The Other Tenant
A Short, Sci-fi Story - Part One
Rod Jones Artist-Writer
“What a great day! Perfect assignment. I love photo shoots like this one, especially when the client hands me a check and I hand him the film, don’t even have to process it and make prints. Yes sir, great day.”
Roy was a PR photographer who lived in an old Victorian house on Fir Street in downtown San Diego. The single story Victorian house was divided into two units. Roy lived on the right side facing west. A commercial photographer lived on the other side. You will learn more about him later on.
The old Victorian house had a history of being haunted, so much so, that the San Diego Union newspaper actually did a feature on it.
Occasionally, the two photographers would get together and talk about women and photography.
Something mysterious happened in that old Victorian on June 24. That date just happens to coincide with Kenneth Arnold’s 1947 UFO sighting near Mount Rainier, the event that birthed the term
“Flying Saucer.”
On this particular day in June, Roy mixed another Early Times whiskey, this time with 7-Up, he often changed between 7 and whiskey or Coke and whiskey. Roy had a ritual of smearing some Vaseline on his lips. The result of his lips getting irritated and even chapped because of the icy beverage.
His favorite place to hang out relax, meditate, and even watch some old TV shows was on his table positioned near a window that brought in the afternoon light, filtered through an old dusty lace curtain.
This June 24th, brought something completely unexpected to Roy and definitely impacted his usual ritual. It wasn’t uncommon for Roy and his neighbor to see ghost-like workmen in white overalls, walking around, to and fro in the middle of the night, sawing and pounding nails. On this particular afternoon Roy witnessed something that immediately made him think he needed to change the brand of whiskey he was drinking.
Roy had just hung up the phone from a brief and irritating call from his ex-wife. Roy thought to himself. “I’m having such a good time. Why does she have to always rain on my parade?” Something was about to happen that was going to do a lot more than just rain on his parade of watching an old Wallace Beery movie.
Crashing through his wall from the top down, all of a sudden there was a figure of something that looked like a female, staring right at him. He knew it wasn’t the usual ghost like workmen. This frightened the hell out of him, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, took two big swallows of his whiskey. To Roy, the woman looked unusual. In his career, he had photographed hundreds of women, some very famous celebrities. This figure of a woman was very unsettling.
The woman spoke first. “Do Not Be Frightened.” Roy had enough alcohol in him to immediately fire back. “Who the hell are you? Where in God’s green earth did you come from? Get the HELL out of here!
The uninvited visitor spoke out again; “Do Not Be Frightened.” Roy quickly responded; “Get the HELL out of here! This is my home, I don’t mind the ghosts walking around at all hours of the night. I will not tolerate some woman like you falling down through my wall. Who the hell do you think you are? You’re not welcome, no explanation you offer is going to work with me. Go back, where you came from, leave me alone with my drink, my cigarette and my old movie. I was perfectly happy and content, even after that call from my ex-wife.”
“Don’t be frightened. I won’t be here long. I know you want me out of here. I did not intend to come into your home like this. When this is all over, you will not really remember what happened, you may think you just drank too much and imagined this.”
Roy took another big gulp of his drink. “OK, fair enough. Even though I’ve been drinking pretty heavily this afternoon, I’m not so far out of it that I don’t see what’s going on. To be quite frank. I hope I don’t remember. But before you go, and you damn well better go, tell me who you are?”
“I was in this house a long time ago before it became two residences. I have a name, it’s Elizabeth but you won’t remember me.”
“ Elizabeth! Oh Christ, that’s my ex-wife‘s name, people call her Lizzie. I have other things I call her and they’re not so nice.”
“You called me, Roy. Why? How? You know who I am?”
“I’m fond of having ladies come by and visit, but I’m much more accustomed to them knocking on my door.
“I have two questions for you when you leave, and you will be leaving? Are you going to go through the wall or are you going to go out my front door? I’m not going to call you Elizabeth, I’m going to call you lady as I say goodbye to you on your way out. But wait a minute; I would like to know why, and how you’re here in my home crashing through my wall?”
“OK Roy, I will tell you at least some of it. I am from the stars. When you look up into the sky at night, that’s where I come from. And no, I am not from heaven and no, I’m not an angel.”
“Well, I hope like hell you are not the devil; but I do expect to meet him someday. I don’t think I’ll be sitting here with a drink in my hand when I do. I’m damn curious to find out who you really are and why you’re here. More importantly I need another drink, and you are definitely interfering with my ritual.”
“I will go with you into the kitchen so you can pour yourself another drink.”
“Why? Do you want me to make you one? OK, will you be walking in there with me, or will you be crashing through the wall?” Roy rolled his eyes and managed a big grin, shaking his head.
Roy then fixed himself another drink, he looked up at Elizabeth, thinking to himself that she was actually quite pretty but it was hard to judge her age.
“Now that I can see you clearly up close, you’re very pretty, I don’t like your name however. I guess wherever you come from you can call yourself whatever you like. I’m just gonna call you lady, but I don’t think I’ll be calling you lady very long because like all attractive women that come here they tend to leave early.”
“There is one thing I really like about you, you have beautiful red hair. I used to have red hair, still have some but most of it is turning gray. People used to call me the old redhead like they used to call Arthur Godfrey. Although he had freckles, I don’t, thankfully.”
This is the end of part one, part two will be available next Sunday. I’m always open to answer any questions you may have. Be a reader it’s good for the mind and it’s good for the soul.
The short stories and essays that appear on the Thought Row Vignettes newsletter are written entirely by me, Rod Jones, Artist‑Writer, with human hand and imagination, no AI assistance. Any imperfections in grammar or punctuation are authentically mine. In a web where automated systems now generate much of the traffic, this is a small space for human‑made fiction and reflection, one human sharing stories with another.