Posted in editorial Fridays by troy david loy

Editorial Fridays by Troy David Loy 22.12.17 Ghosted

The Professor sat in his recliner, waiting. His pipe alight, rings of smoke curled from it as he puffed away. He was waiting for a ghost this night, in the newly refurbished building, and all preparations had been made for this moment. The clock struck thirteen. He heard the drip, drip, of water, as a spectral puddle formed on the floor, and a translucent figure rose from it, the spirit of the girl who had been brutally murdered in that spot only five years before.

The killer had never been found, and the case had gone cold, so the Professor was determined to solve it before it was finally closed.

The spirit’s face was covered by long bangs, a dull glow of eyes beneath shining through the soaked, dripping strands of spectral hair.

“Hello, Sunitha.” The Professor began.“I’m here to help. Care to talk? You’ve had something terrible done to you, and I’m here to set things right. I’m ready. Tell me your story.”

Sunitha’s spirit approached him in labored steps, dripping spectral water, water that disappeared as it struck the floor beyond the puddle she emerged from. She held out waterlogged fingers and pressed them against the Professor’s temples, his eyes closed so as to clearly see what she would be “saying” in his mind. Images flashed from one scene to the next as Sunitha’s murder was told from her own perspective, and finally, as she was dumped into the pool near the house, now filled with concrete after her lifeless body was found by authorities. At one point, there was a clear look at her killer’s face, and the Professor was skilled at mnemonics, easily coming up with a
means of recalling it for what would happen next. Sunitha’s spirit removed her fingers from his temples as the visions faded, and her hands moved to her sides, silent and unmoving, still dripping luminescent water. He recalled a name in Sunitha’s vision, the name of her killer as well as his face. She knew him.

The Professor set to the task of finding her killer, still at large since escaping
confinement only days before her murder that five years ago. A thirty-minute Internet search at the Professor’s workspace, and access to satellite data by Web, and it was done! The suspect had been convicted of previous charges of assault with deadly weapons and murder, and sentenced to several life terms of imprisonment. And now it was known where he was hiding, in a safe-house only an hour’s drive from here. The Professor was already on the phone with police, when Sunitha’s spirit descended into her spectral pool and vanished.

She was there before the police arrived.

The suspect was preparing a meal in a kitchen of the safe-house subbasement when he heard the drip, drip, drip of water on the floor behind him. Thinking it leaky pipes upstairs, he cursed, and turned to look, turning pale as he saw Sunitha’s spirit, her eyes glowing blue embers beneath her bangs as she rose from the floor, her hands silently reaching for him as he tripped while trying to back away from her. He had no chance to get up and run as her hand reached into his chest, and he screamed his last while he died from a massive coronary, collapsing lifeless to the floor.

Back at the old house, Sunitha rose from the floor one last time to bid the living world farewell. She stood before the Professor, bangs parted, as her lips silently formed words, her last, before she descended one last time into the puddle and went to her final rest:
She said, “Thank you.”

Troy David Loy ©2017

Troy David Loy is an eternal student, a writer, and blogger owned by two cats, Ricky and Eccles. He is co-author with Miss Sharmishtha Basu of two published books, and solo author of three books on Amazon for Kindle, with a fourth book on the way.

He lives with his family and values his friends, family, and the flourishing and the well-being of his species in dangerous times.

He seeks one overarching goal: to help make the world a better place in his own tiny, drop-in the- ocean way, one piece of fractal artwork, essay, or story at a time. He battles the Forces of Darkness™ from his secret volcano lair in Virginia as Troythulu while his eldritch tentacled servitors from beyond time and space keep the lab in good condition.

He may be found online at:
on Tumblr at
and on Twitter, @Troythulu
His Amazon author page is at:


A bookworm transformed into an addicted writer. I love to write and illustrate them myself. By love I mean love, no half-hearted relationship, a full-fledged, passionate love, I can’t pass two days in a stretch without writing/painting (cyber), just feel empty like lovers do when their lovers are away on a tour! Even though I am thoroughly enjoying self-publishing with amazon, but if you like my work and want to publish my works in your magazine, books or better if you want to publish a book of my works please make me very happy by contacting me. Or if you want to sell my works on commission basis only!! contact me, I will be quite relieved. Honestly writing and selling your own work is a very BORING combination. So you are more than welcome! Mail me, or go to- my blog (I have 16 blogs in wordpress, all active, some on daily basis, every one on weekly basis screaming and vowing my LOVE for writing and painting- this one is first-born, so special) (You will get the link to my remaining blogs there) or you can check out my ezines- monthly- And if you want fb you can go to my page, linkedin- my email id and I am in goodreads and completelynovel too I guess I said enough about myself, right? You will forget if I stuff too much here, so if you are curious to know this humble creature just join me in my blogs :)

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