a haunting moment

The year-before-last, I was working in a cream-colored ex-palace with high arched windows and a giant banyan tree in the courtyard. The palace floated, big and tall and airy, and the ground floor hall and offices stretched empty and dark because renovations were slated for the following fiscal year (or so the legend went). The basement had been a morgue in pre-Territorial days (or so another legend went). In consequence, Voices were supposed to haunt the rooms. I did hear the voices, but since they frequently said things like "STAR 101.9-- YOUR NEW MUSIC STATION!" or "Plaintiff was NOT in privity with Defendant!" (the Intermediate Court of Appeals worked upstairs), I attributed them to the ancient and weird air conditioning ducts and the proximity of kids with radios waiting at the bus stop outside.

I arrived one morning to my totally dark cool corner of the building, the 12' tall curtains still drawn over the various dim windows.

A high-pitched trill like the irate cry of Huitzilopochtli the Mayan war/blood god poured through the room.

I stopped and contemplated, motionless as the Winged Victory on the staircase of the Louvre. Yes, I have a head and arms. No jokes.

I could wait for the volunteer who manned the parking permit desk--a true kahuna (Hawaiian priest), qualified to bless things and to lay spirits to rest--to come in, or I could open the curtains and let the sun in. Kill the vampires.

Glass resonates. When I opened the drapes, I saw that the current Voice came from a 3" long green gecko, suction-cupped to the window with tiny fingered feet. Clearly it had moved in from its previous residences in the outdoor mailbox and the after-hours over-the-door lighting fixture.

Geckos are good luck. I heard the Gecko call my name.