Ghost Writer by Margaret Gregory Page A

frequency. It couldn’t have been lightning. No storms
were forecast with the change. If the forecast had changed, the
controller would have mentioned it.
    Ralph leant forward over the
passenger seat. “Do we have to fly through those clouds? They are
sitting on the hilltops.”
    “Yes, but its okay. Those hills
are all below three thousand feet. I will be flying at four
thousand.” I pointed to the altimeter. “At it is clear enough over
the airport.”
    Ralph sat back.
    Just then, the plane
shuddered.
    “Just some turbulence,” I
assured them quickly, noticing that the altimeter needle was
wavering – not steady, but it was still averaging four thousand. I
replaced the headset and checked our position by the radio
beacons.
    With the mountains approaching,
I needed to concentrate. There could be more turbulence there.
There was more radio static, which I ignored. Then cloud closed
around the plane and my chatting passengers fell silent. After a
while, I felt a nudge on my shoulder.
    “This is spooky,” Heidi said
when I lifted one earpiece.
    “I know. I don’t like flying
blind. That is why I qualified on instruments.”
    I glanced back to them, scanning
them all and then looked out the cockpit window. For a moment, the
cloud thinned and I saw a dark bulk in front of us.
    “Holy Mother…” I muttered, as I
pulled hard on the controls.
    The plane struck the hillside,
and then, there was only blackness.
     
    I looked down at the wrecked
plane. It had slid down the hill, scarring the hillside and
crashing through young trees. The white and blue fuselage had
broken open. People were walking all around it. Policemen,
ambulance men, firemen.
    As I watched, I saw bodies being
placed on stretchers and covered over. From the first, I saw a
glowing figure rise up and turn to stare up at where I stood
watching.
    Heidi screamed at me, “This is
your fault! My little baby girl is motherless. I won’t be there for
her.”
    I backed off a pace, filled with
horror at the anguish in my friend’s expression.
    Ralph, another glowing figure,
stood up from the second stretcher.
    “Yeah, I guess you don’t have
what it takes. Will your daddy replace your wrecked plane?”
    A third glowing figure stood
beside me. “What went wrong?” Christina asked, looking away from
Ralph as if disagreeing with his words.
    “I don’t know,” I said,
anguished. I turned to Christina’s glowing form and saw she seemed
to be listening to someone. “Come on Edwina, we don’t belong here
now.”
    “No! Not yet. I want to know
what happened.” I saw the glowing forms of my friends becoming
dimmer.
    I heard a new voice. It was
soft, gentle, enticing…
    “Come, Edwina, it’s your
time…”
    “Why?” I wailed and looked
around to see a glowing figure of a woman dressed in white.
    “Accidents happen.”
    “No. I did everything right. The
plane was checked. I checked everything. I shouldn’t have
crashed.”
    “Accidents happen,” the voice
said again.
    “No. Not like this. Three of my
friends are dead – heck – I’m dead, aren’t I? They hate me. They
blame me – and I want to know why.”
    “They may hate you now, but once
they have had a chance to rest, they will be ready to watch over
the ones they have left behind, or go around again.”
    “I am not ready to go anywhere.
This can’t be my fault.”
    “What if it is?”
    “Do you know that?”
    “No, but if you come with me –
all that won’t matter.”
    “Then no, I won’t go with you! I
want to know if it was my fault and if it was – well, I would
know.”
    “And if it wasn’t - what then?
Will you want to blame someone? Want to get revenge?”
    “No, I want the truth. How can I
rest if I don’t know?”
    “Come up then, and ask for the
truth.”
    It was seductive.
    “Why can’t you go there and find
out?”
    “I can’t. I am a collector of
souls. I can only deliver.”
    “Then I am not going.”
    A second glow joined the one
talking to me. “All