Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Oct 27, 2020

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2020 #4

 ...continued from yesterdayʻs story 


In chapter two, Queen Lili'uokalani tells us about the woman she called her hānai sister, Princess Bernice Pauahi. In her late teens, she was betrothed to Lot Kamehameha, the grandson of Kamehameha The Great. A mister Charles Reed Bishop pursued and pushed his case with Pauahi, and the two were soon married. Not a note is spoken about Prince Lot's feelings after being left empty without an engagement to speak of. 

Damien sits in front of me on my break. The dock manager from corporate sweet-talked Lori and flashed his Rolex and black credit card under her nose. He offered her rides home in his BMW, and she took the ride in more ways than one. Brian Lehman from corporate and Lori Shima store clerk pull up together in the BullsEye parking lot, and it's not long before the windows steam up. "I didn't wanna get in his face and get fired," Damien tells me in the employee lounge. "He's a fucking asshole."

"If you look at it one way, your relationship was new, so there was never any real kind of commitment. But you have to ask yourself, did Lori go out with you because you're the manager or because she likes you? You take a look at the situation overall, and you've answered your question," I told him. 

"You think she only went out with me because of my manager position?" He squealed. "I liked her like for real! I was pretty sure she felt the same way about me! Shit!"

"I don't doubt that, but did you guys kiss or anything?" The pizza today is good; they slathered garlic butter on it.

"Well, no," he looked confused now. "Lori said she wanted to take it slow."

I shrugged my shoulders and cleaned the butter off my fingers with a handi-wipe. In a way, I felt responsible. After all, I'm the one who threatened to stab him with a pen if he didn't make himself presentable to Lori Shima. "The thing about corporate assholes is that they're predators, so this isn't a relationship for him; it's a conquest, and Lori, she's in the early stages of being a gold digger, but there's still time."

"What do you mean?" Damien asked.

"Shit, I gotta punch in," I didn't realize how much time had passed. "Gotta get back to the warehouse."

"Those ladies fill your head with all the ghost stories back there?" Damien asked.

"And then some," I chuckled.



It's a giddy group back here. Every little noise freaks them out; every shadow makes them shit their pants; even if someone sneezes without warning, they have a cardiac. Tonight, it's a different kind of scare, a horrible one. It hasn't changed since I went on a break an hour ago. The police, the EMT, the M.E., and the management still haven't figured out how to get Damien Sherman's body down from the top tier where all the dried goods are sitting. An hour ago, we were doing what we usually do, pulling products off the shelves to stock in the store. I was sent on a wild goose chase for greeting cards when I realized that vendors bring those things to the store. Ah, young management. That's about when I heard screams coming from clear across the far aisle, I ran there as fast as I could, and that's when I saw everybody crowded together. Some were hiding their faces in one another's shoulders while others threw up, and still, others shrieked in horror. Damien made his way up to the top and tied a rope around his neck, and the other end, he tied around one of the smaller I-beams. Then, he jumped. 

The plucky young manager who smacks her lips when she talks approached me with tears in her eyes and a bit of bile on her cheeks. "Go take your break, papa,"

An hour later, Damien's body is still hanging there, his face turning a dark purple by the hour. I hop on the crane and buckle in; no one protests. I maneuver myself close enough that I can swing Damien's legs into the crow's nest. It takes a bit of effort, but I'm finally able to cut the noose with my giant box cutter. No full rigor mortise yet; his body is still warm. "I  gotcha, young brother, I gotcha,"



Brian Lehman and Lori Shima sit in his BMW, trying to get into as comfortable a position as possible so that she can blow him while he returns the favor. The fact that the windows are tinted and steamed up makes it easier for me. Luckily, the doors are unlocked. I casually open the driver's side door and toss the tapa cloth pūʻolo toward the back seat. Before the bundle has a chance to explode, I take a flathead screwdriver and jam it into the window buttons on the door. Slamming it shut, I hear the muffled explosion from the pūʻolo, and then the screams follow. 


In the youth of Queen Liliʻuokalani, she writes of many engagements between her royal contemporaries being announced, celebrated, and then called off, herself included. My eyes are sore, Iʻll have to continue reading tomorrow. Still, no clue as to who the curse is for, but the contract says itʻs in the Queenʻs diary. I canʻt skim through the pages because I donʻt know what I am looking for, so I read. 

Oh, Brian and Lori? Thatʻs not part of the contract; that was a freebie because I owed it to Damien. be continued

1 comment:

  1. I wish there were captions to these photos so I know who they were and the significance of the picture. I dont know, maybe I'm just being obtuse.