Kalau parked his 91 Honda Civic in front of the Kīlauea general store for no particular reason other than it seemed to be a place to stop. The Civic was a car that had seen better days, though Kalauʻs mother told him to try and get a better, newer car since he made decent money as a civil servant, Kalau didnʻt try. He would wait until the car didnʻt start anymore before he considered purchasing another vehicle. Presently, the steering began to slip and steer beyond itʻs radius, but that was Kalauʻs least worry. His sudden urge for food and drink moved him into the general store to purchase a greasy bag of chips and two massive cans of energy drinks. The Civic already filled with crumpled up store receipts, old paper food bags from various drive-thrus, and half-empty soda cups littered the interior from floor to seats. Turning the key into the ignition, the car shook and came to life. Kalau wanted to park in a place that was dark and absent of people, his thoughts turned to the parking lot at Halemaʻumaʻu, and thus he went.

He arrived sooner than he expected and was surprised to see that the area was bereft of any human presence. The strength of the energy drink made his insides tingle as it washed down the dry ridged confection. It was quiet, too quiet. It was the quiet that surprised him because he saw the car which pulled up next to his driver's side, but he never heard it, even as it sat there idling. Trying to determine the make, model, and year of the car was difficult as a thick foggy mist enveloped the parking lot. He could only see its headlights.

"You donʻt smoke, do you?"

Kalau was startled by the voice that seemed to be nowhere and everywhere. There was a beautiful Hawaiian girl wrapped in only a kīkepa in his passenger seat. He never heard the door open.

"Uh, no," Kalau replied nervously. "I donʻt smoke."

"I know," the Hawaiian girl shook her head. "I should stop too, the smell gets into the upholstery of my car over there, itʻs why my family doesnʻt ride with me anywhere."

"Thatʻs your car?" Kalau was surprised. "You drive it?"

"Itʻs mine, but I donʻt drive it," she smiled.

"You have a driver?"

"Uh, you could say that," the Hawaiian girl smiled.

Still not able to see the car because of the thick mist, Kalau found that he was forced to ask. "What kinda car is it?"

"Itʻs a sixty-eight El Dorado. The people who lived on my land were not very nice in the beginning, so in exchange for my not taking everything, they gave me the car. Iʻve had it ever since." She mused.

"Oh, from a couple of years ago?" Kalau asked.

"Before that," the Hawaiian girl shook her head. "Long before that."

"For real? When?"

"Nineteen eighty-three," the Hawaiian girl replied.

The girl looked to be in her twenties, which meant that she might have been born in the late nineties or early two-thousands. She was crazy, that was the only thing that made sense. Despite her beauty, the Hawaiian girl made Kalau feel very uncomfortable; that is until she asked him the question.

"How skilled are you at lovemaking?"

Recalling only what he sees on the internet and the many times in which he acquired the skill to hold off as long as he could before Kalau brought himself to finish, he replied with confidence, "I am highly skilled. I am known to go three or four times in an hour."

"Which is it?" The Hawaiian girl asked sharply. "Three of four?"

"Not meaning to brag, but four for sure," Kalau nodded.

"Alright," the Hawaiian girl nodded. "Letʻs make love then."

Kalau didnʻt have a choice to protest or resist, the Hawaiian girl was on him so quickly he couldnʻt help but let out a short yelp of surprise. Fortunately for Kalau, he delivered on his word. His skills allowed him to make love to the girl four times in total. He was sure to make the moment last in between each accomplished ending. Soon, the dim light of the coming day peeked over the west end of the crater. The two were spent but were still able to bask in the glow of their mutual pleasure.

"You kept your word," the Hawaiian girl smiled. "As a flaw of their character, men arenʻt known to hold true to anything they say."

"Iʻve had a lot of practice," Kalau sighed, overconfident and full of himself.

"Practice?" The girl queried.

"Lotta women come to me, young, middle-aged, old. I guess word got around about how good I am in bed. They want to find out for themselves, and who am I to turn them away?"

"Is that so?" The Hawaiian girl sat up and regarded Kalau with interest. "Many come to your door to satisfy their curiosity of you?"

"Itʻs a four-hour wait in between each woman," Kalau confirmed. "In fact, I have to go soon. I have another woman to make love to in Panaʻewa."

"No, you donʻt," the Hawaiian girl replied.


The edge was convenient for Kalau Kremell. He could be within sight of the proverbial social pool without having to dive in. A foot in the water, testing the temperature, but not really immersing himself meant that he didn't have to try. The one time Kalau decided that it was indeed time to try, it cost him. He was found later that day by the authorities. Smoke spilled out from the interior of his car. His windows were smashed, and the billowing smoke carried a horrible burning smell with it. He was alive, but barely, his pants were gone, but worse, his private parts were blackened with a blistered handprint on it, as if the hand that touched his privates, were on fire.


In the presence of Pele, in whatever form she chooses, be gracious, be humble, but Mai Kaena. Donʻt boast lest she calls you on your word.

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