“Jerry’s Head” by Richard F. Yates
“The ghosts are all gone, so I can go home, right?” Jerry said.
“No Jerry. There were no ghosts,” the doctor said. “They were all in your head. Nothing more.”
“Right. No ghosts. Never were any ghosts,” Jerry smiled and shook the doctor’s hand. The doctor signed the papers and stood behind his desk as Jerry exited.
Jerry was quiet on the cab ride home. He’d been gone for three weeks this time. Hopefully, Janey had remembered to water his plants. The goldfish had both died the LAST TIME he was gone, so he didn’t have to worry about them. (But he still did.)
The cab pulled up in front of Jerry’s house. He swallowed, paid the driver, and walked toward the door, holding his bag in front of his chest like a shield.
“All in my head,” he mumbled and turned the key. He pushed the door open and saw that the hallway was dark. A bulb must have burned out. He stepped across the threshold.
And a quiet voice said, “Welcome home, Jerry. We missed you…”
---Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Grand Hoohaa of The P.E.W.)
#writing #fiction #stories #horror #anxiety #mentalillness #ghosts