"Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer the question." District Attorney Reece Norwood didn't like trouble from his own witnesses.
"I'm trying to answer your Honor," the white-haired man on the stand protested. "It's not as simple as Yes or No."
"Your Honor," Reece pleaded. "It's a simple question. a simple answer will do."
"Answer the question," the judge ordered.
The witness let his head fall on his chest. He ran his fingers through his white hair a dozen times.
"Yes or No," Reese repeated. "Is the video real and unaltered?"
"It hasn't been..."
"Yes or No!" Reese shouted. "Is it real?"
Tears streamed down the witness' cheeks, but through the sorrow; his eyes stabbed at the district attorney torturing him.
"Yes," he hissed at last. "God help us all--yes."
The intake of air around the courtroom was audible blocks away. Every eye in the packed room turned to the video's final image still plastered on the screen in front of them. In the silence that followed the entire video played again in the minds of all who saw it.
A weaving hand held camera bobbed across a plainly furnished bedroom. The picture was grainy and tinged with the green of night of night photography that ghost hunters loved so much. The blinking red Record light tracked across the crowded room.
"Be careful," Al Howe stepped in from of the camera. "There's a lot of junk all over the floor."
His flashlight ran back and forth over the room to prove his point.
"This is where you felt the presence?" Joey Cheatham's voice asked from off camera. The camera swung to a trembling woman in sweats and tennis shoes.
"Over there," She nodded and her quaking finger pointed toward the open closet door. "Can I leave now? I'm scared."
"Just stay with us until we get everything set up," Al said; then turned to people off camera. "Jesse, Sandy, set up the audio in that corner. Magnetic and temperature sensors, there, there and there. Still camera by the door."
Jesse and his wife Sandy were the newest team members. The camera followed the investigators from Paranormal sightings and Spirit Search Team as they fanned out over the room assembling an impressive array of electronic wonders. The team moved quickly and silently until all the equipment was ready. The pictured steadied and cleared as the video shifted to another camera.
"August third, two thousand four. The time is..." Al looked at his watch. "Twenty-two forty-eight hours. I am Al Howe; with me are team members Joey Cheatham, Jesse and Sandy Dewey; Jerry Howard is operating the camera. We are in the northwest bedroom of 728 West Penrod Street to investigate a haunting reported to us by homeowner, Mercy Brown. Ms. Brown has reported seeing a full figure shadow person in this very room and numerous occasions. We hope to capture evidence of this presence. We will be monitoring the equipment from downstairs in order to avoid interfering with the readings and recordings."
The camera switched back to the hand held and followed the team out of the room and down the stairs. The picture swam out of focus for a moment when they reached the living room. Jerry, then came into the picture. The group settled down in front of a bank of monitors. The equipment they were watching washed their faces in pale green light and turned their eyes in clear circles when the looked directly into the camera.
"What do we do now?" Mercy asked.
"We wait," Sandy told her.
The picture went black a minute later.
When the video came back up, the time next to the red Record light said 3:00 AM. Mercy and the team appear to be asleep. Lights are blinking on the monitoring equipment.
The video jumps to the empty bedroom where the digital thermometer display reads 47 degrees. There is a crackle of static on the audio followed by the sound of a door slowly opening. Mercy Brown enters the room. She is naked; her movements stilted; her face expressionless and her eyes vacant.
Mercy walks across the room and pushes the closet door open wider. A black mist floats from the open door. Slowly, huge black wings unfold and glistening white teeth appear in the mist. The mist lunges at Mercy; teeth fastening on her neck. Mercy whimpers as the mist slithers into her.
As she backs away from the closet, Mercy bends and picks something up off the floor. It's a small sledgehammer. She turns to face directly into the camera. Her eyes are no longer clear light filled orbs. They have gone a deep black. A malicious smile etches itself across Mercy's lips. She holds the hammer to her cheek in an almost sensual caress.
"Let's party," her baritone voice says.
The video freezes.
"The prosecution rests," Norwood's voice breaks the spell.
