Amber McDonnell's husband, Dean, was recently gunned down by the police and Amber has gone into a deep depression. However, strange things are happening around Amber's home. Could Dean still be around?
Amber was a young woman who lived with a conflicted soul. Her former love had died recently, and she missed him so. He died in a shootout with the police, but something was not quite right about the story. Dean was no criminal, and why the police shot him is a mystery to her and the rest of the town's people. Amber was in such remorseful sorrow, dreaming about Dean each night. Those dreams haunt her so bad that she swears that he is still alive when she wakes up. Alas, Dean is indeed dead as she had seen his body. Something isn’t quite right. Why does Dean seem still so alive in her mind? Why can’t Amber accept his death? There is just too much that Amber didn't get a chance to say or do with Dean.
“Oh Dean, where are thou? Have you truly left me behind? I still love you even if you're gone!”
Just then, the lamp came on. How could this be? Amber tried to turn it off, but couldn’t. She has heard of poltergeists and ghosts before, but had always doubted the claims. The distinct feelings and sensations she was getting now were undeniable. She gained the courage to ask out loud,
“Dean? Is that you?”
The lamp turned off and the chills ran down her spine. She could not hear or see him, but she swears he is here. The door closed in her bedroom on its own, and she knew once again she was alone. Amber, however, had hope now. She had the hope she needed to face tomorrow again. When she fell asleep, she dreamed of Dean again, feeling his bare and smooth skin against hers.
“God, it feels so good....”
She said in her dream before it ended. The sun’s light woke Amber up, and she went to the closet to grab her clothes for the day. After she had finished dressing, she quickly left her house and began walking to the cemetery. When she got there, she rushed to Dean’s grave.
“Oh my god.....is this for real?”
The ground had been turned up, and their was some unearthed dirt lying around Dean’s headstone. She got the attention of the graveyard's keeper, and showed him what had happened.
“Well I'll be damned....don't worry, miss. I'll fix it right away.”
There was also one other strange thing about Dean's resting place. The day on which he had died was faded, as if someone had tried to destroy the numbers etched in the stone. Five scratch marks, as if someone or something had been clawing at it. There was even some dried blood on the numbers. Amber realized whatever is going on is something she should not mention to anyone. Besides, no one would believe her.
When Amber returned home she discovered that the front door was unlocked. She went inside, and called out,
“Father? Are you home from work early?”
But no one was there. She went to the second floor bathroom to clean up, and found that someone was using the shower. She knocked on the door, and asked loudly,
“Father? Are you in there?”
There was no answer. Something was wrong. She opened the door, and threw back the shower curtains. No one was there and the bottom of the shower had traces of mud and dirt in it. She might be in danger. She ran to her phone in her bedroom, and dialed 911.
“Yes? What is your emergency?”
“I'm Amber McDonnell, and there may be someone who has broken into my house. My address is 552 S. Ferntree lane.”
“We will be there right away.”
The police came, and searched the entire house with their guns drawn. They found no one.
“He must of escaped, Miss McDonnell. Please call again if the man comes back.
“If the man comes back....”
The words echoed through her brain. How did they know it was a man? It made her thoughts return to her dreams of Dean being alive.
“That can’t be, though....I saw his body, and his grave!”
Amber thought, as she laid down on her bed. Later on, after dinner, Amber started to cry. She had been thinking about Dean all night long. Her feelings burned in her, and thought about when she and Dean had became married. The memories of the ceremony and the honeymoon afterwards. She could almost feel the passionate lovemaking that had ensued almost immediately after they had reached the hotel. She could feel him in her, Dean’s hot kisses, and the way he had fondled her gently as they had came together. She remembered the house they had started to lease, and going to the deserted beach together at night in Dean’s nice black town car. They had made out in the water, and felt the waves crash on them as they groped each other. When Amber finally opened her eyes again, she looked at the window, noticing it was opened. When Amber went to lay down again, she noticed the blanket had been pulled back, as if someone had been lying beneath the covers on the right side of the bed. She smiled, and said,
“I miss you, Dean....”
The rest of the night passed quietly for Amber, herself falling asleep after some light reading. She saw him yet again, but instead of fighting the images and memories off, she sat back and enjoyed them. When the morning came, Amber wished it was night again. The day is now too hard to face without him. Dean still means everything to her, and now she is enchanted with his possible restless soul haunting her everywhere.
“I wished Dean could come back....but no. That is impossible.....or is it?”
Amber is afraid her thoughts were a little too dream like now. She ate her breakfast, and went back to bed. Her father fully understood her depression. However, Amber’s depression is disappearing and is becoming a fascination with the macabre, as it had been for some time, even before she met Dean. Maybe her pleasure will still be found, in black leather and shades of darkness. Even the dead can speak, after all.....