Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Oct 20, 2016

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween! 10 Nights Left! "Secret Sauce"



Honolulu: The Office Of Boy Napualawa



“Fred, why don’t you start from the beginning?” Boy asked.

“Uh yeah, okay. Uhmmm.…Alison is a really beautiful girl, just beautiful and a lot of guys liked her. I mean, they still like her; who wouldn’t? For me, though, she just wasn’t my type you know what I mean? It’s like, everybody loves cocoa puffs you know? It’s packaged really nice, it’s a great sell, it’s great to look at, it’s the ‘go to’ dessert. But for me personally? I don’t like cocoa puffs, it’s just not my thing,”

“I see your point,” Boy said. “Please go on,”

“So, that’s why I don’t understand what happened? It’s like I woke up from a coma after these past six months. There was a conference that I had to go to in California as part of my job, and as part of that conference I had to stay a week after for a follow-up meeting. Up until then, Alison was the love of my life, she really was. One morning she called me just to see how things were going and it was like I was talking to a stranger. After we hung up I couldn’t remember how and why I fell in love with her,” Fred was stressed.

“Fred,” Boy smiled. “You started in the middle, I want you to start from the very beginning,”

“I’m sorry sir, I’m still a bit flustered and really confused. It’s probably why I haven’t called to let her know that I’ve been back for nearly a month,” Fred said as he took in a deep breath.

“A month?” Boy asked. “So, you haven’t gone back to work?”

“I never called, never checked in. I haven’t been back to my apartment; I’ve been staying at a hotel this whole time. Mainly so that Alison can’t find me,” Fred replied.

“Alright,” Boy nodded. “Forgive me for interrupting, go on,”

“We worked at the same office and like I said, she was beautiful but she wasn’t my type. Everyone else fell all over themselves to get her attention; it was ridiculous. One day after work I’m heading to my car in the parking garage and I hear a clicking sound which I recognize because it’s happened to me before. It’s the sound of a car battery that’s low on juice and probably needs a jump. That’s when I see Alison trying to get her brand new Audi to start but the battery won’t turn over. It’s kinda weird that a 2016 high-performance vehicle has a dead battery. I walk over to her to tell her that her battery is dead and that if she has a set of jumper cables I could give her a jump. Turns out she doesn’t, but she asks if I don’t mind doing her a big favor. She says she’s gonna be late to her Yoga class and she can’t miss it; so she wants to know if I can give her a ride?

“No problem,” I tell her.

I get her there just in time and then she asks me if I wouldn’t mind giving her a ride back to her car after yoga? I had nothing to do on that particular night so it wasn’t a problem. In fact, I went to ‘O Reilly’s and got her a pair of jumper cables. It was real simple you know? I took her back to her car afterward, got the battery juiced up and she was off. The next day at work she brings me a large Tupperware bowl of spaghetti.

“I’m a Louisiana girl," she tells me. "The women in our family are known for our spaghetti, it’s our specialty, no one can resist it,” Alison smiled.

“Thanks, Alison, I appreciate it,” I said. “I’ll let you know how I like it,”

“Oh you’ll like it,” she reassured me. “I’d stake my life on it,”



By the end of the day, I found myself asking Alison out to dinner, by the end of the week I was madly in love with her, by the end of the month we were making love. It was hard to concentrate at work you know? Even when I think about it now, it’s like I was in a feverish dream that I couldn’t wake from," Fred said.

“The relationship went on like this for six months?” Boy asked.

“Six months that I can’t remember,” Fred replied.

“Let me ask you something?” Boy leaned in closer.

“Sure,” Fred replied.

“This specialty she told you about; the spaghetti. How often did she make it for you?” Boy asked.

“Once a month,” Fred replied. “Usually toward the end of the month,”

Boy sat back in his chair and let out a deep sigh, “You’ve been vexed, my friend,”

“Vexed?” Fred was curious.

“Witchery,” Boy said. “It’s a very old kind of voodoo practiced in some of the southern states, most especially by women who want to keep a man.”

“I’m not following you, sir, I’m sorry,” Fred still didn’t get it.

“Part of what’s in that sauce for Alison’s spaghetti comes from Alison herself,” Boy said.

“You mean like her hair?” Fred asked.

“No,” Boy replied. “It’s her menstrual blood; that’s how she’s been able to keep this spell over you for the past six months. Alison keyed in on you because out of all the people in your office who were attracted to her, you were the only one that was not. You were her challenge and she won, her car was the bait, and you took it. There was nothing wrong with it, but after you helped her, it was a matter of course that she had to thank you. How else would she have done that except by preparing an old family recipe that she knew you couldn’t resist. Just like her,”

Fred was floored by what he’d just heard. His world was coming apart and he began to feel that his mind going to come apart as well.

“It’ll be alright,” Boy reassured him. “I’ll talk to her,”

“Okay,” Fred agreed. “What do I do for now?”

“Don’t eat any more spaghetti,” Boy smiled.


(Credit: Cyndi Lee)




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